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#monster x mentor
thepenultimateword · 2 years
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Could you please write something where a civilian is the hero’s (who is a kid/teen hero) schools librarian or teacher. Who is looking out for them and helping with planning and tactic of fighting the villain. But along the way civilian and villain start falling for one another to the annoyance and reluctant support of the little hero. And perhaps villain taking it easy on fights not wanting to put civilian or the little hero in danger. Please and thank you! Love your writing!
"Just a moment!" Civilian called at the library door's signature screeeech. They'd already talked to the school board several times about ungumming the hinges or replacing the doors or something, but as usual, the library wasn't top of the list for school funds. But of course, the football team was definitely cleared to go to Disneyland if they won State next month because that was an important experience for 25 students it benefitted.
Civilian did their best not to slam the books down as they finished unloading their book cart, but they couldn't help if a few of the bigger volumes made a louder thud than the rest. Calm. Caaaalm. They couldn't afford to scare away a potential reader; the library was empty enough as it was. If it declined anymore they wouldn't be allowed to make any more book orders, and admittedly, those were largely personal.
Civilian forced a cheery voice as they popped out from around the bookshelf. "Alright, how can I help--"
A pair of slitted, bottle-green eyes flashed up from the little pith helmeted bobblehead wobbling on the edge of Civilian's desk. At the sight of Civilian, a strange grin--almost a snarl--curled the corners of their mouth, revealing one large fang that poked unnaturally thick and long over their bottom lip. Not a student. Not a teacher. A stranger. No, if only they were that. Civilian may have never met Villain in person before, but that didn't mean they couldn't recognize them. There were really only so many fiamora running around.
"Well, well," they purred silkily, stalking closer, shoulders rolled forward like the predator they were. "Who would have thought. Hero's beloved mentor a defenseless little librarian?"
Civilian should have made a run for one of the doors. Maybe the one on the left side leading into the parking lot. They should have banked on Villain's unfamiliarity and their own experience with the room. Instead, they did what most prey do under panic: they backed deeper into their hole.
"Oh, don't run away," Villain cooed as Civilian retreated amongst the bookshelves.
Civilian ducked out of one aisle and into another and then another. If they knew anything about fiamora, and they liked to flatter themself that they did, they couldn't stay in one spot for too long. Or repeat the same movement too many times. The creatures had premonitory abilities, especially acute when hunting, and anything stagnant or in a rhythm was clear to their mind's eye. Unfortunately, there was only so much you could do in an endless line of shelves.
"You're just running in circles," Villain said from the next aisle over.
Civilian's heart rose into their throat, clogging their airway with the heaviness of their pulse. Maybe-- Maybe if they climbed one of the shelves? That was different. Right? They started scaling anyway.
"I have to say, I admire your work. But I'm a little disappointed today. Maybe your tactics aren't so great under pressure. Or maybe you don't know how to apply them to yourself. Is that why you rely on the wits of a teenager?"
Villain pounced around the corner.
Civilian jumped, losing their balance on the third shelf and falling back against the bookshelf behind them with a frantic flap of their arms. Several fantasy novels thunked to the floor.
Villain roared with laughter then dropped the remains of their chuckles into a low throaty hum. The tufted end of their tail skimmed over the book spines as they prowled closer.
Civilian attempted to scramble to their feet, but too late. Villain’s clawed hands slammed down on the shelf to either side of them. Trapped.
"You know, I really wasn't expecting you," Villain mused. "All those tactics and plans. I thought for sure you were some sort of mage or at the very least, a retired hero. So where did you get all that knowledge?"
"Books mostly," Civilian said. It was meant to sound wry, but with the walls of their throat constricted around their heartbeat, it came out squeaky. They cleared their throat. "How did you find me?"
Villain's tail wrapped around Civilian's ankle. "The kid's smart, but they're not exactly infallible. Five different routes to this school after our fights? It threw me off for a while, but what are 8 months in the grand scheme of things?"
Stupid. Civilian was so stupid. They had told Hero to change up the routes to get here, but the kid couldn't make up more than what was available. They should have started meeting in other locations as well. This had always just been such a convenient location it never occurred to them... They'd thought themself so intelligent like one of the adventurous scholars in their books. But they really were just an inexperienced nobody who'd barely stepped out of their hometown. If they died it was their own fault. They just hoped someone other than Hero found them.
They looked up helplessly into Villain's eyes. That color wasn't common in humans, and it was much brighter in a living host than the formaldehyde-soaked samples shown to them in lectures.
"Are you going to kill me?" They heard themself say, slightly mesmerized.
"Oh, I don't know," Villain grinned, bending in closer. "I doubt Hero would be much fun without you. But then again, they have been an irritating thorn in my side. Maybe I should end it here."
The overhead lights glinted off their saber tooth. Only one. That was strange. Had they lost one? But the one they did have was so small. Maybe they'd lost both and the left was growing back in faster. Or perhaps Civilian's theories on the fiamora's age had been wrong.
“Um, is that new?” They didn't know why they said it. They were about to be torn apart, and they were wondering about their would-be murderer's fangs?
The slits in Villain's eye blew out a little. They cocked their head. “Huh?”
“The saber tooth," Civilian clarified. "There’s only one, but quite a few fiamora lines are genetically prone to one starter tooth growing in late, and this one only just curls over your lip so, that makes me think it may be your first one?”
What were they doing?
Villain pulled back a little, all traces of mischief vanished from their expression. “So you think the second one will still come in?”
“How long since the first one came in?” Civilian asked. They just couldn't help themself.
“A couple months.”
“Worry after 6 months. It's still within the bounds of initial maturity."
Villain sat back on their heels with a sigh. Their tail still wrapped around Civilian's leg, and the end now subconciously brushed the inside of their calf.
"Thank the ancients. You have no idea how worried I was, and with no one to talk about it, I never thought it might be genetic."
Civilian nodded knowingly. "Right, fiamora don't live in packs and your mothers leave before your teeth come in. I can imagine that sort of solitary living would be hard when you have questions. Well, actually, I never thought about it until now. It never occurred to me that you might want to talk to another of your kind. The books always made it sound like you wanted to be alone. That's my mistake."
Villain stared at them. Civilian flinched. They had started talking to them like some sort of specimen. What was wrong with them? They were definitely going to die now. Change the subject! Change the subject!
"You know, Hero never really described you, so I worried we were dealing with some sort of ancient." Civilian chuckled lamely. Something strange was happening to them. An edge that didn't come from a fear of dying. "What a relief."
"The tyke never described you much either," Villain said, closing in again. "Safety reasons I'm sure."
That saber tooth was so fascinating. How sharp was the point? The books said they tore into flesh like butter, but did that come with bite force or innate sharpness? Maybe...maybe they could touch it.
They stopped their hand inches away. Were they concussed or something? Sticky warmth gathered on the back of their head where they hit the bookshelf, so maybe. In any case, they were being weird!
Villain stared at their extended hand for a moment then plopped their cheek into their palm. A violent shiver ran up Civilian's arm.
"I...er...I wasn't..."
"You like fiamoras?" Villain said, eyes looking up at them intensly.
Civilian swallowed. "Yes. I have a degree in other worldly creatures, but, um, I wrote my thesis on fiamoras, so... Yes."
"Lucky you. I like bespectacled humans who read lots of books."
"Oh," was all Civilian could think to say as the villain leaned in closer. Their breath tickled warm against their cheek.
"Your head is bleeding," Villain said, thumbing the sticky part of Civilian's head.
"I'll put a bandage on it later," Civilian said, unable to take their eyes off the villain's looming face.
Villain's nose brushed against their temple as they brought their mouth to the hollow of their ear. "Your Hero is coming."
"That's fine." How could anything have such beautiful eyes? The more Civilian looked into them, the less real they seemed. More like something out of a dream. They could stare at them all-- "Hold on, what did you say?"
"What the--" Hero stood at the end of the aisle with their hands thrown over their face, body doubled over as if in excruciating pain. "Agh! My eyes! What are you even doing?"
"Hero!" Civilian cried. "This isn't-- Nothing is-- They came to kill me!"
"I think I'm going to throw up," Hero gagged.
"I'm serious! This is a murder situation!"
Villain's tail loosed from Civilian's ankle, and they brushed off the knees of their trousers as they straightened up.
"It was nice meeting you, Civilian. Let's do it again. But maybe next time somewhere more private?" They turned away from Civilian's burning face and toward Hero. "See you around, kiddie."
They shot the teenager a wink as they passed by, and the shriek of the door announced their leave.
***
"I wasn't going to kiss them," Civilian deadpanned, gathering up the stray novels into their arms.
"Your lips were like this!" Hero said, pinching their thumbs and forefingers together and holding them just shy of touching.
"I was looking at their saber tooth. That's it. I've never seen a fiamora so close up before. I was curious."
"Oh yeah, I bet you were curious about that tooth. Curious how it'd feel in your mouth."
"Hero!"
"What?" Hero cried defensively. "I'm just saying!"
"It's disrespectful and distasteful and you're too young to talk about it anyway."
"Too young to talk about kissing?"
"Too young to talk to me about my dating life. Nothing happened. It was...it was a typical hero/villain hostage situation. Like in the movies. I'm glad you walked in on it."
Hero raised their eyebrows at them, unconvinced, but instead of saying anything, they began picking up books too.
The air conditioning hummed in the stretched silence as they read labels and re-alphabetized each row, but Civilian's face still felt hot.
They had to be grateful it was Hero and not another student who had seen them in that situation. The library had enough issues without adding 'promiscuous librarian' to it. How would they have explained to the board that it was actually a villain making an attempt on their life--because that was exactly what it was--, not a visiting lover and that they’d tracked them down because they were secretly helping the city's hero with battle planning in their off-hours? Even if they believed them, it still meant they'd potentially put students in danger. They would have been fired for sure.
They pressed their palm to their forehead. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.
"It'd punch a hole through your lip," Hero said suddenly.
"Huh?"
"The tooth. If you kissed, it would totally tear through your lip, or your cheek, or your gums. I've kissed people before, and it's basic mechanics."
"And you think I haven't?" Civilian cried. What did the kid take them for? "Obviously, I would kiss around it!" They froze, a furious blush warming their neck and ears. "N-not that I would ever kiss Villain in the first place. That would be...morally compromising. Probably."
Hero narrowed their eyes. "Should I be worried about you joining the dark side out of fatuous love?"
"No!" Where did the kid even learn terms like that? Maybe Civilian needed to dumb down their conversations a little. "Even if I were to for whatever reason date Villain, which I'm not, it would never change my position on what's good and bad. I could never ever turn my back on you."
Hero sighed. "Alright, I trust you. If you promise you'll still be on my side, I guess you have my permission to make out with my nemesis."
Civilian smacked Hero upside the head with a paperback. "That's enough of that. Do your homework."
Part Two
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nelkcats · 11 months
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Project: Save Humanity
or something like that
It's no surprise that the Ancients get bored. They are immortal and have all the time in the world to complain about it, sadly Danny joined them after he was crowned.
Their monthly meetings are divided into three topics: Taunting the Observants (Clockwork's favorite topic after they were demoted to helpers, assistants, and other menial jobs), talking about the safety of the Realms (quite peaceful if just as chaotic), and argue.
They- really had nothing to do, and their hobbies eventually bored them. So Danny had a brilliant idea (read: he saw it on a TV show) and decided that they should all become mentors and save one of the dimensions.
Clockwork was about to say that was not a good idea, since it was the same as throwing giants into a world of ants but he needed some fun so he kept quiet. He showed them the dimension of DC and how it was continually being destroyed, the King told them to start their project in that place and select someone.
Clockwork selected Flash because he felt vengeful, Nocturne selected Tim Drake for the same reason, and so they went; each one of the Ancients selecting a "champion" they were going to teach. Although their selection reasons were quite absurd (being that they were selecting their opposite poles or just someone interesting).
Danny being a spirit of protection, selected Jason Todd and secretly Billy Batson, because he was the king and could break the rules (Clockwork rolled his eyes at the comment). The question now was, how did they appear to them and avoid the world's myriad routes of destruction?
Well at least they weren't bored anymore
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tanglepelt · 1 year
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Dc x dp idea 16
The observant are done watching. They want to command the infinite realm. With the king sealed away they decide the time is now.
They discovered a way to twist the ancients. Doing so hitting both pandora and clockwork. Pandora now seeks to help free evil and wreak havoc. Clockwork is now actively trying to find the worst timelines to force to happen.
The observants didn’t get frostbite as Danny was figuring out his ice core. Which means now he had to deal with those two ancients as well as overgrowth. Maybe even vortex makes an appearance.
The observants game plan is to make all the powerful ghost look bad so they get locked away. The only one who can fix the personalities of the ancients is the king. Take out those powerful and no one can free pariah to defeat him.
Danny returns to amity to find time frozen. Danny the little thief he is stole three time medallions (clockwork let him). Pandora is preventing him from getting to sam and tucker releasing evil from her box.
Danny gets out of amity. Leaving Sam as overgrowths “daughter” his friends and family frozen then guarded by evil beings. He heads out human so they can’t track his ecto signature.
With two extra time medallions he sets out. He finds the justice league. Wonder Woman immediately wants to help. She wants to help free pandora. Superman also heads to amity to help out. Both have rigged up Spector deflectors so they can’t get overshadowed.
John is the one who figures out what caused the personality switches. Bad news the only person who can fix it is evil. Danny was ease-dropping (they had him making anti ghost weapons, Danny only made non lethal ones)
Danny being Danny leaves his time medallion and takes off to free pariah.
John and Batman follow the child. They try and stop him from summoning and freeing pariah. Danny is just like chill i sealed him up like 3 months ago I’m sure i can handle this.
No explanation he just transforms and frees pariah. John and Batman can’t do anything to the ghost king as Danny traps him and the king in an ice dome. No point risking others getting hurt.
Danny wins. Frees pandora and clockwork. Wonder Woman had managed to trap pandora (pandora was definitely fighting the spell and resisting as much as she could). Clockwork just knew it was gonna happen. The observants were silly to think he wouldn’t.
The justice league now monitor amity park for when the next earth destructive ghost escapes. Danny has been forced to take lessons. The first one is risk management and the importance of disclosing powers. It’s just a lecture made by Batman.
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ervotica · 4 months
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"I'm here, I've got you-" with mentor!finnick right after reader wins the games?! ilysm 🥺🥺
pairing: mentor!finnick odair x victor!reader.
warnings: finnick greets you after you win the games, and consoles your anxiety. something more ensues…
hunger games masterlist
Your bruised knuckles shake where you wring them in your lap; the tribute quarters are so empty, hollow and bereft of any signs of life other than yourself. You've scrubbed your skin raw in the shower, still flushed and tingling from the coarse brush you used to rid yourself of the dried blood and dirt.
You want Finnick.
You know mentors are always the first to greet victors after the games, and you need him more than anyone else right now.
The door creaks your head snaps up where you're laying. He’s at your side in an instant, concern carved into his features as he reaches out for you.
You tremble at his touch; palm against your cheek, arm hooked around your waist as he begins drawing you up and into him.
"How are you doing?" he asks, voice low and soft and caring.
The tears well almost unconsciously, catching on your waterline and spilling down your hot cheeks.
"Not so good," you admit despite yourself.
"I know, honey. I know," he murmurs, tugging you toward him as gently as he can manage. You're in his lap before you can register what's happening, and you tuck yourself up small, head under his chin, shoulders under his armpits.
"I'm sorry," you cry, "I'm so sorry."
"Shh, you have nothing to be sorry for. You did everything you were supposed to." He kisses the top of your head, hair still damp from the shower.
"Okay." You nod vehemently, almost like you're trying to convince yourself that he's right, that you're not a monster after what you had to do in the games. "Will you hold my hand?"
Finnick smiles and it pushes his dimples out- they're crescent moon shaped. You resist the urge to reach out and touch them.
"Of course I will."
His thick fingers entwine with yours like puzzle pieces, like that's where they've always been, where they're always meant to be. You bring his knuckles to your face and hold them there, against your cheek as you rest on his broad shoulder. Your bottom lip starts to tremble.
"I'm here, I've got you," he murmurs. "I'm right here."
You tilt your head to gaze at him, uninhibited affection practically oozing from your every pore. He leans in- you’re close enough to feel his breath on your face.
Your lashes kiss at the corners as your eyes flutter closed and he takes that as an invitation. His lips slot between your own like they live there and the kiss feels like coming home. When he pulls back, you chase him.
He meanders away from your lips with his kisses: the corner of your mouth, your cheek, a lingering one on your forehead. Your hand, still laced with his own, is holding him so tightly you’re scared you’re cutting off his circulation. He can feel your anxiety.
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
You’re smiling this time when you say,
“Okay.”
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ghostfacd · 4 months
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SAVE THE GIRL
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!mentor!reader
summary: when you start to feel bad for the tributes, it’s when snow slowly starts to crack. when you snuck into the arena to properly send your goodbyes to one is when he loses it, making it his mission to get you out, even if it means costing his life
warnings: SPOILERS. descriptions of killing, Snow being a bad friend to Sejanus and manipulative, reader essentially replaces Sejanus in the movie’s original scene
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“We all know how this works right guys?” Lucky Flickerman says, his eyes held a sparkle within them. “As soon as your tribute dies, you’re out!”
The screen flickers on the arena, its dusty surroundings filled you with a sense of dread.
You had gotten Lamina, a girl who you were afraid would die as soon as the timer went off. But she managed to impress you, and completely won you over when she had speared the other tributes’ pain and suffering by killing them with an axe.
“Coryo,” you whisper to the blonde hair boy who was almost drifting into sleep. “Coryo.”
“Hm?” He fixes his posture, “is something wrong with Lucy Gray?”
You shake your head, and only pointed to the empty desks surrounding you. “Many died.”
“Your point?”
It almost seems as if Coriolanus was bored of your commentary, he probably was, you did wake him from his sleep.
“This doesn’t feel right Coryo. Not at all. Any of it.”
Coriolanus lets out a breath of annoyance. It was always like that with him, he seemed always to be one step ahead—or at least he presented himself in that way, and he seemed like he was annoyed with anyone who wasn’t on the same level as him.
You and Coriolanus went way back. You were the first few to have known of the death of his father, Coriolanus had told you about it with tears in his eyes. Not because he missed his father, not really, but because he was afraid that there would be nothing left of the Snow family by the time the war was over.
When you first entered the Academy, Snow linked himself with Clemensia Dovecote, a pretty black haired girl who he had gotten close with, and if anyone didn’t know better, they might’ve been more than just friends. But Coriolanus and Clemensia came off as acquaintances by association to you more than anything.
He stopped doing group projects with you so he could do it with her, and he had made himself friendly with Sejanus, a boy who was originally from the Districts but managed to buy his way into the Capitol. Or at least, that’s what all of your seething classmates said as they looked at him in disgust.
“You sound like Sejanus.” Is all Coriolanus says, glancing back at his small television screen.
“Sejanus is our friend, Coryo.”
“Sejanus is district.” Coriolanus slams his hand on your desk, making you flinch. “No matter how much money he has, no matter how much he tries to fit in, he will always be district. And you? You might as well be district with him if you keep acting like this.”
Your brows furrow, and you start to get angry. Who the fuck does Coriolanus Snow think he is?
“And I suppose you’re so well off Capitol yourself, Coriolanus?”
The way your words drip with such venom makes Snow almost crumble, but he doesn’t, instead, choosing to inch his face just a meter over yours. “Don’t say anymore things you don’t mean, Y/N.”
And that was the end of it. Coriolanus Snow wins every argument, and you hated him so much. Why couldn’t he see this was wrong? You knew he had a heart in there somewhere, which was why he was helping Lucy Gray Baird in the first place. Unless he was doing it all for the Plinth prize, for the money.
As you watch your tribute fall to her death, the loud crack adding all to your misery, you wanted to throw the television and desk across the room, just like Sejanus had previously. They were monsters, all of them.
“I’m sorry Y/N.” Coriolanus says, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.
But Coriolanus Snow can’t be sorry, he can’t feel empathy, he can’t feel pain, and most importantly, he can’t feel love.
As the games went on, Coriolanus was slumped into his chair, sleep overcoming his senses.
Dr. Gaul clears her throat, her loud but snake like movements made Coriolanus jolt awake, hissing as he accidentally hurt himself on the edges of the desk.
“I see you’re still here, Mr. Snow.”
“Is something wrong?” Coriolanus asks, eyebrows furrowing. “Is Lucy Gray okay?”
“Oh her? She’s fine.” Dr. Gaul waves the girl off like she meant nothing. “It’s your friend, I’m worried about.”
“My friend?” Coriolanus whips his head around to try and find you, but you were gone, leaving no trace.
“Yes.” Dr. Gaul motions to the wide television in front. “She’s in the arena right now. Doing this goodbye thing for her tribute.”
Coriolanus doesn’t want to believe Dr. Gaul, but how could he not when you’re shown so clearly in the cameras, putting flowers into the hand of your tribute. Almost as if you saw her as human.
“Now Miss. L/N hasn’t done anything like this in the past, so it does spark questions in my mind as to why she’s suddenly..” Dr. Gaul pauses. “Rebelling.” She says this as if it were poison on her tongue.
“From Sejanus, I would expect this. But from our own people, Coriolanus? Now this is absurd. I’ll make sure to get the name of the peacekeeper who let her in and have them executed.” Dr. Gaul gives him a smile, one that sends chills up Coriolanus’s back. “Now I happen to know you two are friends, close friends even; so I need you to go into the arena and fetch her out.”
“Me?” Coriolanus stutters out, hesitance clearly showing in his voice.
“Is that hesitance I hear, Mr. Snow?” Dr. Gaul steps even closer. “Everyone in the Capitol is asleep by now, which means they won’t see the foolishness Miss. Y/N is currently causing. You will go into the arena and take her out before she does anything more stupid. I will not let these rebels make mockery of my game, Mr. Snow. I will simply not allow it.”
And Coriolanus knows he has no choice but to obey Dr. Gaul’s orders.
He makes his way quietly into the arena, making sure his footsteps weren’t creating such loud noises to alert the tributes.
“Y/N,” he whispers as he gets close to your kneeling figure. He watches as you slowly put your hand over Lamina’s eyes, closing them for her. “Y/N.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” you reply, not bothering to turn around to face the boy.
“But I am.” He grunts out in annoyance. “I’m here to save your ass because that’s what friends do, Y/N. So help me, and get up.”
You don’t listen to him, choosing to keep kneeling and watching your dead tribute instead. She looked peaceful, and you felt so guilty knowing there was nothing you could do to save her.
“Y/N, I mean it.” Coriolanus says in a more assertive tone. “You’re going to die out here. These tributes? They might as well be animals now, they’re gonna kill the both of us if we don’t get out.”
He grunts in annoyance when he doesn’t see you move, so he carefully walks over, placing his arm under yours, practically dragging your body up from your kneeling position.
“Cmon Y/N, you’ve got to help me.” Coriolanus whispers out. “You don’t want to die here, trust me.”
“HEY! YOU!” The two of you whip your head so quickly at the voice that it sends a dizziness into your head. “HEY!”
The remaining tributes, none of them were Lucy Gray, Wovey, or the boy from 11 with speed so quick that it took the breath in your lungs away.
“CMON!” Coriolanus grabs your hand, the both of you fiercely running towards the doors.
One of the tributes with one of his eyes shut had a sharp blade in his hand, successfully slicing into Coriolanus’s back and your arm. The two of you let out a moan of pain, the frenzy feeling of adrenaline overwhelming the both of you.
Coriolanus lets your hand go for a second, pushing the tribute back harshly, managing to make him drop his weapon. Coriolanus picks up one of the broken poles, repeatedly hitting the male tribute with it until his body stopped moving completely.
You thought he’d be done with it, but he lets out a scream of anger, plunging the pole into the tribute’s body, making you shriek out in horror.
“You’re okay, you’re okay!” Coriolanus breathes out to you, practically limping hand in hand with you as he sees the other tributes catching up from the distance. “Open the door!”
The peacekeepers opened the door, closing it right as one of the more fiercer tribute sticks her trident out. “You’re lucky you’ve escaped this time.” She growls out.
You fall onto the ground as soon as Coriolanus lets go of your hand.
“Hey,” he croaks out, kneeling to cup your face into his hands. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.”
He sounds so reassuring, so kind, and not like the Coriolanus you had despised from earlier.
“I..” you can’t even get a word out before you’re full on sobbing, not caring if you were embarrassing yourself in front of Coriolanus and the two peacekeepers.
“Shh, it’s okay.” He places his hand on the back of your head, bringing you into his chest. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”
“No one will ever hurt you, Y/N.”
And if there’s one thing Coriolanus Snow is good at—it’s ensuring he gets what he wants.
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lizzyk137 · 18 days
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Picture Perfect- A Sepencer Reid Fanfic (Spencer Reid X Reader)
Summary: After months of not hearing from Spencer you move on, breaking both of your hearts. What he wasn't expecting was a frantic call from you one night. Warnings: Fluff, slight panic.
Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!
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"Spence, please tell me you're going home after this." JJ said, eyes squinted as she watched him fiddle with stuff on his desk.
He cleared his throat and nodded before answering. "I will. I just want to make sure everything is ready for when I come back into work tomorrow."
"Are you thinking it's going to be a long night?" Morgan interjected jokingly.
Spencer just rolled his eyes and went back to making sure everything was in its proper spot.
Rossi came down the stairs and headed towards the small gathering that as forming around Spencer. His brows raised at Spencer dawdling. "Still avoiding things?"
"No, I'm just straightening up before leaving for the day."
"Reid, we're profilers, we know you're avoiding going home." Rossi smirked. "Go home, she's waiting for you."
"Fine, I will." Spencer collected his belongings and headed to the elevators knowing his team was watching him go. He headed towards the bus stop after being cleared to leave, his thoughts going a mile a minute.
He had been away for seven months working at the Las Vegas's FBU headquarters, helping train and work on cases. It at first started off as a case the whole team was invited in but as time went on trying to catch a team of killers, Spencer enjoyed being near his mom and decided to take on mentoring for a few months. He thought it was a smart move, but he never took into account of one thing. You.
He left one day then never came back. That was how you saw it. He didn't answer his phone for three weeks, his head focused solely on catching the monsters behind all the killings. All you had gotten back as a reply from the many calls and texts was a few sentences telling you that he would be staying there for a few months and that he was okay. At first you were okay with the decision, knowing what he was doing was for the good of the city and that what he was teaching was saving lives. But the texts and calls started to slow down and eventually you would count yourself lucky if he answered you back a week later.
Spencer was so busy helping on cases that he would forget to text you back, but he thought you understood. It wasn't until he came home to find the shared apartment empty of your belongings. At first, he was frantic, searching for you everywhere, but that turned to desperation and then quickly turned to a broken heart. You wouldn't reply back to any of his calls or texts, and he tried to get Penelope to find you, which he gave him a hard no a stern glare before turning back to her computers.
He didn't understand what he did wrong until the team pulled him to the side and explained it.
You were hurt by him. The replies became nonexistent, and you gave up trying to make things work.
He was a fool. A stupid fool.
He was almost home when his phone rang from an unknown caller. He ignored it and continued walking from the bus stop to his apartment when the phone rang again from the same number. Sighing, he answered and put it to his ear. "Hello?" The voice that answered made his feet stop.
"Spence?" You called out after a few moments of silence, your voice breathy.
He cleared his throat. "Y/N?"
"Spence... I need help... Please come..." He heard a loud crash, his heart stopping.
"Y/N, where are you? I'm on the way." His feet had already started racing to his parked car.
You gasped out the address, as he started the car racing to you. He made it to the apartment within a few minutes, drawing his gun as he made it up the stairs to the apartment. He heard another crash from inside, and before he could think, his foot was kicking in the door, and he was clearing the room. He saw you on the floor, your back to him as he heard you cry out in pain.
He was by your side in a second as he turned you slowly over, your large belly coming into frame. His eyes went wide as you looked at him, tears in your eyes as you clutched his arm.
"What's going on?" His eyes searching your face for answers.
"Hospital. I need go." You said through gritted teeth as your grip tightened on his arms.
Spencer quickly shook his head, and then cleared his throat. He helped you up onto your feet, grabbing the purse and diaper bag by the door that you directed him to get. He quickly locked up to find you trying to make your way down the stairs, if he wasn't in such a shock, he would laugh at you as you waddled around.
You grabbed the railing and cried out. He was by your side in a second, picking you up bridal style and carrying you out the door.
"Any news?" Hotch asked, as he sat down next to Spencer in the hospital's waiting room.
"No, they're running some tests, so I stepped out." Spencer was crouched down, his elbows on his knees his eyes focused on his clasped hands and the ground.
He had been struggling the past three hours to come up with answers that were already answered. The baby was his and you tried so hard to tell him but when he stopped replying you left to start the next step in your life alone.
Everyone knew but him. They had visited you daily to make sure you were okay, and they became your family, the only thing that was missing was Spencer. You knew you needed him; you were still in love with him, but he hurt you and you needed more than just an apology.
"Has it happened?!" He heard Penelope's voice scream as he looked up to see a giant pile of balloons headed his way.
"Not yet they're running some tests."
"Oh good! I can't miss out on our baby's arrival."
Another hour went by, and Reid was called to go into one of the hospital rooms. He lingered by the door for a second before pushing the door in to find you lying in bed, a beautiful sweaty mess as you reached out to him. His hand quickly found yours and he brought it to his lips. "How are you feeling?
"I'm feeling better after taking the epidural." A minute went by before you continued, your voice a whisper. "I'm still mad at you. You left for so long and no word. But I can't do this without you."
Spencer brought your hand to his cheek. "I know baby. I'm never leaving you again. I've been a wreck without you. You and our baby are my first priority."
You just nodded. "We have a lot to discuss later but I'm getting sleepy."
"Get some rest, my love."
Seven hours and two broken fingers later, Spencer was watching his daughter and son swaddled as they slept, their hands holding each other's.
"They're perfect." JJ cooed.
Rossi wiped a small tear from his eye, as he gave a big pat on Spencer's back. The team had been watching the babies for about an hour as you slept.
"You're going to be a good father." Hotch smiled at Spencer before lightly touching Spencer's son's hand.
"I hope so." He looked at his kids, his daughter yawning slightly, tears filling his eyes as he realized how lucky he was. He never thought he would have kids, he thought he would never see you again, never thought you would allow him back into your life. He knew things were probably going to be rocky, a lot of conversations were going to be needed, but you had said you wanted him in your life along with being with his children.
"Spencer?" Your voice called out and him and the team looked up to see you with a big smile, your phone pointed at them as you took a photo of them. "Picture perfect."
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usoppsstar · 1 month
Note
Hello! First off, I absolutely ADORE your series of the Strawhat boys and their babies. It is all so well written, and it's just so cute!!
Going off of that, I was wondering if I could make a request for a part, with the idea that the boys take their babies to meet their mentors/father figures (ie Shanks, Mihawk, Zeff and... honestly my mind is blanking for Usopp's and I feel bad. 😭)
But either way, thank you much for your time writing, and I hope you have a wonderful day! ❤
I know it's taken forever but thank you for this clever idea! And I'm glad you like the series(⁠。⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠。⁠) I've been working on this for so long.
Taking their babies to meet their "Grandpa's"🪨🪨🪨
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Pairing: Monster trio x f!reader
Characters: Zoro,Luffy,Sanji
Tw: mention of blood in Zeff's pirate days
Notes: I couldn't add Usopp ಥ⁠╭⁠╮⁠ಥ; I went a teensy but overboard with Zoro's; as always, this is proofread but there may still be mistakes🪨🪨🪨
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🪨Zoro
Zoro had no plans to ever introduce his new baby to Mihawk. It's not for any particular reason that he's never told him, it just never crossed his mind really. He hadn't even told him about his relationship with you( the only person outside of his crew he's told is Perona, and that's only because she calls him every now and then to check up on him rant about something) It isn't until a letter addressed to Zoro arrives on your ship along with the daily newspaper. It was written in delicate cursive so Zoro asked you to read it for him, and you almost had a heart attack when you saw that it was a request from Dracule Mihawk, former warlord of the sea, to meet your new son.
So after about a month of sailing, parenting, and trying to convince Zoro to take the trip, because he didn't see why there was any rush to go see the old man, The crew finally docks at an island to check out the sights, and your little family finally splits up with your friends and take a boat to visit Mihawk's Island. It wasn't that bad a trip despite one of your boys complaining the entire time, the older of the two, and it was easy to navigate thanks to Nami's directions. So after a few days you both arrive on the gloomy island that Zoro lived on for two years.
Unfortunately things don't go as well when you both dock though, because as soon as you both land, your son disappears from sight. How can a baby that's only a few months old crawl away before you both notice? Ask his father's genes. Perona, who had come to visit knowing the baby would be here and had come to meet you guys, freaked out, despite you both reassuring her that this happens all the time. The three of you were looking through the forest for him, only for Mihawk to approach you three himself, “complaining” about a little cabbage in his garden that he didn't remember planting, and your son with his head of green hair, sitting comfortably in his arms.
Mihawk doesn't express any blatant joy about holding a chubby baby, his “grandson” as Perona keeps ridiculously saying, but he does give Zoro a bunch of passive aggressive comments about not bringing him to visit sooner, even more about having to learn about his relationship with you and his baby through Perona. Sure he isn't grinning ear to ear, but you all can tell just how much he enjoys holding your son. Why? Because he won't let anyone else do it. During the few days you and Zoro stay over, out of all four of you, Mihawk holds your child 90% of the time. Outside of when you all retire to your rooms for the night or when our son has to eat or be changed, Mihawk has him ALL the time. Perona and Zoro complain about how he's hogging the baby to himself, so Mihawk surprises you all by suggesting that you try and take him. All of your first thought is that he means in a fight, but when he simply gestures to your son, who's content and playing with his grandfather's cross necklace, you realize he's actually telling you to attempt taking him out of his arms. You all understand his confidence when Perona floats up to try and take your son from his spot against his grandpa's chest, and instead of opening his arms for her, your baby sleepily curls further into Mihawk instead. It surprises all of you and somehow it turns into a game. Zoro attempts and so do you and although your son pauses for a moment, making you all laugh at the thoughtful look on his small face, he eventually makes who his favorite is known. His grandfather. Mihawk doesn't smile, but there's an air of arrogance around him as you all look at him with jealousy.
Mihawk has never really had any interest in babies. As a pirate you rarely see them, plenty of children but rarely infants. So he didn't really know how to feel when Perona told him that Zoro had a brand new son. He did find it amusing that his former directions-challenged pupil had settled down and had a child of his own, but it felt strange that things progressed this way, that that young kid he knew,had actually started a family, something he himself had never done, always having lived a life of solitude. He never could have imagined that two teenage pirates would force their way into his home, and the result of that would be holding a “grandson” in his arms. He was surprised before and he's slightly shocked now but as he watches Zoro and Perona squabble and you look at them with an irritated expression, all while sitting in his favorite chair with his pupil's son warm in his arms, he finds again that he's content with a house full of noise and laughter.
***🪨***
🪨Luffy
As it always goes with Luffy and the people he considers family, you all meet Shanks by chance. The Straw hat pirates decided to dock on an island with a small town to restock necessities. While everyone was disembarking, Your daughter, who's 2 years old now and just like her dad, couldn't stay still and wait for everyone so she ran off excitedly into the town by herself, leaving you and Luffy to chase after her. Luffy found it significantly funnier than you did of course, holding your hand while running with you and telling you that she won't get into trouble. The town was pretty quaint, so it wasn't long until you both saw her through the window of a pub that was bursting with joyous laughter. You fly in ready to crack heads only to find your daughter in the lap of a red haired man and tearing into some food that's sitting on the counter, before you can say anything though, Luffy calls out the name Shanks. The Red Haired Shanks and his pirate crew, that you only know from Luffy's stories and when your father used to read about him in the paper.
Shanks thought your little girl reminded him of someone, her chubby little face had big, round eyes and she had an appetite that could only come from one person, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of a little girl running into Luffy's arms and calling him papa. Even when he sees how similar she looks to the two of you, he can hardly believe the rowdy little boy he lost his arm for really has a kid of his own, that he even knew how to make one. His crew definitely laughs at the shocked look on his face, before he starts laughing with them.
There's no way there isn't gonna be a party, the Red Haired pirates turn the entire town into one. Both of the crews bring out their food, the townspeople too, and everyone celebrates your child. Your daughter has her “grandfather” wrapped around her little finger right away, using mispronounced words to get whatever she wants. Her favorite song played for her, a balloon from the vendor over there, and most of all food. There's no food at the party that he won't get for her, carrying her from table to table and grabbing whatever a tiny finger points at, and because of this your daughter warms up to him real quick. Which surprises both you and Luffy,because even though your child has a ton of similarities with her dad, she doesn't connect with people easily and would much rather play by herself than meet new people. Her connection with Shanks must be genetic. Luffy couldn't be happier either, enjoying seeing so many of his favorite people in one place with the newest addition to his family, but he's also happy that he can get a little time alone with you, because Shanks will gladly watch his new granddaughter while you both enjoy the party.
If someone gives Shanks the “grandpa” title or jokes about it, he'll run with it and gladly call your child his granddaughter from then on. It's as a joke yeah, because he's obviously not Luffy's real dad but it'll still bring him joy when he hears it, especially if your daughter is the one to call him grandpa.
Shanks has pretty much always liked children and for whatever reason, kids usually tend to gravitate to him, ever since he was a teenager, but he can definitely say that Luffy is the one kid that he's bonded with the most. He's always considered people around Luffy's age, the next generation, so it's mind blowing to be holding his daughter, the future he was always thinking about, in his arms. It makes him feel like an old man, but surprisingly, that's not too bad a feeling.
(There's definitely a lot of tears when it's time for you guys to leave, because your daughter just canNOT understand why Shanks can't come with you all, it breaks his heart)
***🪨***
🪨Sanji
You were the one to suggest that the crew make a visit back to the Baratie. It was a lovely little day on the Sunny and the breeze and view through the kitchen window reminded you of your short stay at the ocean restaurant, all the way back in the crew's east blue days. The cherry on top was when Sanji served you a very similar meal to those days, with your guy's son strapped comfortably to his chest, and the idea pops into your mind to go back home with the baby. It's not hard to convince Sanji to take the trip( it's not hard for you to convince him to do anything for you) because he won't admit it but he thinks about the old man and the old kitchen crew a lot. He'll act like it's a pain but he's actually looking forward to the guys seeing his baby and finding out that he married you.
So you send out a letter to Chef Zeff( you send him letters on Sanji's behalf, updating him on how Sanji's doing from time to time)letting him know that you'd all be visiting, and get your crew to take a little voyage back to the east blue. As soon as you all dock, you can see that the place hasn't changed at all, and you walk through the doors with a sense of nostalgia, Sanji in tow. The moment you step inside with your son in your arms, a marine is flying through the air at you. You hardly even flinch because Sanji is right there to bring him to a harsh stop with the heel of his foot. Without even having to look up, he already knows who's behind this, and sure enough Patty is dusting his hands off before his eyes land on you three.
“Watch where you're throwing this guy would ya patty? You almost hit my wife and kid.” Sanji groans, and it's like the entire kitchen hears his voice because everyone rushes out with wide eyes. Apparently Zeff didn't feel the need to tell everyone you guys were coming because they're all super surprised. An abundance of different things are shouted as everyone crowds around you three, making it hard for your crew and other customers to get inside. It's a mess until your son yawns and sneezes loudly, for a baby anyway, and effectively draws everyone's attention to him.
Of course the entire kitchen staff’s first response to seeing your little family is laughter. Laughter because the baby of the crew has a baby of his own and the kid that was always flirting with every woman that walked through the doors, actually settled down with the girl that he left the restaurant for. All the customers can do is murmur in confusion until Zeff loudly clears his throat, before complaining that all the commotion is disrupting business. You all know he's just fussing though, and it becomes apparent when he shuts the dining room down after the lunch rush so everyone can catch up. “catching up” for Sanji and Zeff is just fighting with one another in the kitchen, with limited curse words because there's an infant present.
It's a struggle to get Zeff to hold his grandson. Every time one of you tries, you're met with excuses like his hands being dirty, or he's sweeping, or he's got something in the oven. He won't tell anyone but it's actually because he doesn't know how to hold a baby, he's worried his worn and calloused hands might hurt his little face that's as soft as a peach. He wasn't a man made for holding babies or being around young children. He has a checkered past and a chip on his shoulder, that and he used to be a vicious pirate that stained ship decks with blood.It was fine when he was raising Sanji because he was already a brash little kid that could take being knocked around a little, could handle the tough love he treats all the people he cares about with, the only love someone like him can give. Now he has his restaurant and his staff, and life is content, and with a calm life comes a squishy little baby that has no need for tough love yet. In short, he's nervous.Sanji is the one to catch on to the real reason Zeff won't hold his son, and has an idea. That's why for most of your visit you'll find Zeff cooking with his grandson strapped to his back, the same way Sanji cooks with your son against his chest. Just until he gets used to it.
Despite basically being Sanji's father, Zeff will grumble every time someone jokes about him being a grandfather now, but the moment your son gets old enough to call him grandpa, he'll respond to it like it's the most natural thing in the world. There might be a new owner of the title "baby eggplant", if the son is anything like his father anyway.
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A/n: I've been working on this off and on for so long that I don't even know how I feel about it anymore fr. I hope you all like it, especially the one who requested such a cute idea. I feel like my writing style has changed recently and I'm caught between writing detailed headcannons, and just writing mining drabbles for each character, that's why this particular request took so long. *Sigh* Thank you for requesting and thanks for reading!🪨🪨🪨
Taggies: @cookieswithay ; @bokutosbiceps ; @wrennyx ; @stuckinthewrongworld
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It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt.4 (final)
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a/n: we did it Joe! this chapter officially marks the first ever series i've completed lmao. thank you for all the support on this fic, every like, every comment, every out-of-pocket anon ask.
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (like...fr this time), Blood and Violence, Manipulation.
Summary: After the wedding, Husband and Wife work out the intricate web of their relationship.
Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3
Gurney looks at you as if you're already dead.
You hide from his gaze, ducking behind pillars, whenever you can hear his footsteps. It's truly depressing, the way your mentor shakes his head, as if, instead of looking at you, he's looking at a coffin. You suppose he might be right, he's the one with the most experience in the Harkonnen area. He's fought them, dined with them, seen their customs through and through. And now, his dutiful little student is about to be thrown into the very same world, he has relayed to you as a nightmarish fairytale. Still, a little misplaced optimism wouldn't kill him. Or just, a sliver of hope, an inclination that you might survive this. 
The day of your wedding rolls upon you like an oceanic storm, all chaos and rumbling. 
Here you sit, your bones locked with nerves, as the servants pack away your things. A futile thing, you muse to yourself. It's highly doubtful the Harkonnens will let you keep any personal items back from Caladan. They'll mold you into their image, until all your hair naturally falls out. The thought would make you laugh, but here's a servant, placing your jewelry into a case, which lands in a bag, which will be transported to the Harkonnen ship by the end of the day.
Your room, the place you've spent all your life in, slowly becomes more and more barren. 
The closet stands empty, so do the drawers. All your trinkets are swiftly transported away until you're left alone in your wedding dress, the only familiar thing between the hollow ribs of your life's sanctuary. Wishing you could fold the entirety of the castle, with the stables, and the horses, and the cliffs, and throw it into the final suitcase, so you can open it up in times of turmoil, and breathe in the familiar scents. You need to leave, right now. Sitting like this, wrenches a dangerous numbness out of your chest. And you can't be allowed to dissapear into yourself. You're an Atreides, you shall wear your pain with dignity, as per your Mother's wishes.
Your wedding dress swishes around you, as you stand up from your bed. It's much more classy, and less of a chiffon catastrophe, than your engagement dress, a welcome change. The veil is embroidered with light crystals and metal plating. It falls heavily over your face, and jingles when you move. By all intents and purposes, it is a dream dress. A dress you'd like to wear for a wedding of your own, a wedding with some dashing gentleman. A gentleman, which in your most private of dreams, has the face of Duncan Idaho, with silver rings braided into his hair. 
Instead, you're left with this monster, so alien and cold. A beast at the center of the maze.
The bull looks at you from the wall. Its horns, smeared with your Grandfather's blood, curl grotesquely into the ceiling. The head is mounted above the doors to the library, a grim reminder of his spectacular death. As a child, you'd spend hours, standing right here, at the entrance, staring at the animal's head. You've always wondered, whether it were the lights playing tricks on your mind, or you saw a shadow of pride in the bull's eyes. 
Did it know who was its victim? The leader of one of the most important Houses in all known universe laid dead at its feet. Did it know what sort of spectacle it produced? What destruction of hubris? You suppose it couldn't, it was an animal, after all. A headless creature, hung on a wall. Still, you stare at it, just like you used to, trying to decipher your own fate from its cold, dead eyes.  
After all, there will be a spectacle, a life-long fight stands ahead of you. Giedi Prime shall be your arena, dead and cold, covered in black. And every single Harkonnen will be your bull, their mere presence a deathly danger to your being. It took one bull to end your Grandfather, you dread to think how many it'll take to end you. There will be blood, you're sure of it. And if things were allowed to go your way, it would flow in rivers upon rivers, through the industrial halls of Giedi Prime. You'd have the entire planet drowned in their blood. Your cursed betrothed, the Baron, the fucking Emperor if you had to. 
The bull laughs at your quiet hate, beady eyes bearing down upon you in an imaginary display of indifference. You huff, cheeks reddened, insides twisted and burning.
That's how your Father finds you. Enchanted by a once living instrument of death. 
He hasn't spoken to you, since your betrothed has arrived, not really. Not like you used to talk. A way to shield himself, you supposed, from the Emperor's order, which will soon enough take his only Daughter away from him. This was your superpower. You could fish out signs of love in every action. 
- Your Mother hates that thing - he comments, as he stands next to you, eyes looking up at the bull. 
- I don't blame her, the sight is quite disturbing. - you reply evenly. 
You've missed him, more than you can possibly explain with words. But teary displays of affections were below you, especially since you're trying to distance yourself, rise above your body, float right out of your head. Perhaps it'll hurt less that way.  Duke Leto Atreides turns to you, and for the first time in a month, you recognize your Father behind this statue of authority. He looks troubled, for lack of a better word. There's much more gray on his brow and the lines of his face are darker, harsher. 
- I came to give you something - he announces, producing a small object out of the pocket of his trousers. 
It's harder than you thought, tearing your gaze away from the bull, but you manage, your eyes landing on a figurine in your Father's hands. Your heart stops, as you recognize the blackened stone, polished to perfection. On a flat disc stands a figure of a Matador, proud and posed. Next to him, a bull, ready to strike. It's cold to the touch, when you take it from your Father, ridges of the small sculpture digging into your palm. 
Jumping in front of danger, for better or worse. Your head starts to hurt.
- Father - the sound of your shaking voice carries through the corridor - How will I ever survive this?
By the way Duke Leto Atreides sucks in a sharp breath, you can deduce the answer. And what a sad answer it is. 
Your Father steps closer, gathering your trembling hands in his, the warmth of his embrace engulfing you like the first sun rays of spring. He squeezes your fingers, tightening your own hold on the small figurine, and his eyes are so incredibly sad, you're convinced they could make any heart in the universe weep. 
- With courage - he says - and grandiose. 
Like a true Matador would. 
***
Your bull stands completely still. 
His pale skin creates a beautiful contrast against the ever present darkness of the Harkonnen ship. It's so much different from your native fleet, all sleek and black, and efficient. Terrifying, but at the same time, strangely beautiful. 
The both of you watch, as the hatch is being pulled up, slowly but surely obscuring all sight of your home planet. Of your family, standing by the docking station like a funeral parade. It's only when you can no longer see them, your life sealed with a click of finality, does your betrothed, now husband, move. 
His hand grasps your upper shoulder, and you jump at the sudden contact. Your confused gaze is completely ignored, as the man drags you through the ship, taking large, hasty steps. 
Hairless faces swish past you, all so similar to each other, you're worried you'll never figure out who is who. The corridors of the ship wind and turn like a merciless labyrinth, a realization daunting on you, that you will never be able to find your way in this place. 
Suddenly, you're faced with a black door, which opens as soon as your husband walks up to it. His grip tightens and he basically throws you forward, watching you stumble through the entrance on weak legs. 
It takes you a second to gather yourself, as you instinctually settle into a defensive stance. The room you're in looks quite different from the rest of the ship. It's much more luxurious, one would risk saying cozy. With a gigantic, round bed filled with pillows, a dark desk, and a deliciously comfortable looking armchair. It all dims in your eyes, however, as you look up at your newlywed.
He stands right at the entrance, blocking the only means of escape with his tall frame.
Both of you are still in your wedding clothes. Your dress hugs your body in a way that is anything but comforting. His outfit is as black and sharp, as all his attire. It exposes his lean physique, clings to his warrior's physique. Terrifying, your brain summarizes, muscles freezing suddenly. Feyd Rautha looks at you with emotions you can't decipher in the low light of his room. Your room. Your marital abode. 
You can't breathe, lungs tighten painfull with the sheer thickness of the air between the two of you. Still, there's a certain power, residing in your bones, an inclination of a fight you're ready to put up, should he try anything. And by the way his brow bone settles over his darkened eyes, your husband seems to understand. What a terrifying thought. The sheer idea of finding a common ground with this awful man makes your guts turn. 
He doesn't even flinch, when the doors behind him slide open. You however, nearly jump out of your skin at the sound, cutting through the deafening silence of the bedroom. With furrowed brow you watch, as three Harkonnen women spill into the room. All of them completely hairless, lips pulled back in feral snarls, as they regard you with an emotion you can only interpret as contempt. Their bodies, clad in typical, Harkonnen garments, flow and slither, when they gather behind your husband, like three hungry lionesses, their black eyes flickering to him, to you. 
- Get her ready - Fey Rautha throws a command over his shoulder, eyes glued to you still, and his gaze drags itself across your body like tar.
This is the first time you've heard him speak since the wedding, and involuntarily, you cringe at the gravely sound. While he stayed silent, it was easy to forget who you're dealing with. But as soon as sound leaves his mouth, you're cruelly reminded of the roughness, and the strangeness of your life's partner. 
The three women stir behind him, hands sliding up his body in a gesture, that is almost too close to reverence. He does look like a young god, like some ethereal being, but you're too distressed to dwell on that thought. Instead, your arms encircle your body, a shiver of terror and strangely, disgust flowing over you, at the mere idea of these women touching you. Then, one of those three strange creatures moves forward. She has a stripe of black running down her bottom lip, and her face twists into a cruel smile.
She says something in a language you don't recognize. Probably a native Harkonnen. A rough bark, her disgusted expression translating the meaning better, than any dictionary would. 
 Still, you have no time to process the foreign insult, because as soon as words leave her mouth, your husband turns. His white hand grabs the woman's hairless head, as one would pick an apple from an orchard, and then, you see a flicker of true terror flash through the woman's face. In a smooth, deadly gesture, Feyd Rautha smashes her face against the wall, the resounding sound of her skull fracturing against the concrete is like the cracking of a whip in your ears. 
That's all it takes, one move, and she falls into a lifeless heap, sliding down the wall. 
A sigh escapes your lips, as your eyes stay glued to her body. You can't see her face. 
Your husband barks something towards the remaining two women, and they scurry towards you, heads hung low, bodies curled onto themselves. You don't know, whether he looks at you, acknowledges you in any way, shape or form. The doors close behind him, as he leaves you in the hands of his... Whatever these women are to him. 
They begin to strip you where you stand. Their hands peel off your wedding dress from your trembling body, and every move feels like tearing skin from muscle. You can't protest, can't do anything really. Dark, thick blood pools around the third woman's head, dripping between the tilled floor, slowly making it's way closer to your feet. 
When they pull you towards the bed, you say nothing. Let them massage your body with some ointment, which smells of heavy chemicals and scratches your throat. 
Their hands are unexpectedly delicate. You suppose they're too scared to take revenge on you, or perhaps, they just don't care. Doesn't really matter, because you do. You really care, despite yourself. Heart squeezes in your chest impossibly tight, when they help you up from the bed, and once again you're confronted with the white corpse in the corner of the room. 
The dress they pull over your body hardly qualifies as a garment in your eyes. It's made of delicate, sheer material, which barely covers anything, looking more like a courtain thrown over a window. 
Is this how he wants you, you wonder. Terrified, bare, always on the verge of something, be it tears or anger. 
One of the women steps in front of you, takes your hands in hers and rubs something into your cold bones. You try to catch her eye, try to decipher how to categorize them, as humans or as creatures, but she swiftly ducks under your inquisitive gaze. That is, until your eyes flicker towards the corpse once again. 
Her hand shoots up towards your chin, dragging you back to meet her onyx eyes. You can see the reflection of your own confused face in the void.
- You- she rasps, her voice a grating symphony of gurgles and growls that stumble over the common language - Soft.
Whether it's a warning, or a threat, you can't fully decide, but it doesn't matter. Those two words tell you more about your future life, than any book, any archived account. This is what the Harkonnens are made of. Sensless violence, outbursts of anger, dark blood. You swallow thickly, and nod, your expression hardening in the woman's eyes. She looks as if there's something else she'd want to say, but her head ducks at record speed, when the sound of the doors opening cuts through the air once more. 
For a longer moment you're completely devoid of words. 
Here stands you husband, some sort of fruit in his right hand, two daggers hanging from the belt on his trousers. His chest, white and (unfortunately) toned beyond belief stares back at you. His unoccupied hand makes a wide gesture, and the remaining two women scurry off towards their third, dead companion. With quick hands, they grab the body and drag it out of the room, letting the door slide closed behind them. Immediately, you miss their presence, unnerving as they are.
Once again, you're left alone with the na-Baron. 
His eyes float freely all over your figure, taking it in with an impassive stare. It's deeply unnerving, the way you're presented to him, the way he organized all of this, tailored it to his liking. You can't help it, the way your body begins to warm before him, skin becoming prickly to the touch, much too sensitive for the strange imitation of fabric covering it. Still, your mind stays sharp, and instinct kicks in, as you take a cautious step back, angling your bady away from him. 
- So, what now? - you ask, voice rough, eyes following his every move. 
And move he does, slowly advancing towards you. His feet, which you now discover, are bare, drag behind him. Grace and danger mix well within his movements, as he circles you, still without a word. You throat runs dry, when he bites the fruit in his hand, dark juice spilling all over his lips, drops rolling down his hands, his forearms. Your stomach churns. 
- Now - again you're reminded of the gravely tones his voice can carry - We consumate our marriage, wife. 
Somehow, your marital status sounds like a mockery spilling from his lips, and he laughs at the way your face scrunches.
- I don't want you to touch me - a lie, your entire body burns for any semblence of friction, but you're determined to keep some dignity.
To that, he nods his head in silent agreement, a gesture, which actually manages to surprise you. The fruit is thrown forgotten onto the floor. It rolls under the bed, and you fight the urge to reprimend your husband. Instead, you bite your lip. 
- I thought you would say that - he murmurs, coming closer, his breath fanning over your exposed shoulder. 
The hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you crane your head to the side, so you can look him in the face. So he can see the disaproving expression, perhaps he'd feel a fraction of the hate boiling in your gaze. Then, you can feel something, cold and sharp, drag itself from the dip in your spine, all the way up to your shoulder blades. A gasp escapes you, and your entire body shivers violently. 
- That's why I brought these. - Feyd Rautha whispers into your ear, and you can't help but sway lightly in your place, as if his words have the power to physically move you.
Then, your hand closes around a metal object, and you look down to be met with a beautifully crafted dagger. The blade is silver, shiny, and unbelievably sharp. It fits into your grasp as if it was made specially for you, and the possibility almost makes you smile. Then, confusion creases your brow, and your husband flashes you a deadly, black smile, as he steps back a couple of steps. 
He's holding a blade as well, jet black and strangely matte, a perfect antitype of yours. There's a sort of lazy excitement about him, hidden in every movement. It reminds you of the way he'd behave in the arena, while making a spectacle of death for you and your family. 
- I though this would work on you - he muses, twirling the blade in his hand, and your muscles seize with realization. - And it definitely works on me.
The idea is preposterous, utterly scandalous. Using a fight as some perverse attempt at foreplay, your brain swimms with conflicting emotions. 
- You're being ridiculous - you attempt to diffuse the situation, but your husband doesn't budge, rolling his shoulders.
- Come on, wife - he snarls, with a sharp smirk - Don't you want to hurt me?
Something boils inside of you at his words. Some ancient, terrifying anger that you supposed, has always been there with you. From the moment you stepped onto the red carpet, leading you towards your undoing at the altar. Red, like the spilled blood still staining the floor of this bedroom. The rage, which you swallowed down, when you recited the vows, when you let him unveil your face, kiss you in front of the entire Atreides court. Now, it seeped through every pore in your skin, covering you in a tar like courtain. 
You hate your husband. You hate Feyd Rautha, the na-Baron of House Harkonnen.
Hate him for being your husband, for agreeing to this cruel match. For taking you away from your family, from your wise Father, and your strict Mother, and your sweet Brother. For ripping you away from love, which didn't even have time to properly bloom. Duncan's face dances in front of you like a taunting vision from an angry god, and your fingers tighten around the dagger. 
Feyd Rautha is right. You want to hurt him. You wanted to, before you even met him. 
- There you are - his lips pull back into a cruel, blackened smile of self-satisfaction - I was worried they took away all your venom, Viper. 
You'll show him fucking venom, you think, feet sliding on the floor, twisting your body into a dancing position. Two sets of shields click into life, and suddenly you begin to understand. 
This is your arena. This is your bull. 
This will be your battlefield for the rest of your life, for as long as you're able to withstand it. With courage and grandiose, your Father's voice haunts you, but soon after another echo rises in your mind. Your Mother, your teacher, her whisper slithers from your memory, a passing comment right before you're shipped off to Giedi Prime, when she squeezed your hand so tight, you were worried tendons under your skin would snap. 
Excitement and arousal flow freely from your husband's expression, as he watches yours harden. Something inexplicable settles over your features, a promise. You'll give him a fight of a lifetime, and he'll love it, every single time. It should unnerve you, the way his body lowers itself, like a panther ready to strike. It would've unnerved you some time ago. 
Now, however, it shows you a clear path to survival. This is how you take control.
Cold blood splatters from under your feet, as you jump towards him, a series of measured blows following closely behind. He blocks them, lets some be pushed back by the shield. Then, he's on you, brutal and unhibited slashes fly around your body, and you meet all of them with a blocking blade. You're pushed back, towards the wall, where remains of the previous killing still stain the concrete. Blood seeps into the thin fabric on your body, and you shiver in disgust, as it sticks to you. 
Your husband doesn't notice, his blade leaves a rather deep mark in the wall, as you duck under his arm, and avoid a nasty punch to the gut.
 Plap, plap, plap, your feet carry you through the room, as you try to gain some leverage. The mattress on the bed is surprisingly soft, when you climb on top of it, gaining the advantage of a higher position. An advantage, which is quickly torn out of your hands, as your husband grabs onto your ankle, tugging at it with such force, you tumble down in an instant.
Panic rises in your gut, as the world sins around you, and without really thinking, you let your mind flow into autopilot.
- Let me go! - the Voice tears out of your throat like a landslide, and Feyd Rautha throws himself off of you, his body colliding with the nearby desk. 
Books and papers crash to the floor with the force of his figure. Your head swimms, but you will it away, too focused on survival to care for your well-being. Both of you are panting, trying to recover from this sudden use of ancient magics. 
- I should rip that treacherous tongue right out of your skull - the threat would carry more strength, if your husband's expression wasn't absolutely dripping with unabashed lust. 
Never in your life has someone looked at you this way, and the shock of emotions is enough to pull you right to your feet. Your blade reflects the dim lights of the room, as you raise it high, body taunt and ready. 
- You'll never get that close.
A challenge, which doesn't even have enough time to properly resound in the thick air of the room, before Feyd Rautha pushes himself off the desk. Things clatter to the ground from the force of his movements, and you barely have time to react, when his blade sinks into your shield. Your body flies backwards, falling in heap with his at the foot of your marital bed. The edge digs into your back, your left hand pressed tightly into the mattress. 
He's hovering over you, panting like a wild animal, face illuminated red from below, where, just short of his juggular, your blade licks a stripe across his alabaster skin. His right hand is wedged between your bodies, dagger nicking you under your ribs. And you stay in this position, like a marble statue, your eyes melting into his, frozen in time. 
- You fought well, Atreides - his voice rumbles deep within his chest, and you can't help, but snarl at his words. - We would've taken each other to an early grave. 
Something dangerously close to fondness floods his features at the idea, and your fingers start to unravel, letting go of the dagger one by one. He doesn't have a chance to react, when your blade clatters to the floor, and your hand, now free, grabs the back of his head, pulling him down.
Your kiss opens the gates of hell, and soon, his own dagger is thrown across the room. You can't see, refuse to see, as your eyelids flutter closed. His lips are slightly chapped, but not any less delicious. Left hand thrashes in his hold, until he lets it go. Then, they both find purchase against his sharp cheekbones, and you hold him so tight, you might break his face with your ministrations. 
- I knew it would work - he pants against your lips, you can hear the smile in every syllable.
- Shut the fuck up - you snarl, fingers digging deeper into his skin.
He groans into the kiss, immediately forcing his tongue into your mouth, as his hands work hard to manouver your legs open enough, for him to slot in between. Then, his touch is everywhere. On your legs, he drags the sheer fabric up and down your thighs, as he carresses your skin, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your hips. They venture upwards, to grab at your breasts, they fight their way into your hair, where he pulls and scrapes. 
It doesn't matter, you think, when you hear the fabric tear, and the carefully chosen attire falls from your body. Nothing matters. 
You're boneless and defenseless against this one insidious emotion, which carries your every move, which compells you to arch your back, to reveal your running pulse under his searching lips. Feyd Rautha bites down on your skin, right where your neck meets your shoulder, and you respond in kind, head descending upon his porcelain skin. He shudders under your teeth and tongue, his entire body tensing.
This is how you take control, and you've never felt so greedy. 
His trousers aren't even fully off of his legs, when he enters you, clumsily and with urgency, bare feet sliding on the floor. Surprisingly inexperienced, he chases your core with his entire body, as if the heat of your insides in a completely foreign sensation.Your moan tears at the column of your throat, where his lips leave a trail of purple marks. The covers remains undisturbed, as your husband ruts into you, pressing your back harder against the edge of the bed. It's uncomfortable, it's hurtful, but somehow, it feels perfect for the two of you. Fucking like wild animals, not even able to make it onto the bed.
- I hate you - you repeat, like a mantra, broken voice cascading with every thrust. - I hate you, I ha- 
Your head rolls backwards, when a particularly hard thrust nearly breaks you, but your husband is here to help, his hand grabbing the the roots of your hair, bringing your head down, so you can watch as he performs a magic trick of repeatedly disapearing into your body. 
You're not sure who's blood his hand slips on, but suddenly, you're fully on the floor, your body crushed by his. Nothing stops his wild movements, not the sloppiness of it all, not the hard wails he tears from your body. If anything, the more strain his body is under, the more ferocious he's being. Your hand shoots up, all five fingers digging into his throat, and you're rewarded with an angelic moan, which almost brings you to your finish line. Almost. 
His head leans down into the crook of your neck, where he whispers something in Harkonnen, a gurgle of rough sounds, interrupted by sinful moans. He sounds so beautiful, so conflicted, for a second you consider being gentle with him. Alas, you hate him still.  
Another realization dawns upon you, as your feet kick with force into your husbands backside, to force him deeper, to keep him inside. This is still a fight. You're still on the battlefield, still waving a red flag in front of a raging bull. So, with courage and grandiose, your muscles tense, and you roll your husband over. 
The change in position makes both of you gasp in unison, as you sink down onto him. For a second, everything stops. His lips are red and swollen, sweat and blood mix on his skin, flow down in pinkish stripes. And he watches you, as one would a holy painting of a foreign god. With reverence and utter lack of understanding. You're fully aware the look is mirrored on your face. 
Slowly at first, your hips begin to rock, up and down, in a steady rhythm, that forces a shuddering breath to leave Feyd Rautha's lips. You bend down, to catch it, and because of your greed, you catch his bottom lip as well. The bite you give him is anything but romantic, and his hips jump from the floor, hitting a spot within you, you didn't know existed. He swallows your moan along with his own blood, and his fingertips map the curve of your spine, as you straighten upon him.
Fingernails latch themselves into the skin of his chest, as you speed up, chasing your own release and no one else's. Moans spill from your lips, the concept of shame abandoning your mind completely. Then, compelled by something dark and twisted you drag claw marks down his torso. 
His body shudders, and his hips lift off the ground, fucking into you with reckless abandon. The hold he has on the flesh of your hips is bruising, to say the least, but you did enough damage to call it even. Enough, to make your body tremble and tense up, as climax creeps up on you steadily. 
Like a shark sniffing for blood, he senses the change in your being, and as you tumble over the edge, a silent scream tearing at your throat, he suddenly rises into a seating position. His arms encircle you fully, pressing your sweaty bodies impossibly close, as he too finds his own end. 
It takes him second, to tumble over, filling you to the brim with ink. His head buries itself into your shoulder, inhaling your scent through deep gasps, each eliciting a broken growl from his chest. 
Your bones are gone completely, body relaxing and falling breathless into your husband's arms. After a while of sitting in complete stillness, he moves first. Strong hands lift you up, off of him, and you whine at the emptiness. 
Then, as a last hurrah, he throws you onto the bed, where your recovering body sinks into the soft mattress. It's heavenly, the way you seem to float in nothingness, head swimming from exertion. For a moment you don't even register him climbing into the bed with you, drunk on the fading tension seeping from your every pore.
The lights are almost completely out, yet his skin shines against the black comforter. You wish to see if he's flushed, like he was at the engagement party. Leaning on one arm, his fingers trail around the small wound under your ribs. Dried blood flakes off of your skin, and you shudder again. 
- I - you start, voice completely broken - I've never known hate, until I met you. 
You're not sure why you've said it. Perhaps, in this moment of serenity, truth seems to float to the surface much more easily. Or perhaps you're possessed, or worse, gone completely insane. Eother way, your eyebrows furrow, and Feyd Rautha leans down to kiss your forehead, gently. 
- If this is how your hate looks like - he whispers into your hairline, teeth scraping lightly against it - I dread to imagine your love. 
You'll never find out, you think, but for some reason can't fully vocalize it. 
He says something else, after a while, but your mind is becoming as heavy as your body, and as the day descends upon you in a heap of exhaustion, you fall asleep.
And while your story has nothing but suffering in the future, while there's death and mourning, and years of violence written in the stars for you. Right now, on the Harkonnen ship sailing through space to Giedi Prime, you sleep in the arms of your husband. Whether this strange symbiotic relationship will last, no one can tell, but there is hope, and what else could you possibly need? 
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libertyybellls · 3 months
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ONE FOR THE ROAD !
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pairing; mentor!finnick x victor!reader
summary; you’ve been finnicks since the moment you met, after your interviews you break- who can fix you better than him?
contains; ANGST/FLUFF, two idiots in love, typical thg themes- i’m sure by now you know what i mean ;(
☾⋆。𖦹 °✩
finnick watched you from behind the curtains of the stage, somewhere in a hallway with your face on the screen infront of you. watching you with your hand over your heart as you gushed about your faux-greatfulness to the capitol.
he watched your face drop as all of your kills were flashed onto the large screen, he watched the squint in your eyes, the way your brows furrowed, the way your jaw clenched. he pleaded now to you, through his mind- bury the hatchet sweet girl, don’t fall apart, you’ve made it this far.
his fingers were crossed his foot tapping anxiously until the milisecond your interview concluded.
your stylists crowded around the hallway, waiting to applaud you on how good you were- but finnick knew you better than anyone, he kept his distance.
your presence came with fury, tearing off your ridiculous headpiece- it falling to the ground in pieces with seconds. each step you took seemed to get angrier. your stylists behind you with a hand on their chest. something their dull minds couldn’t understand, how could she be so angry when it’s over with?
when you turned the corner and he saw you, when he saw the darkness in your eyes clouding your every move. desperate to be alone, to rot away- he twisted you around and into him.
you fought against him- struggling to release yourself from his hold. finnick only pulled you closer to him, with a tighter hold. “it’s okay, you’re okay.” he hushed into your ear, your arms softened. they found a home around his neck while your head hid away in his neck.
“no,” you only shook your head. how could he lie to you when you’re like this? “it’s not, it’s not fucking fair.”
he understand, if anyone- he understands. “i’m still me, you’re still you.” he said that and he wanted to believe it, wanted it to be true. thought maybe the cards would fall into the right lineup for him- to all be in his favor, but when had they ever been?
“no im not.” you didn’t believe him, and he couldn’t believe himself- maybe the two of you could build a city of lies in your heads.
you wanted to tell him what a monster you were, how awful you were-but he had to have already known .
he’d watched you be the most deceitful creature in the game, the most twisted, two fast creature. you’re sure he knew.
“yes you are princess, i know it’s bad but you’re safe, you’re with me.” finnicks voice always had this perfect serene pitch, even when you didn’t mean to- in a world of voices it would be the only thing you could focus on.
the tears cascaded down your face, black mascara indefinetly staining his white sweater.
he would never admit this out loud, it almost ate him up inside thinking it- and he would beat himself up for it for as long as he lived, but you were not the same- you never would be. but he could love you in any way you came.
you weren’t the same girl who would collect the seashells that reminded you of him and run up to his door with a basket full of them- you would never be the same girl who’s eyes would sparkle at the smallest conversation between you, him, and mags in her living room on a summer night. the same girl who’d laugh so hard that your stomach ached and you’d slap his shoulder.
you weren’t the same girl. and he knew that the moment your knife went for your allies neck, the way you screamed when the last cannon went off.
and you’d never say it, but you thought of him. every time someone would charge at you- desperate to hear the cannon. you thought about how all you needed to do was run home into his arm and scream at him for not letting you love him sooner.
and now, now he needed to think of you. think of your loving touch- your pure heart and the sound of your overjoyed laugh when he’d hug you too tight- or catch you off guard with a joke. he needed to think about brining all this anger- this hate, this disgust and guilt out of you- for he’d rather take it all on himself than watch it eat at you.
so he would hold you close when you woke up screaming, bathe you when your body was too tired to hold itself up, whisper sweetheart nothings into your ear as he cradles you back into a deep slumber.
-
a/n; very short, just wanted to get a lil angst out for u guys ;))
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INBOX OPEN!!
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beybaldes · 4 months
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one single thread of gold tied me to you
sejanus plinth x gn!reader
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summary: Sejanus Plinth sits on the steps of the academy with you by his side. Things may be bad, but there are worse places you could be
warnings: NO relation between reader and snow I might die if I see another fic where reader is his twin (not that they aren’t good fics, they are so good!!! I just don’t look like him at all 😭😭😭 free me), little angst but mostly fluff, ONE use of y/n, hehehehehe i posses evil powers
an: okay I know Ive not posted in like forever but I saw BOSBAS and fell in LOVE 🥲 technically spoilers and won’t be 100% book/movie accurate im going with straight vibes for this one :D enjoy!!
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Sejanus Plinth was never meant to cross your path, let alone take violent root in your heart. In every other universe he never left district two and you never bumped into him on the playground at 8 years old, wondering where on earth he must have come from. There wasn’t such a thing as a ‘new kid’ in the capital, and yet, you had found one.
Or rather, he’d found you. You’d been chasing Arachne Crane around the playground in a game of tag, too focused on trying to catch her and not focused enough on the tree root that stuck out of the ground in front of you. There’d been no time to react, but sweet, gentle, wonderful Sejanus Plinth had caught you by the arm, his grip so firm you’d had his fingerprints bruised into your skin for weeks after. But he’d saved you from scraping your knee against the ground, and he held you up until you’d steadied yourself, and then he’d walked away without a word. Arachne had disappeared from your sight and you were suddenly infatuated with the mass of brown curls that were walking to the far side of the playground; you felt as though you had no choice but to chase after him instead.
Shivering at the thought that in another life you’d befriended the likes of Felix Ravenstill or Festus Creed instead, you reached out for Sejanus’s hand between the tables the mentors were made to sit at to watch the games. Surprisingly, he was receptive to your touch, tightly interlocking your fingers and hoping it would provide him with more comfort then you both knew it ever could.
As Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman, the capitals weatherman, began to introduce the game to viewers watching from the comfort of their homes, Sejanus’s grip on your hand only got tighter, his hands beginning to tremble slightly as the screen at the front of the grand room began to show the tributes entering the area. As images of the tributes being pushed, dragged and shoved into their starting places crossed the screen, your thumb ran across the back of his hand, hoping you could make the shaking of his clammy palm against yours stop.
Slowly the cameras in the arena moved their focus from the tributes waiting for the games to start, and instead zoomed in on Marcus, hung by his bloodied hands on the fallen debris caused by the rebel attack.
“Oh my God.” Gasping the words out, you couldn’t tear your eyes from the sight, and you would’ve held onto Sejanus’s hand tighter if you were still holding it. Instead his hand was torn from yours as he stood among the other mentors, flinging his desk and device across the room with a rage you’d never seen in him before.
“You’re monsters!” He cried, hands scrunched into fists by his side, tears filling his eyes as he addressed the room before him. Peers, Sejanus didn’t dare call them friends, and teachers alike stood in silence, refusing to feed into his outrage and refusing to speak against the regime they had been raised in. Though some of them had never known anything different then a life with the hunger games, it didn’t take anything more then a heart in your chest to know how wrong it was. Even if Sejanus hadn’t known Marcus from his time in district 2, he was the same age as him, he had a family and friends back home hoping he would return to them, he was a living, breathing person who shouldn’t have had to fight for his life because his name was drawn from a hat. “All of you!”
Sejanus stormed out of the room, and you would’ve been hot on his heels if Coriolanus hadn’t grabbed you, holding you to your seat. “Just wait.” You didn’t understand at first, furious that Coriolanus would try and stop you from going after Sejanus to see if he was okay, but as he silently pointed at Mr Flickerman, you understood. Following Sejanus should wait ten seconds while Lucky counted down to the official beginning of the Hunger games and you could sneak away unnoticed. While you were never particularly fond of Coriolanus Snow, you could appreciate his brain and how it ticked.
When the ten long seconds were finally up, you sprung from your seat, a whispered thank you to Coriolanus as you snuck around the outside of the seated mentors, all of whom were enamoured with the screen. As you left the building in search of Sejanus, you briefly worried he’d be nowhere to be found, having run far away from the academy in hope he could escape everything. However, he’d been quite easy to find, hunched over himself on the steps of the academy, his arms wrapped around his knees and curled into himself as his shoulders jumped with strained breaths. A part of you prayed you’d never have to see him like this again.
“Sejanus?” His head snapped to face you, furiously wiping away the frustrated tears that had rolled down his cheeks and forcing something that tried to be a smile on his face. A frown pulled on your lips as your met his eyes, quickly crossing the steps until you were beside him. “Oh, Sejanus.”
“Did you see what they did to him?” His voice trembled as he spoke, hiccuping in breathes as he tried to tell you what he was thinking, tried to nullify the crippling ache in his chest. With the escape of a whimper from the back of his throat, your hands came to cup his face, caressing his cheeks and simultaneously wiping away any tears that crossed your path. “What they’re doing to all of them?”
“I know, I know.” You cooed, knowing there was nothing you could do to change things. All you could do right now was make your Sejanus feel better, though you worried even your best wouldn’t be enough. “It is wrong and cruel, so, so cruel, and one day people will see just how right you are.”
“They won’t.” He scoffed, his eyes turning to stare at where his shoes met the ground, avoiding your gaze. “They think that this is life, that this is how things are. And no one else sees an issue with that, at least not here in the Capital.”
One of your hands turned Sejanus to face you, not allowing him to look away as you spoke, while the other fervently soothed his curls away from his face, hoping a combination of the two could begin to make him feel better.
“Thousands of people will have seen your outrage at the games tonight, and if even one of them has been affected by it, then you will have made a change.” Sejanus’s features softened as you spoke, and while you knew his boiling rage was only reducing to a simmer, and that at the end of the day it would still be inside of him, you knew that he was allowing himself to get through this moment with your help. “Rome was not built in one night. Change will come, it just takes time.”
Silence didn’t have the chance to settle. “Why are you so nice to me?” That surprised you. It didn’t seem like a question that needed answering and it didn’t seem like something Sejanus would ever ask you. It felt too obvious. “No one in the capital has ever accepted me as one of them, and yet, my own district won’t recognise me as theirs either. Most of the people at the academy don’t even acknowledge me, and sometimes I feel like Coryo only tolerates me, but you? You are nice to me, like now. You didn’t have to come out here, you chose to. Why?”
Strangely, you’d never been so scared. You couldn’t help but think that you’d said or done something to make Sejanus think that your friendship towards him was fake or conditional, but it couldn’t be further from it. How did you put into words how much you loved him for him, without saying it just like that? Plain and simple?
“You are kind, Sejanus. You don’t see a lot of that around here. From the very first day I met you you have been nothing but kind - not only to me but everyone around you, even when they didn’t deserve it.” Your hand against his hair had moved back down to his cheek, the gentle caress of your thumb against the apple of his cheek turning more and more loving with every word you spoke. “You bring your Ma’s sweets to share, even when they’re the ones you really like, you recite your favourite books to me just because you want to talk and you know I’ll listen, you stop me from going home with scrapped knees and grazed hands everyday, and-“
It was like you’d suddenly become dangerously aware of how close the two of you had got, not only physically on the steps of the academy, but in your friendship over the years. Maybe more then a friendship if either of you were brave enough to say it. You couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t think about anything but his lips against yours. Removing your hands from his face and placing them neatly in your lap, you tore your gaze from his face and looked to the sunsetting sky. “Sejanus plinth, it seems I have grown quite fond of you.”
Sejanus placed two fingers beneath your chin, turning your face to make you look at him, like you had done just minutes ago. “I have grown irreversibly fond of you, y/n y/l/n.”
As Sejanus leaned closer to you, and you tilted you head so your nose would slot perfectly against his, a crowd of mentors came out of the academy, causing the two of you to jump apart. Sejanus looked more disappointed than you think you’d be able to get him to admit, and he stood from the steps almost instantly. “I have to go.”
If you’d been any less dazed by the almost kiss shared between the two of you, you’d have chased after him once more, but you found yourself frozen on the steps of the academy. Sejanus was going to kiss you. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d find the two of you in such a position once again and maybe that time your lips would actually meet.
A part of you is certain you don’t even know the boy exists in any other universe. And yet, you find that you would plead before the Gods themselves to have the fortune of knowing him in every one.
An: thank you for reading!! Would anyone want a part 2 about Sejanus going in to the arena and reader and Coriolanus teaming up to get him out? I might write it anyway lol but please give me feed back and let me know what you thought!! Mwah <333
part 2: I swam a lake of fire, I’d have walked across the floor of any sea out now!!
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thepenultimateword · 2 years
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Could you please continue civilian mentor and fiamora villain? It’s really good and I need to know what happens next!
Part One
Civilian's cheek squished against the desktop, one arm stretched in front of them, the other serving to prop open the newest gorgeous, leather-bound tome they'd convinced the school to purchase as "important research material." The fully illustrated edition at that. Technically it was true. Civilian would benefit wildly from this book when it came to plotting against Villain, and if any of those illiterate brats--er, precious children--deigned to come in, they might write a magnificent paper on fiamora behavior.
What was wrong with them these days? Everything made them irritable or sad, their brain raced endlessly but got nowhere, and they caught themself staring off into space way too often. It was really becoming tiresome. Even books couldn't stabilize them. At this very moment, with this big, beautiful, page-turner in front of them, nothing was sinking in. They read the same paragraph over and over but it never registered. Most brain power seemed dedicated to intermittently blowing their pen to the top of their desk between sentences.
Screeech!
Civilian didn't need to look up to recognize the casual lope of Hero's steps.
"What's up?" the teenager said, slinging off their backpack and rolling a few feet past the desk as they threw themself in the extra wheely chair.
"Just reading. New book came in. Thought it might help for planning."
"No, I mean what's up with the face? Did Villain dump you?"
Civilian didn't lift their head, but they carefully slid their book to the side and gave the lip of the desk a tight squeeze. Their next vicious exhale sent the pen just nigh of toppling over the edge. For some reason, that comment had sparked a more aggressive reaction than was typical for them. It shouldn't have, so they tried to keep their voice level as they responded.
"You know very well that there's nothing between us."
Hero rolled in closer. "Ooooh, so that's the problem."
"Noo," the pen hit their lips and they spluttered on it.
"Want me to bring it up in our next fight?"
Civilian sat up sharply.
"No!"
"I won't say you're the one asking," Hero said, rolling their eyes like Civilian was an amateur to this game. "I'll just bring you up casually and feel out the situation."
"And how are you going to bring up your mentor in the middle of battle? They'll know it's a setup-- Wait, no, that's not the point. I don't want you doing anything because I don't care about Villain. Understand?"
Hero raised their eyebrows at them with an expression that read something along the lines of, "Are you stupid or do you think I am?" That kid was getting way too sassy. But that probably was Civilian's own doing.
Maybe they were an amateur. Not enough to be condescended to by a teenager, but enough to be very, very confused. When was the last time they dated? When was the last time they'd even had feelings that superseded their affection for books? Not in a long, long time. But that couldn't be what this was. What they felt a month ago had been akin to terror, maybe not so much toward the end, but still. It was a red flag, and it was wrong, and they were done thinking about it.
"I don't care about Villain," they repeated more firmly.
Hero cocked an eyebrow. "Hmmm, so what you want is a rebound crush. Want me to set you up with my neighbor? They collect a lot of weird garden statues, but other than that they're nice."
Civilian dug their palms into their eyes with a loud groan. "Let's focus on the upcoming plan, alright? Remember what I told you about fiamora instincts..."
***
Civilian's breath blew out in a large cloud as they stepped out into the icy, slushy school parking lot. Most of the students' cars had dissipated, leaving Civilian's little, dirt-stained civic alone at the corner of the tennis courts.
They watched their feet as they picked their way across the slick lot. It was hard telling wet road from ice, so each step was slow and ginger. Meanwhile, they fished around in their coat pockets for their keys, mittens slipping off the ring twice before they finally found purchase on their compass keychain.
They looked up from their shoes and came face to face with a pair of intense bottle-green eyes and a long saber-tooth fang.
"Hiya, cutie," Villain said.
The keys clanked sharply on the asphalt.
"The kid around?"
Civlian blinked at them dumbly. "They went home twenty minutes ago."
"Good. Then where were we?" Villain's hands slammed on the car door to either side of Civilian's arms.
Civilian fell back, glasses slipping askew on the bridge of their nose and body reflexively flattening against the window. A chilly, eastern breeze mussed Villain's wild hair and carried the scent of sweat and river stones to their nose. A splitting grin showed off the start of a new fang point poking out their gums, and glinting eyes progressively took up more and more of their vision. Oh, they were getting closer.
They were a tidal wave coming crashing down, ready to drag them under, to sweep them away into a deep, black current, maybe even to drown them.
Civilian grabbed Villain's wrist, twisting it to the side to duck under their arm. They retreated several steps around the nose of the car. Their dress shoes weren't built for snow, and wet seeped through the eyelets, but they had a better chance running on this than ice.
"Hero was right before," they said sharply. They weren't sure where they got the courage when their heart was beating so fast, but the need for sense pressed them onward. "What is this? What are you doing?"
"Courting you. Was that not clear?"
It hit Civilian like electricity, more intimate an answer than they had been expecting. Several questions and arguments rushed their brain at the same time, but they settled on the most important one. "You're a villain!"
"And?"
"I-I'm a good guy." It sounded infantile. They desperately searched for better words. "I'm a mentor for Hero. I'm here for Hero. Furthermore, I don't agree with the things you do, and I never consented to, to...to being snuck up on and backed into corners!"
"You said you liked fiamora."
"Yes, I like to study them. Read about them. Write papers on them. That wasn't an invitation to put the moves on me."
The phrasing of that last sentence tasted awkward in their own mouth. It was more something Hero would say. But it was too late to take it back, so they stood tall and let it rest.
Villain's tail curled up and thrashed out like a whip. Amongst their wild hair, the tips of their ears twitched restlessly. "So last month...there really wasn't anything..."
"I don't know," Civilian snapped, turning to the side. "I was in distress."
"Ah." The tuft of Villain's tail splashed in the slush. For a split second their mouth pulled into a straight line, but then suddenly they were smiling again, even wider than before. "What a misunderstanding, I must have scared you out of your wits out here. I'll give you a nice interview sometime to make up for it."
With one last swish of their tail, they turned around and started away.
Civilian's body lurched after them before they knew what they were doing.
"Y-you're leaving?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Villain said over their shoulder. "That's what you want."
That was what Civilian wanted. Right? All good sense told them it was the better decision. But the sick feeling that curdled their stomach when Villain turned away prevented them from confirming it.
"You're giving up pretty easily; aren't you even going to argue?"
"Should I?"
"Well, I said my piece, usually now you'd say yours." Civilian wrung their fingers and toed at the snow, unable to look Villain in the eyes. "And if you have good points then maybe...I might be convinced. You never know..."
They were being so confusing. They knew that. Villain must be so annoyed with their mixed signals. But either direction felt wrong, and they just didn't know--
The point of Villain's claw hooked beneath Civilian's chin and gently raised their face toward them. Civilian wasn't sure when they'd crossed the space between them, but thank goodness there was gentleness in their eyes instead of contempt. They hadn't even known Villain could make that face.
"Why don't I buy you dinner? We can just talk."
“Won’t people recognize you?” Civilian asked quietly.
"I'll wear a hat."
They nearly laughed at the unhelpful solution, but instead they smiled and nodded. “Ok, let’s do that.”
Part Three
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alienstardustwrites · 3 months
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*destruction in ice (coriolanus snow x f!reader)
♫ “GODS AND MONSTERS” AMERICAN HORROR STORY.
☼ Summary/Fic Request: she’s back in the capitol and reunites with his lover, who’s sejanus’ sister and she has no idea that her lover is the reason her brother is dead. they continue their relationship get married and have a kid or two. he’s basically manipulative during their marriage, and has that feeling he isn’t being truthful (he’s hiding something). - @writing-fanics
✎ A/N: Coriolanus Snow imagine. I am sorry this took awhile. Thank you so much for sending it in! I really hope i captured your request, love. I love the drama ideas. <3! Love it, love it. Comments and feedback always welcomed. Thank you!! ♥
‼ ‼ WARNINGS: feels, romance, manipulation, tweaks of story.
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“Ms. Plinth! Ms. Plinth!” You heard someone calling out your name as you continued in the direction of the train station. You finally stopped, turned, and smiled politely at the messenger. The poor boy had been trying to track you down for a while but you had one thing on your mind - getting to the train station to welcome Coriolanus home. 
“Yes?” You finally allowed him to catch up. He came to a halt, hunched over as he tried to catch his breath. Your eyebrows went up trying to keep your patience. “What is it, Teddy?” You finally exhaled, dropping your arms at your sides and shifting your weight on your feet. 
Teddy held up a letter with some smeared ink which you could only presume was from him. You took the letter from him, wiping your hands against the side of your trousers. It read your name to yourself, grinning briefly as Teddy continued to try to catch his breath. 
“Thank you.” You turned around, finishing your trek toward the station as you carefully ripped the letter open. You unfolded the paper, it was from your brother. But his handwriting was different - it seemed more rushed than usual. 
You made it to the station but the train hadn’t come in yet. You sat at the nearest bench and began to read the letter. 
“Dearest Sister,
I must tell you… things here in 12 are different. Since I was a mentor, I knew something in the Capitol was wrong. We need to change. There are discussions of a rebellion. I am taking a stand. 
If I die, just know I was standing up for something I believed. 
Love, your brother, S.P.”
You knew of his execution. They aired it on television; it was at the request of the president - so everyone could see they don’t favor betrayal. They made an example out of your brother. 
You don’t know how you received this letter so late. But things weren’t as efficient in 12 as the other districts. Plus, your parents already started to speak less of your brother. You felt you were the only one keeping the memory of him alive. 
The blow of the horn signaled that the train was coming. You quickly pocketed the letter and joined the other people waiting for loved ones’ arrival. You buttoned up your red peacoat and watched the travelers exit the train. 
You smiled worriedly until you finally saw him. You could see something different about him - he was harder and jaded. “Coryo,” you didn’t wait for his response. You threw your arms around him, and nuzzled your face into his neck. 
“Hi,” he responded and put his arms around you immediately, feeling you making sure you were real. He kissed your cheek and then your forehead. “I have missed you.” He nodded and closed his eyes breathing you in. 
“He’s gone, Coryo. You both were supposed to come home.” You murmured finally allowing yourself to mourn your brother. For the sake of the family, everyone had to appear the same. You were supposed to appear on the side of justice. You couldn’t let yourself break. You had to bury it deep inside of you, but around Coryo, you felt comfortable enough to strip that away. 
His embrace grew stronger around you when he felt you starting to cry. “Shhh… I know. I know.” He swallowed and kissed your shoulder. “I have you.” He finally pressed his forehead against yours and kissed your lips. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere.” He said against your mouth. 
“I love you. I’m so happy you’re home.” You kissed him softly. 
Coryo smiled softly and touched your jawline. He appeared like he was barely hanging on. You knew him better than most, seeing such horrible things was scarring. You knew he had to stand post as your brother was hanged, he had to appear like it didn’t break him inside. Your brother and he were best friends. And him standing so close and not being able to stop him, it shattered him just as it shattered you. 
“Let’s go home.” He kissed your temple, put your arm around him, and left the station. 
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PRESIDENT CORIOLANUS SNOW. “SJ!” You called out as you chased your son down the long hallway. Your son only giggled and dove into his father’s office. He quickly climbed under the oak desk and curled up next to his father’s leg. 
Coryo felt his son leaning against him. He scooted back just enough to glance down at him. A small mischievous smile grew over his lips as he pressed his index finger against it telling his son to hush. 
You burst into the office with your daughter settled on your hip. “Coryo! Have you seen your son?” You raised eyebrows ignoring your daughter’s sticky fingers against your cheek. “He didn’t finish his dinner.”
“I am sorry, my love, I have not seen Sejanus.” He tapped his chin and made a quick hand gesture to the desk. 
You nodded and grinned at him. You slowly crept over toward him, Coryo took the little girl from your arms. You knelt. “And there you are” You smiled when your son started to laugh. He crawled out from the desk, you quickly grabbed him and peppered his face with kisses. 
“Mama!” SJ squirmed and laughed as he comfortably leaned into you. “You found me.” He chuckled as he curled up against you. 
You kissed the top of his head and patted his side. Coryo leaned over and ruffled his son’s hair smiling at his antics.. Then looked at his daughter. “Well, Camellia, I think your brother is in trouble.” He joked and kissed the top of his daughter’s head. The little girl giggled as she rested her head against her father’s shoulder. 
This was your family. Once things began to settle after Coryo returned home from 12, the two of you fell deeper in love and soon married. You felt comfort with him and he understood your loss, he was patient with you as you came to terms. Within time and your support, Coriolanus became the president of Panem. 
You welcomed two children - Sejanus, naming him after your brother, and Camellia, named after the flower that thrived in the cold. You stood by your husband with all the decisions he made. He wanted to give Panem everything it needed to thrive. Everyone was very gracious for what he did for them. The Games continued. You decided to keep the children away when the reaping was happening. 
Your parents were thrilled when you told them you were marrying Coriolanus. It was all falling into place. Your brother’s letter stayed tucked away from your sight. You read it until the folds were nearly coming apart. You were careful not to let it tear, so you would refold it and hide it away. Then carry on with your children and check on your husband. 
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THE ANNIVERSARY. You were usually careful with when and where you read it. The words would stir up feelings - and the handwriting always bothered you. You knew your brother’s writing - but then it made sense why it didn’t seem like his. He was probably rushed.  
On the anniversary of his death, you took out the letter and scanned it again and again. “What’s that?” He walked up behind you and kissed your shoulder. You smiled quickly and shook your head 
“Oh, it’s nothing.” You folded it carelessly and glanced at Coryo giving him a quick kiss. “My brother’s letter. I forgot about it.” You waved it off and placed it away. “I was thinking of visiting the districts. I mean we have to show face. We want them to continue to support us.” 
Coriolanus wore a tight smile. He wasn’t one to tell you what you could and couldn’t do. But the fact you mentioned the districts, made something shift unhappily inside of him. You smiled and kissed him again. “The children are staying with their nanny.” You nodded. 
“Of course. I wouldn’t let you take them out there.” He spoke assertively and grinned quickly. Then, he kissed your forehead. “Stay safe, love.” 
“Thank you.” You felt a little uneasy after his words. You brushed it off and went to the station. You didn’t tell your husband that your parents gave you the lockbox Sejanus had with him when he was stationed at District 12. 
You went through every piece and managed to pick the slot your brother created. Out spilled pieces of paper. You spent time putting it together and read the name “Spruce.” You knew he was hanged, but there had to be someone who knew more. 
You boarded the train, and headed into the restroom to change out of your expensive garb and into some raggedy trousers, an old-looking blouse, and a newsboy cap. You wiped off any signs of makeup and then took your seat. You tied your boots and watched as the districts zoomed by until you reached 12. 
You paid one of the staff for their silence and exited the train. You were welcomed by a line of Peacekeepers and the scent of the mines. 
You walked around trying to find where you could start. “Come on, Sejanus. Tell me.” You whispered to yourself and went to the vendors. 
Your fingers grazed over the random things they had in baskets and found a gold pin with inverted V’s. It was one you remember seeing your brother wear. You held it up to the woman with the thick braid and beige dress. “How much?” 
The woman glanced at it briefly and then at you. “It’s yours, ma’am.” She gave you a sad grin and nodded. 
“Thank you. Where did you get it? If I may ask?” You lowered your voice as your fingers curled around it feeling it leaving an imprint against your palm. 
“Given by a friend.” 
“Do you know a Spruce?” 
The woman’s eyes went wide and looked at you suspiciously. She swallowed and breathed in. “I I don’t know. Good day, miss.” She turned away from you to tend to the next customer. 
You exhaled, pocketed the pin, and continued down the line. It felt hopeless. You weren’t even sure if you would find anything useful. Maybe you were just chasing ghosts at this point. You had a good life, you had beautiful kids, and you had a good husband. What more could you ask for? Why was your brother’s death hanging over you? Something seemed off. 
You turned and ran into a man holding up some plants. “Oh! I am so sorry!” You quickly said and glanced up at him. 
“Spruce was a friend of mine.” He held out some of the plants and grinned at you. “Katniss?” He offered at the exact moment a Peacekeeper was passing. You grinned kindly and confused but still took the plant. 
“Thank you.” You nodded and took out a coin for him. The Peacekeeper kept on. “What do you know?” You asked casually. 
“He was trying to help unwind this district and his sister. Help this place become better,” he murmured as he continued to show you the different plants he was holding. He had to continue making it appear he was a salesman. 
“Did he know Sejanus Plith?” You asked nodding your head, taking another plan from the man and giving him another coin. 
“Yes. He was part of the rebellion, wanting to see change. He was a good man.” The man held out his hand for you to shake, you gladly shook his hand and smiled. “Everyone speculates he was betrayed by someone and sent to his death. But no proof. Enjoy the katniss, miss.” 
“Thank you. I didn’t catch your name?” You held onto the plants tucking them against your jacket. 
“Everdeen, miss.” He waved politely at you and went, asking other people if they were interested in the plant life. 
You pressed your lips together. You wanted more from him - but the Peacekeepers were coming in and walking around, asking questions. You figured that was enough. 
You needed to head back home to see your kids. Your brother was smart and strong-willed. But he was also reckless. It was no surprise to learn that he was willing to fight for what he believed in. 
You kept a hold of the katniss and walked back to the station. You boarded the train and headed home, being sure to change back into your Capitol clothes. 
Once you arrived home, you held the plants and patted your pocket to be sure you still had the pin. On your way to your home, you smiled and greeted the people in the streets. You plastered on a face that said everything was fine. You entered your home and immediately were welcomed by SJ. 
“Mama!” He smiled wide as you lifted him, laughing gleefully. He had the same blue eyes as Coryo, but his eyes were still so bright and hopeful. You wanted them to forever stay that way. 
“Where’s your dad?” You set him down, taking his hand and giving it a tight squeeze. Your kids were everything - you couldn’t keep pressing for answers. You had to take care of who was in front of you. 
“Work. I think?” He leaped up, then walked beside you as you headed in the direction of the office. You handed him one of the plants you had. 
“Here you go baby, I got some plant life. It’s called katniss.” You smiled as you watched him wiggle it around, sniff it, and tap it against your arm as if it were a wand. 
“Thanks!” He said excitedly as he made his way outside still clinging to the plant. You still had one more piece and were about to follow him outside when you heard your name. You turned around and came face-to-face with your husband. He smiled calmly at you and kissed your cheek modestly. 
“Good trip?” He raised his eyebrows as he took the plant from your hands. He studied it, before handing it back to you. “Made nice with a few people? I hope they will continue to support me.” 
“I did. And it’s safe to say they are still with you, my love.” You smiled and kissed him softly. “The plant is called katniss. Funny name, right?” You laughed a little as tickled his chin with it before holding it by your side. “I’ll be outside with the kids.”
“Okay. Have fun.” He took your hand into his and lifted it to kiss your knuckles. “I want you to know I love you. I love the kids. I would burn everything down to keep you and them safe. I would never let you fall into that nothingness.” He stepped up to you and caressed his cold fingers against your jawline. “Your brother was my best friend. If I could fix what was done all those years ago, I would. In a heartbeat.” 
You locked your eyes with him, taking in what he was saying. You weren’t sure why you suddenly felt intimidated by your husband. His words sounded promising but there was something underneath them that you felt you couldn’t trust. You grew familiar with what he was capable of - but you always thought he would never do it to you. Suddenly, a small fraction of you wasn’t sure anymore. 
“I know, Coryo.” You pressed your palm against his chest. You kissed his cheek. “I’m here. I’ll be here.” You nodded and turned around to head outside. 
Coryo watched you walk out the door to join SJ running around outside. He walked back into his office, sat in his chair, and pulled open one of the drawers. He dropped down an old piece of paper, that was folded too many times, the ink was already smeared. His eyes scanned over the words. 
“Dearest Sister,
I must tell you… things here in 12 are different. Since I was a mentor, I knew something in the Capitol was wrong. We need to change. 
I believe I am on the right side of this. More people should be angry. But everyone is complacent. 
I will do my best to keep quiet, and to work smartly. I don’t want more blood on my hands. People I believed I could trust - I don’t think I can anymore.
If I die, just know I was betrayed by someone close - a friend we both have in common. 
Keep your eyes open, sister. 
Love, your brother, S.P.”
Coryo folded up the real letter written perfectly in Sejanus’s handwriting. He stood up, went to the fireplace in the office, and sparked a flame. He watched it grow little by little, then ripped the letter and tossed it into the flames.
He watched it turn into pieces of ash.
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daydreamrot · 5 months
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God's Menu
chef! leon x fem! reader // Kinktober Installment 4
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"cooking a sauce, get all you want / savor it, lick it, say it, bon / taste so good, everyone loves it / but it all tastes strong / i want it till i serve them all / i do my research, cross boundaries"
summary: you're struggling to keep up with the basics of your culinary program, enough that it threatens your graduation date. your professors decided a summer internship at the prestigious chef kennedy’s restaurant will help you catch up quickly. still slipping up on small tasks, chef kennedy decides to mentor you after hours. what will you create together?
warnings: power dynamics (mentor/mentee relationship), corruption kink, dom! leon, food mention, alcohol mention, food play, temperature play, cunniligus, unprotected p in v sex, creampie
word count/genre: 3.3k+ (oops) // smut // link to ao3
author's note: here it is! the long-anticipated chef! leon fic which just so happens to be one of my longest fics to date. i had a lot of fun finally “cooking” this and then letting it “bake” in the oven at 400 degrees fahrenheit. i don’t think this is the last of chef! leon and i’ll probably write a little drabble about leon receiving some food play, so let me know if you’d like to see that. i want to thank my darling em (@emilzke) for always encouraging me and allowing me to drop my thirst rambles in her DM’s because sometimes they turn out into full-fledged fics. also shoutout to tea (@scar-crossedlvrs) for helping me sort through some organizational things. as always, feedback/reblogs/replies are greatly appreciated. enjoy your eating (;
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even as a young child, you always loved cooking and playing chef. you spent hours in your play-kitchen, repeatedly serving your poor parent's plastic food. It only worsened when you were gifted easy-bake ovens, crafting concoctions to rival Frankenstein’s monster with only a lightbulb, water, and a mixing packet. But it was always an ordeal when your parents would peel you from the comfort of the kitchen. you would throw the largest tantrum when removed from the kitchen because, “those are sharp, don’t touch that!” and “that flame is hot, you’ll burn your hand!” and “no! that’s raw, and if you eat it, you’ll get sick.” your passion persisted. what was originally thought to be a phase that continued as you refined your skills throughout your upbringing. your unique recipes won several local cook-off titles, and you enjoyed preparing dinner for the family after a long day of schoolwork. it was your creative space. edible art. it relaxed you while invigorating you at the same time. the combinations and creations were endless. and when graduation rolled around, it didn’t much surprise your parents that you were looking towards culinary school.
getting into culinary school seemed to be the easiest part, though. succeeding in culinary school? that was another story. everything felt so scientific, and you struggled with the most basic skills. your knife cuts were far too sloppy, and you could only play the “rustic” card so many times. your nerves betrayed you on your practicals, causing you to shake and forget the most basic cake ingredients. I mean, really, who bakes a cake without some sort of milk or milk substitute? On the other hand, though, every non-cooking or baking course went over easily. You were an ace at menu planning and design. You were a sanitation queen, always knowing how to get the toughest stains out of the counters. Inventory management? A walk in the park. And sure, those courses may be easy A’s, but they didn’t ignite your passion. Too many conversations with your chef instructors assured you that you had a promising career in restaurant management but were still a long way off from being a renowned chef. You needed an intervention and fast. What better way to make progress than baptism by fire?
your parents and their infinite connections managed to get you a job as a sous chef at the esteemed Chef Kennedy’s luxury restaurant in the expensive part of downtown. Even your instructors were impressed that you were able to pull this off. they agreed that if you could last the summer under Chef Kennedy’s tutelage, you would graduate culinary school on time. However, as you showed up for your first day of work, you were in WAY over your head.
Chef Kennedy ran his kitchen like a well-oiled machine. Not a grain of rice was ever misplaced, and this intimidated the hell out of you. People were rushing everywhere, tending to the gourmet dishes that always came out looking perfect. You hadn’t eaten here before, but your mouth was already watering in anticipation at the smells wafting behind the kitchen doors. And this was considered a lull in dining time between the lunch and dinner rush. Little time was wasted when you entered the bustling kitchen; one of the other sous chefs immediately put you to work on garnishes. Not too difficult of a task, or so you thought. A sprig of mint here, a swirly chocolate ganache here, and a perfectly shaped dollop of butter were nerve-wracking. your clumsiness caused even the most delectable food to look ugly and completely disheveled. it was the first time your food had been sent back on presentation alone.
that’s when you laid eyes on him – Chef Leon Kennedy. The first thing you notice about him probably shouldn’t be his attractiveness. With eyes the color of ripe blueberries and blond hair so beautiful it would make the wheat envious, Leon had captivated your attention before he spoke. He was fit, too, with muscles to rival Robert Irvine; this man was clearly passionate about fitness and nutrition. His broad shoulders strained against his white chef jacket, almost as if the seams were clinging to dear life as they faced inevitable demise when Leon decided to move his arms next. You might’ve flirted with him in another setting and tried to go on a few dates. But the power that radiated off him made you feel small and embarrassed when he placed your pathetic platter on the prep table.
he wasn’t one to yell like Gordon Ramsey, but the deep sigh of disappointment reverberated against the chaotic kitchen walls. “I always notice sloppy technique,” he speaks, an aura of authority in his tone. you’re visibly shaking, worrying about being fired from your dream job on your first day. “s-sorry chef. i’m a culinary school intern. i didn’t know any better, but i’d like to learn,” you announce with your voice sounding meek. all eyes are on you, and frustrated tears well into your eyes. leon turns his head to face you and looks you once over. he nods singularly in understanding. he decides to be benevolent today and takes pity on your demure stature. “Just stick to cleaning for today then,” he commands, not wanting to create an even bigger scene, and waves his hand to dismiss every other kitchen employee back to their workstations. 
you take a small bathroom break between menial cleaning tasks. you wail and cry over your own incompetence in private. you’re ready to throw the towel in at this point and maybe attend a real university. leave the restaurant life behind and just continue to be a cooking hobbyist. however, you’re broken out of your pity party by a soft rap at the wooden door to the bathroom. “a-are you alright in there?” a voice asks through the thick oak door. It’s Chef Leon. You scramble to pull yourself together, blowing your nose and trying to steady the shakiness in your voice. you’re trembling yet again, but open the door to see leon. his face is laced with worry. “s-sorry, chef,” you apologize. you brace yourself to be fired, trying to be brave. this was surely the end. but somehow, the hammer never dropped. leon stepped closer to you, resisting a nurturing urge to reach out and touch you. “oh sweetheart,” he said in a low whisper. “talk to me.” his paternal tone should feel patronizing, but for some reason, you were comforted by it.
his sweet words caused a cascade of tears to flow from your cheeks, and leon tried to make sense of your barely coherent sobs. “dream job” .. “failing school” .. “haven’t even eaten here.” He listens attentively, a small frown pulling on the corner of his mouth. “tell you what, why don’t you take off for the rest of the day. just recover. for the next two weeks, you meet me here at 8am sharp and I will help you refine your skills.” he offers. you sniffle, dragging your eyes up to meet his, and nod, not trusting your voice. 
you looked so pretty like this. down on your knees, begging and pleading not to lose your job. sobbing while you shared your sorrows with him. such a young, vulnerable thing. leon was grateful his chef’s coat covered his trousers so you couldn’t see the half-hard on he was sporting. he couldn’t help it. he wanted to help you improve as a chef and build your confidence, but he also couldn’t tame the desire to break you down. a malleable dough ripe for shaping beneath his skilled hands. he never felt this way about one of his employees before, so why you? he hoped to shake this feeling, as such a desire was extremely unprofessional. 
leon coughs to clear his perverted thoughts and then helps you to stand. “See you tomorrow then. 8 a.m. on the dot. Don’t be late. I don’t give second chances,” he commands before a hasty exit. After all, he had a kitchen to manage.
training with Leon had started off pretty miserable. Your knife skills were shoddy at best, and you barely knew the difference between a julienne and a batonnet. You oversalted and underseasoned. Sweet desserts came out too bitter, and tart desserts came out sour. But time and time again, Chef Kennedy put up with your mistakes. His teaching hand was firm, never allowing your work to be finished unless it was perfect. Now, you were less of a liability during the lunch and dinner rushes and were trusted with some line cook tasks. Slowly, you had made progress.
you were rewarded with small tips and tricks Leon had picked up over the years and a bit more of his backstory. Leon developed his love of cooking out of necessity. He was alone for the majority of his life and wanted to learn how to make cheap, healthy meals. Despite insane work weeks, Leon’s love of cooking never faded, and he finally saved enough money to attend the prestigious Auguste Escoffier School of Culinary Arts in the United States. Finding success a few years after graduation, Leon was recommended to travel to the acclaimed Le Cordon Bleu culinary school in Paris, France to take a desserts and pastry course. Not to mention a few years ago, he thought it might be fun to learn the basics of mixology. Truly, a jack of all trades in the food realm and a lifelong learner. But his journey to culinary stardom wasn’t always easy, he struggled a lot to keep up with a high-tempo kitchen. He empathized with your struggles but saw your potential – probably what made you such a good training pair. when you finally presented a nearly perfect recreation of his signature four-course meal, he knew you no longer needed his specific observation. 
on your last day of one-on-one training, you off-handedly remark, “Wow, I’ve made all these signature dishes, but I’ve never even eaten at this restaurant.” Leon’s head whipped to face you, and a grin spreads across his face. “Well, we can’t have that, my little protege, can we? Would you join me tomorrow for a four-course meal?” he asks, under the guise of being polite and celebratory. But internally, he hopes he has the chance to show you more than just his talents in the kitchen. you eagerly accept, blissfully ignoring you’ll now be spending your one day off back in your place of work.
you shouldn’t be this nervous. You and Chef Kennedy had been working together for weeks now, in close proximity, hands brushing and bodies touching, but something about a shared meal felt more intimate. Dare you say it felt romantic? You adhered to the restaurant’s dress code, business formal, and dressed up for the first time in weeks. you wore a mid-length dress with an open back that showed a bit of your body but kept it comfortable and classy enough to eat four courses of gourmet food. your shoes and jewelry were elegant but not enough to detract from the dress. your makeup and hair were subdued but stunning nonetheless. When you walked through the door, Leon felt as though he would fall to his knees.
leon had prepared a private table in the center of the restaurant. it was laid with a beautiful white tablecloth with the napkins folded in an ornate style. the silverware was plated perfectly, and nothing was missing or out of place. A single rose decorated the center, and tea lights for ambiance, and you could hear the faint sound of Chopin playing over the speakers. You gasped, “C-chef, was this all for me?” A gentle smile runs across Leon’s features as he pulls your chair out for you. “Every future food connoisseur deserves their chance at a gourmet meal. Bon appetit,” he says in a low, sultry tone that suits the atmosphere.
what started as an innocent cocktail with your meal quickly devolved into a few drinks and a split bottle of wine. You and leon were both properly tipsy now, and there was nothing to filter the two of you’s flirtatious nature – especially not in an environment filled with aphrodiasiacs. The sexual tension between the two of you was palpable, and in an empty restaurant, it was due to bubble over like a shaken bottle of champagne. you try to stifle your giggles enough to enjoy the desserts he had prepared for the evening, however, chocolate fondue has never been known to be a very “clean” dessert, and when a bit of chocolate dribbles out of the corner of your mouth.. leon can’t help himself. he brings himself closer to you, lips hovering just over yours as his hand cups beneath your chin, before he whispers, “may i?” and in a breathy whisper, you reply, “yes, chef.” 
his lips capture your own in a searing kiss, which you ardently return. he spends a few short moments studying the movement of your lips against his own. he doesn’t forget to lick the chocolate from the corner of your mouth and uses his tongue to trace your bottom lip. your body decides before your mind as your lips part to allow him access and his tongue explores your mouth as if savoring a fine meal. But Chef Kennedy has decided that the table is separating you just simply wouldn’t do as he crossed over to you, and he picks you up effortlessly to sit you on the edge of the long, neighboring mahogany table. After that brief intermission, he positions himself inbetween your legs to kiss you once more. this time with less restraint and greedy hands squeezing your breasts, earning him a soft moan and your hands reaching to tug at his hair. 
kissing isn’t enough, despite how enjoyable it may be when you’re both buzzed off of wine and chocolate, and soon your hands seek to rid one another of your clothes. your trembling hands fumble with the buttons of his chef coat but your diligence is rewarded by the exclusive viewing of a shirtless Chef Kennedy. whatever you dreamed in your fantasies couldn’t compare to the scrumptious, chiseled man in front of you. 
your dress is easily pushed up and discarded onto the carpet. the chill of the cold mahogany table you laid upon touching your heated skin. he raises his eyebrows a bit as he notices the damp patch formed on the gusset of your lacy panties. “you know,” leon begins, his voice raspy with lust, “a good chef is only as good as his preparation… wouldn’t you agree?” you’re a bit confused but as he drips a bit of warm chocolate from the fondue pot on your breast, you begin to get the idea. “y-yes” you manage to moan out as leon’s tongue slowly licks the chocolate off. his mouth wrapping around your nipple and making sure no melted chocolate was left behind, but he pulls away. you whine at the loss of contact, “yes, what?” he asks, tauntingly. “yes, c-chef!” you cry out as he drips more warm chocolate across your breasts and torso. he smirks, pleased with himself as he continues to lick thick stripes across your body, kitten licking the most sensitive spots only to work you up more.
shivers roll down your spine at the sensation and arousal is now leaking down your thighs. the combination of warm chocolate and Leon’s tongue would be enough to send anyone over the edge, but a true genius can alter his recipe to make it even better and chef kennedy was nothing if not creative. pulling an ice cube from one of your finished drinks, he gently teases it across your inner thighs — just testing the waters — and by the way you squirm beneath him, he can tell it’s working. now the warm chocolate across your breasts was juxtaposed against the cold ice cube leon was dragging up and down your soaked panties, and the dual sensations each fighting for dominance of your body’s pleasure. but leon could win against any element. he was the only thought in your clouded mind and he was starting to feel left out.
leon took it upon himself to dribble a little chocolate across his collarbone and chest. “be a good girl for me and clean up this mess?” he coos, grabbing you by the hair and bringing your face towards his chest. you mimicked his earlier patterns on his own body — small, teasing licks followed by long, lucious strokes for bigger areas. after all, you couldn’t miss a drop of it. you took the opportunity to suck a few small love bites into his chest — a smart move given the pants he lets slip. he rewards the good behavior by finally slipping off your underwear. “share a four-star gourmet meal with you when you were keeping the best dish hidden from me?” he tsks as he lowers mouth towards your leaking cunt, the ice now almost fully melted. 
he starts with gentle kisses across your inner thighs and slowly moves to press a few taunting ones to your swollen clit. then he tastes you and the guttural groan released from his chest reverberates on your body's innermost parts, causing you to cry out and reach for his hair. he’s like a man starved, determined to engorge himself in your juices. your eyes screw shut in pleasure and small whimpers leave your mouth at his vast tongue strokes. if painters could paint a canvas the way leon’s tongue could brush against your cunt so thoughtfully, then artists would be the richest people in the world. your first orgasm rolls through your body quickly, a heat as hot as molten lava lopes through your veins as you cry out for him. 
he drinks in your first orgasm, licking his lips a bit with pride. “you know, a good chef always tastes their food” he teases, before pulling you in for another kiss. you could taste the remnants of your orgasm on his lips and when you disconnect, a string of spit still connects you. “you ready for more, my sweet?” he asks, his hands going to the waistband of his pants. your mind is hazy, and your hand rubs his toned arms reassuringly. “kiss me a little more, then i’ll be ready” you smirk, and he obliges. peppering sweet kisses across your forehead, cheeks, neck, nose and even on your lips for good measure. when you tell him you’re ready, he quickly shoved his pants down to his ankles.
chef leon was well endowed and his cock bowed upward to smack against his stomach. it was clear he had enjoyed the foreplay just as much as you did — evident by the precum leaking from the tip of his erection. to be fair, you didn’t have much time to admire him. he was needy and as soon as he pumped himself a few times, he was already teasing himself on the slick folds of your entrance. you gasped as the tip rolled against your abused and puffy clit, bucking into him and ready for more. he slowly sheaths himself into your gummy walls and is pleased when you’re already squeezing around him. 
with your permission, he begins to fuck into you at a comfortable pace. the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin and symphony of your moans now drown out the pleasant classical piano music — not that you were complaining. things are made even better when he takes one of your legs upon his shoulders, his cock now perfectly scraping your g-spot and coaxing your second orgasm from you with ease. leon knows he won’t last long, your tight pussy was milking his cock with each of his thrusts and the way your breasts bounced to the rhythm of his pace — you were so pretty. as you feel his movements get sloppier. his hips are stuttering and his muscles are wound so tightly, you fear they may snap. then he releases with a loud moan, coating your walls in white, sticky cum. and after a few minutes of post-orgasmic bliss, he pulls out and says, “you know my favorite dessert is a creampie.” 
you blush, covering your face in your hands and shaking side to side while leon admires the mixture of his cum and your juices leak from your cunt. while leon takes care to wipe you both off with a warm, clean towel, you make eye contact with those pretty blues of his and say, “so… i’ll see you at work tomorrow then?”
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maxislvt · 9 months
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helloo, first off i love your work ! second, this may or may not be a request but- imagine dark!wanda x spidey!reader, post no way home where r is one of the avengers sent to stop wanda on her rampage. r gets captured by wanda though and turns out wanda remembers r’s identity. she had a crush on r since civil war and now that she has r all to herself…😳
“i’m going to ruin you”
warnings: womb tattoos, coercion, manipulation, spiderperson typical quips in really bad situations, no smut
got a little carried away, whoops!
The last few months of your life have been awful.
Life had been pretty stable for the most part. Trying to balance college, being a superhero duo with your adoptive brother, and the newfound freedom of adulthood was a lot to say the least. Then some big alien freak came along and ruined everything. You and Peter left Aunt May behind for five years.
For better or for worse, you and Peter didn't age. Peter still had his senior year ahead of him and you were only 24. So you both tried to make the most of that.
You were supposed to chaperone your little brother's senior trip through Europe. All you wanted to do was help Peter enjoy the last few months of youth he had before being shipped off to college. Of course, fate had other plans and the trip was interrupted by another cataclysmic event. One unpredictable turn after another. Then suddenly everyone knew your secret identity.
Quentin Beck was a hero and you were half of the duo that killed him.
One edited video and suddenly the whole world was against you and your brother. It was a target on your back you had no way of getting off your back. The magical escape you thought you'd found was nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing. Universes nearly collided. Three versions of your brother. Two other versions of you. Villains the two of you tried and failed to rehabilitate. A moment of complete darkness for your brother A dead aunt. So much fighting. So much pain. All of it for nothing. At the end of it all, everyone was forced to forget about you and Peter. No more full rides to dream colleges and no more "Amazing Spider Kids". It was just the two of you in a shitty Downton apartment at a community college neither of you really wanted to attend, but that didn't stop you two from trying to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.
That need to protect everything and everyone seemed to get you in bigger trouble.
America Chavez. Barely 15 years old, alone in the multiverse, and no one to trust. Her powers and life experience were beyond you — you couldn't even take credit for defeating whatever monster that was chasing her — but you wanted her safe. You foolishly thought that it'd be as simple as finding a hero that could mentor her. Magic wasn't your strong suit. Yet, you still helped America try to escape the claws of the Scarlet Witch along with Doctor Strange.
In the midst of a heated chase, the witch's focus seemed to have shifted. Your mask was ripped by a piece of metal and you could feel the witch's eyes on you. Since you were more focused on protecting America, you decided to send The Scarlet Witch on a goose chase. You and a magical body double of the girl. Unfortunately, you could only run for so long. You didn't bother fighting when you were captured. All you could do was put on a brave face as you were somehow teleported back to your universe. You assumed the witch had gotten a decent portion of America's powers. That worried you, but unfortunately you had to prioritize your personal safety for a moment.
The witch must've known you were too weak to run away because she didn't even bother tying you down. She just stood over you and examined your face. You were nervous and confused to say the least. "So, uh, do you always stand over sacrificial young adults in such a compromising way or am I special?" You quipped. It was a real misfortune your mouth tended to run more when you were nervous. Your heart almost exploded when she reached out for your mask. "Hey, hey! Have some respect for a man's secret identity, will you?" You shouted, trying to push her hands away.
Automatic reflexes were nothing against magic and you were unmasked and it sent your spider senses spiraling.
"You remember me."
"Of course,I remember you. Do you not remember me?"
The airport. Tony had you and Peter flown out for a top secret field mission, that's what he told you at least. You weren't sure what you were fighting for, but you remember the battle clearly. Some guy had grown to a hundred feet tall. You fought some guy with a metal arm. Then someone suddenly started throwing cars. They had all missed you and went straight for Tony, but it was still scary. After the battle, you learned the name of all the people you fought. The weird one, as Tony described her, was named Wanda Maximoff. It's scary how your life had become so eventful that you'd forgotten that whole experience. Well, you couldn't blame yourself for not recognizing her considering the drastic change in her appearance.
"Yeah," You said bitterly, "you threw a car garage at my mentor."
"Your mentor made the bombs that destroyed my home country and had me jailed for powers I didn't ask for."
That was the first time a villain had left you truly speechless. Tony wasn't like that. Was he?It was a lot to process and that wasn't made any easier with the icy cold hand caressing your cheeks. "If you're going to drop an information bomb, can you at least give me a second to —" Your sentence was cut short by her thumb slipping into your mouth. Wanda had managed to slip past your spider senses. It was odd considering you were definitely not calm nor did you trust her.
"I figured he didn't bother telling you the whole truth," Wanda's voice had gotten low and seductive. Her thumb pressed down on your tongue as she continued to monologue. Your squirming didn't phase her at all. "I could hear your thoughts the moment you stepped foot in the airport. So loud and frantic, but nothing but innocence and desire for approval. It's a shame I wasn't able to see you again after that. I was lost in a hex of my own deepest desires and do you know what was there?" A smile spread across her lips as she felt you relax out of curiosity. "The two of us, happily married with two children, and living in New Jersey."
The statement made you jump and start fighting again. Married with kids was definitely not on your list of goals in the next few months, living in New Jersey just sounded dreadful. You managed to get her thumb out of your mouth just long enough to speak. "I'm sorry to hear about your crazy magic thing, I'm not ready to settle down yet. Maybe come back in six years once I've graduated, yeah?"
Wanda binded your wrists with magic. Her hand came down on your cheek with all the strength she had. Despite her frustration, she was happy to see you were still as witty and innocent as the day you two met. "I think I have a plan you'll like." She smirked as she summoned the darkhold. It opened on its own. The book turned towards you and translated itself so you could understand it. "Your innocence," she said before ripping you suit, "and your body in exchange for the girl's safety."
Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. It certainly wasn't a fair deal, even more unfair once you looked over the spell presented to you. A womb tattoo magically etched into your skin that would give Wanda complete control over your libido, orgasms, and a bunch of other depraved things you hadn't even heard of before. Wanda definitely wasn't the woman you imagined would take your virginity, but it wasn't an offer you could refuse. Strange wasn't strong enough to defeat Wanda and letting America die wasn't an option in your mind.
You put on as brave a face as you could before speaking, "If you so much as lay a finger on that girl, the deal is off." Your voice faltered at the feeling of Wanda's lips pressed against your neck. A moan nearly escaped your lips when Wanda's hands began exploring your body. The skin of your lower stomach began to tingle. This was it. This was how you lost your virginity.
Wanda's lips curled into a smile. A real one that showed off her perfectly white bunny teeth. She was no longer concerned with America. You were all she needed now.
"I'm going to ruin you," She whispered, "and you're going to enjoy every moment of it."
You wanted her to be wrong. You wanted so badly to hate the way her hands felt against your bruised skin and the softness of her lips on your neck, but you couldn't. Months without affection left your body desperate for any form of human touch. It is shameful and almost disgusting.
"Shh, I'll treat you right. Just be good for me."
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pearlywritings · 1 year
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Even scarred one is loved
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synopsis: snippets about your partner or you having scars
pairing: Albedo, Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya, Kaveh, Tighnari, Zhongli x reader (separately)
tw: fluff, hurt/comfort, lighning scars, in Albedo’s part Rhinedottir used to be reader’s mentor, dragon features in Zhongli’s, in some parts scars are on the character, in some on reader
word count: 4k+ words in total
a/n: has been lying in my drafts since that summer event with Diluc and Kaeya's letters...
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Albedo
The Chief Alchemist’s skin is a porcelain perfection. Milky white, smooth, spotless, flawless. The man can easily be mistaken for a marble statue and put on display in a museum - showing the chilling beauty of his visage. That’s what the body of a homunculus is - impeccability, when even the biggest and deepest of wounds disappear with time, no traces left behind.
You, on the other hand, are anything but. Sure, you are pretty, but the canvas of your body carries a hideous scar, a curse you got as a reminder of getting too close to what had to have stayed unknown. You should blame your mentor, really - if not for Rhinedottir’s deeds, you would’ve lived and died as a normal human.
…or would've become a monster, like everyone else. But here you are, in clear consciousness, with memories, so, you guess, the Gold saving you actually kind of pays off everything else she did.
Doesn’t mean you are proud of it. What it means is a lot of explanation to do if someone sees, and you prefer not to be bothered and reminded of the devastating events of the past, so you try to avoid neck and chest revealing clothes like a plague, no matter how many times Lisa pesters you about it.
When Albedo asks to draw you naked, you are, for the first time in centuries, shocked. Sure, you worked out your relationship, discussed and tried some intimacy, but the notion of having your skin exposed for long, of his eyes lingering on it for minutes, or hours even… It makes you nervous. Under the clothes you wear - a big, tree-like scar reaches its branches to your neck, spreading its trunk all over your chest. Your mentor, a true scientist to her guts, found you in a grave state and decided that it was better to curse the heart, before anything could happen to the brain.
The man’s fingers are gentle, when he pops the buttons of your shirt open and carefully slides the fabric down your shoulders. The dark night on your skin reflects in his cerulean eyes and something sparks in their depths. You should not, but you feel embarrassed and silently bite your lip, when he leans forward to press his cold lips to your collarbone.
“You are so beautiful…” he whispers and your heart - the one you believed was hardened forever before you met your lover - leaps in your chest. “Allow me to show what I see, [...]”
A word of endearment caresses your ear in the sounds of your native language, and at that moment you understand - Rhinedottir succeeded indeed. She did create a humanoid form of life, but it became capable of feeling and understanding feelings like a real human would. It can’t be any other way, not when he is looking at you like this, not when he is leading you to a sofa and makes you feel comfortable, not when his touch against your cheek is reassuring and attempts to chase your worries away, not when he picks a sketchbook, where you know the only pictures existing are of you.
Not when he draws the reminder of your doom like it's indeed the fraction of a starry sky painting your skin.
Ayato
Ever since you saw a long ugly scar across his back, it has been making you restless. The discovery happened when your lover invited you to attend the hot springs with him. It was a new step in your relationship, on the very border of entering its intimate part, and you were excited to accept his offer and remained elated for days before and on the day of. That is until his back was bared to you at some point and you saw it.
Ayato didn’t say anything about it, relaxing in the hot water and busying both of you with a conversation and savoring the finest tea and some sweets (which kept you slightly guarded, until the head of the Kamisato clan didn’t tell you these weren’t cooked by him). With all of that, you had no opportunity to ask him, not that you felt like you could - you are close and in a relationship, but who knows how willing he is to talk about it?
It’s been a week since then, and the sight of the scar occasionally appeared before your eyes. You must’ve gotten quieter and brooding, because Ayaka comments on it, when you pay her company in Inazuma City to do some shopping.
“Y/n, is something worrying you?” You look up from examining embroidered silk and tilt your head in question.
“Why would you think so?”
“Well… I noticed how your thoughts seem to stray away and I wondered if everything is okay. Maybe I can help?”
You hum. Ayaka is his sister and you grew to be good friends. It wouldn’t hurt asking her, right? Surely she must know something about that. And if she doesn’t? What if she knows nothing about the scar, about her brother having been hurt in the past? Ayato cares for her and would like to not expose her to things like that, even if she is a grown up woman and a skillful sword user. You need to be careful.
“Say, Ayaka…” you start, cautiously choosing your words. “Does your brother have a…tattoo on his back?”
“A tattoo?” She looks at you confused. “No he doesn’t, our clan doesn’t have a tradition like that. And I don’t think it’ll fit with the scar.”
Oh, so she does know.
“The scar?”
“Yes, the scar. You know the Kamisato clan had many enemies, and still does, but in the past it was so much worse. There were multiple attempts to,” she pauses, as if searching for the right words, “remove him from the picture… One of them nearly succeeded.”
“Is that so…” Ayaka nods and, hiding her saddened gaze, returns to looking at the fabric, thereby drawing the brief explanation to an end. Suddenly a strong urge to return the Estate fills your heart. To talk. To listen. To offer comfort and caresses if he desires so.
But as Ayaka drags you to the next store on your list, you think that you'll wait. Until he decides he wants to tell you the whole story, until he knows that he can trust you with his life.
Diluc
The room is silent. It is the dead of the night, and even so at least three people are not sleeping at this ungodly hour. You give Adelinde a grateful set of eyes, when she returns to you and your husband's bedroom with a bowl of clean water and several towels, placing all of that on the table near the armchair you've been standing close to.
"Are you sure you don't need my assistance?" She asks you quietly, glancing between you and the half-undressed man slumped on the piece of furniture. This woman is a real treasure, you think. It is true that this is her job, but she's always been doing far more than her responsibilities require. And that’s exactly why you are not going to deprive her from her sleep any longer.
"No, Adelinde, it's fine, I got this. Please, return to your room and have some sleep."
The head maid gives you a nod and then a small bow.
"As you wish. But if you need me, please, don't hesitate to wake me up."
"I hope it won't come to this. Good night and thank you again."
"May this night be kind to you."
And so she is out. With a sigh you glance at the man who remained quiet during the whole ordeal. Diluc knows he is in big trouble. He promised you to be careful, heck, he promised you to cut off his nightly outings, and here he is, exhausted and arm bleeding. He expects you to scold him or to whisper-yell at him, anything that would indicate you are angry with him, but you do none of these things. Instead you grab one of the towels, wet it and start wiping the blood off.
As you do so, you can't help but let your eyes wander all over the skin of his bared upper body. 
Scars.
So many many scars. Big, small, wide and thin, old and fresh… Each told a story and you knew a handful. Yet this time you asked for none, busying yourself with cleaning his wound to treat and bandage it.
"Diluc," his name finally leaves your lips and fiery eyes snap open - he nearly drowsed off.
"Yes?" A croaked sound he is almost embarrassed of.
"Thank you for returning alive."
You do not care that this raid has probably given him a new future scar - all you care is that he came back, that he made it out despite everything.
"But I'd really like you to stop pushing yourself this much. I am grateful you've already lessened your workload and dedicated more of your free time to me, though I want you to become dedicated to yourself too. You do tend to forget about it."
The redhead's heart clenches. He knows he cannot promise you to stop completely, but he can try and get less injured whenever he is out fighting.
After all, there are too many scars already to add new ones to the collection.
Kaeya
Fluttering of crystal fly wings. These little beautiful creatures can be found whenever in Teyvat but the first time the Alberich boy encountered them was in the vineyard of the Dawn Winery. Gleaming in both sun and moon light they felt like little sparks, slowly floating in the air, looking too tempting not to chase after them. And he used to chase after those a lot, smiling and laughing and looking at the bright world like any happy child would.
Your butterfly kisses remind him of crystal flies, caressing his face with a subtle tremble of their wings as they try to fly away. The memories of the past overtake him, making the man feel warm and cozy, as if it's not a candle lit on the bedside drawer of your bedroom, but a tender sun, licking his cheek with its affectionate rays.
Until summer heat is replaced by the blazing fire in his memory and the surging pain in his right eye. The eye you've been delicately touching with your soft lips for the past several minutes. The eyepatch is lying on the sheets near his right hip, right where you put it, after taking it off with your deft fingers. Fingers that delicately cradle his face in their loving hold, not letting him shy away from you, letting you kiss an old scar.
No words are exchanged as you sit in his lap with his palms resting on your sides, digits creasing the material of your nightwear. Kaeya is nervous. You've come to him without any explanation, and before he could climb into your shared bed and hold a blanket up for you to join him, asked to shed the shirt he's always worn to sleep. The man knew what you wanted to see - not the many scars littering his body (they weren't all that surprising to you), but the traces of burns on his back, the ones he hid from you for the longest time, not ready to tell the story, afraid to face the past. He didn't blame the one who gave him those, he could never truly, however the day he got them scarred him much deeper than skin.
Yet he did as you asked, slowly, with stiff fingers, but eventually the fabric was no longer covering his body.
You didn't ask him any questions, you didn't even say a word, as you took his hand and softly spinned him around to face his back. Your kisses could do nothing to the damaged skin, they were long healed naturally, but his inner turmoil of emotions was soothed by your display of affection.
More relaxed and less anxious he didn't protest when you made him sit on the edge of the bed and climbed into his lap. Maybe he did tense a little when you reached behind to untie the string attached to his eyepatch, maybe his fingers grabbed at your clothes a little bit too roughly, but he didn't stop you, until the little piece was off and away from his face and your lips replaced it.
He knows he doesn't deserve you, but Celestia be damned - he doesn't want to ever let you go. The only one he entrusted his heart like this, allowed you to unwrap the carefully built facade and reach to what is real about the man Kaeya Alberich is. And knowing you love him with all these ugly scars littering his skin? Makes him believe you'll still love him after seeing how scarred his heart is.
Kaveh
“Say, would you like to go shopping for our next date?”
The question takes you by surprise as you exit the bathroom of your bedroom you’ve been sharing with the blond architect ever since your relationship got more serious and you offered him to move in with you. The gorgeous man is standing in front of your full-length mirror, his back to you, undoing the numerous clips that keep his hair out of his face daily. The crimson of his eyes flashes, as he meets your stunned gaze in the reflection.
“Why so sudden?” You ask - nervously, he notes, fidgeting with the material of your night clothes.
“I noticed how you always wear overly closed clothes. I thought we could look for something more revealing?”
The way you shudder doesn’t go unnoticed by him, confusion now etched in his facial expression.
“What’s wrong, my flower?” You sigh, lips drawn in a line. He uses such a delicate word to address, but you are anything but.
“Does it bother you? The way I dress, I mean.”
“Hm? No, of course not,” Kaveh shakes his head, turning to face you. “You look pretty in whatever you wear. But you must be uncomfortable, walking around wearing so many layers when it’s scorching outside. Just the other day you were so dazed, I was afraid you’d pass out before we reached home.”
Even now he can’t help but question the rather covering night clothes, especially compared to his bared upper body. He was sure to discuss it before you started sharing the bed, and you never showed discomfort about it, but somehow always avoided the topic of your own choice of night wear.
As he is pondering over the topic in his head again, you chew on your bottom lip. It was foolish of you to think he’d never notice your strange behavior in regard to how you dress, or rather started dressing after getting together with him.
But it’d be unfair to keep your lover in the dark, after he was so open to you, right?
“Hey, lovebird?” Kaveh snaps out of his thoughts, when you call him, settling on the edge of the mattress and patting the place by your side. The blonde immediately joins you, eagerly accepting your hands sliding into his, giving them a reassuring squeeze.
“Does anything bother you?” He beats you to it, making you sigh again, feeling how your heart is wildly thumping against your ribcage.
“Promise you won’t feel differently about me?”
“Never,” the firmness and the speed with which he confirms your statement brings some comfort to your worrying self, giving you strength to proceed.
“You know I used to work closely with matras, yeah?” He nods. “This job isn’t particularly harmless, so I, um,” gulping you search for any indication of - you don’t even know what - in his eyes. Whatever it might be, there is none, only softness hidden behind the ruby gems, pouring in gentle waves, caressing your being, making your heart flutter, and words abruptly leave your mouth.
“I have scars.”
“And?” Your eyes widen, when he cocks his head to the side, looking at you with a clear lack of understanding.
“‘And?’!? Kaveh, come on!” You groan, looking to the side. “I mean look at you! You are absolutely gorgeous, and I know how much you appreciate fine things, which I am not…”
“Is this the reason why you’ve been dressing like this and changing in the bathroom all this time?”
“...yeah…”
“Oh, darling,” a warm smile brightens up his face and he leans forward, kissing your cheek. “First of all, you are not a ‘thing’. Secondly, I am such a fool for not noticing sooner. I assure you, you are already so amazing and I can’t imagine some scars scaring me off. Truth be told, I fell in love that moment I saw you handling that lying bastard to the ground.”
“You mean that day you looked at me with literal hearts in your eyes, scrolls tightly held to your chest and mouth open?” He immediately grows bashful, but the smile gets bigger - you are teasing him, that’s a good sign.
“Yeah, yeah, that. What I am trying to say is that in my eyes you are already wonderful. We can take it slow, but would you trust me and show them one day?”
The way you lean into him burying your face in his neck tells him everything, and yet the blonde is delighted to hear your quiet answer.
“Of course.”
Tighnari
Tighnari curls his tail around your hip tighter when another clap of thunder disturbs the night. His ear twitches, sensitive to the sound which easily shakes him out of sleep, eyes immediately trained on the window to make sure it’s closed.
When a flash of light rips through the dark clouds that overtook the sky, the man’s pupils narrow in slits out of pure instincts, and he makes a sound of discontent, drawing your body closer to his. Which, as he quickly realizes, wasn't the brightest idea, as you start squirming and groaning. Tighnari curses under his breath, when you yawn and attempt to stretch in his hold, eyelids slowly sliding up, revealing your precious orbs he loves so much, to the curl of his toes.
You owlishly blink, directing your gaze to your lover’s face, then blinking again, trying to get rid of the veil of sleep and make out his features in the dark.
“‘nari…” you rasp, reaching to his cheek, tenderly touching it with just the fingertips. “Why are you still awake, dear?”
The fennec man opens his mouth to give you some excuse, to lure you back to the dreamland, but another burst of electric light and the loud rumble accompanying it cuts him off, forcing his body to stiffen. You crane your neck to look behind you. The understanding quickly dawns on you and, humming, your body moves.
Tighnari’s eyes slightly widen in panic when you sit up, leaving the lock of his arms, letting only his tail rest on your thighs. But even it soon ends up on the mattress when you stand up and wobble to the window. A soft rattle of closing curtains for a moment blocks another clap of thunder, and you returning to his side not a few seconds later soothes his nerves.
“Still hits badly?” You ask softly, reaching for his hand and sliding your fingers between his. He can only nod, dropping his forehead to your shoulder and squeezing his digits around yours.
“I know it’s hard,” you press a sweet kiss to the top of his head, right between his droopy ears, “but I also know you’ll overcome it. And I will be with you all the way.”
“How did you manage?” He finally speaks for the first time through the night and he sounds so tired.
“You mean this?” Even in the darkness he sees how you tug on the hem of your shirt, revealing multiple scars, akin to the tree limbs, tracing the path the electricity took as it traveled through you. That electro-wielding scam really got you in the past, Tighnari knows it took a lot of time for you to recover - both physically and mentally. He was there to see it, as you were sent to the Gandharva Ville for rehabilitation, way before you two started dating.
He nods again, curling his tail around your figure once more.
“Well,” you glance at his shoulder, where under his own shirt, the similar scar is hidden, one that has an even ghastlier story behind it, “truth be spoken? Under your care and with your guidance. You were the one to drag me out of depression and fear, and I am ready to do the same to you.”
The man hugs you tighter, tucking your head under his chin and sighing shakily. He knows eventually the scar will just be a scar, something to match with you and have a story to tell to the stupid rangers and passersby of Avidya Forest for the sake of caution… It’s your willingness that counts though, filling his heart with warmth and making him forget of things surrounding him.
Tonight, despite the foul weather outside, he will be able to sleep. With you by his side.
Zhongli
The life among mortals was peaceful and fulfilling, and the retired Archon enjoys to fullest everything it has to offer. But sometimes he can’t help himself, leaving the house in the city he shares with you, his spouse of many centuries, if not thousands of years. He takes a long stroll to the land of the adepti, where he is always welcome to stay and reside, unbothered if he desires so.
In the mountains, on peaks hidden behind the clouds, the stoic man can allow his control over this mortal form slip, revealing horns, adorned with gold, long tail of earthly color and long fluffy trail of autumn-colored fur on the tip of it, eyes, more reptilian than human like, shining like finest cor lapis, and scales covering some of his skin.
Often you find him on one of the mountain tops, basking in the sunlight and squinting like a content cat would do. Your lover prefers to shed some of his clothes, baring his skin and scales to warm rays, making them shine beautifully - both because it makes him happy and because he knows you can join him, thus the dragon does want to show off to you.
This time you sense him on Mt. Hulao and upon arriving there spot the half-dragon Prime adeptus resting near the lake, having abandoned his long robe (he does change his attire whenever he is out of the city) and resting on his side. Quietly walking closer you see how the tip of his tail lazily grazes the surface of a cool lake nearby and smile. The next moment the water splashes just barely miss you as you jump to the side when the very same tail whips into your direction.
“My love, I see you are playful today,” your husband grins contently, not opening his eyes but retrieving his tail so you could finally come closer and sit with him.
“I am sorry, the gem of my heart. Simply couldn’t help myself,” your presence is welcomed and the gentle touch of your hand against the side of his neck sends pleasant shivers down his spine.
A comfortable silence falls between you two. Zhongli relishes in your loving caresses, while you make sure to glide the tips of your fingers everywhere you spot the scales of who he really is.
In his human body, Zhongli’s skin is flawless. It doesn’t bear any reminder of hardships and war times, when he fought, injured and got his own wounds, but his other self does. You remember the last time you saw him in his full beast glory - while beautiful and shiny, his scaled body was scarred. Like this, in his adeptus form you could witness some of the scars as well, each reminded you of this or that ghastly cut delivered by his enemies and with time healing into nothing but long lines of imperfection. Yet you do not hate them, nor does your husband. They simply tell the stories of the past, and make you both remember that despite any obstacle or danger he faced, he always made it out in the end.
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hypnos333 · 3 months
Text
i’ll see you again
Hyun-su x reader
Synopsis: As Hyunsu turned into a monster you took it upon yourself to sacrifice yourself to turn him back human and you died or so Hyunsu thought
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“Shh Baby it’s okay” You said hugging Hyun-su as he his wings digged into your body. Without anyone’s knowledge though your eyes were white instead of black, you going through your Golden hour.
As he started to calm down you went limp, you lost blood so much Blood.
Hyunsu catched you before you fell on the floor. His tears were noticeable. He sobbed, “No no no no, Please done leave ___, you can’t leave me” He cried.
Ui-myeoung laughs as the pathetic ness of the situation he’s the only one that knows about your little golden hour. He knew this was gonna be way different though.
Hyunsu squeezed your body in anger before picking you up and putting you with the group which made Eunyoo instantly grabbed you making sure your okay. Your not breathing or moving making her instantly worry.
“Hey ___ everything gonna be alright, okay honeybun?” She started tucking your hair behind your ear. you choked up blood as you tried to speak. You wish you could comfort them to bring comfort and say everything is gonna be okay and we’ll get pass this.
But…. Your slowly fading and it hurts that your gonna loose yourself soon.
You can hear Hyunsoo fighting Ui-myeoung all the pain grunts. Until you couldn’t hear anything no more and your eye sight was completely white. Your eyes were white.
Everyone in the group gasp as Yeong-su cried out to you, he tried running to you but his sister held him back. His cries made your heartbreak.
You wanted to go over there and hug him but your a monster now and your head was just spinning it was making you loose control.
White wings appeared from your back as you pulled away from Eunyoo.
You felt an urge to fly and that’s what you did, You flew towards the sky stuck in your mindset. You didn’t hear anyone called your name.
Especially Hyunsu the moment he lost his memories all he remembers is just you. And when he saw you fly he tried to follow but people he didn’t know held him back. All he wanted to do is be with you and follow where ever your going.
Sang-wook found you and he helped you control your wings and abilities. Apparently you can be within the light and blend in.
Sang-wook complement you multiple times with the gift. You monster wasn’t bad either it was just another version of you but was more twisted and less understood. Like a fallen angel per say.
Until one day he said something unexpected. “Angel how would you like to save you little fiancé?”
That alone made you excited so when you both hijack the army vehicle. Hyunsu took a moment to realize it was you. You look so different, your hair was now medium length and very much waxy and your outfit was like an apocalypse outfit which suit you.
He hugged you tight. he gave you multiple butterfly kisses on your face. “I missed you so much, I was gonna give up” He mumbled in your neck keeping you close.
“Yeah we know” Sang-wook said sarcastically.
“Sangwook?” Hyunsu questioned.
Making you instantly agree with Sangwook “Baby you were gonna give up all our covers. We’re all trying to stay hidden from the government” You said looking at him sternly.
You were honestly so angry and maybe he could tell because your eyes should’ve been white but he seemed to ignore it and bury his face into your neck almost like he’s smelling your scent for Comfort.
“I can’t believe you tried to turn yourself in” You mumbled as he hummed in agreement.
Sangwook continued driving until Hyunsu came back to his senses. He couldn’t trust him, he could definitely trust you but not him.
So they started fighting and you of course stayed out of it because that’s your fiancé and mentor you can never choose sides between the two but when you knew it was getting to real you blend in with the light for your sake.
You watched at the vehicle crash with another with military people. You stepped down, stepping over dead bodies and not so dead bodies.
“___!!!” You turned around to see Hyunsu lifting you up and spinning you around in circles making you laugh. He peppered kisses on your face leaving hickeys on your neck before finally kissing your lips.
You missed moments like these.
“Listen, i’ll need you to hide just in case the military comes” He whispered gripping your thighs making you nod in agreement.
You stretch your wings out your back as he let go making you fly blending into the sunlight
“I’ll see you again My love, I promise…” He whispers before going to deal with Sangwook.
Part 2
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