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camillelespanayesbtch · 3 months ago

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Seven Devils All Around Me (18+)

Summary: It isn't your fault you like the feeling of power, the sensation was addictive, and although it never worked out well for those around you, it certainly worked well for you. You weren't to blame that people seldom survived attacking you, it was their fault after all. But you can only run for so long before your misdeeds catch up to you, and where will you be left after? It's dangerous to walk certain paths alone as a young witch.

Content: Eventual smut, graphic depictions of murder and violence, character death, power imbalance, manipulation, addiction, grief, discussion of sexual violence (r receiving) (I will add more as I think of them)

Word Count: 4690

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

I will block minors and ageless bios

Chapter One

You hum to yourself as you follow the marks you carved into the trees, a hidden path you had created that left those who follow you believing you were the perfect victim, blissfully unaware of the danger that followed you. You could hear the boys talking among themselves, their gleeful snickering as they think about all the things they could do to you now that they had you alone and unaware. Like most evenings, the forest was a cacophony of sound, there wasn’t an inch of space where there was silence, every crevasse had sound, even the ants clicked to one another to inform the other of the crumbs of bread that were left abandoned on the floor of the community hall that hosted giants. The leaves crunch underfoot, small twigs snapping as you step on them, continuing to hum the tune until you come to a clearing in the forest.

There was a space where no leaves were, a perfect circle that had been made over years of the same trick, black as the night sky is dark. “Look boys,” Douglas says with a grin, “She’s made a spot for fucking, just for us.” He moves closer to you, the others surrounding you as well, all of them giving each other encouraging looks. They didn’t believe the stories about boys going missing because every coven had tales like that, even the girls were told tales about their powers being taken when lured to walk the witch’s road, but everyone believed that it was just the danger of the road and not one of their own doing it. “I wonder if her tits are as big as her top makes them look,” Douglas says, advancing on you quickly, his hands twitching by his side as he thinks about tearing your shirt from your body.

“I’ve seen them through her window when she changes,” Clint says, “They’re small, no bigger than a handful, but at least they’re perky.” He cracks his knuckles, his eyes glinting dangerously. This wasn’t his first time taking what he wanted, and it wouldn’t be his last, just like the other boys he was with- if he sees something he wants, he takes it. His mother did raise him to be respectful towards women, especially those in the coven, but she always spoke about you as being the exception. You were the freak of the group, the one people whispered about, warned the kids to stay away from least you corrupt them. So, really, what he and his friends were about to do wasn’t a bad thing, it was deserved. “We should take pictures and add them to the wall.”

“We should take pictures and add them to the wall,” you mimic, turning to face them. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to keep trophies? Or was that too much for your tiny little boy-brains to comprehend?” You run your fingers through your hair, letting out a sigh as you shake a few knots loose. You were hungry, and these boys would be enough to last you a few weeks. Sure, they weren’t as powerful as the elders, too jumped up on the testosterone coursing through their bodies to focus on mastering the craft, instead relying on brute force to get things done. “Didn’t mommy teach you better? Or even your fathers? No, I suppose not. No, daddy left you boys behind, didn’t he? Went off to go fuck some young maiden the next town over,” you make a vulgar gesture, thrusting your hips before laughing when you see the group clench their fists in anger. “Oh no, did I hurt your feelings? What’re you gonna do? Blast me?”

It would only take one. It only ever takes one, but they didn’t know that. Of course they didn’t know that they barely knew how to groom themselves let alone see the signs of a trap, to even see that sometimes there is truth in the tales they have been told since childhood. You mightn’t have believed the ones about the Purple Witch, but you wouldn’t deny that there is something alluring about her. The ability to take someone’s powers? You wondered what it felt like, if it was as addictive as watching people burn, using their own powers to cause their deaths. “Lucas and Clint, hold her down,” Douglas orders, his eyes burning into yours.

The two boys he orders raise their hands, their magic shooting from their hands and wrapping around your wrists. They both were smirking until they see the lopsided grin on your face, a darkness settling into your eyes. You breathe in deep through your nose, tilting your head back up to the sky as your eyes drift shut, feeling the warmth starting to spread through your body and bloom out from your palms, “Oh boys,” you exhale. “Silly, stupid, little boys.” Your head rolls forward and you open your eyes to look at them, a fire burning in your eyes that makes them take a step back. “Didn’t you hear the stories? Didn’t your mother tell you not to go into the woods at night?”

“She’s just- She’s just bluffing,” Douglas stutters, “She’s just trying to scare us.” He puffs his chest out in false bravado before moving closer to you, his hands coming up to tear the front of your blouse open, but he hisses in pain, pulling his hands back. Your body had grown hot to the touch, as though he had just put his hands over the hot embers of a campfire, “What trickery is this?”

“You haven’t figured it out, have you?” You yank your hands free of Clint and Lucas’ magic, grabbing a handful of Douglas’ shirt, and pulling him so his body was against yours, a feral grin spreading across your face. “Smell that?” You lean in, taking a deep breath as the scent of burning fabric starts to fill the air, “Maybe you can feel it. It’s getting hot, isn’t it? I wonder if I’ll see eyes explode this time like popcorn.” You stare at him intensely, your hands glowing like magma as you start to cook him from the inside out, feeling his energy seeping out of him and into you. You let out a content sigh a the sensation, watching as his eyes go wide, his skin turning a deep red before starting to melt from his muscles and bones. He cries out in agony, trying to get away from you, to put the fire out inside of him but it was of no use, and soon he falls to the ground, his body quickly going up in flames. “Now,” you smile and turn to look at the other boys who were looking on in horror, “Who’s next?”

“You’re a monster,” Clint says, clenching his fists, “He didn’t even do anything to you! We were just playing!” He was quick to attack you, seemingly forgetting what he had just witnessed you do to his friend. You eagerly drink his energy up, your body glowing like a reactor before his body turns into barbecue. He claws at his clothes, trying to remove the flaming fabric from his body as he writhes on the ground, his screams drowning out the music of songbirds. You wonder if the woods would muffle the sound so it didn’t carry to the houses that lived along the edge of it, that the neighbors wouldn’t have their windows open to let the warm spring breeze in. Then again, if you didn’t want them to hear, you simply shouldn’t be doing what you are, but you couldn’t help yourself, could you? You enjoy it too much. You enjoy luring men into the woods, using their own powers to burn them alive as some sort of penance for all the women burned before you because their power was seen as a threat.

You take a few breaths to calm yourself, looking at your hands, they were turning black, tendrils creeping up your forearm and tickling your inner-elbow. This happened every time, the only evidence of your crimes. They were easy to hide though, you wore long-sleeves, and had a pair of gloves that your mother gave you to protect you from the judgmental gaze of your coven. Your mother wasn’t consciously aware of what you were doing, thinking you were just going into the woods to practice your craft, but she couldn’t deny it was suspicious that boys kept going missing whenever you did.

The remaining boys fall quickly, you wave your hands, letting out a hot blast of fire that turns their remains to ash. You knew the rain would disperse the ashes, returning them to the earth and helping to keep the forest alive, although your circle never grew back- the grass has remained dead and black for years. You were in your twenties now, and you had been doing this since you were sixteen. You do the buttons back up on your blouse then pull your sleeves down, doing the cuff buttons up so the sleeves wouldn’t go out of place. You flick your hair from your face, a smile settling on your features as you start to head back, humming to yourself once more.

As you walk, you stop occasionally to pick some flowers for your mom, making a bouquet for her. Your father wasn’t around to do this for her, not that he had done such thoughtful things when he was alive, that had always been your thing. You loved making your mom smile because it meant she wasn’t worrying about anything which had become her normal. If she wasn’t worrying about you getting in trouble, she was worrying about the coven being run out of town, and if she wasn’t worrying about that, she was worrying about taxes which only seemed to go up every year. It’s not that you couldn’t afford the taxes, she had been around for centuries, she had more than enough money to cover them, but it was still an unnecessary stress in her life that she simply did not need. If you could get away with it, you would burn the tax collector alive, maybe even roast him over a fire like you would toast a marshmallow.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” A familiar voice asks, disappointment evident in her tone. “I tell them- I tell them every meeting that it isn’t you, that my daughter would never bring harm to her coven, and every time you go out and prove me wrong.”

You look up from the flowers you were examining, your features falling, “Mama… I- They attacked me,” you explain. “I was just coming here to practice, like you always want me to. And they followed me, taunting me, telling me all the horrible things they were going to do to me.” You turn your head slightly, just enough to see the open area out the corner of your eye that was a few hundred feet away by now before looking back at your mom. You try to smile, holding the sad looking bouquet out for her, “I picked you flowers. Your favorites. I know you like having fresh flowers in the house because you like when the bees-“

“Enough,” she cuts you off, “Enough,” she repeats, softer this time. She walks closer to you, a sadness on her face as she gently takes your free hand in hers- your skin was like charcoal, and still hot to the touch like the furnace in winter. Her heart aches painfully in her chest, why was her only child like this? Had she done something wrong? Those questions hurt her; how could she think so poorly of you? She loves you dearly, she would do anything for you, absolutely anything for you, why couldn’t you do this one thing for her? Her touch was soft, cooling your burning skin as she runs her fingers over it, your skin slowly turning back to your normal shade. She turns your hand over so your palm was facing her, running her finger in a circle on your palm, a small smile tugging on her lips, “Round and round the garden,” she whispers, “Went the teddy bear, one step,” she walks her finger up your forearm, healing as she goes, “two step,” another step onto your bicep, “Tickle you under there,” she says and gently tickles your underarm, a soft giggle escaping her. “You used to squeal whenever I did that to you as a toddler.”

You can’t help the quiet giggle you let out, unaware of the tears spilling from your eyes, “Mama,” you whisper back, “I’m not a little kid anymore.” She gives your arm a squeeze at that, looking pained by the reminder. You rest your hand over hers, looking remorseful immediately, “I know- I know I’m still your little girl. You still make my boo boo’s better.” You look down at your hands, they were no longer black as tar, and you could see the blue and purple of your veins on the backs of them instead of a deep red that glowed against the black. You felt a knot form in your stomach, “They’re gonna kill me, aren’t they, mama?” You ask her quietly, a waver in your voice. “For what I’ve done- They’re gonna burn me.”

Your mom blinks back tears but it was futile, the salty liquid running down her cheeks, “When they find out,” she replies softly, “Yes. They will.” She raises her hand to tenderly stroke your cheek, and as always, you lean into her touch. Her thumb brushes against your rosy skin, wiping away any tear that dared to fall. She didn’t know how long you would both have together, whether she could wash your hair and braid flowers into it, or whether now was the only time you two would get. “Why couldn’t you stop?”

“I can’t help it, mama, you know that,” you answer, your eyes closing as you relax into her touch. Her hands never caused the same pain and suffering that yours have, they have always healed and protected. There was never a moment where she didn’t help someone, where she turned them away when they showed up to the door pleading for her to make their sick child better. There was always a spare bed for the child or adult to recover, your mother watching over them during the night to ensure their condition didn’t worsen. You. You had always been the one to hurt, to harm, to inflict suffering and pain. Your mother, try as she might to get you to do things for the betterment of the coven such as burning the fields to return the nutrients to the earth, or helping start the bonfires for when there was a community barbecue, even trying to get you to take out the wolves that threatened the farm animals, but it never satiated you.

It wasn’t until you turned sixteen did it become a problem, but she brushed it off because you had been terribly bullied, she kept brushing it off when the first group of boys went missing. She had moved you both after that, found another coven. Six months of peace before it happened again. Every time, you would come home with blackened skin and a bouquet of flowers. She never had to worry about running out of dried flowers for her potions, the basement was full of them, your peace offerings to her. You always were so sincere in your apologies, and she believed you every time, why wouldn’t she? “They deserved it,” you add, “They were going to hurt me.”

“Not every single boy was out to hurt you, surely, sweetheart. What about Tommy? He was always so kind to you, he tutored you. You were friends.”

Tommy had been your friend two moves ago, you two had bonded over being excluded from most of the college class you were enrolled in, even the lecturer refused to acknowledge you in class. You both were good students, handing your assignments in on time and not once even asking for an extension. You thought you were just friends, you told him you only liked women, and he told you he was okay with it. You had gone over to his house one afternoon to study for an upcoming exam, the two of you were in his room on his bed reading notes when he had asked you if you’d ever kissed anyone before. The question made your skin crawl, “No,” you had answered, “I haven’t.” He got this look in his eyes at that answer, his hand had come up to turn your head to face him before he leaned in to kiss you, his tongue forced its way into your mouth, pocking and prodding your throat. You had frozen; your eyes wide as he assaulted you. It wasn’t until he had pulled back did the anger kick in. You don’t really remember much of what happened, only running out of the house as the fire department showed up to extinguish the flames, two of the firefighters checking over you for injuries. You had told your mother what happened, what he did, and she had brushed it off, saying it was just how it was done- nobody needed to ask for permission to kiss, it was spontaneous. You had cried in your room that night, you didn’t understand why your mom didn’t see why it was wrong of him to do that to you. She knew you liked women, why on earth would you ever want some man to kiss you?

“We- You know what he did to me, mama. He hurt me. He hurt me,” you tell her, more tears falling onto your cheeks, “He knew I didn’t like him like that. Every single one of them deserved it.” That wasn’t true, there had been a couple of groups you took out because you enjoyed the thrill of it, the screams, the feeling of power that filled your system. Even thinking about it now made you giddy, your pupils dilating as though a drug was coursing its way through your system. “You have to believe me, mama, please.”

Her hand falls from your face, “We should head back. You need a shower, and I’d like to braid your hair.” Her voice was cold, the older woman turning her back on you, not even taking the flowers from your hand. She usually hummed with you, the same song she sang to you as a child, but tonight the only sound was the owls hooting in the forest. You wipe your eyes on your sleeve, holding the flowers close to you as you follow along behind her. You hum quietly to yourself, looking up into the trees to see the glowing eyes of birds watching you. There was something comforting about them being so attentive, like they were looking out for the inhabitants that called the woods their home, even as they swoop on the mice that scamper across the leafy floor. It was the balance of things, and even as they eat the mice, they too would return to the earth and continue the cycle anew.

When you get home, your mother sits on a chair and has you sit on the floor between her legs as she starts to braid your hair, her fingers working deftly. She carefully takes the dried flowers and works them into your hair, willing the protection to keep you safe when the leaders come knocking. Only now does she hum, the strands of gold that hold the flowers in place starting to glow. She new deep down this day would come, that moving towns, cities, states would only get you so far because the tales that were told about a witch of destruction would catch up to you, that one coven was going to be smart enough to figure things out and realize it is one of their own. “You’ve always had such beautiful hair,” she murmurs, adding another flower to the braid and tying it into place, “Ever since you left my body, you had a mop of hair on your head. Whenever you woke in the morning, your hair was all over the place, and it would take so much water to tame it.”

“I’ve seen the photos,” you reply with a giggle, your eyes closed as you relax, enjoying the calming sensation of your mom braiding your hair. There had been times she had yelled at you for not brushing your hair, threatening to cut it all off if you didn’t want to take care of it. She had always apologized afterwards though, blaming her anger on something that had been said in a coven meeting as she carefully brushed the knots and tangles from your hair. “How long do we have?”

Your mother doesn’t look up from your hair, the wards she had set around the house were starting to crumble, only meant to slow them down, “Not long, my dear,” she picks the hairtie up and ties the braid off, securing a crystal in with it. “There,” she says, running her hand lightly over her work before you turn to look at her, your eyes holding the light of a thousand flames, “My beautiful girl. If you survive, you know you must never return.” Her hand caresses your cheek, her eyes held the river of life which you always loved looking into because you could feel the cool refreshing water wash over you, keeping you calm.

“I can’t leave you behind, mama. I can’t- I promised you that I would look after you,” you rest your hand over hers, they were the perfect balance. It always made you laugh how whenever her hands were cold, yours were burning hot, and on the rare occasion hers were warm, yours were colder than the glacier high in the mountains. You didn’t want to leave her behind, she would be an outcast unless she participated in your execution which she was unlikely to do because despite everything you have put her through, she still loves you and you knew there was nothing stronger than a mother’s love. “I can’t go without you.”

“You have to, sweetheart. You must find your own path, in a coven that will understand you,” she pulls back from you when the front door flies open, standing up she calls out to them. “She’s in here!” She looks at you, pain visible in her eyes, “She killed them! I saw it with my own eyes. No daughter of mine shall harm our coven.”

You felt your spirit break, unable to realize she was doing this for a reason, to keep herself safe, to keep you safe from seeing her harmed. “Mama-“ You start, struggling against the witches as they bind you with their magic, “Mama, please,” you beg, “Please don’t let them do this to me. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to do it, mama.” The women haul you to your feet, the magic tightening around your wrists behind your back, cutting off the circulation to your hands.

“I saw the look in your eyes, Yn. You enjoyed it.” She follows the other women out of the house, the path to the stake lined with other members of the coven holding burning torches. “I’ll bind her to the stake,” your mother tells the women, “To make up for what I have done. I have let this coven down too many times before, I won’t let it happen again.” Her magic felt different this time as it wraps itself around you, your hands pulled taut behind the stake, the cold no longer soothing, instead it felt icy, the frost burning your skin. She couldn’t look you in the eyes, she didn’t want you to see how much this was hurting her, and she didn’t want to see how betrayed you looked as she prepared to watch her daughter burn.

“I never thought I’d see the day, Theodora,” the elder-witch comments, “Preparing to burn your own flesh and blood after so long of defending her. Had this evening turned out differently, you would be on that stake along with her, there is no doubt about that.” She gestures for the others to surround you, a group of six women all part of the higher counsel, and every single one of them deeming you guilty. There was no room in their coven for someone like you, someone so dangerous, someone without remorse. Were they unbiased in their judgement? Four of them were not, all having lost a son to you. The other two had daughters, but even they feared that one day your hatred would spread to women. Although whenever their daughters had caught a glimpse of you, their cheeks turned as red as a rose, and a carefree giggle escaped them which they thought was arguably worse. “Get into position, Theodora. It’s time.”

“Mama please,” you beg, “Please. I didn’t mean to. I can’t control it. Please.” You look at her, desperate for her to believe you one last time, “Please, mama. Tell them. Tell them that I didn’t know what I was doing. That I didn’t mean to. That they hurt me too.”

Your mother wanted to stroke your cheek one last time, to wipe your tears away but she couldn’t do that, not anymore. She breathes you in, inhaling the floral scent of the shampoo you used before stepping down from the platform and joining the other women encircling you. “I should have let you burn the first time,” is all she says.

The elder-witch gives a nod, everyone raising their hands in preparation, “Begin!” She commands, their powers shooting out of their hands and hitting you full force, a pained scream tearing itself from your throat. It felt like your insides were being roasted, your skin prickling from the heat. It was agony, you had never felt anything like this before and you wanted it to stop.

“Please!” You scream, your head falling back against the stake, “Stop! I can’t-“ You could feel that familiar sensation starting to build in your stomach, and it wouldn’t be long until it broke free. “Mama- Mama run!” Your face was wet with tears, your head tipping forward, your eyes making contact with your mom’s. She couldn’t run, you both knew this, but you hoped this last time she would break the rules for you. The binding around your wrist starts falter, the women behind you noticing it.

“Elder- Her bindings! She’s going to break free!” One of them exclaims yet she does not stop her attack on you, none of them do because they hoped that if they continued, you would finally burn.

The elder-witch encourages them to push through it, “She is glowing! We are close! Keep going!” Your mother knew what was about to happen, finally she meets your eyes, mouthing an apology to you before the blast happens, all the women letting out agonizing screams as the fall to the ground ablaze. You slump somewhat against the wooden stake, your hair blowing in the draft created from the fires, your skin flush a deep red and your hands glowing brighter than the sun. You didn’t want to hurt them. You didn’t mean to, you begged for them not to do this. You warned them you couldn’t control it. You were going to wallow in that feeling until you remembered your mother. You look around frantically, counting the bodies: seven. Your mother-

“Mama-“ You jump down from the pedestal and rush over to where she had last been, sinking to your knees as you desperately try and put out the flames. She was unrecognizable, her skin blackened and burned. “Mama, I’m sorry,” you sob, cradling her burnt body close to you. She was the only person to look out for you, the only one to have stood by your side, and you had repaid her by killing her. Your tears drip from your chin and onto her corpse, the tears evaporating before they even touch her skin. You look down at her, “I’m sorry.”

#Agatha Harkness #Agatha Harkness x reader #Kathryn Hahn #Kathryn Hahn x reader #Agatha All Along #Agatha Harkness imagine #Kathryn Hahn imagine

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thedovesaredying · 11 months ago

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Werewolf!141 x F!Reader | Sneak Peek

You've been assigned to Task Force 141 as their designated Werewolf Handler. It will be your job to ensure that the pack work together as coherently as possible through any means necessary. You think it will be an easy enough assignment, just help out the Task Force and then move on to the next one. Unfortunately for you, the rest of 141 aren't so willing to let go of their new human.

A/N: Just a little snippet from an AU I'm playing around with. It'll mostly be a smut-based fic.

Warnings: Mentioned Child Abuse (Simon's Past)

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Out of every member of Task Force 141, Ghost is the only person you’ve struggled to get along with. That isn’t to say he’s rude or deliberately trying to make you feel uncomfortable with them, he’s simply not as welcoming as all the others. He has his reasons for that, you know, probably some kind of attempt at keeping you safe, but it’s beginning to get on your nerves.

You’re a human, the rest of your team are not. A whole pack of werewolves with you right in the middle of it. While normally you would be touched that someone cares so much for your welfare, you’ve spent years learning how to handle werewolves and you’re far from a rookie. It’s gone from being sweet to being nothing but irritating.

You’re their designated handler, so it’s vital that all of you can work well as a team. You’ve met three of the wolves – Price, Gaz and Soap’s - and for the most part they’re good fun to work with.

Soap, by far, has the clingiest wolf. He follows you around base, tail wagging and tongue lolling as he acts like your own personal shadow. He’s playful and loves nothing more than to run circles around you while you’re trying to work. According to his file, he comes from a large family of other wolves, so he’s well socialised and both halves of his personality, human and wolf, work together in perfect harmony.

Gaz’s wolf is a little more reserved when it comes to spending time with those outside of the pack, but he’s just as friendly toward you as Soap, if a little less excitable. He has a beautiful, sleek black coat, unlike Soap’s shaggy brown mop of fur. You’re the only human who can run your fingers through his soft fluff without potentially losing a finger for disturbing his luscious locks.

Your Captain has the typical grey colouring, with some white sprinkled across his muzzle. He’s the very picture of a regal, perfectly poised wolf. The two sergeants might be unruly when playing together and enjoy riling up one another, but both heed Price’s commands without fail.

Ghost, however, is an unknown.

During the full moon your pack run out across the field on base, play wrestling and doing their best to smother you with affection. It’s an evening of fun and a perfect way for the group to destress every month. But Ghost? He’s never there with you.

While Gaz and Soap grew up with other werewolves teaching them how to behave and coexist with their inner wolves, and Price has had decades of working in the military to develop a vice-like grip on the control over his own, Ghost never had such an opportunity. He wasn’t born as a werewolf, rather turned into one.

Werewolves born from others of their kind have good relationships with their wolf halves, having existed together even within the womb. Those who are turned suddenly find themselves with a whole separate creature suddenly inhabiting their minds and bodies, and the results of having their psyche torn to pieces so violently can be horrific. You’ve seen firsthand what kinds of aggressive, murderous beasts can be born from a newly changed werewolf rejecting their other half.

Ghost is one such beast. Turned as a child by his own father in an attempt to make him bigger and stronger, only for it to backfire and create a terrifying monster instead. Instead of learning to embrace his wolf on a full moon and finding others of his kind to play and grow with, a young Simon’s wolf found himself locked up in a metal cage. He would be muzzled and beaten during his father’s attempts at “training” the wolf, then left either chained to a pole or in the tiny cage without food or water for the remainder of his change.

And that’s merely what Ghost’s medical file is willing to disclose, the majority of the rest blacked out completely. You’re fortunate enough to have access to the highly classified documents, but even they give you very little to work with.

Price has told you just how difficult it is for the other wolves to work with Simon’s wolf. He never learned how to socialise with other wolves, and it took months before they could all cohabitate without fights breaking out. But still now, years on, Ghost still refuses to spend the full moon with the rest of the pack.

You were requested specifically to work with the pack to try and help Ghost open up a little and learn to accept his other half. No doubt it’ll be a difficult task given Ghost’s history, but this isn’t your first rodeo. By the end of this you’ll have Ghost’s wolf rolling over for belly rubs like the good boy you know he is.

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #captain john price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year ago

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Hi! I really like your writing, and I was wondering if I could request a Yandere!Platonic 1st Years (+Grim) with an Eri!Reader?

How would they feel learning of her abused, trauma, and her unfamiliarity with general society and social norms? (Who’s looking murderous when they see just the scars littered around her arms and legs when her bandages are removed?)

Though it’s a whole different story when she says she sees her power as nothing but a ‘curse’, and her existence a ‘burden’ that only makes others suffer? All because of the man named ‘Overhaul’, the one who did this so her? (Who’s about to go feral when she admits she doesn’t remember how to smile?)

But she starts to become more positive thanks to Grim and slowly the others (She likes Grim and is very sparkly eyed because he talks, breaths fire and thinks he’s amazing)

Imagine when she says she made a friend all on her very own who’s ‘like her’, though they lightly chastise her that she shouldn’t talk with strangers (It’s Malleus, they’re both lonely, have horns she has 1, while Malleus has 2, have an incredible power that’s very dangerous, and they’re unfamiliar/slow with society)

Eri Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You’ve been through so much….so you’ve been told. The pain, the heartbreak, the constant voice in your head that has guilt weighing on your little heart. Your transportation to Twisted Wonderland couldn’t come at a better time. They’re going to welcome you cage you to this new world more than willing to spoil you to your hearts content:

Grim

“Oi oi servant they all think we’re monsters!”

“...yeah?”

“Yeah! So we gotta show them we’re gonna be the greatest mages in here!”

“Oh….okay!”

He’s the perfect chaotic companion

He teaches you to allow yourself to do what you want

Granted his guidance isn’t all knowing

No matter how tasty Heartslabyul’s tarts are you shouldn’t eat them everytime you visit — especially without permission

Either way you’re learning to forgive yourself and allow you to have fun

And leave it to Grim to say whatever snarky thing you’d like to say when your big-brothers get in the way

“Nyeh! You won’t be able to do anything against my flames, nyah!”

Ace Trappola

“Hey if I catch you moping about that plague doctor guy, I’ll sock ya in the head!”

“Ace?!”

“I-i-i won’t!”

In a weird way you’re so used to being bullied (by kai) that you tend to take his bully-affection to heart

You know he cares, he just won’t tell you often

He reminds you of a certain blonde…

It also makes you more privy to his very willing desire to steamroll over anyone he deems a problem for you

“I think he meant that as a joke, Ace…”

“Joke schmoke, I warned you, you stain! I’m putting you in the medical wing.”

“Ace, please!”

Deuce Spade

“(Y/n), did you eat today? Are you feeling well? Do you need me to carry you!”

Mother hen of the group

He’s hovering close behind even when you don’t see him

Always making sure you’re safe and happy as can be

He’s teeming with anxiety if he’s not watching you himself

Even worse if you get hurt accidentally or on purpose

Now he’s Mama bear totally bearing the claws to protect you

He’s not going to leave you to defend yourself

Especially when your abilities hinge on your mental state

He’s trying his best

“Are you doing the breathing techniques Crewel recommended? Where’s your paper bag?”

Jack Howl

“Hello little one.”

“Hi.”

“Would you…like to sit on my shoulders?”

“Yes!”

Your #1 guard dog

Doesn’t have to worry considering Deuce is freaking out for him

He’ll be the sane voice of reason because Ace isn’t anywhere close to reliable in his eyes

Naturally he entrances you with his tail and overall dog-like personality

But don’t forget he’s got the bite force of a wolf that he’s not afraid to use if he deems fit

“Pup, don’t stop yourself from having fun or being…young. I–we will keep you safe.”

Epel Felmier

“You’re so pretty.”

“...Thanks.”

You’re the only one who can get away with calling him that

And he loves nothing more than escaping Vil to find out what other sweet makes you smile sweetly

He’s also one of the first to join Ace as part of the self-proclaimed protection committee

He’s also one of the first to suggest taking it further than a mere beatdown

Anything for his new little sibling

“If there’s no body…there’ll be no problems.”

Sebek Zigvolt

“TINY HORNED HUMAN! WHERE IS YOUR DIASOMNIA PIN!”

“Uhm…Ace took it from me…said it was unfair.”

“THAT FOOL. COME CHILD I SHALL BESTOW UPON YOU THE PIN AGAIN.”

Is definitely apart of a brainwash committee of his own and is insistent you become Diasomnia’s new mascot…under Malleus of course

His loudness sometimes scares you off but he means well

And will no doubt join the others if a few heads need to roll

“Rest easy, child. On my watch, no one will harm you.”

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cenittxnadir · 9 months ago

Text

A little fever (Nightcrawler x Reader)

Okey, so this is my very firt story with Kurt. I´ll be posting more soon about him, for the moment I will only write about him. So please tell me if you like it or if you some ideas. You know the drip, english is not my first lenguage... nor german...

Having free time was something new within the mansion, now with Magneto in charge of the institute and reorganizing the activities among the inhabitants of the mansion, he left several mutants without many responsibilities other than taking care of the minors and ensuring that they complete their tasks and training. Because yes, Magneto may be a terrorist and a murderer, but he will never be irresponsible towards education, especially towards the youngest members of the house. So every day he personally made sure that each and every one of the young people attended their classes.

Very responsible on his part, but it does not take away the feeling of discomfort in some of the members, especially the X-Men like Wolverine or Scott, -the only thing they have agreed on since Professor Xaver died-

However, this didn't bother you that much, since you shared the idea with Rogue of giving Magnus a second chance. Because if life had given you a second chance to do things well and help others with your powers, why would you be the one who would deny it to someone else who in the end only seeks to continue with the Professor's dream. Maybe a very innocent or naive move on your part in wanting to see the best in the worst situations but they couldn't blame you either, that's what happens when you live for a long time with a certain blue ex-priest.

Kurt Wagner or better known as Nightcrawler is famous among the mansion even though his humility does not allow him to recognize it, but he is very loved within the mutant community, both at the institute and in Genosha. Since his arrival at the mansion, Kurt has been the echo of the people who continue their struggle and the voice of those who cannot raise it due to the impunity that lives in a world where being different was wrong.

But for you, more than a spokesperson or a faithful follower of God's teachings, he was a man, a very good one whom you had the fortune of calling boyfriend and sharing life with him for a couple of years now.

Unfortunately, being someone who was too influential within the community, Magneto relied a lot on him and his professionalism to deal with complicated issues within Genosha. He was recently offered the position as Faith Group Mediator in Genosha and it was definitely not an opportunity he would pass up, there was so much to do and learn. But Kurt is still one person against the hundreds of problems that a nascent nation can have, the poor man was exhausted but his determination to help was greater than his physical or emotional ailments.

You had been living apart for a couple of months now, the problem was not the distance, Megneto was kind to you and gave you access to the Jet as many times as you wanted so you could go visit him, but like Kurt, you were also someone important among the X-Men, you were a very good teacher and guide for the younger ones who were just awakening their abilities and Magneto needed you in that area. It was not an easy decision for the two of you but it was a good opportunity to explore new areas in your lives, you as the one in charge of guiding and educating the new generations and him as a founding member of the nation that would accommodate those new generations.

Lately due to both of their workloads it has caused communication to be minimal, but this would soon change for you since the holidays were approaching and you would have more free time and the possibility of visiting him for a couple of weeks but the problem is that Kurt was not answering your messages or calls, worried you went to the person you least expected to go to discuss a topic of this type.

It was the 5th turn you had taken in the hallway that led to Magneto's office door. You didn't know how to start the conversation or how to ask him, maybe Kurt was very busy and going to visit him would only delay him in his work and you didn't want that to cause him problems with Magneto, even though he now plays for the good guys you are still afraid of him. Whatever the reason Kurt wasn't responding, you had to make a decision right then and there.

A couple more turns and you almost left marks from your shoes on the carpet.

"Come on, you can do it. It's just Magneto, the greatest mutant ex-terrorist in history, what could go wrong?" You started to encourage yourself "Come on, don't you want to see Kurt?" You counted to three, it's now or never. You barely touched the wooden door when it opened.

"I was just going to look for you" "Me? Why?" You were more confused "You might want to sit down." He said something serious as he offered you a seat. "It's about Kurt. He's not okay, there was a flu outbreak on the island recently, nothing alarming, but, he hasn't stopped working since he arrived in Genosha, I've trying to talk to him, he needs to rest and recover from the fever but he doesn't listen to me"

You didn't know what impressed you more, Magneto's concern or Kurt being sick. No one knows if it's part of his mutation or if he just has a good immune system, but it's extremely rare for Kurt to get sick. "I need you to go to Genosha and stop him, it seems that he only listens to you."

"Well... that explains why he doesn't want to talk to me. He doesn't answer my messages, much less my calls. I just hope that after this you give him a break from so much work, Erick." You were a little upset with him, with both of them actually, Erick for making Kurt work too much and Kurt because he is not good at asking for help. "I'll leave right away"

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

It only took you a few minutes to get everything ready to go, you thought Hank would be more reluctant to lend you the Jet but as soon as he found out what was happening with Kurt he didn't think twice. After a couple of hours you finally arrived at the mutant nation of Genosha, everything was very different from the first time you visited just a couple of months ago. Everything was very beautiful, the lights, the people so colorful and friendly, children being free and happy. It was a dream.

Quickly got out of your thoughts and focused on finding your blue boyfriend who is most likely hiding away working. It was not difficult to find it, Magneto gave instructions on where to look and sure enough. Inside a large window in the main city building was Kurt... well, part of him, you could only see his pointy ears behind a pile of paper towers.

You slowly approached to knock on his door. Silence. Suddenly there was only the sound of a chair being dragged and something moving inside the room. A few seconds later the door opened revealing a rather tired Kurt. You could see the dark circles under his eyes, which didn't shine like they usually did.

"Meine Liebe?" You couldn't help but smile as you listened to Kurt, he sounded overly impressed to see you. Although the smile did not last long since Kurt sounded very bad, he was hoarse and if it were not for the light from the hallway that illuminated his face you would have ignored the color in his cheeks and the sweat on his forehead.

"You're not okay, Krut, you need to rest" was the only thing you could respond, opening the door completely and revealing the office, there were hundreds of papers scattered all over the place. "You haven't stopped working since you arrived. You had me worried" Kurt didn't say anything, just hung his head in some shame. "It's true, I didn't tell you anything because I didn't want to worry you, I wanted to finish work so I could return to the mansion with you as a surprise but work just keeps piling up and this flu won't leave me alone" He sounded really fed up with the situation.

"Come on, you have to rest. I'll take you home and prepare you something to eat." You took him by the arm carefully. "You probably haven't eaten anything useful all day."

"Of course I have eaten my love! Here in Genosha there is a lot of variety of food and delicious dishes" He said with his circus voice, he always uses it when he is happy or wants to show you something that excites him very much. Or well, with a voice attempt, it really sounded very hoarse

"Dear, candy and desserts don't count as food." You pointed to a pile of wrappers on the side of his desk. "I'm surprised you've never actually had a toothache or something at this point."

You approached his desk to arrange the papers he was working on. "Well, take your things, let's go get something to eat and let you rest."

"But Mein Schatz, I still have a lot of work to do. I can't leave, but you can go ahead and make yourself at home" He gave you the keys to his room

"Kurt, I came here to check on you and make sure you're resting and for God's sake that's what I'm going to do. If I have to take drastic measures or even if I have to drag you to your room I will do it. Don't make me go to extremes Kurt Wagner" You wanted to sound serious but it was almost impossible, you were too happy to see him.

"If you continue to be reckless, then I will have to leave and there will be no cuddling sessions for at least a whole month, anyway you are very busy with your work. I think I better go" You said with a fake sad tone as you walked towards the exit but a huge gasp stopped you.

"You wouldn't dare do that! Saying that is like blasphemy." Kurt looked at his desk for a second. "On second thought, going to rest doesn't sound so bad." He looked at you with concern, he really thought you were going to leave him without his sessions. They were sacred to him.

"Well, let's go. It's still early, if we leave right now we'll have more time for ourselves." You didn't even finish speaking when Kurt was already on the side of the door ready to leave with you.

When you got to his room you could see Kurt better, his face was tired and the fever was still there.

"Why don't you take a bath while I'll take care of the food?" you took his face in your hands, caressing his cheek and then leaving a kiss on his nose.

The bath took effect and soon his temperature began to drop but he still had to eat something before taking his medicine. They were both sitting on the couch eating some hot soup while watching something on television, although it was just background noise.

Kurt was telling you what his days had been like since he arrived, you were paying attention but you couldn't help but see how he rubbed his shoulder constantly.

"Love? Are you okay?" you pointed to his shoulder

"Ah, it's nothing, it's just that I haven't been able to sleep well lately and well... sitting for hours is not very pleasant" He said with a sideways smile showing one of his fangs.

Without saying anything you took him by the hand and led him to the bed, asking him to lie face down while you took some oils and creams from your backpack. Kurt initially refused because he knew he was going to fall asleep and wanted to spend the night awake with you talking. Not a very smart plan considering his state of health. The complaints were short-lived once he felt your hands on his back. Almost by magic, Kurt remained silent and soon you only heard small snoring due to his congestion. You couldn't help but laugh a little, he looked so adorable. You took his blanket and tucked him in, giving him a kiss on the head.

You quickly cleaned what was used during dinner and changed your clothes to lie next to Kurt, who almost as if it were a magnetic force moved until he was lying on your chest. You were definitely going to wake up with the flu but that didn't matter.

"Please don't go," Kurt said in his sleep.

"No, my love. I'm going to stay here with you"

#nightcrawler #kurt wagner #x men 97 #xmen #comics #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #fluff #please i need this

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oh-no-its-bird · 3 months ago

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Been thinking about your team ro time travel and team ro defect crossover and I just. I've been rereading keanblade's stuff recently so i have a very specific tobirama in my head and the idea that he'd take one look at this group of sad dissilusioned young adults/children and be like guess i'm a father of 5 now and rewrite his entire priorities around that. Like, you mentioned in the of team ro time travel you liked the idea of having half hatake tobirama in the mix and i'm an enjoyer the idea hatake tend to just adopt children wily nilly like oh look more pack, I think i will thank you very much. Just tobirama absconding with this entire group that has no incentive to return to their own time and being like i'm the dad now (yes some of them are barely younger than him, no that doesn't change that he's everyone's dad fuck off). He gets to teach kakashi all kinds of hatake things! Show him how to be a little wilder like the hatake of the warring states! If you subscribe to the theory he helped hashirama learn how the mokuton worked he could tenzo with his mokuton. The funniest option is that somehow all of this leads to peace without izuna dying and they werent even trying for that. Like, tobirama just straight up ditching everything to take care of a bunch of depressed teenagers and a kid, over half of which are uchiha, and being SO fiercely protective of his little pack of murder children and the uchiha seeing this and being like. Huh. I thought that guy hated us? He just. Is living in the woods with three uchiha and treating them like his specialest little guys. An uchiha patrol runs across them and tobirama is patting itachi on the head for a good job learning whatever insane jutsu he's currently teaching team ro because those are his kids and of course he'd teach them to be as strong and terrifying as he could. Makes them think. Bonus points if this also somehow leads to madatobi and/or when the village does get built tobirama always looking to team ro before agreeing to any plans cuz they know what didnt work the first time, having not only been affected by it in the worst ways but left because of it in their time. Does this make the village better? Who knows. But they're certainly trying.

Sorry for the long thing, this has just been plauging my thoughts. I dont even know if i explained my idea well it's just been banging around in my brain for too long and i needed it out

Based off [THIS] au about Team Ro defecting from Konoha after Kakashi, having been told the truth of his fathers sabotaged mission and the slander campaign against him by Orochimaru, interrupts Shisui's murder at Danzo's hand, leading to the entire team + Sasuke to flee Konoha-- and then accidentally time travel into the warring states era, years before Konoha was set to be founded.

(This is already long, so the reply is below the cut ->)

OK FIRST OFF IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO REPLY TO THIS OOPS I HOPE I DIDNT KEEP U IN SUSPENSE

Woahh Keanblade mention !!! I love their stuff, they have some great fics and I love their brain. I haven't read their fics in a while actually, I should like go brush up on my keanblade lore / characterization at some point

IM YELLING THO IM SO ?? HONORED ?? TO HAVE SPARKED SMTHN IN UR BRAIN ACTUALLY, IM EATING THIS UP I LOVE IT THANK U SM FOR SENDING ME THIS I HAD SO MUCH FUN READING UR IDEAS !! AND YOU SENT ME SO MUCH TOO, SO MUCH FOOD TO DEVOUR ! Thank you for sending them to me I am giving you a little kiss right on ur brain

Tobirama really said "wow I can't believe I have to adopt these guys now"

Hashirama, probably: "Otouto you really dont have to--"

"I can't believe the world itself is making me adopt these sad, lost children."

"Children? Otouto, they aren't exactly--"

"I MUST take them in. I'm FORCED to, even."

"Tobi, no one is saying you--"

"I really have no choice in the matter. There are NO other options for them."

"Tobirama, please--"

The fact that Tobirama is like literally the same age as Kakashi and then they're just barely older than Shisui and Tenzo makes the whole thing so much funnier. It's probably for the best that he didn't try to dad them fr fr bc Im pretty sure the only one here without some form of daddy issues is like. Sasuke. Who is also 7.

(Which could be argued against tbh just depending on ur specific interpretation of Fugaku's dynamic w his kids on any given day)

So I imagine trying to actually parent various members of team ro comes with the risk of accidentally stepping on a landmine and potentially causing incredible violence and years of baggage to explode outward. I love my traumatized shinobi boys !!

Big brother Tobirama my beloved tho !!! Do u think he has complexes about being a big brother I think he has complexes and also that we should totally explore that, send tweet

Tobirama cave hermit arc !!! Madara had his turn, now it's his!

Team Ro really showed up, immediatley got thrust into an (unwilling, unwanted) custody battle, then got fucking SNATCHED by Tobirama before they could try and make a run for it, and just kinda,, decided to go with it? I guess? Fucking gold, actually. How the actual fuck did Tobirama convince them all to stay with him, the world will never know.

The man teleported the group of them into a forest alone, (instantly outnumbering himself) and went "this means I won the custody battle btw." and team Ro just went "I mean its better than being stuck with Uchiha Madara I guess." and went with it

Im not going to lie I fucking pictured Madara stumbling across the cave and team ro yapping at him like little chihuahuas and fucking lost my mind actually, needed to take a second to regain my sanity (in a good way)

Do u think Hashirama yells at Tobirama when he comes back home for publically kidnapping some mystery uchiha (plus others who were not very recognizable and thus do not matter as much) in front of the uchiha clan. Does Tobirama come back home? Does he just decide to become a cave hermit somewhere in the woods with his hashtag found family who may or may not fully want to be there? (they must, to some degree, want to be there-- if only because Tobirama Senju might be talented but he is also 18 at the time and nowhere near the height of his power. And Team Ro is many things, but unskilled is NOT one of them)

I forgot Tobirama knew ab the time travel for a sec and pictured him looking at Sasuke, this little clone of Izuna, and going "Hmm. You look exactly like my rival does and no doubt belong to the Uchiha main house."

"Does this mean you'll give us to the uch--"

"No."

(Finders keepers !!)

"Madara, the most uchiha uchiha in who knows how long before itachi and sasuke came along to give him a run for his money" is so fucking funny actually, I am internalizing that line and will probably suddenly think about it later at work and giggle to myself, I can already tell

If Izuna and Hashirama are both being little bitch boys in this I do need to advocate that they should totally get to kiss and be little bitch boys ✨ together ✨(the hashiizu agenda never dies) (let them begrudgingly get a drink together--though its Izuna who does most of the begrudging--get drunk while whining about their brothers, and then share a very ill advised kiss or two that Izuna will now deny ever happened till the day he dies)

I still think Tenzo should get to bond with Hashirama bc I love them getting to interact, but Im hearing your 'bad brother Hashirama' vibes for this spin off and nodding respectfully, so like. Maybe Hashirama can be sad about Tobirama monopolizing Tenzo, literally THE only other Mokuton user in the world's time, and be mad ab that too? I dont usually write explicitly bad brother Hashirama so I'm not too good at proposing how that could go tbh but I love the soap opera / dogblood drama vibes, it's so fun

I do think that some of team Ro could be useful at the peace talk / village planning meetings if they spoke up !!

Itachi may be young but is clan heir, and no doubt knows most of the modern day clan laws that Konoha would one day put in place, so he can suggest those knowing that it's what they'd eventually land on anyways.

Meanwhile Kakashi is the student of a Hokage, who watched over the shoulder of two different Hokage's, from ages 13 to present, so he absolutely knows a thing or ten about politics and running a village (at least from an outsiders perspective) Which. Actually technically makes him the most eligible / knowledgeable person like. In all of the peace talks when it comes to running a village which is fascinating. I'm jotting that one down to reference later in my original team ro time travel fic actually, there's a lot that can be done with that

ALSO !! If this is the 'team ro time travels to warring states era' au but like, with the team ro that defected from Konoha, they totally have Opinions(tm) about Konoha, which is so fun. I feel like Shisui has the sort of personality where he might actually be vocal about things when it comes to founding Konoha.

The way that the team stood whenthey left the village, Shisui and Itachi were both still majority village loyalists (though their loyalty had been deeply shaken)

Tenzo was high key "whatever my teamamtes say I will follow" but still has Konoha's roots buried deep into his heart.

Kakashi was the most complex-- the only one who it could truly be said was against the village, and for that I think he's interesting to play with and has motivation to get inolved in village making-- or the opposite; Want nothing to do with it.

IM YELLING ACTUALLY AT TEAM RO GENRE CHANGE THTS SO FUNNY

It was actually never time travel, it was straight up dimension travel. They fr went from a grimdark angst fic to a silly fluffy cracky fuckin, blessed eyes au where Tobirama is actually secretly a Good Boi(tm) and his indescribable riz and way with children make Madara forget about the whole mutual genocide thing

(Plot twist: Izuna and Hashirama arent actually bad brothers, they're just not aware of the genre they're in and reacting accordingly to their brothers doing a sudden 180 and ending the war with the ✨power of love ✨ and also adopting several teenagers (some of which are literally their age) who appeared out of nowhere, have no credentials, two of which are technically CONFIRMED BLOODLINE THEIVES (Kakashi willing and Tenzo unwilling, lab grown mokuton stolen from Hashirama's dna is STILL BLOODLINE THEFT, thanks Orochimaru) and are losing their GODDAMN MINDS over the turn of events)

Anyways this whole thing was a riot, I loved it and u are a master at silly fluff and comedy, I had a lot of fun reading what you sent me !!!

Ik u were aiming for silly fun so I hope my additions didnt take anything too seriously, I am in my shinobi politics 'writing everything as being played straight' era, so tried my best to stick with silly fluffy fun time comments instead of tripping and falling into the political implications of, like, a disillusioned with Konoha nukenin Kakashi, at the age where he was near his most depressed and apathetic, who is also technically the most qualified person in Fire to discuss making a village, being let in on village planning with implicit backing from both the Uchiha head and Senju heir. Or how itachi in the original (non nukenin) au was down to kill Madara, but the him in this au now has even more motivation to do it. N other fun implications like that

BUT LIKE I LOVE THE FLUFF I LOVE THE SILLY

politics free zone !!! we are not making eyecontact with the drama bc this is team Ro's vacation, actually

anyways THANK YOU FOR SENDING ME SUCH A WONDERFUL AND DETAILED ASK !!! UR BRAIN IS SO BIG FOR IT, I HAD SO MUCH FUN READING IT AND THINKING ABOUT IT AND IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO REPLY TO AND I JUST HOPE I REPLIED WELL ENOUGH SDKFJHDSFJKDSHFJSDk

umm and then they all lived happily ever after, the end

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rose-l-20 · 4 months ago

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Hello there, I just stumbled onto your page and I was wondering if I could request a Darth Maul x female reader with angst and fluff? Like reader is with the jedi order, but she isn't exactly liked because she has darkness in her but Maul likes her.....or if you have an original plot, go for it, I won't complain.

P.S.-I may come back and request something with Iceman or something from Harry Potter!

Please take me away - Darth Maul x Female!Human!Jedi reader

Hello! Thank you for the request! This idea is perfect for me to write my first Darth Maul Fic! 😫 I’ve always wanted to but never had the courage to do so! Please send any other requests you would like I would love that!

I also loved how you used blue for your writing! It made me read the request in the narrator from the Clone Wars show 😂

I hope you like it!

❤️🖤❤️🖤

SUMMARY: see request above!

WARNINGS: Reader is mistreated, reader is isolated, name calling, general angst, murder, swearing, stalking undertones, reader crying, insomnia, protective Darth Maul, age gap, nicknames, soft Darth maul, general fluff, running away, Jedi becomes Sith, Kyber crystal bleeding ritual. (TW) Unedited!

The sun was covered by clouds, seeping through the main Padawan training room. A lightsaber defense class was currently in session, with a head count of 12 15-16 year old Padawans. Along with a Master Jedi knight, who was teaching them a new range of skills and techniques.

There was a pair, consisting of a 15 year old boy and an equal aged girl. Her name was (y/n). She was known to be “slightly ahead” for her age. She found it easy to learn new skills. Almost like it was already written in her code.

The lesson started with meditation, to get everyone into the right head space. Moving onto an extensive warm up of the body, to ensure a full range of motion. Then the training began!

Each pair went one at a time, so their Master could watch them clearly without distractions. The majority of the pairs had their turn before (y/n) and her partner got to have theirs.

They got into position, ready to spar. The pair waited in idle anticipation for their Master to give the sign to start. Once hearing a “GO!” Blue crashed against green. The light crackles of contact, the hum of movement, and the children’s focused grunts were the only thing to be heard. The boy pushed (y/n) against the wall with the force, causing her to get frustrated as she knew she was years ahead of him. The sparing match went on, it looked like watching a dance routine.

The final straw for the young woman was the boys foot making contact with her chest, and shoving her to the ground. With a loud scream she used the force to pull herself up and started violently thrashing her saber against his, leaving him little to no time to strategies. She let out grunts and screams. “I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOU”, the words flew from her mouth and echoed in the large room.

The boy had slipped and fell hard on the ground. He was frightened to say the least, his saber was the only thing protecting him from being sliced apart. He called out to their master “HELP ME! SHE IS GOING TO KILL ME!”. With that their Master used the force to retract the girls lightsaber, which lead her to look at him with furious eyes. Before she could make another sound, she was put to sleep.

———

Since that day you never got along with anyone. Some people were wary of you and always tried to avoid you, while others were cruel to you. But one thing both groups had in common, was calling you horrible names. You were bounced around to different Masters, some just gave orders and ignored, some would insult you and make your life a living hell. You suffered in more ways than one. You were always stressed, never sleeping well, constantly being tired leading to you being an anxious woman. The topic of being kicked out was a reoccurring conversation, which lead to anxiety attacks. You could never catch a break mentally.

Walking through the halls of the order felt like being an easy target. You constantly heard whispers and people would shout at you. “Freak”, “Sith spy”, “future murderer”, “red eyes”, “piece of shit”, “waste of space”, “I bet your parents were bad people, and wanted nothing to do with a child like you!” And so much more.

Their were many missions were you would be called a few names, and insults. But one mission stuck out from the rest. You were told to stay back after the night watch debrief, which you knew wasn’t to praise you on your efforts.

You were 18 at the time, and 2 years from knighthood. The leading Jedi knight who gave the debrief, got right up into your face and verbal attacked you. The sun was setting behind him, making the hood he was wearing cast a shadow over his eyes. He was intimidating both in general and in this moment.

“(Y/n), you worthless waste of resources. If you make even one mistake or fault…I will get you kicked out. Am I fucking understood?” He gritted out with his teeth. You nodded with a “yes Master”, he shoved your shoulder and walked off. Your whole body shrunk into itself as you whispered “don’t cry” repeatedly.

———

As you were gathering yourself, a certain Dathomirian Zabrak was watching on. He was there to seek out information on the Jedi. Amber eyes were fixated upon their first glance at you, and his body froze. Seeing your Master lash out at you stopped him in his tracks. He heard what he needed to, ready to move on when he heard your name being called. The sound alone stopped him. When the senior Jedi threatened you, his body tensed. He didn’t know why, but it was like a hidden instinct had kicked in.

He saw you take a deep breath, ground yourself and walk off to your night watch route. You walked around the south west side of the building, starting to scope out the terrain. His body followed yours like a curious cat, walking slowly and steadily. His eyes scan over your body, learning every inch, while his fingers itched for the blood of the master who treated you like shit.

His mind was all over the place, and he struggled to make sense of it. Why was he following this young woman, while he was trying to get a job done. You felt his strong force signature, and ignited your blue saber. Your eyes darting in different directions, the man skilled in force distribution. Your body was on fire with a concoction of anticipation and adrenaline, using all the energy you could on finding the being who was a potential threat to the order.

After 10 minutes the signature was gone, and so was your energy. You walked back to your wall position and slouched against it, fingers rubbing your eyes as a new ache came from your temples. “Fucking hell, they’re now messing with my night duties. How low can they get?”

The black and red patterned man left on his ship with new information and some…conflicting emotions.

———

A year and 10 months passed and your life was bizarre to say the least. The mistreatment, name calling and isolation was still the same to your disappointment. But your sleep quality was heavily improved, your body felt better rested, and your anxiety has gone down significantly. The only side effect was weird dreams.

Across the span of this time the man had gone through a handful of months of trying to shove you from his mind, you were like a plague. He also thought of the most brutal of deaths for the master who insulted you. He got so annoyed with his mind he requested to be in a new area of the galaxy to not be able to even feel your presence…it didn’t help a single bit.

5-6 months into the year he had started accepting the emotions, and decided to watch over you. He wasn’t happy about the Jedi order’s behavior towards you. He was ready to kill every person who looked disgusted or said anything about you. He watched over you as you cussed, and cried for an ounce of a nice nights sleep, so he used his powers to lull your mind into restful, sweet, blissful sleep. The next morning your body felt like it was on a fluffy cloud. Your eyes welled up with tears of relief, and joy as you had enough energy to put in a little more effort in your appearance. Hair tied up in a proper style instead of a messy ponytail, uniform clean, and a smile rested on your slightly red, bitten lips.

The joy was only short as you were sent on a 2 month mission a few weeks later, and your sleep got worse again. This caused the multiple horned man couldn’t find you. But don’t worry he is a very determined person, and found you within a week.

At that point, your anxiety and stress had sky rocketed. Your usual bullying had gotten worse, because you didn’t make it to base camp at the allocated time. Leading to your masters to yell at you, give you inventory to sort, and you couldn’t rest until it was complete. Half way through you felt the familiar force signature from the first night. A smooth, yet gravelly voice made you jump while instinctually igniting your lightsaber.

“You shouldn’t have to endure the torment they put upon your heart and mind” the voice spoke, while coming out of the shadows. Confusion etched its way onto your face. You could tell the hooded man was no good, a Sith Lord most likely but you didn’t try to alert any one of his intrusion. His words seeped into your mind like sand between one’s toes. Repeating over and over.

“What is your business here?!” You got into your fighting stance, trying not to question his words and protect your camp. If you save them from this guy you could finally be liked! He rolled his eyes, using his ability with the force to seep into your thoughts. “You know they’ll find something wrong, even if you succeed in taking me out Darling”

Your figure slightly slumped over as his eyes held the truth. His hand reached and snatched your Saber from your hand, retracting the beam and placing it on your belt. Your confusion amplified at his actions. “What? W-why are you even telling me this?”

“Because Darling” he walked up to you, stopping just a foot from your body. You could see the details of his face, the red more clear in contrast to the black. “You know I’m right”. Your heart sunk to the bottom of your stomach, you did, you knew he was right.

———

From that day he showed up randomly, sometimes when you expected it, and sometimes you had to aggressively push him behind a wall and whisper “are you nuts?!”. He would smirk and shrug, walking off. You’d roll your pretty eyes and follow.

You stayed in the order, but found your comfort and peace in the man who went by “Maul”. It took a while for you to believe he wasn’t lying about a few things about himself, but once a foundation of trust was made you hung onto his every word.

You of course went through the usual phases. “What do you want?”, To “you again?”, To “stalker much?”, To “oh thank kriff you’re here!”. You guys maintained a great friendship. You had inside jokes, comfort between one another, learnt every little thing about each other, and so much more. The friendship lasted 4 years, until the following year (when you turned 25) you both felt a shift in the atmosphere. Catching each other’s eyes at random moments, longer silences and more tactile interactions.

However your workplace never got better, Maul would be there to support you through the worst days. The first time you both initiated a hug was when you were having a mental breakdown, and just a simple hand on your back didn’t help he pulled you tight, and close to his chest. You froze immediately upon impact, shocked but still in the middle of a mental breakdown you continued to get all of your feelings out in the crook of his neck. From there you both were comfortable in each other’s arms.

The 5th year, as the aura of your friendship was in its transformation you were struck with another breakdown. You flung yourself off your bed, the tie of your pajamas becoming loose as you ran into the woods. The fabric lowed over your shoulder as your eyes frantically looking for your confidant. You knew not to call out his name, they, the Jedi, will find you and punish you. Or worse, kill him. So your body fell to the ground trying to breathe through the pain.

The crunch of his boots against grass had you looking up at his worry stricken face. He reached for you as you blabbered through sobs “please…take m-me…away from here!" he held you and fixed your pajamas. Once you settled into his embrace he lifted your face by your chin, looking for any hesitations. Once certain he took his cloak off and placed it onto your frame. “Ok Darling, let’s go”

———

You got yourself familiar with your new home, which was his chambers on the planet of Mustafar across the span of 4 days. “How are you feeling darling?” His voice sounded so sweet in your ears. Your mind was finally at ease being off that planet. Your stress and anxiety felt like a distant memory already. You got up from his surprisingly comfortable bed while grabbing his outstretched hand. “Better, much better Maul”. He pulls you to his meditation room which was attached to his chambers. “This is where I would seep into your mind to bring you restful sleep”.

“I knew it was you after a while, the pieces of the puzzle came together on their own.” You smiled up at him. He reciprocated with his own smile. Maul used the force to pick up your lightsaber off your night table. “Are you ready and are you sure?” He held your chin again. “Yes”. With the force Maul opened your saber, to retrieve the Kyber crystal, placing it onto the ground you sat cross legged.

“Now, focus all of your energy on the sadness, all of your anger, all of your frustration, all of your pain into a ball. With that ball, force it into your crystal.” He instructed, and you followed suit. The blue of your saber fought against the red hue that was being emitted from your very soul. It wasn’t strong enough, compared to how you felt about those who put you through the worst years of your life. “Concentrate” he kept you grounded. Maul could sense your mind wandering.

The crackling had stopped, and the Kyber crystal was bled. You pulled it to your hand with haste, opening your eyes to look at it. A smirk stretched across your lips. Getting up you walked towards the man who you owed your freedom to, looking into his eyes he noticed the rings of orange and red in replacement to your (e/c).

“I love you Maul, I think I always have” your face came close to his, seeking the same emotion in his gaze. There was a moment of quiet, before his lips made contact with yours. The kiss was soft, tender and warm. With undertones of sickening revenge on his end. Maul pulled away, smiling down at your flushed face.

“I’ve always loved you too, my love”.

———

After a while of Maul teaching you new lightsaber tricks, force abilities that were forbidden by the Jedi code. All the while being the best lover the galaxy ever saw. He gifted you all the necessary things you had left behind, exotic flowers from planets he frequented and took the utmost care of you.

Your training had come to fruition, and your lover had approved you to come with him to fight. You grabbed your bag as you went to his ship, you got on board. As you walked up the ramp you saw Maul sitting in the cockpit. You placed yourself in his lap, folding your legs over each other. He kissed your lips as he took off.

On the way to your destination you had your regular conversations, and sat in comfortable silence. Maul never explained where you were going, but your gut told you that you already knew. Opening your bag you got your device, and when through some information with your lover. This consisted of notes from training, and important information from different groups of people he worked with. Half the time he got lost in your voice and had to get you to repeat yourself. “You are Darth Maul and you’re getting distracted? If the Jedi could see you now!” You laughed

“Of course I’m distracted love, have you seen yourself?” He rubbed your arm gently and held your gaze, which will never not make you blush deep red. “Shut the fuck up” you mumbled under your breath. His throat vibrated with a deep, amused laugh. Kissing your neck as he put the ship into hyperspace. His arm snaked around your waist to keep you from flinging forward, not letting go. This didn’t help your blush in any way.

You had landed at your destination, you were super excited to finally use your new skills and knowledge. Getting up from Maul’s lap, you put your cloak on and made sure your lightsaber was secured to your belt. Maul’s larger hands placed the hood over your head, casting a menacing shadow. “Ready, Darling?” His knuckles caressed your face and with a simple “Yes Master” you followed him out of the ships door.

The gravel beneath your boots was satisfying to your ears, as you approached a Jedi bass camp. Déjà vu hitting you hard, making your body burn with anger. Maul could sense it and refocused your mind, “stay focused Darth (y/n/n)”. Your response was a sharp nod with a small grunt. As you followed him you sensed force users. their signatures leaving a sour taste in the back of your throat. The camp was small, only housing 10 Jedi minimum.

"Wait here my love, you'll know when to come out" he placed a rough kiss to your lips, which you matched perfectly. You stayed behind the stones which hid the camp, choosing to lean against one that was nicely shaded. In your waiting time you practiced your breathing and preformed a brief meditation ritual, connecting to all the Sith Lords and Ladies that came before.

Maul walked up to the Jedi Knights, who were talking strategy around a table. some sitting, some standing and some lying down on the dirt. Their discussion came to a stop as they felt the aura of a threat. All of them got into formation, ready for anything.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen... If you could even call your selves that." his hands reached for the hood of his cloak, and elegantly placed it on his neck. His eyebrows lowered as he recognized all of your main bullies. His anger rising as he remembered all of your anguish and suffering. One, the worst of them all had the gall to speak. "What is the meaning of your intrusion, Darth Maul?" This caused a sinical laugh to come from the depths of his soul.

"Darling! come!" his voiced rasped. You smirked as you started walking, head down facing the dirt ground. Each step you took was an ego boost, while making you feel giddy for your plans to take shape. "The "meaning of my intrusion" is her"

Your steps came to a stop on the right side of his body, your black cloak twirling in the wind. The air became suffocating as your advanced force signature took over the atmosphere. "would you be so kind to introduce yourself my love?"

Raising your head, lowering your hood from your head you made eye contact with the Jedi. Their mouths become agape, shock etched onto their faces within seconds. "(y-y/n)?"

"You thought I was weak, but now I’m back to show you the true meaning of power. Let’s see how you handle the darkness you created."

With that the sound of 3 lightsabers were ignited and blood finally shed.

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

DONE! I hope you enjoyed it! It's not my best work, but if you feel otherwise then that is great!😂 For both my own indulgence, and research I went to TikTok to watch edits/clips to get a good look into the way his character is written in the movies. I hope I did him justice, and i conveyed what you envisioned! My years of developed creative writing skills finally kicked in a little over half way when i was writing! I'll edit it at some point, but for now I just want it posted. -L🤍

#fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #darth maul x reader #darth maul #darth maul x female reader #star wars one shot #star wars the clone wars #star wars imagine #sith lord #sw prequels #x female reader #female reader #romantic #fluff #angst #bullying

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slaymitchabernathy · 4 months ago

Text

Professor Snow

| tw: dubcon |

The lecture hall is large, every seat filled.

Students nervously whisper to one another, glancing down at the empty podium from time to time. Rumors fly around the room a mile a minute.

It’s the first day of classes at the University and everyone is nervous.

Rightfully so. For taking a class from Professor Snow is a surefire way to fail.

He’s been given the title of the toughest Professor at the University, known for being ruthless with his grading and relentless with his teaching tactics.

Which is why Coriolanus Snow strolls into the hall at a leisurely pace, setting his briefcase down on his wooden desk and slowly pulling out the contents. He’s in no rush.

He grabs a fresh piece of chalk and turns to the large board, not a speck of dust on it. A clean slate.

“My name is Professor Snow,” he says, not bothering to look back at his class, they’re all the same his students, nervous yet eager to be the best, to prove themselves amongst their peers and the Capitol elite.

“You will address me as such,” he continues, writing his name on the board, “our class meets on Wednesdays and Fridays, do not be late, and do not think my class is one you can skip. I will not wait for you to catch up.”

He glances over his shoulder and smirks at the crestfallen faces of his students, all of whom despise a Friday lecture but he doesn’t care. He already graduated and got his degree.

“This is Humanities and Ethics,” he says, finally turning around to gaze up at a class full of students, “this is the highest course level you can take which means you all either studied hard or passed with sheer luck. We’ll find out which one very soon,” he mumbles the last words as he steps up to the lecture podium.

“My class requires a textbook, I also suggest you take notes because as I said before, I will not wait for you and I will not repeat myself. I do not offer extra credit or make-up assignments, you either pass or you fail.”

Several students swallow and nervously eye each other. He can feel the tense energy in the room, everyone wanting to be the best.

He has yet to actually meet a student who can meet his expectations let alone surpass them.

“Now, let’s begin to discuss our first topic, a topic I am well known for due to my family legacy. The Hunger Games.”

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus hands out the syllabus as his students slowly shuffle out of the lecture hall, most of them not even making eye contact after the hour-and-a-half lecture he just delivered. That suits him just fine, he’s not here to make friends.

A few young girls shuffle towards him, talking in hushed whispers and he manages to catch the last of their words before they reach for a syllabus, “…going to ask my advisor if I can drop the class.”

Coriolanus grins, there’s always those few students who have bitten off more than they can chew, not showing up to the rest of his lectures after being able to drop the class. It happens every year, coming back the next week to a few empty seats. Thinning out the weakest of the herd.

The girls take the syllabus from him with defeated faces but a soft voice causes him to look up from his task, “Thank you.”

This girl is stunningly beautiful, with long blonde hair and startling blue-gray eyes. She could be a model and yet she just listened to him talk about children murdering each other for over an hour. Well, there’s one in every group he supposes.

He simply nods before handing the paperwork to the next student who looks like they’re on the verge of tears.

But a certain scent lingers when she leaves with her friends.

The scent of vanilla.

꧁ ꧂

꧁ Three Months Later ꧂

Coriolanus sits in his office with piles of paperwork surrounding him on his desk. It’s finals season and everyone is losing their minds.

All of his students have been showing up to class with tired eyes and empty brains. They’ll probably hold off on doing their final project for him until the last second, thinking they can slide by.

It happens every year and almost all of his students fail every year. There are the few that slip by of course, but he holds no sympathy for people who procrastinate.

The sound of rain from outside his office window nearly lulls him to sleep, it’s nearly ten o’clock on a Friday evening and here he is grading papers when he should be at home having a drink.

The life of an educator.

A soft knock at the door pulls him away from his grading and he clears his throat, “Come in.”

The door slowly opens to reveal one of his students, one of his more promising students to put it plainly which surprises him.

It’s Soarynn Nightingale, the beautiful blonde girl he noticed on the first day of class. All her friends dropped the course but she stayed, sitting in the front row, always taking diligent notes and asking questions.

She’s the rare bird who possesses both brains and beauty.

“Professor Snow? I’m sorry to bother you sir, but I just had a quick question about the final project.”

He raises his eyebrows, none of his students have approached him about the project yet, too scared or too lazy. Either one will lead them to fail. But not Soarynn.

He nods and gestures for her to take a seat, “Make it quick.”

Her eyes slightly widen but she shuts the door behind her and slides into the seat across from him, brushing her hair behind her ears, “Well, I was actually wondering if you could read over my essay portion of the project, critique it if you could,” she says softly.

Coriolanus leans back in his seat, looking her up and down for a moment. She’s dressed in a blue sweater with her hair pulled away from her face today. She’s probably wearing leather boots to go along with the tote bag she carries around everywhere on campus.

“What makes you think I’d critique your essay?” He asks, a bit of arrogance in his tone but he has the power here. Soarynn frowns and fidgets in her seat, “Well…well you never seem to have an issue critiquing us when we’re in class,” she points out.

She’s got him there.

Coriolanus scoffs a laugh and shakes his head, “We are not in class Ms. Nightingale. It’s late on a Friday night and you’ve come to ask me to read over your essay out of the sheer kindness of my heart.”

“I never said you were kind.”

She’s quick. But he can be quicker.

“Give it to me,” he holds out his hand, “before I change my mind and deem this a waste of my time.”

Soarynn reaches into her bag and hands him a few sheets of paper, her neat handwriting scrawled across the pages. He scans over the essay, searching for weak points and he finds quite a few by the time he’s finished.

He looks up to find her anxiously watching from the edge of her seat. She probably worked all day on this.

“Your argument is weak,” he states, tossing it towards her, “you seem afraid to speak your mind. This is your essay, your argument, defend it. Believe it.”

Soarynn frowns and takes the papers from the edge of his desk, “But I do believe it,” she says, “the Hunger Games are unethical. Anyone with an ounce of kindness can see that.”

Coriolanus smirks, “Well as you previously stated, I am not kind, nor do I find your argument a compelling one. If you want any hope of passing this portion of the final, you’ll change your argument and write the essay again but this time, from the opposite side. Tell me why we should have the Hunger Games.”

Soarynn shakes her head and shoves her papers back into her bag, “We shouldn’t have them. Killing innocent children for pageantry and sport is wrong.”

“Why is it wrong? This is to remind the Districts of their place. They lost the war, they pay the price.”

“But their children didn’t fight in the war,” she shoots back, “they were innocent. And if the Capitol had lost and it was our children in that arena then it would mean that we’re no better than the lowest of District citizens.”

Coriolanus studies her for a moment. She has a very bright mind and she’s passionate which is rare to have both. But she’s a rare bird, Soarynn Nightingale. “Perhaps you’ve chosen the wrong line of profession,” he finally says, “this line of work is…tricky if you have too much of a moral compass. Perhaps you’d be better suited to accounting or history.”

A look of hurt washes over Soarynn’s face and he sees a hint of tears in her eyes, “You’re a whole lot like your mother,” he muses, “I remember her and her righteous heart, always wanting to help others. She didn’t care for the Games either if I can recall although I was rather young and she was not yet pregnant with you. But like I said, it’s your essay, Ms. Nightingale, so do what you want with it but that is my opinion.”

Soarynn sniffles and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, “Thank you for your time,” she whispers, gathering her things.

Coriolanus finds himself feeling…bad about hurting her feelings even though she did it to herself. He sighs, rubbing his temples, it’s too late for this shit but here he is, still at work. “Let me drive you home,” he offers, pushing himself to stand after many hours of sitting, “I assume you don’t have a ride at this hour?”

Soarynn stops in her tracks, her hand wrapped around the door handle and her eyes wide, “No,” she says slowly, “my father has a late business meeting tonight.”

Coriolanus hums, he figured as much. “Alright. I’ll drive you home then, don’t want you out on the rainy streets this late at night.”

“I don’t want to trouble you, sir.”

He shakes his head, gathering his paperwork and closing up his briefcase before grabbing his coat off the hook, “I insist. You’re still on Cornelia Street right?”

Soarynn looks surprised that he remembers but Coriolanus was dragged to the Nightingale townhouse one too many times by his father to have dinner with Glen Nightingale and then talk business afterward. He had to be at least ten years old when Mrs. Nightingale was pregnant with Soarynn.

Right before the war.

“I am,” she confirms, opening the door for both of them.

They walk down the hallways in silence, only their footsteps making noise.

Coriolanus guides them to the back parking lot where his car is parked, opening the passenger door for Soarynn who slips in and quietly thanks him.

Coriolanus gets into the car with a tired sigh, turning the keys and listening to his car rumble to life. “I’m surprised you’re here so late, most students have already gone home,” he says, looking over his shoulder to reverse the car.

Soarynn nods and looks out the window once he pulls away from the building, raindrops sliding down the glass separating them from the chilly winter air, “I was in the library,” she explains, brushing her hair behind her ears again, “studying for some upcoming exams for my other classes.”

Coriolanus doesn’t quite care about any classes that aren’t his, not when he isn’t tasked with also being an academic advisor but for the sake of small talk and politeness, he’ll ask her more about her classes.

“What other classes are you taking?”

“Panem History, Panem Architecture, I’m also taking a Chemistry class from Dr. Gaul.”

Coriolanus turns right and raises his eyebrows, “Dr. Gaul hmm? She’s a tricky one, always gave me a hard time during my mentorship.”

Soarynn glances over at him, her interest piqued, “You had a mentorship under Dr. Gaul?”

Coriolanus nods, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, “I did,” is all he says.

He’s not willing to get into the gritty parts of his childhood, the war, the Hunger Games, mentoring some girl from Twelve and then following her like a love-sick puppy only to be tricked by her.

When he came back from Twelve, he was a new man. The Victor.

Dr. Gaul mentored him, he was even a Game Maker for a while before he decided to become a Professor.

“But I’m planning on getting into politics,” he adds while turning onto Cornelia Street, “this country is too far gone. It needs new leadership.”

Soarynn hums, probably not too involved or interested in politics. “My father says things were better before the war, people in the Capitol have more power now.”

“The Capitol had more power,” he corrects her, the car slowing to a stop in front of the Nightingale townhouse, “even with the Games, we’re still too lenient on the Districts. But that’s a conversation for a different class from a different Professor.”

Soarynn studies his face for a moment and he studies hers. It’s dark in his car aside from the glow of the street lamp but even in the worst lighting, she’s absolutely beautiful.

“Goodnight, Professor Snow.”

“Goodnight, Ms. Nightingale.”

He watches her get out of the car and walk up to the front door, making sure she makes it inside safely before driving away.

A rare bird indeed.

꧁ ꧂

“As this semester comes to an end, so does this class.”

Coriolanus pretends not to hear the many relieved sighs from his students as he paces in front of them, their final grades written down on the papers in his hand, “Your final grades for this class have been written down on the essay portion of your final project. If you are unsatisfied with your grade you may take it up with the Dean.”

It’s a Friday afternoon and the winter holidays are about to commence, all his students are anxious to get out of here but he has all the time in the world. At least until the clock strikes three o’clock.

“I hate to think this is goodbye,” he continues, “so it’s not. We’ll have one last lecture before you all run off to go enjoy your break.”

A collective groan fills the room and Coriolanus grins with glee. It’s so fun to diminish the younger generation.

He lectures them about small things like the inner workings of the Hunger Games, things he worked on under Dr. Gaul’s mentorship to make sure no one like his Tribute could ever win the Games again.

He paces while he talks, his eyes focused mainly on the floor beneath him or the wall in front of him but every once in a while his gaze wanders to the girl in the front row.

Soarynn.

Her eyes are trained on him, sharp but not calculating like his own.

He finishes with enough time to hand out their final grades, watching the crestfallen faces grow across the class when they realize they’ve failed. There are a few who wear triumphant grins, the few who actually paid attention and learned have been rewarded with a passing grade.

“Class dismissed,” he finally says, gathering his things into his briefcase. He has to swing by his office to grab a few binders before he himself can head home.

He follows the sea of students down the hallway, listening to them discuss their holiday plans, “Professor Snow?”

He looks over his shoulder to find Soarynn walking towards him, a determined look on her face, “I was hoping to talk to you about my final grade,” she says, holding up her essay.

Coriolanus chuckles and gestures towards his office, “Let’s discuss it somewhere private then. Grades are to be kept confidential.”

Soarynn nods and follows him into his office, closing the door behind her. It’s a bleak winter day from what he can see from out his window, there might even be some snow within the week.

“What about your grade did you wish to discuss?” He asks as he opens up his desk drawer, fishing out two binders with reports he’ll have to fill out for the yearly evaluations.

Soarynn makes herself comfortable in the seat he offered to her about a week ago, but this time she looks less nervous and more pissed off.

“You gave me an eighty-nine as my final grade,” she says, crossing her arms. Coriolanus grunts in approval, “Yes I did. The highest grade amongst your peers. You should be very proud.”

Soarynn scoffs and looks up at him, her eyes narrowing, “If I don’t have a ninety or above, it will impact my overall grade average from all of my classes. You’re the only Professor who didn’t give me a ninety or above.”

So even Dr. Gaul gave her a good grade.

A rare bird indeed.

Coriolanus sighs and places the binders into his briefcase, “Ms. Nightingale, there is nothing I can do to change your grade. Tonight I will write my final report for all of your grades and submit it to the Dean tomorrow. It’s out of my hands.”

Soarynn shakes her head, leaning on the edge of her seat, “There has to be something that can be done. Please, I need a higher grade. Just one more point. I even redrafted my essay portion after consulting you for advice. Who else in class can say they went the extra mile?”

Coriolanus watches her skirt rise higher and higher up her thighs unbeknownst to her in her moment of stress. But it does something to him.

Unlocks something within him.

How many times has he watched her twirl that blonde hair around her finger? How many times has she giggled at a male classmate's joke before class started? How many times has she batted her eyelashes at him after asking him a question?

He leans up against his desk, “You’re willing to go the extra mile then?”

“Yes.”

“Do whatever it takes?”

“Yes.”

He nods, letting out a deep sigh, “Lock the door.”

Soarynn blinks once, then twice, “Pardon?”

He sneers, “You heard me, go lock the door if you’re so desperate to improve your grade.”

Soarynn looks over at the door and then back up at him, the realization dawning on her face, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” She asks, standing up so quickly that the chair tips over, “You really think I would sleep with you to improve my grade?”

Coriolanus doesn’t say anything while she continues to spew out nonsense and insults at him, “I am not some cheap whore you can just boss around,” she snaps, pointing an accusing finger at him, “I am a Nightingale.”

Coriolanus takes a step towards her, noticing how she immediately takes a step back, “Let me tell you what you are Soarynn,” he says slowly, just like giving a lecture, “you are a very pretty girl, with a charming personality and a dazzling smile. You’re from a prominent family, you’re well-mannered and in your prime. You’ve probably kissed a few boys but it’s never gone further than that because, above all, you’re a good girl.” He keeps walking towards her, smirking when she almost trips over the chair to back away from him.

“You’re a good girl who’s waiting until marriage because you’re right, you are not a whore. But you will never be anything but a pretty little wife for your future husband.”

He’s backed her into a literal corner now, towering over her while tears fall from her eyes, “And as I mentioned when I drove you home, I plan on getting involved in politics, more specifically becoming President of Panem and I can’t do that without a good woman by my side.”

Soarynn’s eyes widen and her breaths grow shaky at his words, his silent proposition. “I could report you,” she whispers in a trembling voice, their faces inches apart, “you’ve insulted me and my character. You could be fired and arrested.”

He reaches out to take a piece of her hair between his fingers, feeling how soft it is, “But you won’t. You won’t because you’re also a smart girl and you know that being seen with a man like me could be all you need for a life full of luxury.”

Several tears fall down her face and he reaches into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief, wiping them away as soon as they appear.

“So it begs the question, are you willing to do whatever it takes?” He whispers, looking down at her, “Because if you do report me, I can make things very difficult for you darling. And I promise that once you graduate, no one will take you seriously. A pretty thing like you has been bred to be a trophy wife, not a working woman.”

Soarynn bats his hand away, glaring up at him with her stormy eyes, “You’re a monster.”

He grins, “I thought we already came to the conclusion that I do not possess any kindness.”

He wedges a foot between her own two feet, jamming his knee right below her covered cunt and Soarynn gasps, trying to push him away, “If you agree to this,” he says lowly, leaning down so his lips can brush the shell of her ear, “we can take things slowly. We can be smart. You can even graduate before I make my final move.”

She’s not getting out of this, one way or another, Coriolanus will have Soarynn Nightingale as his bride.

Soarynn whimpers, her hands clutching his white button-up shirt with frustration and fear, “I…I can’t,” she gasps, “I’m saving myself for marriage.”

Coriolanus grabs her chin with his thumb and index finger, craning her neck to look up at him, “Your future husband is standing right in front of you.”

꧁ ꧂

꧁ One Month Later ꧂

Moans fill his office, along with the creaking of his desk while Coriolanus fucks Soarynn against it.

He’s got her bent over, one leg propped up on the hardwood piece of furniture so he can fuck her even deeper.

This is by far, his favorite position to have her in.

And he’s got her in all sorts of positions these days.

Soarynn crumpled just as he predicted she would. She accepted his offer, the offer to eventually marry him should he raise her grade and make sure that she passes the rest of her classes with flying colors. Coriolanus has more than enough influence over the other Professors, and Soarynn is an excellent student regardless of his whispering in their ears.

But it’s all part of their deal.

Right now, he’s laying out the groundwork.

Soarynn will graduate at the end of the year, and he’ll turn in his official resignation to the University before announcing his campaign to run for President. He’ll make an official move on Soarynn, a public one that won’t make any fuss since she’ll just have graduated and be on the market for a good husband.

And her father will be pleased that she managed to marry a man of such stellar citizenship, not to mention a man who comes from a family with friendly ties to his own.

In the meantime, he’s been having his fun with her. Getting fully acquainted with the body of Soarynn Nightingale. He fucked her after she agreed to his deal, watched her bleed over his cock like a little virgin whore.

She cried afterward, the guilt and fear overwhelming her but he was quick to wipe those tears and whisper comforting words in her ear.

Coriolanus didn’t intend on torturing the girl, no, he had nothing against her. He just wanted to constantly be pressed against her, preferably with his cock buried in her tight, weeping cunt.

Once she warmed up to him it was much easier to get into her pants. She’d often get nervous about getting caught, both by her father and anyone at the University but Coriolanus assured her time and time again that they’d be fine. She was an adult and a consenting one at that.

Should they get caught, he’d get off without so much as a slap on the wrist. He could even throw her under the bus, claiming she came onto him in hopes of bringing her grades up.

No one would believe her.

“Fuck,” she gasps, arching her back when he lands a hard thrust into her cunt. She’s been learning what she likes more and more, letting him mold her into the perfect little sex doll to fuck whenever he wants.

Sometimes he’ll fuck her before his lecture to get out any tension. Other times he’ll fuck her late at night when he should be grading papers.

His favorite thing to do is play with her in public spaces, offer to tutor her in the library while pumping two fingers in and out of her cunt.

Soarynn is a slut through and through and he’s more than happy to take advantage of that fact, teasing her, getting her riled up before classes.

“Come on darling,” he taunts, “answer the question, which District surrendered first?”

Soarynn had come to him asking for help on a history assignment, so naturally, he had to find some excuse to fuck her. Making her do the assignment while painting her walls with his cum sounded like the perfect studying session.

Soarynn whimpers, her hands grasping at the papers she had placed on his desk, all the questions still unanswered, “I…I don’t know Coriolanus,” she whines, her walls clenching tighter around him.

He slaps her ass hard, leaving a mark and making her yelp, “When classes are in session what do you call me darling?”

He loves to punish her for little things like slipping up his name at the wrong times. Soarynn pants, her hips meeting his with every thrust, she’s getting closer to her orgasm and he is too, “Professor Snow," she whines, her nails gripping the mahogany, “I call you Professor Snow.”

Coriolanus nods, pleased she remembered the proper way to address him. They can’t afford for her to slip up in front of the wrong people, so unless they’re behind closed doors, she uses his proper title. It doesn’t help that it gives him a weird power trip, making him feel above her.

“Very good,” he says, picking up the pace, “it was District Thirteen that surrendered first,” he recalls, “the rest followed shortly after.”

Coriolanus brings one hand down to rub her clit, earning him a shriek since it’s arguably the most sensitive part of her body. “Oh please,” she begs, looking at him from over her shoulder, batting those blue-gray eyes, “please let me cum Professor Snow.”

Coriolanus scoffs and pulls his hand away from her clit to shove her head against the desk, giving him a new and better angle to fuck her in, “You’re too smart for your own good sometimes,” he tells her, “fucking teasing me.”

Soarynn’s moans are a sweet symphony as she tumbles towards her orgasm, “You…you like it though,” she argues, her assignment long forgotten.

Coriolanus hums, his other hand holding her waist tightly, he’ll probably leave bruises but he doesn’t care. He’s getting closer to his orgasm as well which is perfect timing since they both have a class very soon. He lands a few more pointed thrusts into her cunt, targeting her sweet spot every time, making her see stars.

Soarynn moans, her back arches, and her walls flutter around him as she finally reaches her peak. Coriolanus is close after her, his cum leaking from her cunt when he pulls out with a sigh. It’s a sight he’ll never get tired of seeing.

Soarynn rests her head against the desk, catching her breath while he begins the clean-up process, wiping both of them down to the best of his abilities. Soarynn lets out a whimper when he goes to clean her up but he doesn’t let her sensitivity stop him. She belongs to him now so he’ll do whatever he pleases.

“You’ll have to finish the rest of that assignment on your own,” he tells her, throwing another tainted handkerchief into the waste bin. Soarynn finally stands up, pulling her skirt back on along with her tights, “I’m so glad I came to you for help,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

Since their relationship took a rather sharp turn from an academic standpoint to a romantic one, Soarynn has let more of her real personality shine and he’s learned that she can be quite sarcastic as well as feisty when she really wants something.

She’s still pliant and submissive, but once she warms up to him she can be rather pleasant to be around. Coriolanus scoffs and wraps a hand around her neck, pulling her against him, “I’d argue that you’re always glad to come to me for any of your needs darling,” he purrs, grinning when she turns red. Soarynn is easy to put back into her place. A little humiliation is all it takes.

“I’m going to be late,” is all she has to say.

He hums, inspecting her face for a moment to make sure he hasn’t left any telltale signs that she just got fucked but he finds none. She just looks beautiful but that’s nothing new.

“Then I’ll see you later this afternoon,” he murmurs, explicitly looking forward to his last lecture of the day since it means Soarynn will be in attendance. Soarynn nods, giving him a tight-lipped smile, “Yes you will,” she confirms.

He can see the conflict in her eyes again, wondering if what they’re doing is right or wrong. Wondering what she really thinks about him, how she feels about him. It’s a battle she’s been fighting since she came to him about her final grade and he’s quick to remedy it by pressing his lips against hers.

If he’s going to fuck her all the time then he might as well make up for it with a few sweet kisses and a handful of kind words. She feeds off of those, of those promises.

She eagerly returns the kiss, their lips moving in sync. Her fingers tangle in his curls and he groans, he's forgotten how nice it feels to be touched by another person, by a woman. His other hand slides down to her waist, squeezing it. Getting to know Soarynn has been an interesting experience, getting to know her body has been more interesting.

She's so soft, so well-kept, always smelling good. She's a sweet little secret that he's happy to keep in his back pocket. Soarynn sighs into the kiss and he pulls at her bottom lip with his teeth, both of them fighting to land on top but Snow always lands on top.

Laughter can be heard from outside, a group of students passing by, and Coriolanus pulls away from the kiss, looking down at her, "You should get going, wouldn't want a mark on your perfect record." Soarynn rolls her eyes at his teasing, she prides herself on her perfect attendance.

Soarynn nods with a sigh, "Alright, I'll head out first."

Navigating this new relationship has meant dealing with several twists and turns but one thing they could both agree on was never being seen with each other. Neither of them wanted to raise suspicions from other students or faculty members, so when leaving his office or any room after being together, they left separately so as to not raise any suspicions.

It worked out nicely since he always got a good view of her from behind when she walked out.

Coriolanus cards a hand through his curls, glancing in his reflection on the glass of his cabinet that held a variety of photographs and certificates. He looked as handsome as ever.

He looks back over at Soarynn who’s putting her things into her bag, gathering her belongings and her thoughts. She buttons her shirt back up, making sure everything is in place. She puts herself back together at a practiced ease now, they’ve done this so many times it’s muscle memory.

“Good luck on your exam,” he says once she’s finally ready to leave, she gives him a nod and a small smile, more polite than genuine, “Thank you. Good luck with your lecture.”

He nods and watches her slip out of his office, leaving him alone once again. There’s so much to be done between them, setting up the proper place for them to coincidentally run into one another once she’s graduated, making sure nothing slips out.

Coriolanus had worried for a moment that she might run off and tell someone but Soarynn’s got her reputation on the line, and she wouldn’t dare risk it.

He smiles to himself and grabs his briefcase, he’s got her right where he wants her.

꧁ ꧂

꧁ One Year Later ꧂

“Good evening, Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus gives the doorman a polite nod while walking into his apartment building, a million things on his mind.

Since resigning from his position at the University, he has since announced his campaign for the upcoming Presidential election. He’s already projected to win by a landslide considering how well-liked he is by his peers and the general public.

He’s got the looks, the education, the reputation, and now, the girl.

It all happened so perfectly.

He couldn’t have planned it better himself. And he did plan it.

He met her at the Winter Gala, an event thrown for University students about to graduate in December. She had been wearing red and he was too, it was mere fate that led them to run into each other, Soarynn on the arm of her father, Coriolanus eager to impress and compliment her on her studies.

Glen Nightingale had greeted him like an old friend and he practically was, he was a carbon copy of his father and that seemed to be close enough to Glen who insisted to his daughter that Coriolanus was the type of man she should marry.

Soarynn had hushed him off, claiming she was just focused on graduating, playing the uninterested schoolgirl part exceptionally well.

But by some miracle, Coriolanus managed to convince her to dance with him. It wasn’t frowned upon for students and faculty to mingle at events like this, not when the students were mere weeks away from graduating.

He got her a drink, made her laugh, the whole nine yards.

By the end of the night, Coriolanus was invited to the Nightingale townhouse for dinner next week after Soarynn recalled Coriolanus so generously taking her home one night the year before. That selfless act of chivalry was all Glen needed to approve of their relationship.

If only he knew that for the past year, his daughter had been stuck on the cock of Coriolanus Snow, his own little fuckdoll to play with whenever he deemed fit.

But over that year he had charmed Soarynn, now he just needed to charm her father.

He’d propose soon enough, right before the elections really picked up to give him some traction. Coriolanus had learned many things since he started dating Soarynn, one of them being that people love a pretty girl. Soarynn was as pretty as they came, endlessly charming, always knowing what to say, how to dress, where to stand.

She was perfect.

Since he began courting her however she’s grown to be a bit more…demanding. Coriolanus expected this, of course, this pushback in his plans. Not that she necessarily hated his plans, not when they included her and meant becoming First Lady, but they were on the same level now it seemed, equals.

He hated it.

With a ten-year age gap, there was room for whispers about the two of them, how Soarynn was far too young to be courting a man at his age but they paid them no mind. There were greater things at hand that people just could not see. Besides, Coriolanus preferred someone younger, more naive, and moldable.

He’s seeing her tonight, taking her out to dinner, and then a show, right where the public can see them. He’s just got to get changed before he can leave to pick her up.

He takes the elevator all the way up to the twelfth floor, making his way into his penthouse apartment where not a soul but him lives. He’s brought Soarynn here a couple of times but he’s in no rush to have her move in with him. Not when they’ll be married sooner than later.

Coriolanus sets his briefcase down in his study before making his way to the bedroom to pick out the proper attire for tonight. He selects a black suit, pairing it with a black tie and a red rose pinned to his lapel.

He spends a thorough amount of time doing his hair, ensuring that every curl is in place before he applies cologne. His face is clean and shaven and he looks exceptionally sharp if he does say so himself.

He grabs his coat before heading back downstairs to the lobby where his car is waiting for him. Now that Coriolanus is a rising politician, he can’t be bothered to drive himself places so now he has a driver.

“The Nightingale residence,” he tells the driver who inquires on where to take him. Over the past few weeks, Coriolanus has grown increasingly close to Glen Nightingale who’s a businessman at heart. Perhaps it has something to do with his past relationship with his father, but Glen is quite welcoming towards Coriolanus.

He had admitted to Coriolanus one night after Soarynn went to bed that he worried about finding Soarynn a suitable match for a husband.

“She’s a Nightingale,” he had said, “and my only daughter. I want her with someone responsible, someone who can take care of her and take care of business. She wants to do all sorts of things to change the world but I don’t want her lifting a finger.”

Coriolanus had assured Glen that his darling daughter wouldn’t have to do a thing as long as she was with him. And he meant it too.

Soarynn was too beautiful a creature to work, even if she wanted to. She often talked about using her degree to do some good in the world, and every time she went on one of her little tangents, Coriolanus would nod and listen, placing a kiss on her cheek and telling her how she already made a difference. No need to run out into the world full of evil, wicked people who would gladly sink their claws into her soft flesh.

Thank goodness he was able to get to her before anyone else could hurt her.

Coriolanus looks out the window as they drive through the Capitol streets, a light snow falling down around them. They're getting close to February and he's getting closer and closer to becoming President. He's running against a few other candidates right now but his advisor Quintus Heavensbee has assured him that they'll all drop out of the race in due time.

He just has to be patient.

꧁ ꧂

"Mr. Snow, how are you feeling about your campaign?"

"Mr. Snow! A quick word if you can!"

Coriolanus and Soarynn ignore the news outlets and their pestering questions as they walk into the restaurant. Soarynn looks like an absolute vision tonight in her pink dress made of silk, clinging to her body in all the right places. She keeps her head high and her hand wrapped around his arm as they finally step inside, safe from the photographic eye, "They're persistent," she comments, "I'll give them that."

Coriolanus helps her slide off her shawl and chuckles, "You'll have to get used to it darling, being First Lady won't be any easier." Soarynn smiles at the thought of being First Lady of Panem, a seed he planted in her head when she was having doubts about their secret relationship.

It slightly backfired on him though. Coriolanus had brought it up as a way to calm her, to assure her that she'd have everything she ever wanted at her beck and call if she were married to the President. All the dresses, jewelry, and shoes she could ever want, he would gladly give her.

Soarynn saw things differently though.

She wanted to help, to make a difference. She wanted to host charity events and make clothes for the poor. She wanted to go to the hospitals and speak with the ill, and hold hands with people nearing death.

Coriolanus simply wished to cart her around, keep her by his side, and show her off when necessary. If he took her to the races, she wanted to free every horse, if he took her to the ballet, she wanted every ballerina to get flowers.

She's got a good heart but heaven knows how fucking annoying it can be for him sometimes to hear her drone on and on about repaying acts of kindness. Hopefully, their future children don't inherit this nagging trait.

The hostess gladly seats them at their regular table, right by the window with an amazing view of the Capitol streets. Drinks are immediately served, wine for Soarynn, whiskey for Coriolanus who's had a rather tiring day.

"How was your interview?" Soarynn asks, bringing the glass to her lips.

Coriolanus sighs, taking a sip of his own drink before answering, "It was rather long if I'm being honest, Quintus said it's only a taste of what's to come for this election season." Soarynn raises her eyebrows, she doesn't dabble in politics, only knowing what Coriolanus or her father tells her.

"Well then you'll be fully prepared for when it's time for things to get serious," she decides. It's adorable really how naive she can be about things like this, always wanting everyone to go home a winner.

He smiles and tilts his head, she looks good tonight with her hair pulled back into a bun, a few pieces framing her face. One thing he appreciates about Soarynn is how classy she is, never too much jewelry or makeup, only things that compliment her natural beauty.

"Yes, well how was your day? I believe you mentioned shopping with your friends if I'm not mistaken." Despite dropping his class, Soarynn's friends managed to graduate and have since spent their days shopping and gossiping. Soarynn enjoys shopping and she certainly is no stranger to gossip, but Coriolanus has made it very clear that more things are expected of her since she's in the public eye.

"I did," she confirms with a nod, "and it was good, we went to a few department stores, I mostly browsed. I got some new shoes though. And I got some things for Petunia."

Petunia, was not something Coriolanus could have planned for if he tried.

When Soarynn graduated back in December, Glen told her she could get whatever she wanted, no budget, no questions. Both Glen and Coriolanus expected her to ask for something extravagant like a trip to a District resort or a car. Instead, she asked for a cat.

A kitten more specifically.

Coriolanus had accompanied her to the pet shop where she managed to pick the only kitten who was actively hissing at him the entire time. Since the moment they met, Petunia has been hellbent on attacking him, batting at his ankles, scratching his leather shoes. She's terribly possessive of Soarynn, hissing at him if he gets too close.

Soarynn thinks it's sweet, Coriolanus thinks it's because Petunia is spoiled rotten with toys and catnip.

Every time he sees the cat she's got a new ribbon wrapped around her neck, prancing around the townhouse like she owns the place. She's in for a rude awakening when Soarynn moves in with him because Petunia will undoubtedly come with her.

"Ah, let me guess, a new collar," he teases, grinning when Soarynn rolls her eyes. "Laugh all you want," Soarynn says, "but she's a Nightingale which means she'll only receive the best of the best."

Coriolanus drums his fingers on the table, he's getting a bit hungry and their waiter has yet to come back to take their orders, "Well I'm sure she'll look adorable in whatever you put her in darling." Coriolanus has learned that it's sometimes best to simply nod and agree with Soarynn on certain things.

He finally spots the waiter and his piercing gaze is more than enough to pin the man down and bring him over to their table. Soarynn hasn't even looked at the menu but that's because Coriolanus always orders for her. She's as spoiled as her cat sometimes.

"My apologies for the wait," their waiter says with an uneasy smile, "what would you two like this evening?"

Coriolanus clears his throat and closes the menu, taking his time. He's got all the time in the world these days. "I'll have the smoked salmon, and she will have the lamb stew." He hands the menus over to the waiter who scurries off to put in their order and he shakes his head, "The service here is getting worse, this will be our last visit," he decides.

Soarynn smirks at his decision, well past questioning his every choice which he appreciates. She used to question everything he did and it got old fast. "Well aren't you starting to sound like a politician," she purrs, her smirk growing bigger when he scoffs.

"I've been making these types of decisions long before deciding to run for President darling," he reminds her, "you forget I used to be a Professor."

Soarynn rolls her eyes before finishing off her glass of wine, "Oh, I remember, how could I forget what a helpful teacher you were?"

Coriolanus gives her a warning look, they're in a public place and she needs to watch her tongue but alcohol always makes her feisty, "Careful Soarynn," is all he says, his voice firm yet calm.

He does his best to look past the events that landed them here but Soarynn loves to remind him of how he "took advantage of her" as if they aren't both in on this little plan.

"You certainly helped yourself," she mumbles.

Coriolanus clenches his jaw, he can't punish her here but he can make her regret saying that once they go back to his penthouse. Until then, he'll play nice and enjoy this dinner he's paying so much for.

Then he can remind her of her place.

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn moans so loud whenever he fucks against her sweet spot. It's an erotic sight to watch her below him, her eyes rolling back, her mouth gaping open, her back arching off the mattress.

"If you knew how to keep your mouth shut then you wouldn't have to be tied up right now," he reminds her, his hand pressing down on her lower abdomen, another thing that makes her go crazy.

Soarynn tries to wiggle her wrists out of the necktie he wrapped them with but she fails once again. "Unfair," she gasps when he latches his lips to her neck, "you're...you're not playing fair Coriolanus."

He sits back up while continuing to fuck her and tuts, shaking his head in a disappointed manner, "You should know by now that I don't play fair darling. At least you've been granted the privilege of calling me by my first name now. Remember what you used to call me?"

His other hand wraps around her neck, squeezing until she can barely breathe, he shakes her head like a doll, "What did you use to call me Soarynn? Use that pretty little head of yours and think."

Soarynn whines, her back arching even more when he picks up the pace, "I...I called you Professor Snow," she moans, her walls tightening around his cock. Coriolanus nods, pleased she can remember something from University.

He leans back down until his lips are hovering over her lips, "And do you know what you'll call me once I put that ring on your finger and I win this election?"

Soarynn squeezes her eyes shut but he knows she's about to reach her orgasm, which means she's desperate and will do anything.

"No," she cries, wiggling against his hold, "I don't know what I'll call you."

Coriolanus smiles, pressing his lips to hers, making for a messy and heated kiss filled with lust.

"You'll call me President Snow."

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

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the-anxious-stargazer · 2 years ago

Text

Like Honey || Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Although Sam have promised herself to not get too close to anyone outside her newfound family, she struggles when she meets a regular in the diner she worked at.

Words: 4.02k

Note: This is inspired from Halsey's song Honey! i'd recommend you guys listen to it while reading :) i'm slowly starting getting into horror bc i dont want to be a pussy no more and watch them for jenna and melissa (they are so hot omfg)

[Masterlist][Part 2]

・ ‥…━━━━━━━━━━♡♡♡━━━━━━━━━━…‥ ・

Sam promised herself that she'd focus on Tara and the gang first before learning to let new people in again in her life. That promise was made when they all moved to New York after the murders in Woodsboro. After Richie. A betrayal like that is a valid reason for her to be closed off and be suspicious of anyone her sister or her friends meet. The same could be said for Quinn, Ethan, Anika, and everyone else she had met when they were introduced to her. Sam did warm up to the three the longer they stayed. She felt a little more comfortable with them when her gut told her that maybe they were genuine people. But she still almost kept to herself. She almost didn't have any friends outside them other than Danny their neighbor next door.

Being the oldest and mother figure of the group meant she worked for her and Tara's share of rent and other needs. Even though their mother sends money for bills and such, Sam wanted to work still. Though she knew what she get weren't much it didn't hurt to start saving her own money. So she worked to keep herself busy but not too much to not acknowledge that she was suffering such a mental scar from the attacks. One of those jobs was in a diner a few blocks near them. It paid okay and the staff are kind but Sam rarely bothered to get too close to them. All she ever knew from them is that they were willing to offer a smile and small conversation.

Usually, she takes the morning shifts, other times she takes the graveyard ones. You can pretty much figure out which shift she preferred over the other.

The regulars were introduced to her on her first shift by Dale, the main cook. There was a couple, John and Amy, who was always on time in the morning and order eggs and toast only with two refills of drip. Rex is a sculptor who mostly sits in the corner and has a few sketches by the table with him, only ordering an omelet with ketchup. There's also a programmer named Adrian who gets a lot of coffee and a BLT at night. Sometimes his friend Ben joins in with fries. A young woman named Adelaide who works from home and is always on the phone while she ate her waffles and vanilla milkshake. Adelaide would go by the mornings if she wakes up early or comes by near the evening when she could.

Lastly, there was Y/N. Sam has figured before that she looked around the same age as her. Cate mentioned when she was teaching her around that she's been here way before her and she pretty much knew everyone in the diner. She was mostly in the morning with a few files in her hand. She's an assistant in an independent law firm. There were times that she came by night and read some of the files she had all the while taking a sip of her joe now and then, other moments she was taking notes for a case assignment that her boss told her to take a look for him. Sam always gets a warm greeting from her as she did with everyone else when she enters the diner and interacts with her whenever deemed necessary. She thought she was too nice to be true.

"You from New York?" Y/N asks her as Sam fills her mug and couldn't help but doubt for a second if she were going to be honest or not,

Y/N always had a keen eye. She liked watching everyone else and let the world work. That meant she liked observing the customers that enter the diner every now and then, noticing how John always drink his coffee slowly to match Amy's pace and always offers an extra toast to her. How Adelaide sometimes start scribbling on her tissues while she talked to her boyfriend who she assumed lived away from New York. The fidgeting Cate does when she's serving Rex and giggles a little when she talks to him. Y/N could see how tired Sam was even when she had just started her shift a few moments ago. The neatness of her diner clothes, layers of makeup, and fake smile couldn't mask the exhaustion the woman has felt for who knows how long. She didn't want to pry about anyone's story so she tries to offer what she only can to someone who deems her a stranger, kindness. It doesn't hurt to treat anyone fairly.

"No, not from around here. I'm just trying to start over." She answers half-heartedly, trying not to give away any information about her at all. Sam sees a gentle smile from her and she couldn't help but feel the burning sensation on her cheeks.

"I wish you well for that. Everyone deserves a restart." And with that, Y/N thanked her for refilling her.

Those were one of many encounters Sam had with her. There were times Y/N would order 2 cups of coffee for her to share with anyone on the staff and reluctantly Sam accepted her third request at the random times she offered. She was beyond suspicious. Her doubt was understandable given the fact that she went through a lot that broke her sense of trust in anyone. But her cautiousness was only met with a tender conversation. Y/N would always ask how she is and the first and ever personal information she has ever given to anyone outside her family was her. Sam vaguely talked about how Tara has been slowly losing interest in seeking help and acting like nothing happened. Of course, there are a few changes here and there to make it seem like a normal rant about her younger sister and Y/N listened intently to her.

Or maybe it was because she was too distracted by the beauty of the older Carpenter sister.

Those seeming doe eyes that hid too many secrets.

Another night shift has come and to Sam's discomfort, she had to be at work. She just came from therapy and her second doctor had just given up on her, making her night already more dreadful than it was. And just to top things off the students who have been visiting the diner lately have been making it their job to worsen her night by being obnoxious and gossiping over her. They weren't even trying to keep it down as if they were back in high school and Sam had just stolen the famous girl's ex-boyfriend. Tara had told her the rumors about her and Woodsboro before and she couldn't care less about what a stranger, who wasn't even there, would think. It was the breaking point when one of them spilled their milkshake on her "accidentally". The smug smile the girl wore before she did it was almost too easy to miss but little did they know that Y/N had been watching them silently the entire time. The woman's had enough of their disturbance. She had been gripping on her pen hard to almost split it in half.

"I'm so sorry, miss." The girl in white apologized with a snide tone. Her friends giggle at her antics on the now pink-stained light blue blouse Sam wore. It just happened to be a strawberry milkshake too. Just last week a girl threw her orange juice at her when she was on her way home with dinner. At this point she thought she's collecting all the fruit flavored drinks.

"D-Don't worry, I'll get it cleaned up." Sam begrudgingly states while avoiding her eyes before she went to turn around but stopped when she saw how she almost bumped into someone,

Familiar Chelsea boots stood before her.

"I beg to differ." They hear the person say before the woman realizes who it was.

"And who are you supposed to be? Her friend?" One of them asks cockily to which Y/N smiles at their confidence. She had her sleeves rolled up already, coat resting back in her booth and Dale was waiting for her cue to tag along after she signaled him from her table earlier.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you some manners on gossiping about people you don't know? Let alone the one serving you your meals and minding her damn business?" She had slowly paced past the unmoving Sam Carpenter that watched closely. Both hands rested on the side of their table and her anger was prevalent from the way she carried herself in the scene.

"She's a lying snake and a murdering bitch!" The other one barked from her seat.

"Let me guess, you got that from Reddit? What else are you going to believe next, that Beyonce's part of the Illuminati?" Y/N mocked her statement and that's when Sam realized that she knew about the rumors surrounding her, that she knew some bit of her past.

The girls had been quiet after she pointed out their bullshit. Sam had always seen her be courteous and approachable when she stops by, her smiles almost making her eyes crinkle when waving at them, and treated everyone with reason, but tonight was different. This was a woman who has lost her patience after holding it for so long,

"I'm going to ask you to leave. People like you don't deserve to be served when you treat the servers here like they're nothing." Y/N ordered with her eyes unblinking with focus.

When no one moved, Y/N let Dale handle the rest by approaching the table and the girls scurried fast before they were going to be thrown out by the man who stood almost six feet tall. Sam heard a few yells at the girls to leave the diner when they exited the place and her gaze follows back Y/N who had changed her demeanor. The cook pats her back for her handling the situation and thanks her before he gives Sam a pat as well and comes back to his previous spot. It was then that the woman offered her the unsparing eyes that always looked at her and asks,

"Are you okay?" Sam thought it sounded so sweet, all she could respond was a faint nod. She didn't even comprehend how a bit close she was already to her until a hint of soft vanilla could be smelled from her. Not the kind where it almost smelled artificial like those vape juices, but it was almost authentic. The woman before her then fishes out something out of her back pocket and extended her handkerchief.

"Here. You got an extra blouse, dear?" Another question follows after Sam takes it and started wiping away some of the liquid.

"No, mines in my apartment, and it's a few blocks away," Y/N hears her voice again after it was silenced earlier, "Hey Dale, Peter doesn't mind his servers being out of uniform for a situation like this, right?" She shouts at the cook who was just about to send a plate to Dolly, Sam's partner for the shift tonight.

"Nah, let me handle him when he asks next time. I gotchu Sam." Dale nods their way.

Y/N then started unbuttoning her shirt and it revealed a white tank top underneath her white button-up shirt. Sam knew should be looking away but couldn't even help herself. Her attention was so close on her slightly toned arms until she snapped out of her daze as the woman handed her top, "Here, you can borrow this for now."

Dolly went to grab a mop and started cleaning the rest of the drink on the floor, "I'll take it from here, Sam." She reassures her and Sam was beyond grateful of the people supporting her.

"A-Are you sure?" Sam looks back at Y/N who hasn't fazed.

"Yeah don't worry about it, Sam." She beams.

The Carpenter girl then watched her walk back to her booth like nothing transpired and quietly apologized to the remaining customers she'd passed by before sitting down. But if Y/N was being honest, she was still trying to calm down from the adrenaline. She was well aware that violence was never the option, yet the possibility for things to go south was out there. She never wants to ever resort to that. Sam then finally moved from the spot she was seemingly glued onto since the confrontation and went to change in the staff room. While she was away, Y/N ordered a martini and piña colada instead of finishing her coffee. Caffeine wouldn't help flush away the rush that still lingered. In between changing her top, Sam couldn't help but wonder why someone like Y/N would stand up for her when she barely knew her.

But that thought was pushed aside when she started slipping into the button-up shirt that was handed to her by the very woman she was curious about and a whiff of her scent made its way to her nostrils again. Sam paused for a second to process how addicting Y/N's scent was. Even her damn perfume was almost sweet. After pushing her thoughts away and finishing closing the shirt, she tossed her ruined blouse in her bag and went back out to continue her shift but only to be stopped,

"Hey, I kinda asked Dale to give you a break so... care to sit with me?" Y/N wondered before the drinks she ordered arrived with Dolly winking at her. The woman shyly smiles back at her before she left them alone and dealt with another customer.

"Yeah, I'd… actually like that." Sam settled on the other side of the booth as she slide the glass of martini to her, "Oh, I'm not allowed to drink while on—"

"Take it easy, Sam. You've been through a lot just now so take it. It's on me." She waves off before taking a big sip of her piña colada.

The woman reluctantly takes a decent amount from her glass while Y/N fixes her files that had been slightly scattered on her side of the table. It was the right moment for Sam to finally pop the question,

"You knew?" It came off pretty fast, making Y/N tilt her head.

"About Woodsboro, I mean. I'm sorry that came off harder than intended." Sam clarified her question and apologized for being forward to which Y/N didn't mind.

"That's alright. I've only read two news articles about it but other than that, it's all I know."

"You don't have to tell me about it, Sam. You said you wanted to start fresh, and you don't owe anyone an explanation." Y/N assured her and the Carpenter girl countered, "No, I feel like I can trust you about… all of this." Sam replies before taking a deep breath.

From being the daughter of the original killers in the Woodsboro murders to her seeing visions of her dad in the mirror and being a victim of the ghost face attacks, she spared no details throughout her story, her therapy sessions going almost nowhere because she'd scare them off and Y/N never stopped her flow and listened intently to everything she said. Not even a single sound came out of her mouth as Sam spoke. The only thing she ever offered were observant eyes that watched every move, like how the crease on her forehead slowly increased as she went on or the hint of distaste in her voice when she mentioned her deceased ex-boyfriend. She barely bats an eye when she even admitted that she enjoyed killing him and Amber. Not a single change of muscle movement on her face other than taking a few sips from her drink and blinking now and then.

When Sam finished telling her whole story, she had been anticipating the request for her to leave and never come back, just like the one her psychiatrist said when she told him the truth that afternoon. She had grown to expect that from anyone now. Yet all she heard was an exhale from the woman she shared the table with,

"That's... a lot to take in." She hears her note as she rub her chin,

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that, Sam. You didn't deserve it." Y/N continues with empathetic eyes.

"You don't… feel like the need to push me away?" Sam asks, and for once she feared someone's answer more than anyone else. Almost too afraid that she'd scare Y/N away.

"No, not really." She told nonchalantly.

Sam stared blankly at her as she moved to cross her arms and looked down from her seat. She couldn't tell if she was about to take back her statement or maybe ask her more about the attacks. Yet Y/N was able to catch Sam off guard as she went to finish her martini,

"Not going to lie, those two deserved to die for what they did— I mean… committing murders because your movie franchise sucked? That seems childish, especially for an adult man." Y/N comments on her thoughts, not realizing it made her choke on her drink.

"Oh my god, Sam— are you okay?" She tries to offer her a glass of water though the Carpenter girl waves it off.

"No, no, it's just— you're right their motive seemed childish." A laugh follows, and it makes Y/N smile that she witnesses her being unguarded. She almost felt too lucky that Sam let herself be this vulnerable to her now.

"Thank you, for not turning me away and for always listening," Sam says after calming down.

And Sam meant it. It was nice to be heard and not hated for the first time. She felt safe knowing that she could trust a new person for once. She still has a long way from being able to trust again, but small process is still process.

"You're welcome. You deserve it." The woman says as she leans forward on the table and rested both elbows close to the edge, "If you need someone to talk about... this, I'm always open. No matter what it may be, I won't turn you away." Y/N continues with her signature smile this time.

After that, Sam went on with her shift while Y/N picked back up the papers she had scanned before the confrontation. It's a good thing she noted down her thoughts to remember where she left off and continued looking through some of the witness reports she had brought with her for their recent case. Sam would sometimes steal a few glances from her and offer a small smile whenever she gets caught. That was the moment she started growing more fond of their diner's regular. Each visit felt more special than the last and each offer of coffee breaks has made both of them closer. Whenever Sam wasn't on duty, Y/N would feel a little bored but Sam was able to text her and ask about her day. When there was someone who wanted to talk shit about her, Y/N wouldn't hesitate to spit back at them or push the person when someone throws their drink at her. The Carpenter girl appreciated the gestures and sometimes feels too bad that she gets to be splashed at, but the woman didn't mind. Tara got to meet her one day when she visited Sam to work and hanged out a little just to kill time. She was very skeptical of Y/N at first, but the way her sister eased up around her gave her the impression that she was trustworthy. Sam's trust is hard to earn after all.

The night was about to come, and Sam had just finished her shift when she happen to encounter the person that has been making her days ten times better than she ever expected. Y/N always wore a pantsuit to work, switching from 4 pairs. Today she was wearing the brown one that had a waistcoat and she was killing the style. Sam never gets tired of her presence or the way she always presents herself. She just looked ravishing in a pantsuit. Y/N had her coat neatly folded on her right arm that held folders while her messenger bag rested on her right shoulder. The smile that was so familiar to her greeted Sam Carpenter warmly that she couldn't help but blush,

"Good evening, Miss Carpenter. I'll be your chauffeur for tonight." Y/N announces with an accent. The attempt makes Sam laugh, "If that's your take on a British accent, you need to work more on it." She teased softly, shaking her head.

"C'mon, I'll walk you home." Sam hears her offer and gestured her occupied arm for her to take, which she happily does so.

"How chivalrous of you, Miss Y/L/N. Keep this up, and I might start falling for you." Half of it was a joke, but she was indeed falling for her, harder than Sam even realizes. If only she knew that Y/N had already fallen for her a while now.

She kept herself composed after Sam's teasing. Both of them chatted casually as they walk through the streets of New York. Y/N talked about her day at the office and how their copier was jamming down. It was annoying her and she had to kick it a few times before it worked again. Sam, on the other hand, shared about how a costumer had a screaming match with a date while eating and almost broke things in the diner. Dale was almost livid when the woman raised her plate and was about to throw it at the poor guy. Moments like these were nice for Sam. The life that was just mundane for once and not surrounded by the craziness of her past that still lingers. No screaming stranger threatening her, another flavored drink being thrown her way or a masked psycho trying to kill her, but a quiet night. Laughs were shared, jokes were thrown at each other, and flirts slipped here and there to make it seem like it was nothing. Even if the world around them was a little overwhelming, they were stuck in their own bubble cherishing each other's presence. Y/N was content and she had gathered enough courage until they reached Sam's apartment building. She collected her thoughts and watched her let go of her arm,

"This is me," Sam gestures to the building door, "Thank you for the walk, Y/N. It was... nice." She follows up with a light blush present on her cheeks. She hoped Y/N didn't notice them.

"Yeah, it was." Y/N smiles at her and scratched to back of her head.

"Look, I've been thinking, do you want to grab dinner sometime? You know— like a date. If you don't mind." The woman begins to avoid her brown eyes. Y/N was way too damn shy, and it made the brown girl giggle.

Sam then approaches her and almost closes the gap between them, leaving a peck on her cheek that it made Y/N jump. She turned so red it was almost like she was cherry. It was a first to witness her like this and it made Sam giggle even more as she didn't move away from her spot,

"I don't mind at all. I'm free by 6 pm tomorrow. No need to be fancy or grand, anything cheap would be fine by me." The Carpenter girl move close to her ear to whisper it to her.

Y/N then finally pulls herself together and gathers back the natural courage she had, trying to match Sam's, "6 pm, tomorrow it is then. I'll pick you up here, Carpenter."

She was the one to pull away and she puts back her signature smile before bidding her farewells to her.

"Good night, Sam. Sweet dreams." Y/N smoothly delivers and starts walking back to where they came from earlier.

Sam then watches her walk away and bites her lip. The view was indeed nice to watch. She then covers her face with both hands before giddily smiling at the ground, thinking about what had just happened. Sam thought it felt like high school all over again. That rush in her veins was quite familiar to her. It's been a while since she had it. All she has to do now is prepare for tomorrow and be sure it's perfect. Y/N, on the other hand, skipped through the streets like a little kid as she smiled widely. Few strangers looked at her funny, but everyone else focused to their own world. The papers she thought she'd be working on tonight would probably be forgotten now that the only thing on her mind is their date tomorrow.

Both women looked forward to it.

・ ‥…━━━━━━━━━━♡♡♡━━━━━━━━━━…‥ ・

thank you for reading! fell free to leave a request :>

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter #sam carpenter fanfic #scream 5 #scream 6 #melissa barrera #i love her so much your honor #nena's written work

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yanderes-galore · 1 year ago

Note

Could I request platonic concepts for Arthur Morgan (Red Dead Redemption 2) please? Maybe the reader's new to the group and he's kinda teaching them the ropes?

Sure! Here you go, I love Arthur.... Still new to RDR2 so I hope I get things right.

Yandere! Platonic! Arthur Morgan with Darling who recently joined the group

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Father Arthur Morgan, Manipulation, Trauma, Fear of loss, Murder, Violence, Brief blood mention, Dubious companionship.

Arthur isn't the best person, he's been involved with crime since he joined the gang with Dutch.

He's lost those he loved and has chosen to stay loyal to the gang (until he realizes the truth about Dutch).

As a result he is hesitant to be open with anyone.

He's intimidating and cold, but it capable of being kind, polite, and playful at times.

You most likely joined the gang at a young age.

You first joined at about 18/19, you were encouraged by Dutch to join as you had no other place to go.

You weren't as young as Arthur when he joined but Arthur still sees a little bit of himself in you.

I imagine Arthur tries not to get attached to you at first....

He keeps up the stoic behavior and only helps you when he has to.

But eventually Arthur is encouraged to connect with you.

He knows he isn't the best role model for you, but really who is in the gang?

Arthur almost feels guilty that he enjoys your presence.

Part of him yearns to have some kind of kid due to his past.

He tries to smother such thoughts as he doesn't want to lose anyone again.

But you still manage to make your way into his cracked heart, looking up to him with such bright eyes.

Arthur grits his teeth... he really can't say no to you.

The other members notice Arthur go from ignoring you to caring about you.

He teaches you lessons to survive in a world such as this.

Things like reading, shooting, and riding.

Dutch muses with Arthur that your companionship is very similar to how Dutch treated him.

Arthur grumbles and brushes him off.

It's just how he's taught.

Arthur is surprisingly careful with you.

He checks your grip when you shoot to make sure you don't hurt yourself.

He makes sure you're well acquainted with your mount before mounting to prevent you from being flung off.

Arthur may act calm and like he has no fear, but he has one fear.

He fears for the safety of those he cares about.

Since he sees you in the role of his kid in a way he is very attentive to your safety.

Some gang members find this funny yet endearing when Arthur acts like some smothering parent around you.

Arthur is a somewhat lucid yandere, he is aware of his actions.

Yet if it's for you he'd do anything.

He fears his own mortality along with yours.

It surprises you when Arthur's embraces are tight and his breathing is uneasy during tough times.

Arthur is a man who has no issue with murder.

He doesn't care for uneccesarry murder... but when it comes to you?

He'd be such a shotgun dad.

You know what I mean, one who'd shoot the partner of his kid if they did anything he deems wrong.

He can't risk anything.

Arthur would heavily manipulate you.

He wants you to stay at the camp with the gang while he goes out.

Arthur isn't sure if he can cope with another loss.

Which is the main reason he's so protective over you.

He normally isn't one for revenge, but if you were hurt he'd hunt down whoever did it.

I feel his honor matters and changes his yandere behavior in a way.

If he's high honor he is more considerate of you as his "kid".

He listens to you more, less intimidating, and less trigger happy.

If he's low honor, he's away more selfish.

He sees you as a coping mechanism and wants to lock you away more.

He's more willing to kill and use violence to keep you safe.

He'd even begin to scare you as he falls into this obsessive need to protect you.

Arthur cares deeply for you either way.

Although his honor changes how he'll deal with his obsession.

It occurs to him later on his manipulation is similar to what Dutch did to him.

Yet Arthur thinks he's better/is in denial.

He's not forcing you to do violence... he's protecting you.

He holds you close to comfort you and is a father to you...

Isn't he?

You love him... don't you?

He isn't the best man, he knows that already.

But Arthur would do anything for you.

He'd cover his hands and clothes in blood if it meant you'd be safe...

Soon... it'll be just you and him against the world... to Arthur no one else matters but you now.

#yandere red dead redemption 2 #yandere arthur morgan #platonic yandere

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 years ago

Text

Bluebird — Part II — (Azriel x Reader)

Hiiiii. Still don’t know where I’m going with this. Totally just winging lmao. Still hope you enjoy!

Warnings: None!

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“Another attack – this one just outside the village. The most brutal thing I’ve ever seen. It was Alda this time. The tailor’s daughter.”

Your head jerked up. Ale sloshed over the tankard in your hand, dripping onto your boots.

The man sitting with his friend at the bar raised an eyebrow at you. “I hope you’re going to refill that, Y/N. You poured half of it onto the floor.”

Your cheeks burned. “Yeah—yes. Sorry.”

Their conversation resumed as you turned back to the ale tap. The topic itself had lost its shock value, with how often you heard such conversations in your father’s tavern — but you knew Alda.

Well – knew her in the sense that you sometimes nodded in greeting as you passed by each other in the village. Knew her as well as a sheltered, friendless girl such as yourself could know anyone.

You placed the tankard in front of the man – your father’s friend…or associate. Whatever they called themselves. Alf, you thought his name was. “Is…is Alda dead?” You asked.

Alf gulped down a few mouthfuls of ale before he nodded. “She is. Yet another attack from the scumbag Fae. I’m telling you—” He turned to the man beside him, then, “They’re priming to strike and wipe our kind out completely. There’ll be a war before long.”

There was no mistaking the way your stomach plummeted, your body going cold all over. Sheltered you may be, and inexperienced, perhaps naive – but while you had pretty much educated yourself, taught yourself everything you now knew at twenty-one years of age, your father had been the one to teach you about the Fae.

Terrible, evil beings who assaulted and slaughtered humans for sport. Beings who preyed on young, innocent girls and lured them out of their beds in the dead of night. Was that what had happened to Alda?

Was it what had happened to your mother, when they’d killed her?

The Fae hadn’t breached your village in decades – until recently. The attacks were ratcheting up.

“We need to start rallying our forces.” The second man said. “If they’re planning to strike, we need to be ready.”

The forces he spoke of were, in fact, your father’s doing. Though he was an aloof, nonchalant man – not a natural parent, by any means – the visceral hatred he felt for the Fae seemed to bring him alive. You covered his work behind the bar every week while he gave impassioned talks to the men of the village about the evil across the wall. What they were capable of. What they had already done to your kind. The fact that many humans lived in squalor, whilst the Fae lived in the lap on luxury on what was once human-owned land. And it was your job to go around after his talks, collecting the coin that the punters donated to further his cause.

You were privy to everything that was said in The Bluebird Inn. And you’d had no choice but to be aware of the Fae, when they’d taken your own mother from you when you were just a babe, too young to ever hold a memory of her. If the Fae truly were getting bolder, coming closer…if they were picking the village girls off one by one—

You shuddered, wiping down the bar. The two men rose from their seats and went over to join the crowd of rebels that currently surrounded your father, the noise from the group only growing louder, more incensed, as news of Alda’s murder spread.

“Have you ever seen a Fae?”

You looked up to meet the eyes of the handsome, blonde-haired young man who leaned against the bar, bracing his forearms on it – Devin. He was, perhaps, the most dazzling of all the men in the village – only a year or so older than you, and currently completing his training to be a Village Guard. One day, he would join the other guards in protecting your people and warding off more Fae attacks. He was a quiet supporter of your father’s cause, having attended two of his talks now.

“No.” You blinked at him. “Of course not. Have you?”

“I have.” Devin nodded. “Count yourself lucky, Y/N. You don’t want to see a Fae. They’re hideous, horrible beings. Terrifying. You can see the evil in their eyes.”

“I thought they were always rumoured to be quite beautiful.”

His broad shoulders shrugged. “They are – but that’s all a part of the allure. They coax you in with their beauty, and then they rip you limb from limb and leave your broken body to be found by your loved ones. And they do it because they can.”

Sick – you felt utterly sick. And cold. How could such beings exist? It didn’t matter that your father had spent your entire life drilling these facts into your head – the details were never any less horrific.

“The attacks are becoming more frequent, aren’t they?” You asked quietly, pouring Devin a drink.

He nodded, his pretty, pale blue eyes darkening. “They are. The Village Guards are doing all they can, but they don’t stand a chance against magic. These are dark, unsafe times, Y/N. And you’re the exact kind of person they target.”

“I…I carry a blade with me. My father has shown me how to use it.”

His lips lifted into a wry smile. “Smart as that is, it won’t do you much good against a being who can infiltrate your mind and plant thoughts there. They can convince you that you want to go with them, to follow them. They can get you exactly where they want you, and then they’ll strike.” He reached forward, placing a hand on your arm – the contact tinged your cheeks pink. “I know you’re independent, Y/N. I know that you help your father with the tavern, and you run a lot of his errands. But…it’s not safe, right now, for a young woman to be out walking alone. If you absolutely must travel somewhere — send for me. I’ll be your chaperone.”

If possible, your cheeks burned even more. Any of the girls in the village would have killed for such an offer from Devin. He was easily the most sought-after man around here. And to think he was offering you his protection…

“I will.” You said a little too quickly, hoping your face didn’t show how flustered you truly were. “Thank you, Devin.”

With a charming wink, he rose from his seat and took a place amongst the other gathering audience members, glued to your father’s talk that evening. It was obvious in the incensed murmurings amongst the men that the tensions were ratcheting up. That it wouldn’t be long before they struck, and the human-Fae troubles would begin anew.

You couldn’t help scanning each face and wondering which of them would survive to tell the tale.

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Azriel went back.

Despite telling himself not to, a few nights later, he went back.

It struck him again how dark and dingy that little village was. But the thought eddied away as he positioned himself in the same spot and waited.

The young woman played the piano again. It was at the same time, by the same dim candlelight. But a different tune.

He wondered if this was a routine of hers. If she played at the same hour every night.

And then he wondered why he damn well cared.

He’d never had much interest in humans. Not from any sort of prejudice; it just seemed pointless — needlessly painful — to build connections with people who he’d have decades with at best. It was easier and far more logical to quietly respect their existence from a distance.

But that mantra was not in keeping with a growing fixation of a human woman he had no business going near.

He supposed it just…soothed him. To imagine a life of peace, where time was set aside every night to play music. Such beautiful, chilling music.

It was a damn sight more relaxing than the ever-present roaring in his head.

And that was why he went back again.

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“I haven’t seen you much recently.” Elain sipped delicately from a teacup, brown eyes flitting over Azriel in all his dark glory. “What’s been keeping you busy?”

It was a pleasantly warm day in Velaris. Warm enough for them to take their tea outside. They had so far sat in companionable silence as Elain had admired the vibrant flowers and Azriel had pored over reports while sunning his wings.

But he found himself quietly restless. Eager for nightfall; to spread his wings and fly amongst the stars

“Just business.” He responded vaguely. A far better answer than the truth — that her mating bond with Lucien suffocated him. “Nothing exciting.”

Elain hummed thoughtfully, studying the shadowsinger. There was a pause before she said, a little coyly, “I hope nobody’s giving you grief—about me, I mean.”

Azriel’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Grief?”

“I’m a grown woman—female.” She still found herself having to correct her words sometimes. “I make my own choices. And that includes whose company I do or do not wish to keep.”

“I don’t think anybody would expect otherwise.”

Silence was the only response. Because both of them knew what she was hinting at — the warning Rhysand had given Azriel to watch how he behaved around Elain. How Elain had learned of it, Azriel didn’t know. But she wasn’t daring enough to confront it outright.

“I just wanted you to know that.” She said, rising from her seat. “I enjoy spending time with you, Azriel. There’s nothing wrong about that.”

No, there wasn’t. Still…the two of them didn’t usually speak so boldly to each other. Az found himself unsure of how to respond.

And even more so, as Elain leaned down and pecked him on the cheek, her strawberry scent enveloping him. He felt his body go taut, felt his cheeks flush.

“Don’t work too hard.” Elain said softly. And then she gathered up the tea tray, and disappeared inside.

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The coins jostled and clinked against each other as you set the clay pot in front of your father. “Tonight’s takings.” You told him.

Rough, dirty fingers rooted around inside the pot. Your father glanced up at you. “Not bad.” But could be better, was what he meant.

You were starting to wonder if there was an amount that would satisfy your father, if you presented it to him. You knew he was eager to further his cause, to build up funds and supplies, but…he always seemed so disappointed.

Still, you hovered in front of him, wiping your hands over your wrinkled shirt. “…Devin said it’s not safe for people like me to go out unattended. With all the Fae attacks. He’s offered to be my chaperone.”

Your father’s gaze flitted to yours. To raise the subject to him was to test the waters. Your unspoken plea lay heavy in the air: go on. Let me have friends. Give me some freedom. You can trust me.

“Devin is a fine male.” He said, and a little kernel of hope arose in you. “But I don’t want you getting any ideas, Y/N.”

Your shoulders slumped. “Yes, Papa.”

“I need you here, helping me however I ask whilst I do my work. That’s your duty. And Devin is training to be a Village Guard. That is his duty. Perhaps when this whole thing is over, things will be different. But right now, I need you here.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Are all the chores done? Have you locked up?”

“Just some trash to take out. I had to kick Kiall out. He drank too much again, and he was becoming a nuisance.” Your voice gave away how downtrodden you felt, but you knew your father would pretend not to notice. “I thought I might play some music for a while.”

“Not tonight, Y/N.” He shook his head. “I head out tomorrow to give talks in the other villages. I need as much rest as I can get — as do you. You’ll be holding the fort here while I’m gone.”

You inclined your chin. And for a third time, you droned, “Yes, Papa.”

Your father dismissed you by easing himself back in his chair and retrieving his glass of whiskey from the small table beside him. You lingered a moment longer before turning on your feet.

But it was in the doorway that you stopped, a feared, plaguing thought arising in you.

“Do you truly think we can win against the Fae?” You asked.

Your father glanced over his shoulder. And something shadowed his face as he bit out coldly, “We have to.”

The tone of his voice frightened you too much to respond.

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Azriel waited. And waited. And waited.

But the woman didn’t appear. And the sweet music didn’t float up to him.

He supposed he felt a little foolish for becoming so…hopeful. For racing to the human lands to glimpse and hear what had occupied his thoughts for the last few days.

Gods, Rhys would chew him out if he knew. Even though Azriel was the damn spymaster. Even though he knew how to stay hidden, and he could sure as shit defend himself against any number of humans — it was still risky. Because he could frighten the humans, if nothing else.

But he still hoped. And when he realised that it was getting late, and The Bluebird Inn was in darkness — that no music was coming tonight — he felt frustrated.

His whole body was restless as he turned and made to leave. He didn’t want to return home yet, but…there was no point in being here. In staring at a bleak, darkened village—

He was just about to take off when he caught the movement in his periphery.

A door opened below — the inn’s side door. And out stepped the woman he’d so eagerly wanted to glimpse.

Azriel’s entire body went still, only his wings keeping him aloft. He watched as the woman — carrying what seemed to be a trash bag — turned into the alley beside the inn.

He shouldn’t have done it, but he did. He flew closer.

Close enough to watch the human deposit the trash bag into a bin. Close enough to see her turn — and pause at the sight of a man who came stumbling seemingly out of nowhere. Azriel tensed, not quite catching what the man slurred at her.

“We’re closed.” The woman’s voice floated up to him, skittering over Azriel’s skin. As sweet as the music she played. “And you’ve had plenty to drink. I won’t be serving you any more.”

The drunken human man staggered closer to her, clutching at the wall. “One more drink, and I’ll leave you in peace—”

“I said no, Kiall. My father is trying to sleep.” The woman snapped. “Go home and sober up.”

She made to step past the inebriated lout, seeming so much smaller than him.

And it was as the man’s hand shot out to shove her against the wall that Azriel acted without thinking.

He swooped down, landing with a thud in the mouth of the alley. His face was a sheet of fury, his wings a blanket of unforgiving night, as he stared at the two humans.

They both paled at the sight of him. The woman quietly gasped.

“The lady said no.” Azriel intoned quietly, lethally, his cold eyes fully on the man. “Leave.”

There was no movement; just two humans gaping at the sight before them. Until the man seemed to reach for some sort of weapon. Azriel almost laughed at the idea.

“Leave,” he said again, taking a step forward, “while you can still leave with your heart beating.”

That was all it took to frighten the man into moving. He shoved the woman away from him, tripping over his own feet as he took off. Azriel tucked in his wings just enough for the man to scuttle past. He left as quickly as his human legs would allow.

And then it was just Azriel and the woman. The woman who so beautifully played the piano. The woman who was still staring at him, wide-eyed and trembling.

He wanted to know her name. But it didn’t seem appropriate to ask. And his head was roaring so much with fury that he wasn’t sure he could even formulate the words.

“Are you alright?” He managed to bite out. He knew he’d got there before the woman had been hurt, but he still studied her for any indication of harm.

She blinked at him, pressing herself against the wall. And then stiffly nodded — just once.

Azriel wanted to hear her voice. But she didn’t speak.

“You should go back inside.” He said quietly.

She paused, and then nodded again. He nodded, too.

“Goodnight, then.” He inclined his head.

He shot into the skies before he could make any more reckless decisions. He knew that the woman watched the whole thing in both fear and awe.

He should go home. And not return. This had been foolish, and dangerous, and damn well pointless. She was just a human woman. Az had seen many in his half a millennia, and he would see many more.

He had no reason to be so transfixed.

But that didn’t stop him waiting and watching, making sure she made it inside, before he turned and flew back to the city of Velaris.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ azriel tag list:

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