#this isn't.... not canon compliant lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fuckmycrane · 8 months

Text

Moon — Thomas Shelby.

— CW: 18+!, smut. breeding kink, (slight) housewife kink, mentions of kidnaping. Age gap. | word count: 1.7k. (not proofread!)

— a/n: I have no clue from where this came from. I'm not in the best mindset and this happened. This is also my first time writing for Tommy so don't hate me lol. This isn't canon compliant ig because I don't want it to be. I just want him so bad it's not even funny.

Vulnerability.

It was a word he never thought he’d truly understand the meaning of.

It was always meant to be a secret. Why? Because good things don’t last long— not for him. Never for him.

And every time he is away from you, it is a constant heartache that not even the strongest alcohol or an insane amount of tobacco could ease. He wishes he could steal the moon from the dark skies of Birmingham and hand it to you, he knows how much you love the moon. Night after night, he raises his head to stare at it for hours, wondering where are you, if you are thinking about him as much as he is thinking of you.

Wondering if you love him as much as he loves you.

Love. Such a funny word. A meaning both so full and so empty.

He wishes he could steal you.

He knows how much he loves you.

It is always better to be safe than sorry— that’s why he secluded you, and you understood. Perhaps it was the naivety granted by your young age, or maybe it was your blind love for a man who was doomed since the day he was born. Whatever it was, it kept both of your hearts attached, beating as one; watching the same moon.

He counts the days, the hours, and sometimes even the minutes; he is a smart man, he knows where you are and with whom, he knows what dress you wore and who you talked to. And he does it for love. Or even obsession. A strange urge that creeps into him every night when he thinks of you after a long day of work— an urge to be loved. He counts the days, the hours, and sometimes even the minutes until he is able to see you again. To hide under that perfect, warm blanket that is your arms, your kisses, your body.

In front of your front door, he knocks even though he knows the door is open. He has guards on every corner, eyes on every window. He already lost too many precious things in his life. He can’t afford to lose you. He built you a house, a paradise for you to enjoy, cherish and take care of. He gave you everything you could ask for, even more. Growing up, you never experienced the same deficiencies and struggles he did, you never had to lift a single finger and that’s alright for him. Because on those days when he feels powerless and exhausted, he knows he can always ride back home, and regain that power by standing next to you.

Home. Home. Home.

“Tommy!” The squeak of excitement makes the long trip worth it. Everything is worth it if it comes to you.

He hugs you, keeping you tight against his chest wishing he could stay that way forever, basking in your delicate soul, your selfless heart. Thomas calls your name in an affectionate way that no one could evoke in such a genuine way. He kisses you with such passion that makes your blood boil and your heart flutter.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, ignoring how his mind scolds him for the hint of vulnerability that laces his voice.

Placing your hands over your stomach, his body tenses at the small bump underneath your expensive, tailored dress. “We feel good, we missed you— I missed you” You reply with adoration. He is finally here.

“I’m here,” He says as if you needed confirmation that he is in fact in front of you.

“How is everyone?”

“Good” He places a large hand over your stomach, rubbing it with his palm. “Ada keeps asking me when I will bring you back to Small Heath”

“And when will that be?” Your question gives him a pang of guilt. He wishes he could have an answer, his face says it all. “It’s alright, love. I understand things are… difficult”

“Enough about that” He breathes, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. He wants the distraction, he wants the warmth, he wants you. “I’m here to see my wife, not to talk about work”

With a giggle, you kiss him. “Fine. Whatever you want”

And he loves that. He loves how willing to please you are. He loves how you let him guide you upstairs, undress you, and adore you. Thomas’ hands caress the small bump in your stomach as he carefully lifts his hips to thrust deeper, enjoying every small moan and gasp. Normally he isn’t this gentle, but he will never harm you or your baby. With his occasional grunts and pants, he grabs your thighs, increasing his pace. Watching you bounce on top of him is a heavenly sight and is in these moments when he is sure you are an angel sent from heaven from him. He might not believe in God but whatever exists in this cruel world granted him with a Goddess.

“I m–missed you” You moan digging your nails into the pale skin of his shoulders. “I missed you s–so much”

That damn wave of vulnerability washes over him, the bed creaks with your combined weight, creating a delicious, sinful melody that he evokes on those nights when he is too desperate for your body and has to find relief in his own hands.

His large hands cup your breasts, paying attention to your swollen, sensitive nipples. Thomas pinches them gently watching you tremble. He can already imagine them full and heavy, ready to take care of the baby that you are expecting— his baby. A louder groan falls down his lips at the thought. Such a wonderful mother you will be. Such a perfect, precious housewife.

Such an angel sent from heaven.

“I love how you look” He confesses in a husky fashion, bouncing your tits in his calloused palms. “I can’t wait to see you— to see you all round and heavy with my baby”

His words send a shiver down your spine, clenching around him and making Thomas hiss from the raw pleasure of your tight pussy. “Please— don’t stop”

“I wasn’t plannin’ on, doll”

Thomas dares to increase the pace, using one hand to grope your ass to keep balance. Your moans also increase in volume, igniting the primal desire to claim you inside of him. “You are so fucking tight— I will fucking pump another baby into you as soon as you have this one”

You nod fervently, closing your eyes and scratching his chest. “Yes! I’ll have as many as you want Tommy— anything you want! Anything”

The loyalty he so loves.

His lust wins over his composure for a moment, landing a sharp slap over your asscheek that makes you whine and clench again causing him to grit his teeth. He is aware of how much you adore it when he is rough with you, he thrives on the submission you gave him since day one. Unable to help himself, your husband slaps your ass repeatedly, relishing the cries of pleasure that call him like a siren to a poor, lost sailor.

“Say you are mine” He grunts after another hard slap. He isn’t going to last any longer. Not with such a breathtaking view.

“I belong to you!” You comply instantly. “I am y–yours! I’ve always been” He knows you are telling the truth. That’s why he had to take you away from your home, to manipulate you in order to give up your last name, to cast you under his spell— that’s why he had to have you since he first landed eyes on you.

But at the end of the day, he was the one wrapped around your finger.

He is the one wrapped around the velvety, soft walls of your cunt, squeezing him for dear life and silently begging him to breed you, use you, claim you…

Love you.

With a strained cry, you come around him. He could watch you unravel on top of him for hours— in fact, he has. Your movements were slow, deliberate, and intense. He could feel his breath hitch as you moved, and his heart raced as you arrived at your climax. His gaze was unwavering as he watched you ride out the waves of your pleasure. Thomas followed you seconds after, moaning your name under his breath; he fills you up just the way you both adore, it’s evident that when the hours pass, time is the only thing left to waste. Panting above him, he carefully settles you next to him, spooning you and keeping his softening cock inside of you. This is how he wants to end every day, to wake up every morning.

Kissing your sweaty neck, he breathes you in, memorizing your scent once again. He knows his time with you is limited before someone notices his absence and begins to track him. Thomas needs to be two steps ahead of anyone. Your soft giggles make him smile, a genuine smile that feels so foreign to him. Under the darkness of your bedroom, his hands caress your hot skin, providing you with the heat and care he knows you crave.

“I love you” You whisper, closing your eyes and falling asleep rather quickly. He listens to your heavy breathing, peaceful and unbothered; and that’s how he wishes it could stay forever. Away from worries, stress, fear.

“I love you, more than you can imagine” He musters, hiding his face on the crook of your neck.

It’s true. Because love is such a funny word that gives him such a funny feeling.

A warm, fuzzy feeling.

He opens his eyes, raising his head to look at the windows. The curtains are wide open, the weak glow of the full moon casting a divine glow over your naked body. His lips land on your shoulder, allowing the sensation to wash over him. It's a moment of peace and serenity, a moment in time that will never be forgotten. A moment he doesn’t want to end.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he will bring you back where you belong. It doesn’t matter the consequences, it doesn’t matter if the whole world finds out Thomas Shelby was the one who kidnaped Jack Nelson’s younger sister. As long as he has you, he is alive.

And he swears it to the moon.

#— ✏️ anya writes!#— 🚬 thomas shelby!#thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader smut #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x you #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader

2K notes · View notes

gureumz · 1 year

Text

come to me, make it right

rating: explicit

member: heeseung

notes: fem-bodied reader, backup dancer!reader, slight dom!heeseung, canon-compliant (?), dirty talk, semi-public sex, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, cum-eating, reader breaches professionalism lol

a/n: let's give heeseung a break and let him have his (your) cake 😔 so here i present the backup dancer fic! don't lie to me i know y'all wish it was you bc i do

"he's really something, isn't he?"

the question catches you off guard, your head turning abruptly as you give your friend a look. sion, dressed nearly identically to your all-black get-up, scoots closer to where you're seated on the floor, shoving her shoulder right up to yours.

"what are you on about?" you question before taking a big gulp from your water bottle.

"heeseung," she whispers, gesturing with her eyes to the tall figure standing across the practice room. he's typing on his phone, back turned to you.

"what about him?" you ask.

"he's good. like really good. one of the better idols i've worked with," sion explains, hooking an arm around yours.

"oh, please, you wish you could work with him personally," a different voice whispers from your right. serin, another one of your co-backup dancers, slides up to where you're sitting.

"too bad _______ got the gig first," serin adds, nudging you. you roll your eyes as the two of them collapse in giggles.

it's been two weeks since you were onboarded onto this project for enhypen's comeback. today was the dance practice filming and you can say that so far, it's been smooth sailing for the most part. the company was generous enough and the performance directors were easy to work with. the members themselves gave you no problems whatsoever, though you could only truly speak for one of them.

heeseung was nice enough, extremely polite, but also tremendously serious when it comes to performing. you've only known him for all of the two weeks, but you know better than to get in his way. you stepped on his foot once and you remember wanting to disintegrate right then, but to your surprise, heeseung merely smiled, reassuring you that it was fine.

it was rather easy to fall into rhythm with him. you don't know if it was your doing, or his, or both, but it's like the two of you spoke the same dance language. there were barely any words uttered, but understanding passed between you effortlessly.

he was kind of sweet too, always asking if you've eaten, if you need any more water, if his hand placement was too much. you appreciated it, a far cry from some other people you've worked with that barely spared you a glance. you'd be fine with the bare minimum of friendliness, if it was all out of courtesy that heeseung asked you all these questions. but the way he stares down at you attentively has your stomach churning. whether that's a good or bad thing, you've yet to decide.

your eyes draw towards heeseung as he pockets his phone, his gaze somehow finding yours in a split second. before you could look away, he smiles, waving rather cutely at you.

you wave back politely, quickly signing a 'have you eaten?' to him. heeseung shakes his head and points back at you as if to ask, 'how about you?'.

you reply no and heeseung pouts.

'eat soon, okay?' he mouths to you. you hold up the 'okay' sign and heeseung nods, satisfied.

sion and serin fall silent as the three of you watch heeseung gather with the rest of enhypen, all seven excusing themselves to go eat. heeseung locks eyes with you briefly one more time and smiles, eyebrows raised.

and then they were gone.

"what was that?" sion asks, grinning like a feline.

"he's being nice," you contest. "doesn't jungwon tell you to eat when you should?"

sion balks at that, clearing her throat. "he does. he's very considerate."

"but that," sion continues. "that look is different, ________, i'm telling you."

serin nods enthusiastically in agreement. "right? do the two of you talk outside of practice?"

"you guys are so unprofessional," you complain, though a smile creeps onto your face.

"and, no, we don't."

---

"did you see my kakao request?"

you peer up at heeseung, eyebrows knitting together. it takes you another few seconds to register what exactly he was asking.

"you added me on kakao?" you finally ask back.

his hands are in his pockets, a fluffy blanket wrapped tightly around his frame. the weather in poland is more than a little chilly this time of year, a struggle for you all as you drag yourselves through the music video filming.

heeseung chuckles, his eyes squinting down at you. "yeah, last night."

"sorry, i must have missed it," you reply sheepishly, pulling your own blanket tighter around your shoulders. "i have about a dozen requests at any given time."

"ooh, someone's in demand," heeseung teases, nudging you lightly. you laugh nervously, scanning the set around you.

the members and their respective dancers have gotten friendly over the course of the comeback preparations. nothing too chummy, but all of you are comfortable enough to strike up conversations with each other on and off schedule. it was nice, getting to know the guys of enhypen a little better.

but the way heeseung caught up to you in this dark, secluded part of the set where you were merely looking for cell service makes it look a little too suspicious.

'what do you want?' is what threatened to come out of your mouth. you often think you would rather be dead than be caught in a dating scandal with an idol. not that you're assuming anything, but you've seen this behavior before, and heeseung really is just a man at the end of the day, so who's to say that—

"um, is everything okay?" heeseung asks, waving a hand in front of your face. you blink, your surroundings coming back into view. you look up and are met with heeseung's grey-colored lenses. you stop a shiver from running down your spine at how hard he's staring down at you.

"yeah, sorry," you respond hurriedly, clearing your throat. "what i meant to say is, i have messages from people asking for dancers for a program or shoot or what-have-you, all those stuff."

heeseung nods before looking away, eyes scanning the staff as they arrange the set. before neither of you could say anything more, jake's head pops out from behind a stack of equipment boxes.

"hyung? oh, there you are," jake says with a start, noticing you at the last second.

"hi, _______!" he adds cheerily.

you smile warmly at him, slightly relieved that someone is there to interrupt.

jake turns back to heeseung. "jungwon says to drop by the hair and makeup tent for a bit."

heeseung nods at the younger, brushing past you to get to jake.

"see you in a bit," heeseung says, fingers lightly curling around your forearm. you tense up but nod in reply.

"see you," you return weakly.

you wait until the two of them are gone before sighing, stalking off to the other end of the set to where the dancers' tent is set up.

---

studio choom is one of your favorite parts of being a backup dancer. the staff was nice, the set was wide and airy, and the lighting was amazing. your excitement concerning the last part was evident in the way you couldn't take your eyes off your phone as you held it in front of your face.

"i look so good," you comment with a laugh, surveying yourself on the camera display. "even with the mask and all."

"right?" serin agrees from behind you, getting into frame with you. you quickly snap a couple photos.

the director barks out an order to get into blocking and you quickly hide your phone away, silently thanking in your head one of the other dancers for bringing in the large tote to hold all of your devices.

you walk under the bright multicolored lights onto the actual filming set, hovering over the general area of where you're supposed to be blocked. you wait for the members and other dancers to find their places, eyes downcast as you try to find your exact spot.

a hand brushes your arm and you look up to see heeseung smiling down at you.

"you look good," he mutters quietly before walking to center, getting on his hands and knees as he settles into his starting position.

serin passes in front of you, eyes expressive enough that you instantly get what she's saying despite half of her face being obscured by the mask.

'what was that?!' her eyes seemed to cry out.

you shake your head. 'i have no idea,' you respond as best as you can with your own confused gaze.

the director calls out another command and everything else is dropped as all of you fall into performance mode. autopilot takes over you, every take passing by quickly, much to your surprise.

an hour and a half later and on the last take of the chorus, you find yourself restless, stomach already grumbling. you pick at your long black gloves, wishing for this day to be over.

enhypen are in formation in front of the camera, with the dancers at the wings, ready to approach for the chorus. somehow, despite blending into the shadows of the set, heeseung finds you, tilting his head to the side in a sort of greeting.

you mirror his action and heeseung instantly smiles. you can't help the grin that breaks out behind your mask.

"last take, everyone!" the director calls out.

with a little more difficulty than you'd like to admit, you rip your gaze away from heeseung's, a tingling feeling settling in your stomach.

---

almost all thoughts of heeseung disappear from your mind as you get home later that day, too exhausted to pore over every interaction you have with your dance partner. you lay sprawled out on your bed, having just finished freshening up, eyes heavy as you feel drowsiness creep into your consciousness.

the keyword is almost.

you hear a notification ping from your phone and your sleepiness is immediately replaced with pure adrenaline. your read the notification over and over again just to make sure you weren't imagining it.

이희승 (lee heeseung): hi

you sit up, your heart pounding. leaning against your headboard, you watch as another message comes in.

이희승: you up?

you snicker, opening your kakaotalk app. heeseung's name is at the top of the chat room, easily indicating just who you're talking to. you quickly type a reply.

너 (you): ooh he finally messaged ㅋㅋ what an opening tho

you chew on your lower lip as you send the message, the 'read' sign immediately appearing. you watch as heeseung types out his reply.

이희승: lol sorry did that come off too creepy?

너: not at all. why the sudden message tho? was my performance that bad that it has you staying up at night?

이희승: oh no nothing of that sort. just wanted to say thank you for your hard work today

you blink, cheeks growing warm. he messaged you at ass-o'-clock to thank you?

너: thanks! you did super well today too

이희승: don't i always? (pouting face)

it's at this moment that you realize, without a shadow of a doubt, that lee heeseung, a member of a globally renowned k-pop idol group, is flirting with you.

you lock your phone, laying back down on your pillow, contemplating on what to do.

you could always flirt back, then act as if nothing happened the next time you see him. see how far the two of you can take it. you might end up sneaking around green rooms and closets, but, hey, half of the fun is the thrill of getting caught. or you could shut it down now, rejecting him gently because what kind of unprofessional loser would fold at the slightest display of romantic interest from an idol?

you sigh.

you would.

you're a (slightly) unprofessional loser that would fold at the slightest display of romantic interest from an idol.

you open up your phone, fingers moving at lightning speed.

너: my bad. you always do well (wink)

a whole minute passes by, heeseung typing then stopping then starting up again, before he stops once more for a few seconds. you feel anxiety seeping out of every pore on your body.

이희승: good girl ㅋㅋ that's what i like to hear

you gape at your phone, a strange tingle spreading all over you.

you take a moment to scream into your pillow.

---

you're waiting for it to boil over. to culminate into something. for shit to hit the fan, as you would inelegantly put it.

you left heeseung on read last night, at a total loss for words at his reply. he doesn't press further, either. in your mind, he's probably thinking one of two things: 1) that he deeply offended you, or 2) that he's achieved the desired effect.

you don't have to think too hard about which one of those is true.

you enter the assigned green room to you and the other dancers, poking your head in first, eyes landing on your coworkers lounging about.

"oh, _______!" sion calls out excitedly. the rest of them turn their heads to you, erupting into similar squeals.

"close the door!" serin orders. too stunned to protest, you do as you're told, leaning against the wall as all of your friends talk over each other.

"heeseung was looking for you," sion's voice rises above the rest and your eyes unconsciously widen, your heart rate picking up.

"yeah, he came here himself and asked where you were," serin adds, nodding.

"what's going on with you two?" another dancer, yeeun, asks in a singsong voice.

"n-nothing's going on," you say with a laugh, waving them off nonchalantly.

"like we'll believe that," sion retorts. "we'll keep it a secret, promise!"

the rest of them agree, sounding like a chorus of schoolchildren hearing about their teacher's boyfriend. you sigh, setting your things down on the floor.

"we're messaging on kakao, that's all," you admit, shrugging.

"sexting already?" serin chides with a laugh. you give her a look as the room erupts in laughter.

"you guys are hopeless," you say with a shake of your head, but you can't help but laugh along.

"we're not sexting. not...yet," you add. there's a pause before the laughter grows louder, all of them throwing jokes around about being safe and dating scandals.

"luck you," yeeun says with a sigh. "it's taking jake forever to make a move."

the whole room shifts its attention to her and you breathe a quiet sigh of relief. your phone vibrates and you feel your whole body grow hot as you read your screen.

이희승: come out for a second

before anyone can stop you, you quickly slip out of the green room, looking down in both directions of the hallway. to your right, you see heeseung standing outside enhypen's own waiting room, eyes staring at you intently.

with a nervous glance back behind you, you make your way to him. the hallway seems empty at this time, with most artists and staff in their respective rooms, the early prerecording hour hanging heavily over everyone.

"hi," heeseung says with a grin the moment you're near enough to hear him.

"hi," you respond, fidgeting with your hands. you scrape over your knuckles with your nails, waiting for heeseung to continue.

"about last night, i'm sorry if i went too far," heeseung begins, voice dropping, eyes looking around nervously.

oh.

so he's thinking option number 1.

"oh no, not at all," you reassure him. "i appreciate the gesture. i know you were only trying to be friendly."

heeseung raises his eyebrows as you say this. he purses his lips before speaking.

"friendly isn't the right word, exactly...," heeseung says, trailing off. he bites down on his lip, eyes momentarily flitting up and down over your figure.

it's your turn to be surprised.

"i see," you reply.

there's a long stretch of silence after this, both of you avoiding each other's eyes. an awkward laugh escapes you and heeseung follows, scratching at the back of his head.

you finally look up to meet his eyes, his pupils blown wide as he seems to consider his next words.

"i mean, i'm down if you are," heeseung says, stepping closer. "i won't hold it against you if you aren't, though."

you don't need to be told what his words meant. with the way he's staring at you right now, eyes unmoving but filled with something you can only describe as desire, you know full well what heeseung is implying.

"i am," you say after a moment. you're still fidgeting, hands clasped together in front of you. heeseung notices, his own hand coming up to lay on yours, stilling your movements. his fingers curl around your wrist.

"are we waiting after the recording or...?" you ask, letting heeseung pry your hands apart. he grips you firmly and you feel yourself practically igniting from his touch.

"i could use a pick-me-up right now" heeseung throws out casually, as if merely suggesting that the two of you get coffee. he jerks his head towards the door right next to their waiting room.

"this one's empty," heeseung informs. "i checked."

you can't help but grin up at him. he licks his lips as if he's looking down at his next meal, which you know, isn't that far from the truth.

"and no surveillance cameras, either," heeseung says, leaning down to whisper next to your ear.

without replying, you walk backward in the direction of the empty waiting room. heeseung follows, still gripping your arm, letting you pull him along. you never break eye contact, even as you reach behind you to turn the knob, pushing the door open.

only now do you avert your eyes away from him, stepping into the dimly lit room, a single weak lightbulb turned on in the farthest corner. with heeseung right behind you, you hear the door close, and without missing a beat, heeseung tugs you back, hands grabbing you by the waist.

he shoves you against the door, his face impossibly close to yours, your breaths mingling as you practically pant in anticipation. heeseung reaches down, locking the door, the click of the mechanism deafening in the silence.

"you can still say no," heeseung whispers.

"why would i do that?" you say before leaning forward to kiss him.

heeseung sighs against your mouth, his hand holding one side of your face to keep you steady. you're both still in your casual clothes, and you thank the heavens for this because your hands slip easily underneath his oversized hoodie. your palms smooth over his toned stomach and up his chest where you lightly rake your nails back downward.

you gasp when you feel heeseung roughly grab one of your boobs through your shirt at the same time he pushes a knee between your legs. you belatedly realize that it's today of all days that you've decided to wear a miniskirt.

"making my job easier," heeseung teases, as if able to read your thoughts. he smirks at you, planting a brief kiss on your lips as he angles you better on his thigh.

"your job...," you say in between labored breaths. you feel yourself growing wetter as you grind down on the taut muscle. "...is to fuck me before anyone notices we're gone."

heeseung grunts, pulling his leg away, ignoring the way you whine at the loss of friction. he pulls your skirt up roughly, letting it bunch around your waist. you gasp as you hear the sound of ripping fabric.

"heeseung!" you say in disbelief as he pockets your now torn-up lace panties. he merely chuckles, leaning in to kiss down from below your ear to your conveniently exposed chest, a feat made possible by your skimpy tank top.

"turn around, baby," heeseung whispers, planting another kiss, but this time, on your nose.

you stare at him for a moment, eyes bleary. are you really about to do this?

"please?" heeseung adds, eyes wide and round as he utters this one word so sweetly.

with weak knees, you do as you're told, letting heeseung press his chest flush against your back. you mewl when you feel his rough fingers slip between your slick folds, rubbing up then down, circling around the relative area of your clit. he finds it a second later, pressing down and working it expertly.

"fuck," you say, voice trembling. you let out a startled noise as you feel heeseung press a large hand over your mouth.

"no one can see us here but that doesn't mean they can't hear us," heeseung says against the shell of your ear.

"so i need you to be quiet for me, baby, okay?"

melting at these words, you could do nothing more but nod. heeseung kisses the back of your head tenderly. you hear him tugging his sweatpants down, letting it pool around his ankles.

you whimper when you feel a hard poke on one of your asscheeks, anticipation bubbling in you. you wriggle around, spreading your legs slightly apart and sticking your hips out.

"good girl," heeseung praises you, pressing his tip right against your hole. "doesn't need me to tell her what to do."

heeseung keeps his hand pressed firmly on your mouth, ensuring to muffle any sound that escapes you. and it's a good thing, too, because you're tempted to sob when you feel him push in, filling you in one swift motion.

"god," heeseung grunts as he bottoms out. "spent so long imagining what it would feel like to fuck you like this."

heeseung lets go of your face in favor of bracing himself against the door. you gasp out, the feeling of him quickly overwhelming you. and to think he hasn't even moved, yet.

"tried so hard not to let my hands wander but, fuck, you make it so difficult," heeseung says directly into your ear. he gives his first thrust and you decide to take on the responsibility of covering your own mouth because the stretch from his cock threatens a scream out of you.

"those goddamn stylists putting you girls in those tight dresses," heeseung continues. "and they expect us to keep our eyes and hands still?"

your eyes roll back at the filthy admission. heeseung grips you harshly by the waist and the whole world falls away from view when you feel him hammer in and out of you.

it's unknown to you how you could keep yourself upright, your knees feeling as if they could give out any moment. heeseung fucks into you roughly, your words about finishing quickly before your absence raises any questions seemingly spurring him on.

"so good, so fucking good," heeseung blabbers on, surely lost in his own pleasure. you lean back against his large frame for support and heeseung is quick to wrap a hand around your throat.

"yes!" you gasp out, blood rushing loudly in your ears as you feel heeseung squeeze down around your neck.

you wonder what you must look like right now. if anyone on the off chance would walk in on you and see your clothes and hair disheveled, your already short skirt pushed up even further, back arched in pleasure as heeseung fucks into your throbbing, drenched pussy. as if reading your mind again, heeseung prods against your mouth with two fingers, slipping them inside, leaving you no choice but to suckle on the salty skin.

at this moment, the two of you are possibly the very image of sin.

"squeezing me so tight, babe," heeseung breathes out against your neck. you gasp when you feel his teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder, soft moans escaping his own lips.

heeseung pulls his fingers out of your mouth and drool drips down your chin. he grabs at your neck once again, tighter this time, his other arm wrapping around your midsection as he picks up the pace.

"fuck, i'm getting close," heeseung practically growls, maneuvering the two of you away from the door.

"help me out, baby," heeseung pleads in your ears. "tell me how good you're feeling."

you finally let out the sob that's been fighting its way out of you.

"h-heeseung you feel so g-good," you comply, voice breaking from heeseung's vice grip around your neck.

"want you to ruin me like this every day. need you to f-fuck me in front of the practice room mirror," you continue, trying to find the right words despite the growing haziness in your head.

heeseung lets out a noise. "yeah? wanna watch yourself get split open like this? every day, huh?"

you nod frantically. "yes, yes, yes! d-didn't know i needed you this bad."

heeseung grows quiet as he holds you against him, hips snapping up erratically. you're sure that you've made a mess on the floor by now, seeing as you're absolutely drenched. the thought pushes you closer to your own release.

"c-cum for me please," you implore, feeling yourself shake at the thought of your impending orgasm.

"yeah, angel, gonna cum for you. g-gonna cum in this tight, gorgeous pussy. so good for me, letting me fuck them in s-some dark room right next door to m-my manager and members and all the staff, fuck—!"

heeseung abruptly stills, hand falling away from your neck. you take in a gulp of air, your fingers frantically reaching down to rub at your clit. you feel heeseung twitch and spill himself inside of you and you squeeze your eyes shut, coaxing yourself closer to euphoria.

finally, the floodgates open and your whole body seizes up from your orgasm. heeseung's face is buried in your neck and you can vaguely register him encouraging you through it.

you relax after a few seconds, leaning hard against heeseung as you feel your body nearly give out. heeseung pulls out but quickly replaces his cock with two of his fingers. you whine weakly, head lolling back against heeseung's shoulder.

"i got you," heeseung coos, working his fingers in and out of you at a languid pace. you twitch in oversensitivity, complaining how it's too much.

heeseung retracts his fingers and you catch him licking them clean just as you turn to face him. your eyes have adjusted in the dim lighting, heeseung's features coming into focus.

"you just tasted yourself," you say in half surprise and half bewilderment.

heeseung breathes out a laugh, letting his fingers out of his mouth with a soft pop.

"had to keep it in somehow," heeseung says nonchalantly. "seeing as i, ah, compromised your underwear."

you roll your eyes, giggling. "i think you more than compromised my underwear. you tore it in half, heeseung."

heeseung shrugs, donning an unapologetic expression. you swat at his chest playfully but you stop mid-laugh when you feel something drip out of you.

"oh god, fuck—," you start to complain, but before you could get another word out, heeseung drops to his knees, doe eyes peering up at you.

heeseung prods your legs apart, sticking his tongue out just in time to catch his own cum dribbling out of you.

"i'll clean you up, baby," heeseung says, mouth already pressing against your leaking hole.

all you can do is grab onto his shoulder, eyes rolling back as you feel your clit twitch with newfound arousal.

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #heeseung smut #heeseung scenarios #w: heeseung

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seraphinitegames · 23 days

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Does having M as a bff in any way affect how willing they are to be touched? I imagine my mc as a physically affectionate person, so I like to headcanon that he gives a lot of hugs to his new bestie M, but I do also want to be as canon compliant as possible. If hugs are a no-go, are there any physical acts that my mc would be able to give M?

(you know what, this also applies to A, how willing are they to receive hugs if I am not romancing them?)

M isn't quite as able to deal with the physical with a BFF MC as they are with a romanced MC, but you can definitely see hints of it becoming much more comfortable for them :D

If you are BFFs with A at this point, then A is fine with hugs. They wouldn't necessarily return them, but certainly would be happy to suffer through them for the sake of that friendship, hehe! :D

(A would totally groan at a hug but would enjoy that display of bond between them, even if it's not something they would initiate. There would be no suffering, lol!)

#the wayhaven chronicles #asks #interactive fiction #twc detective #vampires #adam du mortain #ava du mortain #twc mason #twc morgan

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disturbedbutgorgeous · 9 months

Text

Silly soft Astarion x Halsin on the forest floor 💋❤️

Astarion does enjoy nature as long as it is with Halsin 🤣

Probably won't get around to playing BG3 for a long time so I'm sorry if this isn't very canon compliant lol

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ginnsbaker · 3 months

Text

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (2/?)

Part summary: Leigh goes on a double date with Jules. You reach a tipping point with Leigh's relentless hostility towards you.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5,072 | Warnings/Tags: None for now... smut eventually, enemies to lovers A/N: So... this turned into more than a two-shot. But it will still be a mini-series. It's also kinda slow burn for a mini series (lol). Also, this isn't canon compliant at all. Meaning, I took a lot of liberties and added stuff to Leigh and Matt's relationship, and it doesn't follow the timeline of the show. With that said, enjoy!

Masterlist | Part I | Next Part

The vet bills hit Leigh's bank account way harder than she’s willing to admit.

She knew taking care of pets could get pricey, but she thought that was just for those on their last leg, like Matt's dog, Rogue. Facing those steep costs made her think twice about turning down Drew's offer a while back to bring back her advice column. So, she calls him up as soon as she pays up a quarter of the charges on her credit card for Visitor's medical expenses.

Drew answers on the second ring. “Hey Leigh, what's up?”

Leigh doesn’t beat around the bush. She never has to with her best friend. “Can we meet at the cafe? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Be there in 20,” Drew replies right away.

The coffee shop they frequent is a small local business that specializes in cold brews. Leigh’s favorite thing about it is not the coffee though, but its interior: mismatched chairs, bookshelves lining the wall, and the temperature that’s always just right. Leigh arrives first, securing their favorite table near the window. Drew walks in a few minutes later, coffee already in hand, and greets her with a warm smile.

“Okay, spill. What's going on?” Drew asks as he takes a seat.

“I've been thinking... about the column. I was wrong to turn it down. I want back in.”

The look of utter surprise on his face tells Leigh this was the last thing he expected. She senses his response won't be a straightforward yes.

“I'd be thrilled to have you back, Leigh, I really would—”

“But?” Leigh cuts in. She doesn’t need to hear a bullshit ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse. She wishes Drew would just be as direct with her as she is with him.

Drew lets out a sigh. Under different circumstances, saying no to Leigh would be as easy as declining an upsell from a McDonald's cashier. However, ever since Leigh became a widow, rejecting her feels significantly harder, even though he's well aware that Leigh values honesty over pity.

“But the thing is, the new writer’s really hitting it off with our audience. She's had a string of articles go viral lately.”

Leigh doesn’t look at all impressed by that. “Yeah, I heard.”

Personally, Drew’s not a fan of the new writer's style, and honestly, he still prefers Leigh. It would just be a hard sell if he brought this up to management. As the saying goes: if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

“Look, I still think you have a unique voice. You know I’d still take advice from you over the new girl.”

Leigh scoffs a little at that, shaking her head. Drew rolls his eyes; it’s typical of Leigh to never know how to take a compliment. He continues, “How would you feel about guest writing? Maybe for the first couple of weeks, we could find a way to incorporate your insights into a series or a special feature.”

It’s not what she hoped for, but she recognizes the olive branch for what it is.

And she’ll take it.

“I... yeah, I think that could work, Drew. I've got a ton of new ideas, and this... this could be great,” Leigh says. “Uhm, thanks.”

Drew grins. “I thought you'd like that. Let's kick off with a couple of guest pieces, see how it goes.”

Leigh half-heartedly returns his enthusiasm just as her order of cheeseburger and affogato are served.

“Anything new with you?” Drew asks, his voice taking on that tone he reserves for the really good gossip. Knowing Drew's helping her out, Leigh figures a little life update wouldn't hurt as a form of thanks.

That update is about you. And the moment Leigh spills the beans, Drew's face lights up like a Christmas tree. But his excitement fizzles out just as fast when he figures out Leigh's got nothing scandalous to say. All she mentions is how you might've missed the mark by not doing your homework on the guy you were seeing.

“What’s your plan then?”

“Seems like everyone’s asking me that,” Leigh says flatly.

“You took your stray to her place, right? So, there must be some sort of plan. I mean, you could've gone to any other vet if you wanted to avoid her.”

“Yeah, but her clinic's location is so convenient, and I didn't want to shrink my world just for her.”

Drew hums in response. Leigh admits she’s been unusually passive with you. Normally, she'd confront issues head-on, but even almost half a year later, she still hasn’t fully processed Matt’s death, let alone his cheating. She's been trying a new tactic, almost as if by ignoring her problems, she hopes they'll fade away on their own. She seems to be betting on the idea that if she pretends long enough, maybe one day she'll wake up and find those issues have lost their grip on her.

“I don’t know Leigh, the whole thing’s weird,” Drew says, scrunching up his face a bit.

“It’s not like I’m trying to make a friend or enemy out of her,” Leigh replies with a shrug. “I’m just using her services as a doctor, and she’s getting paid for it. That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh, so that’s why you need your old job back. She’s draining your purse,” he says, smirking as he adds, “Bitch.”

“You don’t have to call her that,” Leigh chides, though the corner of her mouth twitches in amusement. Deep down, she understands the twisted satisfaction in disliking someone without having to justify it.

“The funniest thing that can happen is if you two actually end up being friends,” Drew quips, picking up an accidental curly from Leigh’s plate.

Leigh finds that scenario hard to imagine, almost impossible. She doesn’t think she can be friends with someone Matt liked more than her.

Leigh is hunched over her laptop, with sheets of paper and colorful markers spread out on the table, meticulously designing missing dog posters for Visitor.

Jules, leaning against the doorframe with a mug of coffee in hand, watches Leigh for a moment before speaking up. “You know, you should've done that the second you decided to take Visitor in.”

Leigh doesn't look up from her screen. “His leg needed to be taken care of first,” she reasons.

Jules rolls her eyes, pushing off from the doorframe to come closer. “And? How did it go at the clinic?”

Leigh pauses, then lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I already told you about the tests Visitor had to go through. They said he’ll be fine.”

“I mean with the doctor, not the patient,” Jules clarifies with a smirk.

There's a beat of silence before Leigh quips, “No cat fights happened, I promise,” her eyes going back to her laptop.

“Any chance she knocked off a bit of the bill?” Jules asks, moving to sit behind Leigh to take a peek of her work. It looks like an 8th grader’s art project, but she bites back any criticisms.

“Nope.”

“Told you she’s a bitch,” Jules murmurs under her breath.

“It's not like anyone's doing charity work these days, especially not in this economy,” Leigh argues weakly.

“Yeah, right. Like she needs your money, Leigh. Veterinarians are loaded, if you didn’t know.”

“If you say so.”

Jules decides to drop the subject, and Leigh can hear her shuffling and thinking behind her.

“Hey, there's something I've been wanting to ask you. Don't get mad, okay?”

“Prefacing like that? I'm bracing myself to be utterly scandalized,” Leigh says before smiling and sneaking a glance at Jules.

“Great, you’re cracking jokes again. That’s a good sign,” Jules deadpans but a second later, she’s smiling too.

“Ask away,” Leigh prods.

Jules takes a deep breath, and then:

“Do you think you’re ready to meet someone new?”

Leigh suddenly stops, her fingers just hanging there above the keyboard, unsure of what to do next. What’s the protocol here? If three months is usually the cooling period after a break-up before one can start dating other people, then what's the deal when it's about a husband who's not only passed away but was also cheating? How does that work?

Before Leigh can come up with an answer, she realizes she's already saying no.

Jules groans. “Come on, it's just a double date. It'll be fun. You and me and—”

“I’m really not in the mood to meet other people, Jules.”

Jules cuts in, laying it on thick. “Leigh, seriously, when was the last time you went out and had a little fun? You're practically turning into a recluse. I won't stand by and watch my sister morph into the neighborhood's infamous dog lady.”

“Dog lady? Really?”

“I'm just saying, it's either try something new or start knitting dog sweaters for fun. Your choice.”

Jules can be a real pest sometimes; it’s an endearing quality except when they seem ready to go for each other's throats.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” Leigh rests her chin on her hand, seriously considering the invitation for a second. “I don’t know how to meet people, Jules. I stopped meeting people when I met Matt. He was my entire world, you know?”

Jules softens, throwing her arms around Leigh’s shoulders. “I know. And I wouldn't push if I didn't think it could be good for you. Plus, I promise, if it's awful, I'll personally escort you out and we can ditch them for ice cream. How's that?”

Leigh senses that Jules won't give up until she gets a yes, so she decides to concede just this time and get it over with.

“Okay, okay, you win. I'll go on your stupid double date. But if this ends in disaster, you're buying me the biggest tub of ice cream you can find,” Leigh says, shrugging her sister off her.

Jules pumps her fist in victory. “Deal! You won't regret this, Leigh. And who knows? It might actually be fun.”

The double date goes surprisingly smoothly, except for the occasional touches coming from her date. To be fair, they are typical for a date and are executed with respect. However, for some reason, Leigh finds herself unusually conscious of every physical contact, making her anxious to move things along and call it a night.

As they step out of the restaurant, Leigh mentally scrambles to remember her date's name. She's bracing for the goodbyes, ready to retreat into the comfort of her room, when Tommy, Jules' girlfriend, suggests they cap the night off at a new bar. It turns out Leigh's date has an investment in the place. He jumps at the suggestion, clearly eager to flaunt this detail, perhaps hoping to impress her.

He does earn a sincere, “That’s cool,” from Leigh, just before she slides into the backseat of his car. Tommy quickly calls dibs on the front seat, leaving the siblings sitting next to each other in the back.

The new bar clearly wants to be the town’s next hotspot, but it seems to be trying too hard. It's got this odd vibe where you're not sure if you should be dancing or just looking around, wondering what it really wants you to do. But Leigh agreed to this, and she won’t embarrass Jules by ditching.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

She stiffens a bit as he draws near, the heat of Patrick's breath—Jules had reminded her of his name during the car ride—making her uncomfortably aware of how close he is. She shifts, trying to put a polite distance between them without seeming too obvious about it. “Um, just a gin and tonic, please,” she says.

She practically sighs in relief as Patrick heads off to order, her eyes darting around the bar. The 90s R&B background gets her head bopping, but all she’s thinking about is her couch and an episode of Parks and Recreation waiting for her at home. Jules and Tommy are in their own little world, giggling and looking all cozy. Leigh never thought she could feel like a third wheel on a double date.

Patrick is taking his time, and when Leigh cranes her neck to peer over the bar, she catches him striking up a conversation with a blonde. Her eyes narrow into slits as she watches, both of them obviously charmed by the other as Patrick laughs at something she said, enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t all night.

Leigh feels a prick of irritation. Sure, she hasn’t been giving him the time of his life, but they’re still on a date. Isn’t there some unwritten rule about not flirting with other people when you're supposed to be with someone?

She waits a bit longer, hoping Patrick would remember he was supposed to be getting her a drink and come back. However, he hasn't moved an inch from his spot and is even passing Leigh's drink to the woman as they keep chatting. Leigh’s mind races. She knows she isn’t into Patrick, has been giving him nothing but the bare minimum, yet she can't shake off the feeling of being slighted. It's not like she wanted his undivided attention, but this... this just seems rude.

She catches Jules looking at her, a questioning eyebrow raised. Leigh just shrugs, not sure how to explain the jumble of feelings she's experiencing without sounding petty or jealous.

When Patrick finally comes back with her drink, the mood has already turned sour for Leigh. She musters a polite smile, accepts the gin and tonic with a thank you, but then heads to the bar on her own without saying anything more. At this point, she's indifferent to what Patrick, Tommy, or Jules might think or say of her; she's finished playing nice for the day.

Leigh slams her gin and tonic like it's water, the sting barely registering. She signals for another without missing a beat and strangers start sliding over drinks with cheeky grins. She toasts to nothing, to no one, letting the conversations slip away before they can get even one word out.

By drink number six—or was it seven?—everything's spinning, laughter too loud, lights too bright. Leigh’s clinging to the bar for dear life when she thinks she sees you. But as quickly as the figure appears, it's lost again, leaving her questioning her ability to handle her alcohol. Back in her college days, Leigh could hold her liquor like a champ, thanks to endless nights of partying. But now, staring down at her drink, she realizes she might've overestimated her current tolerance. The alcohol hits harder than she remembers, making her head swim more than she'd like to admit. It's been a while since she's gone this hard, and her body isn't shy about reminding her.

The worst part of it though is why, of all the faces her mind could conjure up, it's choosing yours.

Just as she tries to shake off the bizarre vision, your face appears again, this time on the dance floor, writhing in a sea of thick, sweating bodies. You're dancing closely with a man, and it’s—

It’s Matt.

Leigh blinks rapidly, attempting to dispel the hallucination because it's impossible; Matt is dead—this can't be real.

But the image of you and Matt refuses to go away. She continues to see the way your grind against him, the way you caress his face as you pull it further into your neck. Anger surges through her, hot and uncontrollable, and before she knows it, her last shot of tequila crashes to the floor. Before the bartender or anyone else can even figure out what's happening, Leigh storms through the crowd, pushing her way to what she believes is you and her husband, and shoves the couple hard. The moment she does it, the fog in her brain finally clears.

She saw wrong. They’re just a random couple, looking as shocked as she feels mortified.

Humiliated and more drunk than she's willing to admit, Leigh doesn't stick around to apologize. Tears start to well up as she pushes through the crowd, dodging empty faces while Jules' calls fade into the background. She shoves through the last of the mob, bursts through the doors into the night, and freedom feels just a breath away. But that breath catches, twists into a violent churn in her gut, and she can barely stagger a few desperate steps away from the entrance before her knees are on the cold pavement, and she’s spilling out onto the ground in front of her. A few groans of disgusts from the people around her doesn’t register as she succumbs to the consequences of her indulgence. Shortly after, she remembers why she’s cut back on alcohol, apart from the fact that Matt abhors it, turns him off more than anything.

“Leigh?”

The voice is familiar, even if she’s heard it only a few times. Her head's spinning as she looks up, the chilly air slapping her face after the stuffiness of the club. She blinks, trying to clear the blur of tears and the aftereffects of one too many drinks, squinting at the figure stepping out from under the streetlights.

Your face, more clearly now under the lamp post is kind of sobering her up a bit.

So, were you actually there in the club, or is Leigh so haunted by thoughts of you and Matt—thoughts she's tried so hard to ignore and bury—that she managed to conjure you as a way to finally confront her true feelings about the entire situation? It’s always the battles with herself she never wins.

“Hey, you alright?” you ask, lowering yourself to get a better look at her but keeping back a bit—just enough space for her to catch her breath or in case she needs to throw up again.

Leigh doesn't respond, doesn't even seem to see you're there. You rummage through your crossbody bag, pulling out some wet wipes and offering them to her. She still doesn't look up, but grabs what you’re offering with a little force.

She proceeds to wipe her mouth and then her entire face as you continue talking, words tumbling out in a nervous stream.

“I saw you back there, in the club. I wasn't sure if I should come up to you, you know, with everything that's happened... with me being... well, the person I am in all of this,” you explain softly. “And then I saw what happened, how upset you got. Sorry I followed you here, I…I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Leigh abruptly gets to her feet, and you instinctively step back, giving her more room than probably needed.

“Why?” Leigh fires at you, her tone so icy it almost makes you regret coming after her. You're taken aback, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion.

Why what?

“Why do you even care?” she clarifies, eyeing you as if you're the densest person on the planet.

You grasp for something, anything that sounds like you're not just here out of guilt. “Anyone who knows you would be worried,” you say before you can think twice about what it could mean.

Leigh's laugh is sharp, cutting. “You don't know me,” she throws back.

“Yeah, I don’t,” you mumble to yourself. You wish you did, so you could fix this.

Leigh’s anger doesn’t let up. “You know what I think? You're playing the good Samaritan to scrub off your guilt. But not knowing Matt was married? That's on you. I bet you never asked too many questions because you wanted him to be Mr. Perfect—single, ready to mingle, the dream guy.”

Opening your mouth to argue, you find yourself at a loss. Leigh’s not entirely wrong. With Matt, you were in a bubble, caught up in the thrill of meeting someone who seemed so right, so honest. You clung to his every word, wanting to believe in this image of him you'd built up.

The truth is, you never wanted to meet Leigh Shaw; you wanted to believe Matt's only fault was how he ended things with you, by disappearing.

But before you can admit to all of that, Leigh is already storming off. You think about chasing after her, but she spins around so fast at your footsteps, shooting you a threatening look and a low, “Stop following me,” that nails you to the ground.

You keep staring at the spot she disappeared from, long after she's gone, wondering why Matt felt the need to find love elsewhere.

Leigh goes home, but not to an empty house. The second she opens the door, Visitor bounds into her arms, full of wiggles and wet nose kisses. Her mom's off somewhere, doing who knows what—Leigh's stopped trying to figure out where or why. Meanwhile, her phone buzzes with a string of voicemails from Jules, but Leigh's not in the mood to dive into those just yet. She decides they can wait till morning, along with the other missed calls and unread messages from strangers, asking for more information on Visitor.

For now, she peels off her socks and pants, leaving them scattered carelessly up the stairs before passing out on her bed.

Visitor’s follow-up check-up rolls around way too quickly for comfort. The moment Leigh steps through the clinic door with the dog in tow, you can practically cut the tension with a knife. Leigh's trying to keep it together, but her attempts at civility are imbued with a coldness that can’t be ignored.

With only a small ‘good morning’ from you and a nod from Leigh, you start the consultation, knowing you’d be doing her a favor if you just get right to it.

“How's Visitor been eating?” you ask as you work your stethoscope.

“He eats fine,” Leigh drawls.

You nod, jotting down a note before moving on, “And his activity levels? Any changes there?”

Leigh’s response comes laced with sarcasm.

“Oh, he's just peachy. Running marathons every morning.”

You clear your throat, trying to rein in your mounting annoyance at her childish behavior. “I'm just trying to get a complete picture,” you say.

But Leigh's not having any of it. Her comments grow sharper, her patience thinning, and it's clear she's more interested in taking jabs at you than discussing her dog's health.

Her last sarcastic remark has you drawing the line. “Leigh, you can be upset with me all you want outside of this clinic, but I won't tolerate disrespect while I'm trying to do my job,” you say evenly. “You're welcome to find another vet if you can't keep this professional. I have every right to refuse service if this continues. It's not what I want, but I'm not about to let you treat me any less professionally.”

Leigh goes quiet, yet she keeps her eyes locked on yours, decidedly not backing down. Then, after a tense moment, she mutters a single word, “Sorry.” It's not much, but it's something, and you decide to take it and move on.

“You mentioned something about a blood sample?” Leigh says, steering the conversation back to the reason she came in, and you're all for following her lead on this.

“Yeah, we need to check if his platelets are up and his infections are down, see if the meds are doing their job,” you explain. Then, veering a bit from standard procedure, you add, “Since this is a follow-up visit, I'm going to cut the lab test price in half for you.”

The discount evidently lifts her mood. It's not a perfect truce, but it's enough to get through the examination without any more barbs.

A while later, you're back with Visitor's CBC results in hand. “The infection's gone down, but it's still borderline,” you report, showing her the numbers. “We'll need to keep him on the medication for another week. And I'm adding some multivitamins and a specific diet to his regimen.”

You scribble down the details, then note at the bottom of the pad about the discount—not just for the lab test, but for the prescriptions too.

Leigh takes the paper, scanning the details before her eyes finally meet yours. “Thank you,” she says, her voice softer than it's been.

“You’re welcome,” you reply with a smile before going back to your notebook, looking deep in thought.

Leigh feels like you're back to your usual, friendly self. Yet she thinks she prefers the more raw, unfiltered version of you. The version that called her out earlier. These days, she's starving for that kind of honesty. Because having her as your client can’t be all that pleasurable. She's aware of how challenging she's been, and the straightforwardness somehow makes her feel more understood, more seen.

She wishes people would stop seeing her as Leigh: the one with the dead husband.

Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “When did you start working here?”

It's a seemingly insignificant question, yet coming from Leigh, it prompts you to close your notebook and focus entirely on her.

“I—”

“Because a year ago, I remember meeting a different doctor,” Leigh adds, absentmindedly running her fingers through Visitor’s coarse hair as he sleeps on her lap.

“You’ve been here before?”

It’s a painful memory—one that still sometimes brings tears to her eyes whenever it crosses her mind. Back then, the clinic bore a different name, and she and Matt had come together to say goodbye to Rogue.

“I have when it was still called Palm Coast,” she says.

You nod, understanding the context now. “Yeah, that was before my time. I bought this clinic on a whim after spending a few years practicing in Dubai.”

While most would latch onto the tidbit about your intriguing career history, Leigh zeros in on something else entirely, asking directly, “When did Matt start coming here?”

You shift uncomfortably at her question, and Leigh immediately regrets pushing too hard. She’s about to backtrack when you halt her apologies. “It’s okay. I’m open to talking about it, just not here,” you suggest. “How about over coffee?”

Leigh hesitates, then says, “Okay, let me just text my boss that I won't be able to lead the yoga class this morning.”

“It doesn’t have to be now. Tomorrow works,” you say.

Realizing her assumption, Leigh’s cheeks color slightly. “What time?”

Now it's your turn to feel a bit awkward. “Would 7 work? It's the only time I have before the clinic opens.”

“In the morning?” Leigh says again, making sure she heard you right.

You nod sheepishly in reply.

“Or we could maybe—”

“No, it's okay,” Leigh interrupts quickly. She's usually up before sunrise anyway; the only change would be trimming her morning run a bit. And for a one-time chat to get the answers she's after, she figures she can make such a small sacrifice.

–

“Are you sure you want to return Visitor to his real family?”

True to form, it's Jules who breaks the two-day-long sibling spat. It's usually her who tries to smooth things over with an apology, even on days when Leigh isn't exactly the easiest person to deal with. Her therapist keeps telling her not to always be the one to buckle, especially when she's the one who's been hurt, that Leigh should be the one to step up and make things right for a change.

But here she is, reaching out first, just like always—because waiting for Leigh to make the first move feels like waiting for snow in July.

“Oh, so you’re talking to me again?” Leigh says as if she's gearing up for another round of conflict rather than welcoming peace.

Jules ignores her and continues, “Have you actually tried to find Visitor's owners, or have you just kinda... kept him because it feels good to have him around?”

“So what if it feels good to have a dog who loves you and is loyal to you?”

Jules shakes her head in a condescending manner, which only serves to irritate Leigh further. As soon as her popcorn is done, she heads out of the kitchen, flops onto the couch, flips on the TV, and kicks her feet up on the coffee table. Jules follows her, opting to stand next to the TV, poised to yank the plug out if necessary.

“Leigh, you do understand that taking care of a dog isn't something to take lightly, right?” Jules starts, but she breaks off when the dog in question trots over, tail wagging, trying to coax Jules into picking him up.

Leigh acts like she hasn't heard a word, her eyes glued to the TV screen.

“I thought you'd learned something from what happened with Rogue—”

That hits a nerve. Leigh's quick to fire back, “Oh, and jumping into a serious relationship is super responsible, right? Especially when staying sober is part of the deal.”

Right after the words leave her mouth, Leigh regrets them deeply. She's painfully aware of Jules' long battle with alcoholism, a struggle that began in college and required more than a couple of tries before Jules could claim any sort of victory over her addiction. Leigh knows it's still a sore subject for Jules, still fighting her demons, making her comment unfairly harsh.

Though the retaliation didn’t come out of nowhere. Leigh caught Jules at the club, discreetly sipping a drink she swore off, and chose to keep quiet then to avoid causing a scene in front of Tommy. She had plans to bring it up later, but then her own slip-up with drinking, bailing on her date, and the fallout with Jules spiraled into one of their nastiest rows in a long while.

“Jules, I’m sorr—”

“Just save it, Leigh.”

Jules heads for the door, her hand clenched tight, barely hanging onto her emotions. Leigh feels the situation slipping further downhill, and she can't just stand back and watch things crumble even more. She's about to chase after Jules when the doorbell rings, stopping both of them cold.

But Jules doesn’t even bother with the door; instead, she veers off, storming upstairs with that telltale slam of her bedroom door echoing down. Leigh sighs, stuck in the aftermath, while Visitor starts barking at the door. Dragging her feet, Leigh heads over to open it, half-expecting another problem but hoping for a distraction.

Leigh definitely wasn't expecting Danny, and seeing him there, she gets the sinking feeling that this storm swirling around her isn’t going to blow over just yet.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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dotieeee · 3 months

Text

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 10

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

Overall Warnings:

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

Masterlist

Level 10 Warnings:

Graphic violence, torture and experiments conducted on children (because it isn't Hunger Games without it lol), the female rage, uh, feelings?? Lmao

Replay Level 9

Ready? Level 10 Start:

“Nellie, come back to me, I’m right here…” a muffled voice whispers above you.

“I don’t want to go with you …” you whisper back.

But the voice doesn’t seem to hear it.

“…You’re alright, sugarplum, you’re safe. Come back to me…”

The ringing in your ears grows even louder, making you wince, before halting altogether. You blink and you realise you’re back in the testing room. Back to watching three teenagers die on the big screen. Back with him.

And he’s got you in his embrace and currently kissing your hair and stroking it.

Fighting the urge to kick him in the nuts, you wrench free from his grip, not bothering to even gauge how he reacts. You watch the screen displaying the aftermath of the explosion that F1 had just set off, but it isn’t just the debris you’re seeing on the big screen that’s fully caught your attention – it’s what it set off.

The first thing you notice is the screaming. It isn’t just from one of them, but from all of them, it seems. It goes on even as the cloud of smoke and dust from the explosion clears to reveal an alarming scene:

Audrey, now apparently conscious, had just tackled Callahan to the ground and was clawing at anything of him she could reach, screaming with rage at the top of her lungs. Callahan attempts to fend himself off by pushing her away, cursing her in the process, but Audrey’s adrenaline levels on the gamemaker console are sky-high, making her a brutal, almost invincible force.

“It’s the venom, isn’t it?” F2 wonders out loud, her eyes glued to the screen. “But she was in a coma, her vitals confirmed it earlier. I thought the venom would either put her into a coma or make her aggressive?”

Coriolanus curls his lip and replies, “Perhaps her body reacted to the venom in a way that the lab has never observed before.”

Who cares, though, how differently she reacted compared to the experiments? If you don’t put a stop to this quickly, one or more of them could potentially be fatally injured.

“Let him go, Audrey!”

Tansey screams as she drags Audrey off her friend in an unexpected display of strength, so Audrey topples down to the ground. But this does not deter her. She makes a grab for the dagger inside her pouch and aims it at the younger girl, but she dodges the attack. Callahan is instantly on his feet, on the offensive, but with no weapon at hand, he’s clearly at a disadvantage.

In your mounting anxiety, you place your palms to cover your mouth as you wrack your brains hard for a way out for the teenagers.

You can only gasp, your eyes widening as the dagger in Audrey’s hand digs into Callahan’s upper abdomen, and even as far away as the camera angle captures the gruesome scene, you can see his shirt soak in the dark red liquid you’ve been dreading to see the entire night.

Callahan lets out a shuddering breath as Audrey pulls out the dagger, aiming it once more to deliver another blow –

With a loud whack, Tansey hits Audrey’s head with a thick metal rod with just enough force to render her unconscious. Tansey drops the rod, which lands on the cement with an echoing clang.

And yet all you could look at is Callahan as he drops to the ground, bleeding freely from his stomach, except it isn’t the teenage boy you see anymore.

You recognise those bright, pretty eyes anywhere.

Coriolanus steps right in front of you and places his arms around you, presumably to block your view, but even that doesn’t stop you from peeking from his side.

It’s your mother once again, dripping in her own blood, but this time, she’s in the arena with a wound she can easily recover from. And you’re not the helpless little girl anymore who needs daddy to come patch it up for you: this time, there is something you can do to keep her alive.

You don’t even think about it as you break free from Coriolanus’s grip and walk mechanically to the main command console. Everyone’s attention is on the big screen anyway and wouldn’t see what you’d be doing.

“Nellie, where are you going?” he asks.

In the background, you hear F1 contemplate out loud whether he should activate the acid rain, but Coriolanus seems to ignore him. You hear their voices, but they’re so far away from you now.

On the main command console, you initiate the command: Alt+F4.

The console flashes a warning:

SHUTDOWN command rejected.

Shutdown cannot be completed due to: Game Status: ACTIVE.

First-level administration credentials required to override.

You press Continue, and the username and password fields appear. You know these credentials like the back of your hand, so your fingers move by themselves.

Credentials confirmed.

Warning: Command: SHUTDOWN OVERRIDE will terminate Game progress and will not save current Game data.

Press ⬅️ to Resume. Press Enter to Continue.

And without a single ounce of hesitation, you press Enter.

SHUTDOWN OVERRIDE confirmed.

Changing Game Status to: TERMINATED.

Program shutting down...

Triumph fills your heart as you read the window flashing on the big screen:

Game Status: TERMINATED.

Press CTRL + SHIFT + Enter on Main Command Station to BEGIN NEW GAME.

You actually revel in the silence that blankets the entire testing room just before the sirens in the test arena go off. Just like that, the data they were so itching to save, gone with but a few commands, never to be retrieved, thanks to your uncle’s master credentials.

It’s F3 who breaks the silence first. “Well, that was one hell of a Game.”

You could feel your mentor’s icy gaze bore holes into your psyche. F1 rubs his face with his palms and bangs his fist on the table. “Yes, it was. It’s a shame the entire data we’ve worked so hard to get for almost two years wasn’t saved – ”

Coriolanus puts a stop to his tirade with a single, calmly raised palm.

“Tell me why you did what you did, Nellie,” he says. He straightens to his full height and dons this unusually cool demeanour as if this conversation is merely a discussion of the weather.

So, you respond with a similar air. “I made a calculated decision to shut it down.”

You spare one look at the observation box where the Head Gamemaker stands with her hands clasped, her face unreadable.

Coriolanus lets out a hum. “And tell me why this specific function wasn’t brought up during the integration tests.”

You give him a nonchalant shrug. “But I did. During the demos, I highlighted the fact that the main command console is where the override requests are to be entered.”

“And in the event of an override request, I imagine our credentials would be quite useless. Those were Mr Innis’s logins.”

Since it wasn’t phrased as a question, you nod once and smile at him.

“I received word that the Peacekeepers have escorted the test subjects out of the arena for medical examination,” F2 interrupts the discussion carefully like she’s testing the waters.

A small sigh escapes your mentor’s lips before the corners of his lips lift. This puzzles you a little, the way he seems relieved.

“There is a reason why tests exist, Nellie. We’re looking for potential setbacks in the program. And it seems like this could be one of them.”

“The computer engineers are free to go for the day.”

Everyone’s heads whip to Dr Gaul currently descending from the glass observation deck. Her composure is bizarre, as well, seeing as you all but sabotaged her tests today.

“Good work so far, Misters and Miss Finley. Expect an ample addition to your bonuses at the end of the third quarter. Oh, and before you go, I will need one of you to send a memo to the other gamemakers. We will need all hands on deck next week to test the program further. Dismissed.”

The triplets give their thanks and promptly exit the room. Dr Gaul’s mismatched eyes follow them, before turning to you and your mentor the moment the door closes.

She says, “Despite the disappointment of failing to gather such valuable data for the other gamemakers, Ms Innis made the right call.”

You narrow your eyes at her declaration. Coriolanus isn’t upset with your actions, and neither is she. And your mentor mirrors the unanswered question in your head with a curious look.

“We might have more need for the three test subjects,” Dr Gaul explains further. “We could pool more of them from the districts if need be, but given our time constricts, it’d be best to keep working with the ones we already have.

“Besides, that third test subject…you’ve seen how her body reacted to the ant muttation’s venom, did you not, Mr Snow?”

“Yes, ma’am, I did,” he responds politely.

“Half the test subjects we’ve injected with the venom were rendered comatose and they stayed that way until we pulled the plug. The other half underwent bouts of severe aggression, which of course waned as the venom wore off.

“I never had a single one of them display both the symptoms…”

She trails off and strides slowly towards the door, leaving you in doubt of your actions. The three teens were spared a needless death, only to be forced to participate in more of the games. And in Audrey’s case, to be potentially experimented on by none other than the head of the Department of War’s Genetics Division.

As she reaches the door, Coriolanus beckons you by tilting his head and gripping your arm. You both follow your department head to the elevator, which drops you off to the Genetics division. Coriolanus leads you by the arm to the dreaded level.

You’ve only been here once before and that was when you first encountered the jabberjays. To say the experience was unsettling is an understatement, but this time, by the way you pass by the endless rows of glass cages containing all manners of abomination, you can tell you’re about to be shown something much worse.

Amidst the cacophony of noises let out by the genetically modified malformations on the floor, a distant sound that closely resembles a scream makes you clutch Coriolanus’s sleeve. If he notices this, he makes no mention of it.

After walking for a while, you reach the end of a hallway facing a non-descript grey wall. You must’ve reached a dead-end, but the other two don’t seem fazed or lost. Dr Gaul unveils a key sensor hidden in a niche at the wall and swipes her card, and a portion of the once-grey wall before her shifts slightly backwards before sliding to the right.

Of course. You figure if anyone is going to have an office hidden behind a wall, it has to be Volumnia Gaul.

Coriolanus must’ve been here before, for he doesn’t seem surprised. He still has you by the arm so you let yourself be dragged into the space. Inside reveals just more long tables filled with various scientific equipment, cabinets lined with jars of creatures suspended in formaldehyde, with the head gamemaker’s station on the far right corner rivalling your uncle’s set up in the office you occupy.

Their attention isn’t on the bizarre scientific display but on the left side of the room which you failed to notice before.

Thick glass windows are fitted on the wall to reveal several containment cells, perhaps for experiments. Your eyes widen at the sight of Tansey inside one of the cells, both her hands and feet tightly bound by rope, just crouched in the corner looking shaken out of her wits.

What had happened to Callahan? To Audrey? You take your arm away from your mentor and rush to the glass window, but he yanks it back with a little more force and gives you a pointed look.

“Why is she here? What is this?”

“This, Ms Innis, is leverage,” Dr Gaul replies as she approaches the window. She then turns to set her eyes on you, her smile belying the cruelty you’ve come to know her for. “The program you and your uncle built will change my Games forever. So, you understand why I am keen on putting this to use for the 12th Hunger Games.

“That is also why I think it’s in your best interest to give me full master access to your program and remove your uncle’s credentials. You will also give Mr Snow the same access as mine.”

“What do you mean…remove my uncle from the program?” your voice goes a pitch higher as you digest the insult. Your voice begins to shake as you stand your ground. “This belongs to Acacius Innis. I will not give anyone full master access without his permission. So no. You have had no hand, nor right to my uncle’s work.”

The head gamemaker’s smile just widens as she takes out a walkie-talkie and says, as if she’s ordering from a menu, “Two beetle mutts, please.”

The sound of a latch opening from one of the cells startles you. A small shaft on the wall at Tansey’s cell had just opened, and out from it comes a black and brown beetle half the size of your arm.

Volumina Gaul takes in your look of confusion and fear like fresh air.

“That is a larder beetle muttation, in case you’re wondering. Without genetic modifications, the little beetle would be content with dead flesh, but this…” she chuckles deeply to herself, “This is a thing of beauty, craving live, human flesh…did you know it takes only six of them and roughly twenty minutes to devour someone of your test tribute’s size? So tell me, Ms Innis – I’ve heard of your aptitude in mathematics – how long do you think two beetles would take for them to leave nothing but the bones of that little girl?”

She has to be bluffing, right?

“You can’t do this,” you whisper. Your eyes bulge the further the beetles go, watching as Tansey attempts to dodge it despite her tied limbs, her mouth open in a scream you can’t hear through the glass. Unable to control yourself and panicking on the inside, you say, “Please, she has nothing to do with this!”

Dr Gaul just takes strides towards her computer and waves a hand at it. “There are chips inside those bugs designed to send shocks that will incapacitate them. Do what I say, and you save your little... thing from getting eaten alive,” she says as she bares her teeth with a smile cold enough to raise your hair. “Tick-tock, Ms Innis…”

Volumnia Gaul’s high-pitched cackle bounces off the walls of her office.

With eyes close to watering, you weigh your choices – is your uncle’s entire life’s work worth sacrificing an innocent life for?

The beetles are inches away from Tansey’s frail, writhing body, and the more she moves, the more the beetles sense her presence.

And you berate yourself for even thinking a stupid set of computer code was worth letting Tansey get hurt.

Your uncle would be ashamed of you.

“Call the beetles off…”

You walk past Coriolanus, who’s quietly observing the exchange, and enter your remote access credentials on the station. Dr Gaul watches from behind you, and with a single click, your uncle is forever erased from the program he poured his heart into. In his place, are the names of Coriolanus Snow and Volumnia Gaul.

“Call the beetles off, please! I did what you wanted me to do, now please let her go!”

“Not quite.” Volumnia Gaul tilts her head at you playfully as she uses her sing-song voice. “What is it you kids say these days? Ah, I think it goes quite like this: ‘I won’t hurt her if you tell.’

“I am aware there are other ways my work can be derailed. So you can spill the beans, Snow’s pretty pet: did you know of any other methods that could sabotage my program, my tests, and my Games?”

She can’t know. She can’t possibly know.

Your blood turns to ice, but you keep a straight face. You look her dead in the eyes and say, “No. Let her go.”

“Let me rephrase that for your sake: is there any way else you can put a wrench in my plans?”

“I’ve already told you, please, let her go, I don’t know anything!”

She lets out a small tsk and activates an intercom. The hellish screams that come through the loudspeaker make you cover your mouth in shock.

From the cell, you the two beetles had just dug their pincers into Tansey’s legs.

You launch yourself at the damning woman on impulse, and would’ve clawed and scratched any part of her you could reach had you laid hands on her, but Coriolanus is instantly on you, holding both your arms from behind and whispering to your ear, “Nellie, just do as she says.”

No...nonono...

“It’s in my desk drawer!”

Legs shaking, your knees buckle and you collapse to the floor as your confession dawns on you. You just let go of your only way out of this mess...

Volumnia Gaul lets go of the intercom, cutting off the screaming in the cell.

“What was that, dear? I couldn’t quite hear that,” she taunts.

“It’s inside my desk drawer, it’s a floppy disk – please!”

You made a promise to Tansey, and you broke it.

“What’s in the disk?” Gaul asks through gritted teeth.

“A virus.”

“Who sent it?!” She barks.

“I don’t know!” you shout back in despair. “It just came in the mail. Please, I already told you everything…”

Still on your knees with your hands being held back by the monster behind you, you keep your eyes trained on the other monster in the room. What a pitiful sight you must make, this helpless, as life is so casually thrown into the fray at their whim.

Gaul presses a button beside the cell’s intercom. In an instant, the beetles let go of the little girl and fall on their backs.

You exhale sharply in relief.

It’s over. It’s alright, you soothe yourself. You will not cry, not in front of your enemies.

With an almost apologetic gentleness, Coriolanus helps you get on your feet. In the background, the vile woman you call your boss instructs someone through her communicuff to search your desk for the said floppy disk. You take a step back from your mentor and wait until the disk is taken to her office and Gaul locks it inside a coded safe.

Dr Gaul sighs cheerily as she addresses you both.

“I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement. Now that potential issues with the program have been dealt with, you can both go home. See you next week. The other gamemakers will be green with envy knowing the two of you got to try it first.”

She takes leisurely steps to one of her desks, humming to herself. Coriolanus bids her goodnight, but before you make your exit, you hear her call for your name. You almost ignore her.

“Ms Innis? I am promoting you to an official gamemaker post starting Monday. You are valuable to this team and to Mr Snow.”

And just like that, you find yourself shooed out of Volumnia Gaul’s office, out in the hallways and alone with him.

You begin your search for the elevator. Footfalls from behind you indicate he’s following.

“An official gamemaker…sugarplum, that makes you the youngest by just a few months. This is a milestone,” he praises. “It’s ten to eight, we can still make it to The White Knight, after all. We should celebrate.”

Your response is clipped. “No thank you, I have to go.”

“Go? We decided on dinner tonight. Where are you going?” He stops in front of you, but you sidestep him and increase your pace.

Unfortunately, he has longer strides than you, so he keeps with no difficulty.

“Nellie, what’s the matter? Hey, I’m talking to you and you’re being rude. I asked you where you’re going, so I expect an answer.”

When you refuse to reply, he grabs your arm to make you face him, but you shove them away.

“Away!” you retort. “Away from here, from - from her, away from you ! As far away as I can. Anywhere but here with you is where the fuck I'm going.”

You intend to make a right turn even though you have zero idea where you’re going, but he grips your bicep this time and spins you around, forcing you between the wall and his towering frame. There is a stone column with a vase sitting on top of it on either side of you, effectively trapping you in all directions.

“You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on with you.”

The nerve of this man, acting like he has no clue.

“Okay, I’ll humour that,” you scoff. You take a few deep breaths in an attempt to reel in your imminent outrage, but you don’t know how you can hold it in any longer. “First, you blackmail me, then you pressure me into situations I’m uncomfortable with, then you make me play that...thing, that god-awful thing, I get to relive the most horrible day of my life, and as if all that weren’t enough, you steal the only work – ”

“Hey now – ”

“ – I built that I can be proud of, and then take it apart to suit your perverse psychopathic little games...” you gasp for air and continue your tirade, “You hold me back and make me watch while that girl gets tortured – unhand me, you – you fucking – !”

“Calm down, sugarplum, this is simply just a panic attack – ”

“No, let me go – !”

A pair of lips capturing yours effectively cuts off your outburst. Coriolanus’s kiss is rough, one could even say desperate, but if he thinks he can silence you with one of his little mind games, he is sorely mistaken. You have spent what seems like forever bottling up every single emotion, but the cork has finally popped, and he will hear everything you have to say.

Even if that means facing the inevitable repercussions.

With all your strength, you push him away and finally lash out. Your palm hits his left cheek and the sharp slap echoes in the empty Citadel halls. He is visibly taken aback, and so are you, and yet it felt right. Vindictive, even.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss, your curled fists shaking as you attempt to curtail it from delivering another blow. “I tried everything I could to keep you away from my uncle’s work. And to think it almost worked. All that time I spent with you after that day at the park, pretending you were still my friend, betraying my beliefs, painting on this face I fucking hated, playing this stupid game of yours... because that’s all this is to you. A game where you played me and you used me – ”

“‘Used you?’” Coriolanus lets out a derisive laugh. It must feel euphoric, finally letting go of that genial, affectionate facade he’s kept so perfectly around you. That’s right, let your true colours show.

“If it weren't for me,” he continues mockingly, his eyes crazed and devoid of any warmth. “You’d be rotting in that college for two more years, stuck with sorting essays and grading test papers. I brought you to the Citadel.

“I made you,” Coriolanus snarls and draws ever closer to you to drive his point. “I built you up to greater potential. Didn't you see what we just did there? We're right in the middle of the greatest breakthrough in the Games in years and here you are, throwing this childish little tantrum – ”

“This isn’t a tantrum, I’m just trying to make you see that this is wrong. We're killing people. Actual, living, breathing people! Or are too far gone to see this? My uncle and I built that program so you, and everyone else like you, could see that they’re all human. They were never just tributes, they’re no different from us – ”

“They’re nothing like us!” Coriolanus says sharply. “They wage war, they cause famine, they drive us to poverty, they kill your parents. They brought this upon themselves! The work we do is their reckoning and the Games put them in their place.”

You watch him clench and unclench his fist as he furrows his brow. He looks like he’s fighting a battle within himself with the way he gazes at you – bitter, enraged, disappointed, despondent, hurt; probably all at once. He sighs deeply, placing his hands gently on your shoulder as his fraught eyes bore into yours.

“We need these Games, Nellie. I need these games to work, and the most important thing: I need you there with me.” He cups your face to make you focus on him.

But you refuse to be made a fool out of ever again.

“Nellie. Please.”

He almost sounds like he’s begging.

“Nellie, say something.”

Coriolanus Snow never begs, but how much of it exactly is real?

“I don't know you, Coriolanus Snow.”

You forcefully pry his hands away from you and take a step past him.

The next thing you know, you’re being squeezed by the bicep and pushed harshly against the wall, knocking the air out of your lungs in the process. All you can focus on is Coriolanus Snow’s frenzied eyes and his bared teeth, and the palpable fury emanating from him; for a second, that look of his churns your insides. You’ve never seen him this furious.

“You leave right now, and I will tell everyone about that letter. What’s going to happen to dear old Uncle Cas when he and everybody else find out his little niece had been consorting with a traitor?”

You get a lungful of air before responding with just as much scorn. “You want to play that card? Go ahead, I'm not scared anymore because I know my conscience is clear. Wish I could say the same of you. Now, this I can’t prove, and I could be wrong, but I think you had Sejanus killed. You want to know why I think that?

“Because you’ve gone to such great lengths to blackmail me with that letter. And if I’m right, just the thought of it makes me sick.”

Perhaps you had not meant to sound so malicious, but so what?

“You usurped Sejanus’s place as the Plinth heir, you took his mother and father, you took everything from him.”

Coriolanus huffs and the corner of his lips curl into a sneer before he lets out a contemptuous guffaw. “So, that’s what this is, huh? Everything always has to be about him with you. The reason why you won’t let me do this is because you still love him,” he all but spits out the last three words as if the thought extremely repulsed him. Then he taunts, “Poor sensitive, foolish, dead Sejanus, stuck in District 12, Sejanus, rotting six fee – ”

“Fuck you, don’t you dare talk about him that way! Unhand me – !”

Your attempts to wrench yourself from his vice-like grip fail; he shakes your form, perhaps to make you see reason, and then he brings your foreheads together.

“Don't make me take drastic measures against you, Nellie,” he whispers with a gentleness you know is false. “Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret. But I can fix this. I can fix us. But only if you stay. Don't go. Stay with me.”

But you’ve made your decision. However you do it – whether it’s through a cordial resignation or through a virus; whatever happens when you do it – whether he reveals the truth about your letters to the world or sends you to the Districts in exile...

“I don’t ever want to see you again.”

Coriolanus Snow rewards this confession with another, harder slamming of your back against the wall, which earns an audible gasp of pain from you and clouds your vision with involuntary tears. It takes a few seconds for you to regain your composure just in time to see he’s pulled you closer, his face mere inches from yours.

“You’re not getting away from me.”

The way his whisper is laced with venom sends shivers down your spine, and the way his crazed, darkened gaze makes your blood run cold helps dawn on you the fact that he could simply murder you in cold blood right there and then and the Citadel would help him cover it up.

A set of incoming footsteps from your left alerts the both of you. He loosens his grip on your arms just as the footsteps grow closer.

It’s her. Who else can it be?

So, you take advantage of Coriolanus Snow’s momentary distraction and break away from him at last. You run to search for the elevator, and as you do, you hear the sound of something crashing on the floor followed by a loud yell of frustration. You ignore it entirely and keep your eyes peeled for the labels of each floor section until you eventually reach your target. You don’t even spare the accursed building a second glance the moment you’re out. You make a run for it.

You keep running along streets you barely recognise – your only concern is to ensure you’re several blocks away where he can’t catch up with you. And you only stop when you’re certain you’re hidden away in an alley while waiting for your breath to even out.

You’re okay, you assure yourself. You did the right thing. He can’t get to you anymore.

After puking your stomach inside-out behind a dumpster courtesy of the adrenaline rush, you crouch down and burst into sobs.

Coriolanus Snow stares vacantly at the broken pieces of china that litter the marble floor.

He had been distracted. He had inadvertently loosened his grip on you, and you had run away from him.

The footsteps you both heard seconds before you ran come to a halt behind him, indicating the owner of the floor’s arrival. And based on her lack of a falsely cheery greeting, Coriolanus can tell she isn’t too pleased with your rather... spirited exchange.

“Mr Snow,” she chastises. “Is there a particular reason why you and your pet would make such a racket in my halls like pesky little children?”

“Dr Gaul,” he greets simply. He isn’t particularly fond of her, but at that very moment, he has never been happier to see her.

“Dr Gaul, I may need your help.”

In the safety of his luxury penthouse, Coriolanus Snow inwardly ponders on the many things that had gone wrong in matters concerning you.

Perhaps the first and most crucial of all of them is the fact that after you left, he had done what he had vowed himself not to for the past two years: he had fallen in love again , and this time to a girl who seemed impervious to his charms, to his money, and to anything he does to make his affections mutual.

It’s hard to admit, but he had once again fallen trapped to the wiliness that is love – once more ensnared by its venomous fangs, latching onto him and spreading the disease throughout his body undetected until he was too far gone to do anything about it.

He recalls vaguely what Gaul had said about you at Strabo’s birthday party: something about you gaining little wings before flying off if he isn’t too careful.

Second: he’s fuming mad at himself for losing control over your defiance; angry at himself for falling in love again; resentful at you for giving him confusing feelings in the last few months, only to refuse him over and over.

He remembers Gaul questioning his selection of you as a potential partner. Suppose he could go back – would he choose another?

But even then, the idea of choosing anyone else other than you was laughable at best. So, no, he wouldn’t.

Maybe he could get out of this by killing you, but the more he thinks of it, the more he seems bothered by the thought of not sharing a life with you.

So, he can’t kill you, either. He’s gone too far with you and too far gone for you.

The third, however, seems unfair to pin on himself alone. He had dinner planned that night so he could reveal to the world that he intended to court you officially. If the public sees this display, you and your meddling uncle would be pressured into accepting him – after all, what would it look like to the Capitol if you refused the one and only Snow heir's advances despite his pure intentions?

That’s why your refusal to stay with him that night – your refusal of him – led to an outburst he hadn’t been able to control. It had hurt like you stabbed him in his heart, just watching the look of hatred on your face directed at him, seeing a hint of fear in those pretty eyes of yours as you looked at him. And the way you went on a rage after he had insulted Sejanus, making him unwittingly discover that you still loved him? Cherry on fucking-top.

But that love rightfully belongs to him, not to a mere boy rotting in the ground who only got so much as a kiss from you before he got himself killed for his folly.

It seems like Sejanus is still sabotaging his future from beyond the grave.

Had he been expecting his initial platonic attachment for you to grow? If he’s being honest with himself, he indeed had anticipated this somewhat. What he wasn’t prepared for was how he’d see you in a different light after spending that much time with you.

He’s seen the kind of girl you are: smart, headstrong, and brave; despite everything you’ve gone through, despite your apparent fear of seeing people get injured and die, you had no qualms standing up for your principles, no matter how misdirected some of those are. You had no problem standing up to him and to Volumnia Gaul a while back – an act that even he admits takes the purest form of daring-do.

And then he brought you home that night, witnessing your turmoil in your sleep.

His girl, so beautiful and smart and courageous, but also so damaged and vulnerable and exposed to him…

If he could do anything, anything, just so you wouldn’t have to cry for your mother and father in your sleep; just so you wouldn’t have to dream about the pain of losing your loved ones and fear for their safety all the time...

But then, he gets the picture: he can do something. Coriolanus Snow has the power to make sure the people who were responsible for your parents’ deaths are put in their rightful place and face their true nature.

That’s what the Games are for.

In a way, he’s trying to change the Games for you.

That being said, what is his next move? Surely he isn’t beyond using everything in his arsenal to make you see who you belong to, including eliciting the help of a fearsome figure, even if it means owing her a huge favour. Dr Gaul, the said figure, sent him home that night with a two-inch thick covert rebel force intelligence report tucked in his suitcase. He needs to study this file from cover to cover and he needs to act fast.

To keep a bird in its cage, he needs to clip its wings.

So, from behind his desk and aided with a huge pot of freshly brewed coffee, Coriolanus steels himself for a long sleepless night ahead and opens the folder. His interest is instantly piqued when he sees a name he’d never thought he’d see smack-dab on the front page of a top-secret rebel force intelligence file:

Acacius E. Innis.

Enter Level 11

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!

Someone had kindly asked me for Nellie's family history, so we'll know more of that (including our beloved Uncle Cas's) next level :D

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

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thespineoftherighteous · 4 months

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My aftg take is that kevdrew? Kevandreil whatever those ships are called just would not work with the canon characters. Kevin and Andrew’s whole thing is that Kevin pushes Andrew out of his boundaries and doesn’t take his no’s. They wouldn’t not work romantically or sexually because of this!! Neil and Andrew’s biggest motivating factor when it comes to exploring their relationship is that Neil accepts Andrew’s no’s which makes Andrew comfortable enough to show that side of him. There’s a reason the poly angle was scrapped. I get that it’s like hot or whtv but pls be fr. They’re gunna kill me, your honor lol

interesting interesting!! me personally I think kandreil/kandrew is def fun but whatever is going on with Andrew and Kevin is way more interesting than being boyfriend's. I think that they both push each other out of their boundaries actually and that's hugely what's so fascinating about them. they can push and shove each other and get to each other farther than anyone else is capable of. you could make a very fair point of saying it's not healthy or even toxic etc but I don't think that's something they particularly care about.

however, you say that Kevin wouldn't respect Andrew in a romantic/sexual relationship and I disagree with that. I think that Kevin in a true romantic relationship would actually be very different from what we see of him throughout the whole series. I'm a little rusty on the details but I'm pretty sure that the instances we get of Kevin pushing Andrew (+anyone else) are all exy related— that's what Kevin is the most passionate about and that's what drives him to push into people so much. in fact, you can even see it in the scenes in which Kevin's present but the focus isn't exy that he's kind of mellow and far far less intense than how he is regarding anything exy/Ravens/moriyamas.

that's not to say the relationship wouldn't mean anything to him, so much as I think that he'd be less abrasive and more compliant? if not submissive, than what you're suggesting

even if it's something he didn't conform to immediately the way Neil did, I think that he would adapt to Andrew's boundaries as soon as Andrew checked him for it.

#I do agree that there's probably a reason the poly draft got scrapped but it doesn't feel like this is the reason to me #aftg #🦊✉️

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pjohoo-reclists · 13 days

Note

hi! do you have any percico fic recommendations? i’m sure you do but i couldn’t find them, lol

Actually I dont have any posted yet!! Here you go. Thanks for the request. Enjoy!!

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo Fic Recs

A list of fics featuring the romantic relationship between Percy Jackson and Nico di Angelo.

Dog Sled Racing by robindrake93

T | 600 words | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Puppies, Fluff, Short One Shot

Percy and Nico try to train Mrs. O'Leary's puppies.

To Give Yourself To Someone by cabin13 (friendlypeach)

T | 1.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo, Nico di Angelo & Grover Underwood, Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood

Wedding Fluff, Speeches, Married Couple

Percy laughs, watching one of his closest friends stand up, almost bringing the tablecloth with him. “You’re being ridiculous!” Nico yells as Grover runs to the centre of the room. Eyes alight, slightly shadowed by black curls, a smile pushing insistently at his lips even as he tries to tamp it down – Nico is glowing with happiness. They’ve come a long way. And there's longer to go, still. Percy grabs his husband’s hand, warmth blooming in his chest.

a well-known fact about feelings by nlieco (madin456)

G | 1.3k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Angst with a Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia

The thing about being a boy and liking another boy is: it’s not supposed to happen.

A Happy Ending by HK44

G | 1.5k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Fluff, Happy Ending, Domesticity

People make jokes that Percy would never handle domesticity. That he attracts danger like Hazel attracts cursed metals. He laughs along because they’re not wrong.

Something Bitter by sulucandles

G | 1.9k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Canon Compliant, One sided, Coming Out

Percy's not as oblivious as everyone thinks he is. Or an examination into Nico and Percy's relationship through PJO and HoO

It's a Seal! by Takara_Phoenix

G | 1.9k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

AU - No gods, Merman Percy, Selkie Percy

Nico loves the aquarium, especially the turles and one marine biologist in particular.

My College Boyfriend by Takara_Phoenix

T | 3.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Good boyfriend Percy Jackson, Fluff, Age Difference

Nico is seventeen and the best damn thing that has ever happened to him is his five years older boyfriend, Percy Jackson. Now if only Nico's friends would believe him that gloomy, anti-social Nico could land a gorgeous college student... Something always came up when Nico wanted to introduce them and at this point, Percy is known as Nico's imaginary boyfriend. Good thing Percy is awesome and knows how to change that though.

Pass the Eggs by DancingInTheSliverGlow

G | 3.1k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Canon Compliant, Protective Percy Jackson, Gay disaster Nico di Angelo

“Yes.” Percy says. “You don’t have to befriend everyone in Camp Half Blood. I just want you to have somewhere you feel safe and welcome. Okay?” A lump forms in his throat, and Nico looks away. It’s been a long time since anyone has looked out for him, the way Percy is doing now. He nods. “Great!” Percy grins, ear to ear, and Nico thinks that it’s a bit like looking in the sun. Beautiful in small quantities, but overwhelming and blinding in too much. Percy speeds off to his room to get changed and to get his skateboards, and Nico leans back against the wall in the hallway, head in his hands. He’s so, so far in over his head. Aka. Post BotL Nico visits Percy. They talk about how Nico's powers are perceived, and about how camp half blood treats children of the big three.

Perspective by chiiyo86

T | 6.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson

AU - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Outsider POV

Sally knows her son, knows that something isn't right. She just isn't sure what he could be hiding from her.

A Bat in the Hand by Takara_Phoenix

G | 8.9k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Fluff, AU - Supernatural Elements, Vet Percy

Percy is a hard-working student, on his way to become a vet, because he loves animals. And then a cute, little bat crash-lands on his balcony. Of course he has to take the little guy in and nurse him back to health. Nico is a dangerous and powerful vampire lord. And then he has a run-in with vampire hunters and, in his bat-form, loses conscience and crashes on a balcony.

Some of Them by betsib

M | 11k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Abuse

Percy haven't seen Nico di Angelo in five years, then he suddenly turns up in Percy's living room in the middle of the night, injured and asking for help. At first Percy thinks it's a fight gone wrong, but he soon realizes the truth is far worse than that.

you're never lost at sea by kat777

M | 20k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Angst with a Happy Ending, Self-Acceptance, Suicidal Thoughts

The second time he tries to kill himself, Percy doesn’t talk his ear off, just gives him an ultimatum—he can either come live with Percy and Annabeth in their apartment in New Rome, or Percy will tell Hazel what he’s done. Nico pictures the devastated look on her face, the tears welling up in her eyes, her lips trembling and pressed in a thin line. Percy says he has a choice, and it makes Nico laugh for the first time since the battle at the House of Hades, because it’s no choice at all. OR, Nico attempts suicide, Percy saves him, and years pass before either of them are even remotely all right.

Kiss a Boy in Tokyo Town by antistar_e (kaikamahine)

T | 57k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Novella, Infidelity

You know what they say, Percy Jackson. If you can't stand the heat, get out of hell.

Enriched By Envy by HK44

M | 63k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Magic, Protectiveness, Dark Percy Jackson

Waking up at the bottom of the ocean was not on Nico's bucket list. Trying to figure out why Percy was suddenly so clingy and possessive of him wasn't on there either.

The Case of the Dying Flower by chiiyo86

E | 72k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Murder Mystery, Slow burn, Soul Bond

It's not that Nico has been avoiding Percy for the past two years, of course not. It's just that he doesn't like to be reminded of the stupid crush he had on him when he was younger. So when Percy seeks him out with the message that the goddess Aphrodite wants to see both of them, Nico is less than enthusiastic. Before he knows it, he finds himself forcibly bonded to Percy and they're sent on a strange quest: solving a murder that happened thousands of years ago and whose primary suspects are gods.

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