*Chevalier Left The Round Table Room*

Open Wounds | 18+ - Dark Fic | Chapter One

Summary: Soldier Boy sets his eyes on a new project – one that takes an interesting turn. 

Chapter Tags: drug use, SB being a bastard as usual, flirting, hints of grooming, mentions of underage, minor underage Chapter WC: 2835

A/Ns: Commissioned by the lovely @synmorite! When I started working on this fic, SB hadn’t appeared in the show yet, so a lot of it was guess work and my own ideas of him as a person and his story given the tidbits we’d had up to that point. Now the season has aired, I’m realising there are several ways my SB differs from canon, so sorry about that! We’ll call this my version of SB! Ahaha

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Soldier Boy’s POV

Smiling for the camera, Soldier Boy feels his cheeks hurting, the bright flash of light invading his vision for a split moment, before it’s gone again, and he sees spots of it left behind for a moment or two. As soon as the cameraman moves away, the smile on his face drops, and he looks around the quiet conference room, noticing Ashley approaching him. 

“Are you ready? Everyone is so excited to see you!” she busies, reaching up to tug on his suit. 

He moves out of her way swiftly, reaching for his flask and unscrewing the cap. “Not yet,” he tells her adamantly, before taking a swig of bourbon. 

“Everyone’s been waiting for over an hour,” she starts to stress, biting her bottom lip. 

“Let them fuckin’ wait,” he grunts, frustrated by her persistence, “I’m worth it, aren’t I? I’ve been gone forty fuckin’ years, another hour won’t kill ‘em,” he smirks, replacing his flask and flashing her his signature cocky grin. 

“Of course,” she swallows, nodding and forcing a smile. 

Soldier Boy rolls his eyes, turning his back on her as he heads back over to the table he’d been sitting at before the cameraman interrupted him, and he resumes his seat, picking up the metal straw and lining up the end with the line of white powder. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? There’s a lot of press out there, fans…” Ashley worries some more. He looks up from the table, setting her a long hard stare, and Ashley relents, clearing her throat. “I’m going to make sure catering haven’t fucked up the entrees,” she excuses, finally leaving him alone. 

Soldier Boy sighs, returning to what he’d been doing, placing the other end of the straw up one nostril, blocking the other as he inhales deeply. He brushes the underside of his nose, sitting back and waiting for it to kick in as the door opens. He glances towards it to see yet another face he doesn’t want around him enter the room, her red lips curled into a smirk. 

“Nice to see you haven’t changed,” she comments, sauntering towards him. 

“You have. You’re fuckin’ old,” he comments, setting her a hard stare. Like before, his intimidation seems to do very little to her, and he watches as Crimson Countess approaches. She sits down on the table directly in front of him, her own smug grin on her lips. “What the fuck do you want?” he grunts. 

“Now there’s no need to be like that, Ben,” she coos mockingly, leaning closer, bringing her cleavage closer to his face. “We had something pretty fuckin’ good between us.” 

“Forty years ago, sweetheart,” Soldier Boy reminds her. “Before you started that freak show honoring me, instead of fucking finding me.” 

Crimson purses her lips, leaning back just a little. “I thought you were dead. I fuckin’ mourned you.” 

“Not fuckin’ hard enough. Bet you barely let the fuckin’ ink dry on my death certificate before you were making fuckin’ money off of me,” he accuses, rising to his feet. Her eyes follow him, and she clenches her jaw softly. “Stay out of my fuckin’ way tonight.” 

He storms towards the door. Not that the supe wants to go to a stupid party anyway, but it’s preferable to being alone with that washed up traitorous bitch. Besides, he supposes it might be fun having a whole night celebrating him. He plasters the fake smile on his face as he feels the coke starting to kick in, and heads towards the party. He bursts through the double doors onto the scene with his arms spread out wide. 

“You guys looking for America’s first hero?” he asks cockily, grinning widely at the way everyone stops what they’re doing to turn and look at him, applauding and cheering at his presence. 

Once again flashes start to blind him, but he stands and poses, smiling brightly for every single one, fully aware of the amount of eyes on him. 

“Crimson Countess, one with you too,” one of the photographers calls. He turns his head to see her making her way into the room, looking at him a little hesitantly. 

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he calls, holding his arm out invitingly. “Just like old times.” He hugs her in close as soon as she’s next to him, and together they smile for the camera. 

Once he’s decided they’ve had enough, Soldier Boy shoves Crimson away, heading towards a waiter holding a tray of canapes. He eyes the sushi type snack and tries one, deciding he likes it enough to take the entire tray, and begins to make his rounds around the room, putting on the charm and laughing at the guests whenever they say something they think is funny. 

It’s barely five minutes in that he’s bored and feels a headache brewing. Ashley keeps excitedly introducing him to people in Vought that he doesn’t recognise. Apparently all of the team he worked with are dead or retired now, and he eyes the new team suspiciously, secretly pleased to notice the slight tremor in their voices as they talk to him, clearly eager to impress him and stay in his good books. He’s used to being the best person in the room, and he’s glad that forty years away hasn’t changed that. Being the first supe was always a responsibility he didn’t ask for, but he supposes the benefits have outweighed the disadvantages for the most part. 

“Excuse me, sir?” Soldier Boy looks down, finding a boy around stomach height grinning up with him, his two front teeth missing. “Can you sign my comic book?” 

The supe looks around the room to find who the little brat belongs to – what are kids doing at this kind of event anyway? – But he doesn’t lay eyes on anyone that wants to claim him, not that Soldier Boy blames them. He forces a wider smile regardless and bends slightly. 

“Sure can, sport,” he agrees, taking the book and pen from him. His eyes land on the very bad depiction of him, and frowns slightly. He doesn’t look like that, that man is ugly. He flicks through the pages, seeing the juvenile ‘danger’ that the comic book puts him in, and then can’t help but laugh at how pathetic it all is. “Used to love these as a kid,” he tells the boy, covering his tracks, and then scrawls his name over the cover. 

“Freddie, there you are. I’m so sorry, Sir,” the woman blushes, trying to usher her son away. 

“No worries, Ma’am, always happy to meet a young fan,” he insists, smiling so hard his jaw hurts. “Just keep a better eye on him, hm? This isn’t a place for children.” 

“Of course, sir,” she replies, nodding her head and only blushing harder. “Thanks again.” 

Soldier Boy smirks slightly as he hears her scold her son the whole time they walk away, unable to stop himself from checking out her ass in that tight dress she’s wearing. 

“Soldier Boy?” he sighs heavily when he hears the tone of Ashley’s voice behind him. 

“What?” he barks, turning around frustrated. He clips it short when he sees she has a guest, and puts the smile back on his face, already exhausted by the entire evening. He’d forgotten how hard it was to act for so long. His eyes land on a middle aged woman beside Ashley, and when he looks back at her for an explanation, she speaks up again. 

“This is Nicola Y/L/N, her father served alongside you in the war,” Ashley explains. 

“I don’t know a Y/L/N,” he tells her as politely as possible, already bored with the conversation. 

“That’s my married name, Sir, my maiden name is Keller. Arnold Keller?” she questions. 

“Arnie Keller,” he remembers, the smile on his face wavering for a split second as he remembers the weedy teenager that used to follow him around like a fucking shadow. That kid barely gave the supe a moment with his own thoughts. At first he liked the admiration. Arnie treated him like a God, and who doesn’t want to be reminded of their superiority in that way? But soon it got fucking irritating. “Great guy,” he lies. “I’m sorry I never got to see him again.” 

“He’s still alive,” Nicola beams. “He’s just over there.” 

“Oh, perfect.” 

Soldier Boy internally breaks something – maybe Ashley’s neck – but instead follows on behind Nicola towards an old man in a wheelchair that resembles nothing like the Arnie he knew from war, besides the signature way his nose bulged on the end just a little. 

“Arnie! Surprised to hear you’re still alive, old friend,” Soldier Boy announces, clapping his hand down heavily on the frail man’s shoulder. 

“Dad doesn’t speak much anymore, not after his stroke, but his mind is still all there apparently,” Nicola explains softly, smiling warmly at her father. 

“Now that is a shame. Arnie used to spend night after night telling me all kinds of stories,” Soldier Boy pretends to reminisce fondly, secretly elated that the son of a bitch won’t be opening his mouth anytime soon. That’s the last thing he needs tonight. 

He notices two more people approach, a man around Nicola’s age – the supe assumes her husband – and a younger woman, still in her teens, he guesses. 

“Sir, this is the rest of our family,” Nicola explains. “This is my husband, David and our youngest daughter, Y/N.” 

Soldier Boy locks eyes with Y/N, noticing how her eyes widen a little, sparkling in excitement as she smiles at him. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, Sir,” David speaks up, holding out his hand. 

“Of course,” Soldier Boy smiles, moving his attention swiftly onto their daughter. “Y/N, you look beautiful tonight,” he compliments, holding out his hand. She giggles a little as she takes his hand, and he’s quick to turn the back of it so he can kiss it softly. “Sorry, guess I’m an old fashioned man,” he apologises, flashing her a wink as he stands up straight again. “I forget that you folks don’t do that sorta thing anymore.” 

“Don’t apologise,” David insists. “It’s good to see some old fashioned chivalry again.” 

“Indeed,” the supe agrees, his eyes once more wandering to Y/N and the way she’s looking at him, all wide eyed and hopeful. He glances towards Arnie again, seeing the slight crease in the old man’s forehead as he furrows his eyebrows and Soldier Boy laughs softly to himself leaning in closer to Arnie’s ear. “Don’t worry, old friend, we both know I’m nice to the ladies.” He claps his hand on the old man’s back again, and looks between the family. “If you’d excuse me, I think I’d like a drink.” 

He glances at Y/N one last time and then heads over to the bar, flagging down a waiter and ordering a bourbon. His eyes scan the crowds but inevitably land back on Y/N, noticing her looking over at him across the room. He flashes her a smug grin, taking a sip of his drink. He never did like Arnie. What an annoying parasite he was. It could be quite fun to fuck with him now that he can’t fight back. He finishes his drink and licks his lips, straightening his suit as he picks up on the music they’re playing. The kinds of songs they’d play in music halls when he was younger. 

He takes a deep breath and heads towards the dancefloor, noticing other couples slow dancing together. He stops as he gets close to Y/N and bites his bottom lip for a moment. 

“You don’t mind if I dance with you daughter do you, David?” he asks politely, already holding out his hand for her. She looks at her father excitedly, and Soldier Boy cocks an eyebrow, daring David to disapprove. 

“Of course not, sir,” he agrees, slightly flustered by the question. 

“Thank you, I’ll bring her back safely, I can assure you.” Soldier Boy winks at them, and then takes Y/N’s delicate hand, leading her over to the dance floor. 

He lets the silence grow for a moment between them as they sway, relishing in the nervous glances Ashley keeps sending his way. Eventually she approaches, playing with a strand of her hair. 

“Sir, I think you should mingle,” she tells him far more politely than usual. 

“This is my party, if I want to dance with a pretty girl I will,” he insists, flashing Y/N a wink. 

Ashley forces an awkward chuckle. “I really think that dancing with a teenage girl should be low on your list tonight.” 

“Relax, Ashley,” Soldier Boy insists, pushing Y/N out at arm’s length and encouraging her to spin. “Gotta keep my appeal with the ladies,” he winks, whispering. 

Ashley purses her lips but eventually relents, leaving them alone. 

“She’s a pain in my ass sometimes,” he excuses, chuckling softly. Y/N giggles, biting her bottom lip. “You’ve not said a single word to me. I don’t scare you, do I, little darling?” he asks. 

“No, sir,” she whispers, looking around nervously. 

“Would you prefer it if we were alone?” he asks next, making her eyes widen. “C’mon, I could do with a break, anyway.” 

Soldier Boy doesn’t give her a chance to protest, and doesn’t look for her father’s approval this time as he leads her out of the main room and towards a quieter office that is empty. He lets them both in and closes the door behind them, gesturing to her to take a seat on the couch. She does so quietly, tucking her dress skirt under her ass before taking her place, and Soldier Boy smirks, sitting beside her closer than is polite. 

“You really are very beautiful,” he compliments, reaching up to brush some hair out of her face. 

“Thank you,” she smiles, biting her bottom lip anxiously. 

“You know,” he begins, letting his fingers ghost down her jawline. “You were exactly my type before… before I was lost,” he words carefully. “I know I’m technically older, but I don’t feel it. Still feel as young as you at heart.” Y/N laughs softly, nodding her head in understanding. “Though, I bet you look at me and see an old man, huh?” he asks, dejectedly. 

“I think you’re handsome,” she confesses, nervously. 

Soldier Boy instantly smirks, guiding her face towards his a little more so he can see all of her. “You do?” he checks. She nods in his grasp. “Well that’s made me feel a lot better, darlin’,” he hums. “Feels good to think I could stand a chance with a girl like you.” 

“I’m sure you could get any girl you wanted,” Y/N offers.

“Well, maybe I don’t want just any girl. Maybe there’s only one I want right now,” he suggests, angling her face to tilt her lips closer to his. 

“Really?” she checks. 

“Mhm,” he hums, bringing his face closer. 

“But I’m only seventeen.” 

Soldier Boy stops, dropping his hand instantly, feeling anger flood his veins. Fucking perfect. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” he grunts, unable to stop the words flying out of his mouth. She suddenly looks afraid, nervously biting her bottom lip. 

“I’m sorry, are you angry?” she asks. 

“Well, sweetheart,” he sighs, trying to regain his composure and put on his front. “It’s not ideal that I just tried to kiss an underage girl,” he explains exasperatedly. “You probably think I’m a creep now.” 

“I don’t,” Y/N defends. “And I’m eighteen in two months,” she adds. 

Once again Soldier Boy’s interest is piqued as he considers his options. Two months doesn’t seem that long to wait, not if it’s going to fuck with Arnie. 

“Well then, darlin’, why don’t we continue this on your birthday?”

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⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰

[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]

1960s ᴜs ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ!ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜs sɴᴏᴡ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒: 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒.

౨ৎ 18+ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴏɴʟʏ !

⊹ summary: the first time you meet coriolanus snow, you're unsure how to gauge him. but a conversation opens a new door for you politically. ⊹ pairing: young!coriolanus snow / fem!reader ⊹ warnings: consumption of alcohol ⊹ word count: 3331 ⊹ author’s note: I'm so excited to finally post this hehe. I know everyone has been so hype about this series and I'm proud to introduce to you the first chapter. any feedback is welcome. ♡

౨ৎ divider credit: @cafekitsune

౨ৎ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ | sᴇʀɪᴇs sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ | sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

౨ৎ this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ.

❝A man may die, nations may rise and fall, but an idea lives on.❞ ― John F. Kennedy

It’s a peculiarly warm day in New England despite traces of snow still blanketing the dead grass in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts. A blizzard had blown through the night you arrived, and the remains of the storm are now melting away with each passing moment. A veil of mist hangs in the air by the ocean, the mixture of freezing sea water and balmy air still trickling in from the middle Atlantic lingers. You’re watching the thin fog swirl around in the cool breeze as you stand in front of the formal living room window. The Kennedy Compound is just far enough from the beach that you can see it clearly from the front of the main house where you currently reside. And though a part of you longs to be outside after being cooped up for days due to that nasty winter storm, you’d rather not be bombarded with the still fairly bitter and salty air. Thin, long sleeves cover your arms as they cross over your chest despite the warmth of the fire in the den nearby. The house is still and silent. Everyone seems to be off doing their own thing after dinner wrapped up not long ago.

At 18 years old and beginning your secondary education journey, you never would have believed that you’d be where you are a decade later. You’re now 28, working toward your dual-title doctorate in political science and history at Harvard University. You’re so close to finally graduating, and it’s almost bittersweet. You wish your parents were around to see it. You’re the first in your entire family to go to university, not to mention the first to go to Harvard. Going to such a pristine school is unheard of in your neighborhood. What’s more unheard of, is your privilege to closely study and research your chosen dissertation topic. You decided you would research the life and ongoing legacy of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, the 35th President of the United States. 

Except for the amount of data and information you need, you have to interview and research extensively. Which means having to eventually meet the man himself. 18-year-old you also would never believe that you would meet the President and shake his hand. Or even get to know him past the facade he puts on for the world. But it doesn’t stop there. Due to the difficulty of getting ahold of John F. Kennedy after his passing of the Civil Rights Act of 1963 and the Interracial Marriage Act, a decision was ultimately made. The chaos of Capitol Hill and the citizens of the United States pushed John F. Kennedy to leave for the holidays much sooner than usual. After getting to know you well enough over a few months, the decision was made that John F. Kennedy would invite you to stay with him and his family in Hyannis Port. Just for a few weeks, through Christmas and New Year. It isn’t like you had anything else to do or anyone to spend it with. Besides, this will be your chance to get exclusive information about the man and his family for your dissertation. 

So here you are in the Kennedy family home. In the last week you’ve been here, you’ve gotten to know Jack and his family quite well. You had insisted on remaining professional and calling Jack by his real name, but he refused that. “All my friends call me Jack.”

You’ve gotten the inside scoop on Jack’s childhood and his chronic illness that has carried into adulthood. The military history in the family has also been spilled to you, and not a single detail has fallen on deaf ears. You’ve filled two notebooks already. When you aren’t scribbling down everything, you’re nose-deep in a book Jack has written. Currently, you’re reading Profiles in Courage and have found it quite interesting. You decide you’ve done enough staring out the window and that you’d join Bobby and Ted outside at the bonfire. Once you’re outside, they’re heading back indoors. But they offer to leave the fire going for you. Graciously, you accept their offer and take a seat by the warm flames, opening up Profiles in Courage.

You’re blissfully unaware of how much time has passed, your eyes eagerly scanning each word in each line as if they’d disappear any moment. You almost don’t notice the sound of snow crunching underneath someone’s approaching feet.

“Sorry to bother you, but Jack is asking for you inside.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of a man’s voice that you don’t recognize. You peer over your book at him and gauge that he must be safe, even if you don’t know who he is, considering the house is crawling with security.

“Alright, then,” you nod, putting your book down before standing up, stretching, and brushing yourself off. 

You look closer at the man before you as the orange flicker of the fire basks him in an angelic glow. His hair is a mess of stark blonde curls, and he’s in a white button-up, the sleeves rolled up his forearms.

“And who might you be, exactly?” you ask, tilting your head slightly in confusion.

“Excuse my lack of introduction. My name is Coriolanus Snow. Jack’s best friend.”

You quirk an eyebrow, exhaling a laugh, “But Lem is Jack’s best friend.”

The blonde man chuckles, taking a step closer to you, “Well, maybe there’s a lot about Jack you don’t know about just yet.”

You narrow your eyes at this Coriolanus Snow, not caring that your shoulder collides with him as you swerve around his tall figure. You walk briskly back to the main house, wondering how this mystery man has yet to be brought up. When you enter the front door, Jackie is holding John Jr. in the foyer. 

“I was just looking for you, dear,” she says, “Jack is asking for you.” 

“So I’ve heard,” you raise your eyebrows at Jackie, and John Jr. reaches for you. You poke the boy on the tip of his nose.

Jackie gives you a confused look, but you’re quick to explain, “Some man outside said that Jack was. He isn’t Secret Service.”

Realization crosses her soft features, “Ah, Coriolanus, I’m guessing?”

“You’d be correct.”

“He’s a long-time friend of Jack’s from Harvard. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him. His father was a New York senator for years.”

“Can’t say I’m too familiar with the Snows,” you purse your lips together, “But if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go see what Jack needs me for.”

Jackie lifts John Jr.’s hand to wave goodbye to you, and you give him a big smile, waving back. You walk through the den to the staircase, trodding up the stairs until you reach the landing. The office is immediately to your right, and when you approach the door, you knock. When you do, the slightly ajar door opens wide enough to see Jack laughing and conversing with someone in the room. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt-“ you begin as you step inside the office, but you still yourself quickly.

Your eyes meet Coriolanus Snow’s steely blue ones as he leans against Jack’s desk, his forearms bearing his weight. His head is turned to you, his face appearing as if he were shocked by your arrival. 

You clear your throat, fixing your gaze back onto your original point of interest, “But I was told you were requesting my presence?”

“Yes, I was,” Jack smiles at you from his spot in his desk chair, “I’d like you to meet Coriolanus Snow, a great friend and colleague of mine. We attended Harvard way back when.”

Coriolanus stands up, straightening himself out. You notice he has an air about him that oozes confidence and prestige. His presence and towering height would seem intimidating to some upon the first meeting. Not to you, however. With your life focus being on politics, you’re quite desensitized from men and their faux personas.

“Nice to meet you,” you bite back a remark about already meeting Jack’s friend and stick out a hand, face blank and expressionless, “I currently attend Harvard myself.”

“Coriolanus, this is the bright Ph.D. student I was telling you about. She will be here until the New Year,” Jack says, a prideful grin on his face as he motions to you, “Be nice to her, she’s known to hold her ground.”

“I can tell,” Coriolanus gives Jack a close-lipped smile, his eyes averting to you.

You stand by Jack almost protectively, unsure of how to feel about the blonde man before you. The fact he managed to beat you inside and upstairs when you left him outside first made you wonder. Coriolanus’s physique in itself is alluring and piques your interest. He also seems quick-witted and the type to be a few steps ahead of everyone. It’s not hard to gauge this just from a few exchanged words. You’ve been studying and shadowing long enough to know who you’re interacting with. You study political science, for crying out loud. You know a born and bred power-hungry man when you see one. But at the end of the day, they’re just flesh and blood like those outside of the game. That’s the historian part of you trying not to judge Coriolanus so hard. You don’t know all the facts yet. If Jack is friends with him, he may not be so bad, despite the dark vibe he gives off. But you want to figure out why he appears so stiff.

“Coriolanus will be staying with us until New Year,” Jack turns to you, patting your back as he notices your shift in mood, “You don’t mind some extra company, do ya?”

“Not at all,” you smile sweetly at your mentor before turning to Coriolanus, “Besides, there’s still a lot about you that I don’t know about just yet. And I’d love to hear all about it.”

Jack hums in agreement. Coriolanus raises his eyebrows at you, and you raise yours back. He clears his throat, standing up slightly straighter than previously.

“I can always pour us some wine, and we can discuss some lighthearted details before turning in,” Coriolanus offers you, “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

“That sounds lovely. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I must grab my belongings from outside, and then I’ll be available in the den, Coriolanus.”

Jack and Coriolanus watch as you leave the room, closing the door behind you. Jack feels fairly content and is proud of his esteemed shadow getting along with his best friend. Or, appearing to be, anyway. Coriolanus is silent and remains neutral in his facial expression. He carefully turns the idea of you over and over in his head. There’s something to your character that intrigues him. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t figure it out.

When Jack and Coriolanus wrap up their conversation, you’re getting settled in the den. You’re curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace, continuing your book from earlier. You circle a sentence that catches your attention, gnawing on the tip of the pen as you think of what Jack could have meant by this specific statement. You’re ripped from your thoughts when a hand delicately holds a glass of blood-red wine in front of you.

You abruptly close your book, taking the glass of wine, “Thank you.”

You don’t look at Coriolanus as he sits down, and he does so quietly without breaking his eyes from you. He keeps his focus on you as he sips his wine, and you can feel him do so as you stare into the flames in front of the couch.

“So,” Coriolanus clears his throat, “How long have you known Jack?”

You pause, taking your time to swallow your wine before glancing over to Coriolanus with little to no expression. You flash him a closed-lip smile before setting your glass down on the table, “Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to.”

Coriolanus is taken aback, not showing it other than his raised brows before responding, “I see. And what makes you think I already know the answer to that?”

“Despite what society may think, a woman isn’t as daft as she appears to be. Given a man in her presence is smart enough to know that she isn’t, anyway,” you stare at him, unblinking, “No offense Senator Snow, but I know you’re a man of Harvard. And you know I’m a woman of Harvard, so let’s cut the chit-chat.”

Coriolanus slides his tongue across his teeth underneath his closed mouth before chuckling smartly, “I can see why Jack chose you. And you’re right, I did know the answer. But not every source is reliable.”

You lean down to retrieve your drink, “And why would Jack be an unreliable source?”

Coriolanus shrugs, “Well, as I’m sure you know, Jack knows his way around the ladies.”

“Am I supposed to be offended by this common knowledge, Mister Snow?” you swirl your wine around in the glass, peering up at him warningly.

“Of course not,” he furrows his brows, shaking his head in light disgust, “But you’re not unattractive by any means, miss.”

You scoff, “I’m very well aware. But your suggestion that I would entertain a superior I’m studying for one thing is pretty crass.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand, “You know how Jack is-”

“Yes, I do,” you say sternly, “However, I’d never involve myself in nonsense.”

“And why is that?”

You tilt your head at the man, laughing in awe at his brazenness, “For starters, he has a loving and caring wife. Someone I rather respect and admire, actually.”

Coriolanus nods, sipping his wine without a word. It’s not the only reason, of course. But it takes anyone with common sense to know why you wouldn’t so much as poke Jack with a ten-foot stick. Yet you still decide to take this friend of Jack’s by surprise.

“And besides,” you shrug, “I prefer blondes,” you say plainly, throwing back the remainder of your wine as Coriolanus fights to keep his jaw from dropping.

“Now,” you lean against your knee that’s crossed over your other leg, holding your empty glass out to Coriolanus, “I’m studying the man and have studied him for years already. So, how about you tell me something I don’t know, hm?”

It takes a little while for Coriolanus to warm up to your snarky attitude, given he is the reason you have one. But you also take some time to soften up yourself. You aren’t always so bitey- not unless deeply provoked. And all that Coriolanus Snow has done is provoke you as long as you’ve known him, which has only been a few hours. But the more the two of you talk and drink, the more you both begin to unravel. It takes about three glasses of vintage wine to make Coriolanus crack a genuine smile for the first time in front of you. Which, by all means, was not normal for him, especially around someone he just met. More so around a woman in general. However, just as you know there’s something to Coriolanus, he knows there’s something to you as well. And he has barely even scratched the surface.

“One night during his campaign, he had a little too much to drink at a dinner, and his accent was so thick I had to translate,” Coriolanus says, his chin resting in his hand. His arm is propped on the arm of the couch that you are perched on where he now also sits. Coriolanus is far enough from you to be civil but close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from him. For someone with such a cold demeanor, he could put the fireplace to shame.

You cover your mouth to stifle a laugh, “That’s actually quite funny, considering how thick it is in general. I can’t imagine how it must sound while he’s a few sheets to the wind.”

“Exactly,” Coriolanus lifts his finger from his glass to point at you, “But in actuality, it was a test.”

You look at him confused as you pour a fourth glass for yourself, “How so?”

“Jack wanted to make sure I knew what to say to voters and donors,” Coriolanus says, finishing his wine.

You offer to pour him more, to which he accepts, “Why would that matter?”

“He knew I was planning to run this year.”

You set the bottle of wine down, “To run?” you repeat, openly laughing now, “For what? Cabinet?”

“No. President.”

The burn of alcohol shoots pitifully through your sinuses, nearly exiting your nose as you struggle to cover your obvious laugh. You sniff harshly, covering your mouth and nose with the back of your hand as you swallow the remainder of the wine, recovering the best you can before answering.

“Normally, I’d believe a senator who says that, but before today I had no idea who you were, Coriolanus,” you look at him incredulously, “The election is eleven months away now. You need to, and pardon me when I say this, light a fire under your ass.”

Now it’s Coriolanus’s turn to laugh, “Shocking you’ve never heard of me, considering you’re a political science guru.”

“Shocking that I’ve never heard of you, considering you’re a senator of the United States of America under John F. Kennedy and running for the thirty-sixth President of the United States,”  you bark in response, your initial disliking of this man rising back to the surface.

Coriolanus’s jaw jerks to the side before he looks down in his lap, nodding to himself, “No, you’re right. I do need to light a fire under my ass.”

You shrug, finishing your wine and not bothering for another glass.

“How about since you made me realize this, you can help me out.”

You set the empty glass on the table before sinking back into the couch, crossing your arms as you look straight at Coriolanus, “Help you out with what, exactly?”

“My campaign,” Coriolanus says.

“You’re terribly hilarious, you know. I have too much to worry about right now to help a grown man who should already have a plan if he truly wanted to win the election.”

Coriolanus goes to defend himself, but you interrupt, “Before you give me some sort of excuse, yes, I know you’re a grown man. Yes, I do have too much to worry about. I’m literally writing a book about a man and his entire life. Yes, you most definitely should already have a plan by now if you want to win.”

Coriolanus just stares at you, unsure of what to say, but again you give your two cents, “And yes, as much as I probably shouldn’t, I will help you. But you will owe me big time. Got it?”

It takes a moment for Coriolanus to realize you’ve agreed to help out, but when he does, there’s a slight glow of gratitude in his eyes, “Thank you. I know I’m seriously behind, but I know I can do this. Especially if someone as well-endowed as you is helping me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m well-endowed in more ways than one, but politics is just the icing on the cake, sweetheart. So, let’s continue this tomorrow before I fall asleep here.”

Standing up from the couch after numerous glasses of wine has proven tricky. Your head swims, and you sway slightly from side to side. Coriolanus has to rest a gentle hand on the small of your back in order for you to steady yourself. You glance at him, letting your eyes linger in silent thanks, before collecting yourself and walking out of the den into the hallway. After putting your book and notes away, you strip your clothing and curl up under the soft duvet on your bed. Hopefully, your craving for political experience and curiosity in your interest won’t land you into trouble with Coriolanus Snow. But you’re eager to find out. 

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Heyyy:)) can i please ask for a clavis x reader smut(with lots of fluff as well), thank youu💕💕

matching・Clavis Lelouch x Reader

genre・Smut 😈with fluff at the end + reader with female genitals

warning・P + V

words・1.75k

+ This is my first ever smut fic, so feel free to judge or criticize this ig. Hopefully, you enjoyed and sorry for the long wait >3 💗

+ Also sorry if it wasn't what you imagine or want. 💖💘💕💞

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

Time goes slowly as it passes by...

It felt like time was purposely slowing down; it felt like centuries past without seeing your trouble maker of the prince in the castle doing his princely duties around the kingdom, sitting on the comfortable sofa. Waiting for him to come back, to come back to you in your arms. As you reminisce about his soft touches that were dealt on your body, that you terribly missed.

Sitting down on the soft piece of furniture, wearing one of his jackets he lent to you, still enveloped with his sweet-smelling scent.

Waiting for him. Even if the world was ending, you would be in the exact spot waiting for him to finally come to you, even if it means ignoring your responsibilities as Belle.

As the day becomes night and the night becomes day, you would still return to the same spot. Staring at the window, your sad expression reflects the glass window as for his absence.

That once sad expression soon turned into an expression of beaming joy; seeing horses carrying in a snow-white carriage, hope was still in your heart that he would come, and I guess that same hope was on your side today, rubbing your eyes wake. When you saw that little troublemaker coming down from the carriage.

His dusty purple hair flowed around his handsome face; it felt like forever until you saw him wearing his usual cheeky smile.

Immediately open the door, using all your strength in your body, and run down the stairs to the gate where he arrived—further stopping until you saw him, unharmed and perfectly okay. That little troublemaker of you caused you so much worrying just for him to come; with that cheeky smile of his, you were breathless from the running right in front of him.

"C..clavis," a hoarse whisper came out of you, barely having energy in your voice, smiling at him in joy as your salty tears stained your face, your cheeky turning into a salty stained mess.

"Was I gone for that long?" he said, not.

Even acknowledging what he said and hugging him tightly was surprising to Clavis, especially for you have this comfort of finally having him in your arms made your heart swell.

The worry in you was gone when you got to touch him. When the curtains were drawn, when the time you got to be recovered by the touches and kisses you longed from him. Your leg wrapped around his waist as you both shared a passionate kiss; he was your addiction, someone that you yearned for, finally satisfying your craving for the word love.

Your back hit the soft bed as you both redrew from the kiss, and the wetness between your legs started to ache; being without Clavis in the castle did take a toll on you and your body. "C-clavis...I-" you were shortly overtaken by another deepen kiss than before, your tongues interlinked, moaning from immense pleasure.

Wrapping your hands over his neck, propping yourself and look at him with a hazy expression. "You were worried, weren't you" he whispers while unbuttoning his shirt. You were embarrassed to admit that you genuinely needed him and waited for this moment.

Your gaze follows his slender fingers unbuttoning his shirt as he lowes his fingers to lose off the last buttons, making your core ache further; you didn't know that your body was deprived of the sexual tension. "You're acting like it's your first time, darling; you were lonely without me, weren't you?" Your eyes laid towards his naked chest, his slender fingers slowly traveling to your clothed arousal.

His finger stroked your clothed arousal as he leaned into you, closing the proximity between you as he started nibbling on your ear and rubbing your arousal; the room was engulfed with your moans and whimper of pleasure as your once tidy display turned into disarray and a sensual look. A patch of wet stain was showing on your panty from the sheer fact of your satisfaction,

"Excited, aren't you, princess" he whispers, withdrawing his fingers away from your cloth arousal.

Your whimpers were sounding in the room. "I think it unfair your one being pleased. It would help if you started undressing" his eyes have a glint of desire and lust in them as he licked his finger covered by your essence.

You hurriedly slipped off your pantie, and your hands trembled as you unbuttoned your blouse; his eyes were still laid off your disarrayed figure. As you finally took off your undergarments, you felt small under his gaze, with your naked figure shown, as the glint of desire was established in his eyes; needless to say, it wasn't a lie that he was one of the dangerous beasts of the kingdom, and true to say it wasn't a lie.

The coldness of the air hardens your peaks.

Opening your leg, propping your hand behind you, showing your gaping hole ready to pleasure one of the beasts of the kingdom, giving him the puppy eyes and motioning your eyes between your legs. Your appearance gave off an alluring and seductive look as the tension inside the room turned into a risqué moment.

His eyes were allured to your suggestive position as you scanned his leaned position to see his hardened shaft forming at his pants.

"Clavis...let me pleasure you, and give you good welcoming" smiling at him and tracing your finger from the outline of his chest to the outline of his shaft. For the most part, throwing him off from that alone.

Throwing a suggestive look at him biting your bottom lip, as your dribbling cunt was tempting him to devour you and fuck you mercilessly. As he throws off his briefs and pants, soon being flashed by his hardened shaft making your arousal even more. Your eyes were laid to his post, propping yourself open as your fingers open your cunts lips. As he inserted his shaft into you, you jolted from the spread of pain through your abdomen.

"F-fuck" you hissed out, wishing the 3rd prince would get it over with and fuck you straight.

Digging your nail into his shoulders and throwing your head back, adjusting his size while inside you. "Ready darling?" he whispered, As he snapped his hips, "H-haah," moaning out as the sensation of pleasure in you from the simple moveth. Grinding your hips for the desprate for the delicious friction you craved so bad.

He was once teasing you again.

The moan and the act of reassurance sent the 3rd prince off the charts, triggering that animalistic urge. Placed his head on the small back of your neck and thrust inward while massing your inner wall and left small kisses throughout your neck, as the burning sensation spreading turned into fleets of pleasure. Forcing to jolted up

"C-clavis, stop being such a tease." softening your grip on his shoulders, tilting your pelvis for an entrance to fill the desperate void. "You sure" as he gave you a mocking cheeky smile and caress the fat of your cheeks.

"Please," giving him puppy eyes, finally sending him off the edge. As the message inside his eyes was working to the allure with a lustful gaze, he was still inside as you trusted inside and out of you with a frantic tempo.

As his room was soon filled with your breathy moans and languid pants.

Your exposed bosom bounced up and down from the frantic pace, and the slapping of skin echoed the room. This is the welcoming you wanted to give him as his long departure; as your gaze becomes hazy from the pleasure and the heat of your body increases, your body feels it is on fire. Marking and spreading kisses through your collarbone and breast as he thrust inside you.

"S-shit," you screamed, as the pace was in tempo, feeling that the 3rd prince enjoyed your welcoming gift from the extended pace, the sensations of the pleasure act.

As he was holding your hips securely, thrust inwards and out, "This is a good awakening, princess. I didn't know you were this good at giving gifts"

Giving him a hazy expression as your tongue was loled out. "You look good this way, (MC)" giving you a hard thrust, jolting you up again, moaning out. Stars were flooding your visions as he trusted inside on your walls.

While you let out a shaky breath as he pounded into you, savoring the delicious sensation. Goosebumps spread through your arms, feeling a coil tension pooling throughout your abdomen as he played with your clit. Enjoying the simulation from the sensation of biting the bottom of your lip. "C-clavis, I'm close," you panted out.

Feeling him pulsate inside you, tighten around him inside your inner walls. "Is that so" his pace was more animalistic than ever as his hips collided with you. Your hips stuttering, the brutal pace wearing you out, as you wrap your neck around his neck, your breast bouncing from the tempo.

"C-clavis, I think-"

"Do it, princess," he caresses your hips; soon, your coil snapped as the long crescendo of moans ranged out through the room, your mind shattering.

The heat pooling from your abdomen dropped, linking out of you. Your released your essence, coating his shaft as your body fell limped from the sensation, leaving you weak.

As his thrust becomes sloppier, feeling him pulsate more inside of you noted that he was close and soon feeling the warm sensation. He takes himself out of you and feels his warmness gone as he empties himself on the sheet.

Your body slumped down, your back hitting the bed. Both of your pantings echoed the room, as your body was covered in sweat, your half-lidded look at him, "S-so, did you enjoy your welcoming gift" you panted out, your legs exposed, still dripping from your earlier release.

His body was caved over you, "Mhm," he panted out, "you always give the best gifts, darling," playing with your hair and kissing and planting hickies on your neck.

As you both share a passionate and sweet kiss, "M'thats good."

"Say, your gift was wonderful darling, let me repay you for it, sharing a hot bath together" as he nuzzled your neck and massage your bosoms. Biting down your bottom lip holding your moans back, from the pleasure "Doesn't that sound good, princess"

Letting out a breathy moan, "Ngh-y-yeah...it doesn't sound good," he soon carried your limped body and walked to his grand bathroom chamber.

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

· ➳❥ Criticizing or judgment is welcome here; reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Bye when soldier boy see black noir 2.0, he's def killing him.

Lmfao this is so canon 😭💯

Pov: Billy and Stu went to go kill Y/n

Honestly I’ve been laughing at this for a while. I was thinking about Billy Stu and Y/n got together after Billy and Stu went to go and try Y/n just to get beat up……They really tried

yes

yves repost if you agree 🤗

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their stage names, either."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple. Something easy, yet not so simple.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

Not Nancy, Robin, Steve, Mike, or Lucas. None of these characters even talked or cared about Eddie's death. Only Dustin and Wayne are the only people who care and mourn. The fact that max still lives and Eddie died is sad. Nobody after the events of vecna mentioned or even talked about Eddie. These people still let their "friend" be trashed with untrue allegations, not even caring that he was missing. And also basically ignoring It; that shit gets me in my feelings. Why did they have to kill a character just introduced to the season? Is it because of Chrissy and their chemistry together? Idk but it's disgusting to see my boy Eddie not even talked about and not even held a funeral for. What the actual fuck is wrong with these people. Why did he have to be the hero? He died for nothing, nothing at all. HE GOT HIS ORGANS EATEN OUT FOR NO DAMN REASON. I swear if Eddie doesn't magically come back to life or resurrect, I will not watch shit.

The only thing they did right was to kill Jason. They should have just killed off max, too. She looks like she is ready to see god.

PUPPETEER

A/N: Happy New Year besties, and I hope your mclovin it, setting up goals. I'm wrapping everything in bows and ribbons, #in my coquette era. Anyway, I'm standing on business, and I will be Coriolanus number-one wife, he told me, TRUST ...This fic is also inspired by @wh0reforcoriolanussnow. And I hope you all have a wonderful new year and a healthy year, xoxo.

WARNING: p in the v, penetration, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, creampie, choking, groping, abuse of power, cigarette usage, alcohol, vomit, non-con to dub-con, gr**ming and breeding...Reader discretion advised + DDDNE.

PAIRING: President!Coriolanus x nymphet!reader

WORD COUNTER: 3.1k

You were innocent so sweet, pure like a dove, and sweet as honey. You smelt like tulips and cinnamon. You had bright shiny f/c hair and sparkly e/c eyes. An infectious smile was always on your lips when you smiled at or saw him. You were a real-life painting of beauty, you were young, free, and impressionable. But you had a disgusting attitude, that was the main thing, feisty..he would've mistaken you for a district girl if it wasn't for your rich lifestyle and luxurious clothes you wear.

You were a cliche, stereotypical rich girl. You were rotten, spoiled if he dared to say. He would describe you as a bimbo or a stunner but surprising… you were smart and capable..popular with your peers. Though you had a horrible smoking habit, it wasn't any day you didn't have a cigarette between your plump lips, sniggering with your 'Friends'.

Maybe that's why he picked you, with all the pros and cons of having you in a matrimonious agreement. You were a candidate to be his wife and carry his children, of course, if you weren't going to put up a fight, but Coriolanus was sure that even if were to fight, he was going impregnate you with his seed.

The first time you heard of getting married to him by your mother, your father of course was away in some sort of business meeting. You were in disbelief, a distraught expression on your face…"Y/N..sweetie..you are getting married to him, this opportunity would help the family gratefully" Your mother pleaded with you, you leaned on one of the sofa chairs as you lit up a cigarette between your lips. Your mother hated the habit, that you picked up by your father, she thought it was unladylike and improper.

"No, I'm not" You quickly dismissed her, rolling your eyes as she repeated herself several times, "Y/n, it's not an offer..your going to marry him" She repeated herself again but with sternness, "No, I'm not" you glared, taking another hit of the cigarette, blowing it purposely in her face. Her face getting redder by the second at your rude gestures. Here you were sitting down, and having a tantrum in Dr. Gaul's office. She didn't say anything yet, just watching as you and your mother fought with each other.

"Y/N, I'm not sure why you're being such a brat, there is an opportunity right in front of you and you're not taking it..this can help us..your family..A LOT!" She argues you roll your eyes at her, looking another way. Before Dr. Gaul spoke up, your attention was on her…"Y/N..this opportunity comes once in a lifetime, becoming the First Lady of Panem is a powerful title" Dr. Gaul says, her hands tapping onto her wooden desk, you pursed your lips…"Besides, your schedule has been cleared for the whole day, and he will be here soon, make sure not to offend or disrespect him…it would be a good look at all" She finishes, and you roll your eyes at her.

You hated that you weren't controlling your life at this point, being forced to marry a man you never knew or cared for, until now. You just sat there smoking your frustrations away as you waited. Staring at the Big Ben clock as the hand moved. You waited, tapping the cigarette ashes onto the ashtray, your mother saying something to you that you ignored as she pressed the issue to you even further.

Exhaling the smoke from your lungs, your ears heard the click of the door, hearing footsteps coming into the office. "President Snow!" you listened to your mother's voice as she purposely made it higher than her already annoying pitch. You watched as Coriolanus and your mother shook hands. She had a sickeningly sweet smile on her face when she looked at him.

"Nice to see you again, Audrey" Coriolanus greeted her. You watched angrily, taking out the almost-finished cigarette from your mouth. Your eyes shifted to Dr. Gaul as Coriolanus also greeted her before he glanced towards your way. You ignore the stares of his blue irises. You felt your cheeks flush, tapping the end of the cigarette near the ashtray. "-And this is Y/N, right?" you felt his eyes on you, in return you gave him a nasty look, already pissed off with his presence and the future event that was being planned in front of you.

Your mother noticed as she carefully stepped towards you, flicking you harshly on the shoulder, and making you grimace.

You gave up resisting with your mother's eyes digging into you, "Yes, President Snow..." You swallowed your pride, enunciating every word in your sentence, making him amused by your actions. You didn't look at him, as you said it..looking down at the ashtray with the burnt ashes of the remains of the cigarette inside of it.

The rest of the meeting was your mother, and Coriolanus, talking about the marriage arrangement in front of you, you were livid by the action..and Dr. Gaul joined into the conversation, saying something, you blurred out and the whole conversation in general. You tapped your foot out in frustration, crushing the cigarette in the tray. You knew your parents just wanted to get rid of you, you would admit that you did do something that wasn't expected of you with your parents but to your defense, they never reprimanded you for any of it.

In this moment, you felt desperate, hopeless, and vulnerable...you were still a kid, a child.

But there wasn't any avail as the months would flip by and your 18th birthday would come, to be married off to the President of Panem and your induction following in as the First Lady, and soon child carrying without even enjoying your youth, becoming a mother, while your peers are relishing their freedom. It sounded like torture to you, made you angry and sad. You felt tears blurring your vision as you got up from your seat, the action being noticed by your mother and others in the room.

Marching out of the office, no.. running out of the office. The sound of your mother yelling for you. You ran out of the building, with your bag in your hand, reaching inside for another cigarette but there were any inside the box, "Fuck" you screamed out in frustration, throwing the box back into your bag, and resorting to a flask. Taking a sip of the alcoholic liquid, it was warm outside, the sun on your skin. It was relaxing, cooling your mood down. Sliding down to the floor, your knee pressed to your chest.

You don't know how much time passed but you wanted it to stop..sniffling to yourself. Your ears picked up on the sound moving near you as you looked to the side, your heart dropped at the sight of Coriolanus Snow in front of you, the man that would take you away from your childhood, your home, and your youth. But you give props to your parents, marrying you to a man who was handsome not as old which was something you were happy about. Just a six-year age gap between you both.

"Looking for this?" You watched as he reached into his pocket, throwing a pack of cigarettes, he almost laughed looking at your face lighting up, holding the box with your fingers. "Thank you," you said, looking up at him...you opened the box putting the cigarette in your lips, covering the end of the cigarette with the lighter lighting up the end. Blowing the smoke, as you held the cigarette between your fingers, sniffling. "Can I sit here with you?" He asked, you looked at him as you nodded. The man sat with you, you bit your bottom lip, as you took another hit of the cigarette. The nicotine cools down your nerves..."So, how is the school doing?" He asked you rolled your eyes at his question, he sounded like your dad..and you cringed at the thought, blowing the smoke, "Good" you responded, putting your head in your hands.

"It's not going to be all that bad, Y/N" He started speaking again, which made you groan, he shifted closer to you, putting his hand on your back. You wanted to revolt, moving away but you really need someone to comfort you, leaning into his touch. As you put your head in his chest, laying down as he rubbed your shoulder. You even know tears were rolling down your cheek, sniffling in your seat, he kissed you on the head, soothing your pain.

It was ironic, that the man you wanted to run away from, was comforting you.

God, you wanted to scream but you sat there, sniffling as you inhaled the nicotine through the cigarette and exhaled through your nose, tapping it onto the ground. His words were comfortable, whether empty or not, you took them as it was.

Coriolanus didn't mind that you laid your head on his chest, he quite appreciated it, your calmness made something inside of him unlock..your vulnerability stroked his ego, especially with your feisty nature.

Days passed, and you found yourself getting comfortable with Coriolanus. He would take you out on little dates, and buy your gifts and jewelry... that he would always put around your neck, the cold steel hitting your chest, the memory made you smile, with joy when you opened the luxurious satin case. The thought of marrying and sacrificing everything you had did get on the edge, and you still were uncomfortable at all with it, but you saw him as a friend more as a lover.

Your parents, mostly your mother encouraged you to speak and talk to him, even sending letters. You always catch yourself writing them for god knows why, but you felt comfort about doing it, and having him read it.

You found yourself visiting him in his residence, as you joined him for his afternoon tea. Something that you didn't do often with your own parents but liked when it was with Coriolanus. He would surprise you with delicious cakes, macarons, and cookies...with him looking at you cutely stuffing your cake with the sweet desserts, your eyes sparkling in joy, it made him chuckle at your cute antics.

But soon..your birthday came around. Your stomach was full of butterflies, you dreaded it. You were finally 18, you had your cake, your claps, and Coriolanus slipped the ring on your finger. The bells of marriage chimed. Looking at yourself in the mirror, a poofy, lacy wedding dress, your hair styled, and makeup done. You looked like a doll, a baby doll you used to play with when you were young.

The dress was pretty, white, lacy imprinted with snowflakes, big and poofy, you had a sweetheart neckline and a diamond necklace on your neck, matching earrings as well. A veil topped your doll-like appearance, as several maids helped you with your dress. The whole population of Panem waiting, watching the wedding ceremony, you felt sick, nauseous and it was evident on your face...the headmistress noticed it, she was an older woman, much older than you..placing her hand on your shoulder, catching your attention, "It will be over soon, just smile for the camera..okay?" She murmured, fixing your veil, nodded at her words, and that was all that you could do now.

Walking down the aisle is lock and key for you...fisting up your hands, narrowing your eyes, some of the maids said something, and next thing you knew, you were walking down the aisle with your father. People that you knew looking at you, some were your peers and others were important, influential people of the Panem, your eyes explored everywhere and then to Coriolanus, who stood there..waiting for you.

"Chin up, and smile Y/N" your father whispered to you,

You breathed out, fixing up your posture..everything felt slow, soon your father handed you off, and you stepped into your destine spot, looking at Coriolanus. You never notice how tall he was, though older, he was much taller, a few inches you assumed.

The priest said something, it was a blur. "I do" the word coming out of Coriolanus snapping you out, looking at the Priest, then at him. "-And you Y/N, do you take Coriolanus Snow as your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward and the next..***#$&@*@*@@*$**..-sickness and health...to love and cherish until death do you part?" Your eyes widen at the weird noises coming from the priest's mouth, you hesitate, looking around you..your chest heaving. Your parents looked at you sternly, "I-..i do" You stuttered, "-And with that, you may kiss the bride" The Priest announced.

Coriolanus brought your body close, as his lips connected with yours..your ears ringing out with the sounds of claps and applause. Tears rolling down your cheek,

Your ears rang out, through the rest of the ceremony, the after-party and the kiss...the sound of the door clicking, looking down at your body in a nightgown, in your new residents shared with Coriolanus..where you would live, where your children live and spend your days in. Coriolanus's feet dragged towards you, and your heart pounced against your chest, looking at his half-naked form..." Is this when we" you paused gesturing the rest of your sentence with your hand, your eyes deliberately not looking at him.

You felt sad, disgusting, and vulnerable.

He saw it all over your face, it was obvious.

He preferred it,

You had a twinge of anger through your body, as you observed the smug smirk on his face, you didn't want to end it without a fight. His hand caressing your cheek, you soften at the sight of him, knowing his status and power, it would be a useless sight of retaliation.

He laid you down on your back, his hands dancing on your skin, creeping up under your nightgown, touching you...your eyes couldn't bear but stare. He slowly stripped you off of your nightgown, you were already naked underneath it. Your body is displayed for him, his finger touching and groping your body..you inhale through your nose looking at the ceiling.

His fingers getting dangerously close to your pearl..you instantly held his arm, "Please, be gentle" you whispered, making eye contact with him, as he nodded, releasing his arm. His fingers slipped into your folds, exploring inside you, making you squirm underneath him...sinful moans slipped from your lips at his actions. You looked innocent, lewd, and vulnerable underneath him, it made him get hard and aroused...his fingers scissoring you, his right hand on your chest, rubbing the nubs gently making you whimper. His weight lying on top of you, his fingers spreading your folds, and his fingers digging deep inside you, arching your back at the sensation. His lips leaving kisses from your neck to your collarbone.

Delicate moans left your lips, your hands gripping the sheets. Your skin prickling, your walls squeezing his finger...his groans echoing through your ears. You felt breathless, your breathing getting heavier.

"Corio..i'm close" you sniffled, holding his arm lightly, as his finger made his way into you, every thrust made you closer to coming undone. A throbbing sensation in your abdomen, driving you crazy, the lewd noises of your cunt reverberating around the room.

"Good" He whispered against your skin, the pace of his finger digging into you, your hand instantly gripping his shoulder, your nails digging in deep, making him groan. You felt a coil snapping within you, waves of pleasure, arching your back...your eyes rolling to the back of your head, moans ripping out of your throat. "Corio.." you looked at him through your lashes, your eyes heavy as you stared at him. His fingers withdrawing from your dripping pussy, your cum coating his fingers. Feeling your cheeks reddened..."Open your mouth" He said, you obeyed, laying his coated fingers on your tongue, your tongue swirling around his digits. You felt embarrassed in yourself, his eyes looking down at you, opening your mouth as he took his finger.

He opened your legs, smearing his salvia-coated finger on your thighs...your eyes followed as you held the position, taking off his pants along with his boxers. Your eyes widen in surprise at his size, "C-corio, it's not going to fit" you stuttered, looking away from him.

As he lines up against your slit, you pursed your lips as he slid his cock inside of you, biting your lip at the pain. He hooked your legs on his shoulder, thrusting into you, his hands groping your chest...tears blooming on your waterline at the discomfort, the simmering pain as he forced himself further into you. His groans tainting your ears,

Your breast bounces at every thrust, your vision heavy with lust, fluttering your lashes with tears in your waterline. He bares his teeth, leaving bites on your collarbone, you moan at the touch.

His cock bullying its way to your cervix, as he plunges his cock into you, your hands gripping under the bedsheets...his pace getting faster, and your skin getting a familiar hot feeling tingling inside of you. His pelvis collided with yours, pushing your head back as you moaned, his cock stretching you out. Your chest heaving, your skin beading with sweating, the bed sheet sticking onto your skin..." Corio...I'm so close" you began slurring your words in bliss.

His pace gets faster and sloppier, leaning into you, and giving you a hot, sloppy kiss. His tongue explores your mouth, moaning against his tongue.

Feeling yourself coming undone, as you moaned in pleasure...his thrust getting slower, his groans ringing into your ear before you felt himself spilling his load into you. The hot sensation made you wince,

Your heavy breathing echoed in his ear, as his weight on your body, his cock still burrowed inside of you.

Your eyes flickered down at the sheet between your thighs that was stained in your virgin blood.

A couple of days passed from the intimate engagement you had with Coriolanus. In those days, you were moved into Coriolanus's residence. Beginning the induction of the new title you were going to be given. In those days you began to experience sickness, holding your stomach..your actions were detected by the headmistress.

Your heels stepping on the tile, you felt your stomach hurting even further, feeling nauseous. You fell to your knees, heaving the contents on your stomach, vomiting on the delicate tile floor...hearing the steps of the headmistress, your eyes looking up at the women.

Her face was nonchalant at the scene, "Your pregnant, my lady" she declared..you felt your heart dropping, but you couldn't say anything as threw up on the floor. The sounds of vomit echo through the manor, sitting there, the disgusting smell filling up your senses.

Before the headmistress yelled for another maid to clean up the mess. Another two took you up gently from the floor, you wanted to cry at the new information given to you..you were baring a child in your body that you didn't wish for. But for now, you were being dragged on your feet to your chambers, waiting for the knowledge to be sent to President Snow.

☆ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞: 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

☆ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. (Let's pretend that Vecna died.)

☆ Words : 1,229

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What they called the Upside is what you call a hell hold; right now, you were with Eddie and Dustin; you guys were inside the upside-down version of Eddie's trailer, back to back, holding homemade versions of weapons.

Spears and shields, you would think of never thought of this predicament, especially if it involved your siblings; you should have never admitted to this.

But now, you guys were scared out of your boots, waiting for the time of the human-eating, probably starving bats were outside, finding a way inside.

You really thought it was clear, and rested your tensed-up shoulder, they found a way to the vent on the roof. They were starving, there were hissing, all you ran towards the vent and started stabbing them with your spears.

"Why did I admit to this" you groan in regret.

"..I have no idea," Eddie muttered

You looked at him, annoyed at his answer,

"..Aren't you my boyfriend? Shouldn't you be giving me reasons I came at least!" you grumbled, looking away from him.

"Can't you think for yourself, Y/N? You are a big girl now!" he smiled at you.

"Are you calling me fat?" crossing your arms.

After what he said, you guys started arguing, like if it wasn't enough, you were in the world of monsters.

"Uh, guys!" Dustin whispered and yelled.

You and Eddie were still arguing and ignoring Dustin; it made you angry at the fact he had the nerve to say that.

"GUYS!" Dustin yelled out, which caught your and Eddie's attention,,

"What!" you guys said in sync.

"A-are there any more vents or openings in here" Dustin stuttered, looking around.

"Shit," Eddie grumbled and ran to the nearest vent, but it was too late, the bats were flooding into the room.

The next thing you hear is a loud slam from the door, "We need to go." Eddie yelled

The next thing you can remember is being near the gate to the human world(?); Dustin was the first to climb the binding rope, then it was your turn; you did hesitate; something inside you felt like something terrible was going to happen.

"Please don't do anything stupid, Eddie," you told him and climbed the rope, landing on the mattress. You looked up at the gate and anxiously waited for Eddie; something was etched on Dustin's face.

"...Eddie!" you yelled,

"Eddie, what are you doing?" Dustin yelled

He never came down; the next thing you heard made your heart drop.

"I'm going to buy us some time" he yelled out

"..Is he serious."

Dustin had a scared look on his face, "Dustin, can you pass me a chair" you yelled.

"What are you doing? ....What do I tell Lucas if you don't make it back."

"Don't question me, boy, pass me the damn chair" you looked at him with a piss-off expression.

He complied with your request, and you jumped into that shitty hell hold. '..And I told him not to do anything fucking stupid." you grumbled,

The fall wasn't too good, you landed on your legs if it wasn't the worse thing ever. You didn't see Eddie anywhere, this worried you.

If this wasn't the worse thing, the bats had to be the worse thing, they were there too. You ran outside and close the door so fast, that a cheetah would be jealous.

You looked around, couldn't see anything but you did see something missing, a bike. 'He didn't, not on my watch", you started running faster than you did before, faster than you did track, faster than you could ever think your body could move.

Thank the heaven above that he was still alive but wasn't doing too good. You didn't stop running though, even if you were in heat of danger you just need to stop him from this suicidal task.

You pacing yourself, and run to Eddie, pushing him over from getting his head removed.

"What the hell was that Eddie" you yelled at him.

He didn't answer you or didn't seem too interested in what you had to say, "..Did you know what you just did, Eddie. Your head almost fucking came off, you have cuts everywhere" you screamed letting your anger out.

That must have been the final straw for him because he came with the same energy.

"You know what I did, I have been running my whole fucking life, Y/N. I just wanted to seek some time of redemption I was looking for my whole, life at least not dying a fucking coward for once" he yelled, you have never seen this side of Eddie, the angry side.

Tears slowly stain your face, "Y-you could have died, you know that" you yelled in anger.

"Y-you could have died", "Eddie...I won't know what to do without you, ed" you caress his face.

"..Y/N.."

"..I'm sorry" Eddie dejected

"You shouldn't be; I should be sorry.", Soon, you and Eddie shared a passionately kiss. But the danger wasn't cleared at least yet. The enemy was near.

"We gotta go, Eddie," you whispered; you ripped off a piece of your shirt and wrapped it onto Eddie's wound, "This will hurt" you pressed the fabric onto his wound, at least stopping the blood flow.

You hauled him onto your back and held onto his legs, trying to run but couldn't because damn, who knew he weight that much. You managed to get him back to the trailer, but the hardest part for getting him out.

"Dustin can you catch something heavy" you yelled out the gate

"I guess so, why"

"Just get prepared"

You got Eddie's body into the human world; now it's just you.

To summarize, you both managed to make it alive; you did have to hesitate to get him to hospital with the allegations of him being a satanist, but you had to you couldn't see him in pain.

☆ Time Skip

To summarize, Eddie lived even with the wound on his stomach; Eddie made an arrest for the counts of Chrissy's death and the deaths of others but managed to be not guilty of the counts of murder throughout Hawkins. He also beat the satanist allegations and rumors around Hawkins and earned compensations in the law of justice, it seems too good to be accurate, but you were happy to see Eddie not having to hide. The good part is that you and Eddie got to graduate from Hawkins. Eddie's career as being rockstar flourished, and his band became a lot popular, gaining a lot of fans. Needless you were happy.

You went to college, and Eddie didn't, but he still supported your life choices.

☆ 5 years later

You and Eddie decided to move out of Hawkins to go to California and move into a Spanish Mediterranean architecture home. The future for you and Eddie was bright; you guys spend all your time together when he is not on tour. You guys really enjoyed hangout and being together.

Needless to say, you were thrilled Eddie popped the question and proposed to you. You had a small, little cute wedding. Then, not even a week later, you got pregnant and had beautiful twins, one boy, one girl.

It felt like a dream to live with the love of your life; you guys were like partners in crime, two peas in a pod, and most special soulmates. :D

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