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mcuamerica · 2 days

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The Shadowsinger: Five

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Angst, implied SA, Tamlin and Amarantha are mentioned, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairings: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel’s off on a mission, so you train with Cassian. Upon returning, the Spymaster doesn’t like seeing you with his brother.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

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Prologue - One - Two - Three - Four

The next morning, you were up early but no one was there for breakfast with you. And instead of Azriel, Cassian was in the training ring. “Oh… is Azriel not here today?” You asked.

“He’s got some spying to do, so I’ll keep up with your training.” He said.

Of course Azriel wouldn’t want to keep training you along with his spying. He had so many more important things to do than babysit an amateur Shadowsinger. And it was very apparent from the training session yesterday that you didn’t know nearly as much as him.

“You ready? Or do you need to stare off into the distance for a little longer?” Cassian said and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m ready, Commander.” You teased, getting in the position he started with the warm ups.

Cassian was more brutal than Azriel was, enough so that you were thinking Azriel was going easy on you. The prick. Cass made you sit in squats for longer, balance with your wings stretched out or tucked in more. It was all you could do by the end of it to not fall down the stairs to the House.

“Az said to give you these.” Cassian said and handed you a basket, your muscles groaning at the extra weight. “Said something about an owing you a massage when he got back.”

Your eyes widened and face flushed before you heard Cassian let out a loud chuckle. “You’re almost as bad as him.” He said and laughed. “For spies, you sure don’t hold back when you get embarrassed.” Cass said and winked at you before going to the dining room.

You set the basket in your room, opting to take a bath first before you went to the dining room to dig into the roast that was waiting for you. Then, you went to the library to start on your research into the Cauldron.

You never saw Gwyn. Though Rhys told you that the new priestesses normally took a while to adjust before being out of their dorms. What happened to her just yesterday made your stomach turn… and you couldn’t imagine how horrible it must have been for her to wake up today in a new place. You’d have to ask Clotho how she was doing when you got the chance.

You didn’t learn anything new about the Cauldron, but you brought more books up to the personal library to read more.

You still wondered how Feyre was doing with Tamlin. You remember when Rhys told you the story of what Tamlin��s family did to Rhys’s mother and sister. And how Tamlin himself had killed Rhys’s father. Hearing about the rage that Tamlin held that day… you’d hope it had changed. You’d hoped that Feyre was happy with him, and that he would treat her well. Still, the thought of Feyre with him was unsettling to you. You couldn’t figure it out, and your shadows seemed to be just as disturbed by it whenever it came to your mind.

As you read into the night, waiting to see if you heard Azriel come back, you couldn’t help as your mind wander to how lucky you were that you ended up here after Amarantha died. How you found friends that seemed to care about you, and a High Lord that didn’t just want to use you for his own bidding, but wanted you around because he trusted you. You could get used to calling Velaris, in all its beauty, your home. And these new friends your family.

Azriel didn’t come back to the House of Wind for two weeks. Cassian had taken up your training, and you were already learning how to handle a sword (with the wooden practice ones) when Azriel watched you both from the steps.

He had been searching for the other parts of the Cauldron, ordering his spies to find out anything they could about what Hybern planned to do with it. And he only figured out that Hybern had Jurian’s eye and finger bone. Someone had snuck it off of Amarantha’s body before Tamlin killed her. He still couldn’t find out how, or who.

Seeing you work with Cassian strained something in him. A desire to be around you, or the jealousy that Cass was training you and he wasn’t. Azriel couldn’t tell what it was. Either way, he was almost proud to see you doing so well. What took most young Illyrian’s years to master, you had seem to do it in two weeks. All while taking flying lessons with Cassian as well. Cass told him that you were doing great with all of it. Better than any male he’s trained, actually. And you took it in stride too. Doing everything that Cassian threw at you. He even loaded a pack on your chest two days ago and had you fly up and down the mountain for two hours. You were almost ready to throw the pack at him by the end of it. But you knew it was to build up your strength. If you were going to be carrying Illyrian blades and a bow, you would need it.

Azriel knew you could do good. From the moment you agreed to train, he knew you had the motivation in you to do it. Whether it be from hate of what your family did to you, or from dedication to not let it happen again, he knew you would do it. He wanted to be the one to train you. He wanted to see that dedication every day. He hadn't seen an Illyrian learn so fast in a long time, and he knew it was a testament to an underlying power that brewed within you. That his shadows whispered to him about.

And yet, he took the first mission Rhys offered. There was something about you that pulled his attention every time you were in the room. And he couldn’t place it. His shadows wouldn’t tell him anything. And your few shadows that danced around his ankles up to his hands and neck whenever he was close to you drove him crazy. It’s like he couldn’t get enough of you but also didn’t want to get too close. He couldn’t handle getting close and you pushing him away. Or going for another male like Rhys or Cass. Like Mor had done when she chose Cassian over him. And then never acknowledged him more than a close friend. Family. Nothing like he wanted. He may have given up on her a long time ago, but sometimes it still stung.

So he took the mission to keep his distance. No matter the tug he felt when he was around you. He fought it. And kept his thoughts and emotions about you to himself.

“Azriel!” He heard your voice say, followed by a yelp when Cassian hit your stomach with the butt of the sword.

“Really, Cass?” You growled and nudged him away before jogging over to Azriel. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where have you been?” You asked, catching your breath.

“We’re not done!” Cassian yelled at you, but you simply stared at Azriel, waiting for an answer.

All Azriel could do was trail his eyes up the leathers you were wearing. The way they clung to your curves. The way they were already filled out much more than they were that first training day. Your hair was in a braid, but little wisps if it were out, clinging to your forehead with sweat.

“Azriel?” You asked again, not shifting under his stare like you had before. Training like this with Cassian had made you much more confident. Like you were before Amarantha came and tore your life apart. You still didn’t want to admit how much those 50 years effected you. Even if they were still recent. You wanted to put them in the past and not think about them any more that you were required. And luckily, no one had asked you much after the first day of telling them your story.

Cassian bounded over, patted Azriel on the shoulder in a way of greeting, and then picked you up over his shoulder.

“Cassian!” You yelled and clenched your fists. “Put me down,” you ground out.

“No chance, you are still training. And no pretty boy is going to distract you. Got it?” He asked and you grumbled. “Got it?” He asked again.

“Yes! Cauldron… Now put me down before I start clawing your wings.” You said firmly. He set you down back in the middle of the training ring and handed you the sword you discarded.

“What’s the number one rule I taught you about your weapon?” He asked.

“The pointy end goes away from you?” You remarked, earning a swipe of his own sword, which you blocked. “Don’t drop it in the middle of a fight without a purpose.” You said and knocked his sword back.

Azriel watched as you bantered with Cassian almost as seamlessly as you fought. At one point, you had Cassian so speechless and stunned that you were able to knock his sword from his hand. It was at that point that Cassian knocked you from your feet, your sword clattering much farther away from you than his. Cass always did want to be the one to win the battle.

It was everything Azriel could do to not go and help you out. Or coach you on how to get out from under him. Especially since Cassian was much larger than you. Not to mention better trained.

He must have been feeling generous, or you got the drop on him (probably the former) because you were able to use his weight against him and flip the two of you over so you were on top. Straddling his hips, your hands mere inches from the tips of his wings. Panting.

“Rhys wants us in the dining room for lunch.” Azriel called out, knowing that Rhys would wait. And if he really wanted you all to meet, he could speak mind-to-mind easily. But Azriel couldn’t stand to see you in that position with Cassian. And he couldn’t stop himself for imagining him under you instead. He quickly turned on his heel and vanished with his shadows back to his room.

“Just when it was getting fun.” You joked as you stood up and held out a hand for Cassian, who let out a booming laugh.

“Keep saying things like that and Az might slice me to bloody ribbons.” He joked and you shrugged.

“I doubt it. He doesn’t seem too interested in me.” You said as you grabbed a glass of water and downed it. “And if he is, he sure has a weird way of showing it. He ignored me the whole first month, trained me one day, and then disappeared on a two week mission. And he’s still ignoring me.” You muttered and downed another glass of water.

“Hmm… let’s show him what he’s missing, then,” Cass said and slung an arm around your shoulder, avoiding your wings. Your shadows curled away slightly from his touch. Not in a bad way, but in a way that didn’t happen with Azriel. They always curled around him. Even if he wasn’t touching you, but in the same room. You always tacked it up to him being a Shadowsinger himself, and maybe it was comforting for your shadows to have someone else to cling to. You still barely knew how the things worked. Even after having them around for a hundred years.

You knew how to hide in them, how to listen and talk to them, how to winnow with them. But not much else. It was still a hassle most of the time when you wanted to control them. So if a few of your shadows wanted a more experienced singer to cling to, you were more than willing to let them. For a little while. You still liked your shadows. If you ever had to go without them, you wouldn’t know what to do. Wouldn’t have the comforting feel of them whirling your ankles and wings. Throughout your hair.

“Come out with us tonight.” Cassian said once you made it down the stairs.

You looked up at his towering form and rose your eyebrows. “Where?” You asked. Even the first month of you here, you didn’t go out with them. You didn’t go into the city much either, barely even visited the town home. You didn’t want to impose on it just yet. And it was too many people who would be watching your every move. Like they did when you worked for her. So you stayed in the House. And you liked it. Plus, you started to see Gywn around the library, not speaking to anyone, but at least she was out of her dorm.

“To Rita’s. I know Mor would love it. She’s been complaining that you didn’t come last week.” He said and you smiled a bit. You quite liked the female. She was bright and full of energy. And she didn’t take shit from the boys. And barely took it from Amren, who still scared you enough to not meet her eye.

“I don’t have much to wear.” You said, Cassian cringing as you both heard a yelp from down the stairs to the dining room.

“Did I hear that we’re going shopping?” Mor said and bounded over to the bottom of the stairs, bouncing on her heels.

“I didn’t say that.” You teased as you stepped down beside her.

“Oh, please? I’ll help you pick out the perfect outfit.” She said and nudged you. You winced a bit, still sore from the training. Your braid was still a mess. But you didn’t care, you were starving and just wanted to eat. Even if you looked ridiculous.

As if reading your thoughts, your shadows swirled around your head, either covering or smoothing your hair, you couldn’t tell. Either way, you silently thanked them.

“Hmm.. fine. But I would prefer to go when it’s not too crowded…” you said and she gave you a knowing look. As if she too knew what it was like to want to hide away. You weren’t sure how she would ever feel like that. You figured she got more energy from being around people, new people, than anyone else. Where as for you… well you learned to like your solitude. Probably from the years you spent locked in your cabin while your family went to train. And then the years following that was spent in a village with no more than 50 inhabitants.

“So you’ll come out with us tonight?” Cassian asked as you entered the dining room with them.

Shrugging again, you answered, “Sure. Though if people start asking me to do party tricks with my shadows, I’m leaving.” You said and rolled your shoulders back, tucking in your wings.

“Trust us, they won’t. Not when Az is the only Shadowsinger they knew and he once stabbed someone for looking at him the wrong way.” Mor joked and you furrowed your eyebrows. Even though Azriel was a little cold to you, you could tell he was kind. Especially with the way this family acted with him.

“He was 38 and we were recovering from the war, remember?” Rhys added from his spot at the table. “And that was in Hewn. Everyone in Hewn would be stabbed if they looked at Az the way that male did.” He mentioned and then leaned back. He didn’t have his wings out today, so you figured this was a business lunch more than a formal one. They had all mainly been away, or you’d been I’m your room burying your nose in the books on the Cauldron. Or they had been meeting in the town home. Definitely not around you.

Soon you were all settled, Azriel appearing before the meal was served and sitting next to Rhys and Amren. Cassian was on your right, and Mor on your left. That left the other three across from you. It felt like someone was missing from the table, but as you counted around, you knew that was everyone.

After you had all ate a couple bites (Amren pushing her food around like always), Rhys looked up, setting his utensils down. “Cassian, I need you to go to Windhaven.” Rhys said. “See how the army is coming along. And if the females are being trained properly.” He said, then looked at you. “And I would prefer if you went along.” He said.

“Just with Cassian? Don’t you need to introduce me as emissary?” You asked and Rhys shook his head.

“Cass is the commander of my armies. If he says they’re to listen to you, they will.” Rhys said and you rose your eyebrows. You knew Illyrians. And you knew that wasn’t true. You also knew that Rhys knew it too. But you weren’t going to push, so you nodded.

“How long do you want me there?” Cassian asked.

“Two weeks, and then you can come back in time for the Solstice.” He said. “We’ll spend it in the townhome.”

“You think Devlon is ready for another Shadowsinger?” Azriel piped in.

“The question is, do you think Devlon is ready for the first female Shadowsinger?” Cassian asked.

You hummed. “I think you all need to be asking if Devlon is ready for me. I’m not just a Shadowsinger, you know.” You said, crossing your arms. “And I think the answer is no. Devlon used to be a friend of my father’s. He very might well faint when he recognizes me to be the daughter of Rechard Vash.” You stated and smirked.

“I like how you think, girl.” Amren said and leaned back in her chair, her arm draped over the arm of it. “I say Devlon has whatever is coming to him from her,” she said as she looked at Rhys.

He only chuckled as he went back to eating. “Was that it?” You asked and leaned forward. “Or should I leave so you can discuss what Azriel learned on that mission?” You asked.

None of them stiffened at your tone, or the implication that they didn’t trust you.

“I merely wanted to finish my food,” Rhys said with an easy smile. “But if you’re eager to learn about what the Spymaster learned, go ahead Az.” He said and took another bite of the roast.

“I didn’t learn anything useful,” Azriel said. “Well, other than that there are two pieces of the Cauldron missing and I still have no clue where the third one is. Though, it’s probably in a temple.” He said. “Hopefully here. If it’s in another Court… that’ll be harder to detect.” He finished.

“I never thought you’d be one to be down on yourself,” you said, taking a bite of vegetables. “Sounds like you learned quite a lot.”

Once again, he ignored you and looked at Rhys. “Any chance I can go back to Sangravagh and examine it again?” He asked and Rhys waved his hand. “Go where you need to, but I still have one more thing to ask of you when we’re done with lunch.” He said.

As much as you wanted to slump into your chair, you stayed still as you ate. You didn’t know what you did wrong to have Azriel act so indifferent towards you. Of all the Inner Circle, you thought you would bond with him the most. Being a Shadowsinger… it wasn’t easy. It was rare and the looks that you got. The burdens that you had to carry. You figured only he would understand. But he didn’t even try to speak to you.

And it continued into the night, after you went shopping with Mor. She even had Rhys’s in-house tailor fix all the clothing so your wings would fit seamlessly around them. All in time to go to Rita’s.

A/N: This is a fun little chapter with some of Az’s pov - a little longer than the rest. When the IC + our reader goes to Rita's in the next chapter... I think you'll enjoy it!!

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#acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar spoilers #the shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #katie writes

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owlcomics101 · 2 days

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Task force 141 x pet Snake!Reader (Platonic obviously) head cannons

Warnings: Snake? SFW (I am a minor), wholesome snake shenanigans!

Context: Soap found you, a snake out side of base wedged in between some Rocks, he found you and took you in. He kept you as a secret until the others found out. Good luck snakey Reader! 🐍

Soap: Soap is obsessed with you! He holds you whenever he can and strokes your lovely scales which is surprisingly soft for a snake. Your tail coils around his fingers as he pets you and gives you kisses on the head and randomly vents to you while feeding you a mouse and all you can think is “Just drop the Damm mouse!” As your mouth waters watching it squirm and dangle out of Soap’s hands. You always gets lost around base because Soap keeps letting you out of your cage and losing you. Running around like an idiot calling you by your nickname he gave you “Teet.” which is the Scottish word for snake. And yes, he cuddles you when he sleeps, only to find you trying to eat his finger again in the morning.

Ghost: Ghost wanted to hate you. He really did, but couldn’t. When no one was looking he would pick you up out of your cage and give you some affection. “People both see us as monsters huh?” He would whisper to you. “They just don’t know us yet. But we’ll show them. Won’t we?” You always gave him kisses on his nose and he loved it. He would take off his mask when it was just him and you and let you slither around the holes the mask and even sleep in it. He finds your yawn to be the cutest Damm thing in the world. Whenever he’s out on a mission his brings you back a rock or some decoration for your cage as a gift for you. Ghost likes to call you ‘fang’.

Gaz: Gaz was….freaked out by you to say the least at first but he was quick to grow a soft spot to you too. Gaz lets you hang out on his head or in his hat as he works. Keeping a careful watch on you and making sure your not getting into any mischief, because Soap and ghost would kill him and anything happens to precious you. Unlike the others, Gaz actually takes the time to research on how to take better care about because since your gonna live with them rent free, mind as well live comfortably.

Price: Was against you as first…butttttttt he couldn’t escape your charm! Price was the one mostly taking care of you, feeding you, giving you clean water, and cleaning your cage. He didn’t let anyone clean your cage but him. He says it must be ‘perfect’ or done his way. Whatever that means. But you didn’t care, you were busy trying to eat Price’s fingers. Price likes it have you in his office while he works. Chucking to himself as he watches you slither around on his desk and laptop. You were the only thing making work at least tolerable for him. And yes… he likes to put a bow on your head and give you sweaters during the cold months because he doesn’t want you to freeze.

#cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #captain price x reader #captain john price #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #Snake #sfw

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fallonsfics · 2 days

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Playing Dumb

Warnings: Oral (M receiving), Fingering, choking, p in v sex, unprotected sex, profanity.

Overview: You and Coriolanus are academic rivals. Much to his surpise however, you ask him for help regarding studying history. Going to your estate surely wouldn't lead to anything other than tutoring right? (Wrong you're a whore and we both know it babes)

Note: No Coryo is not wearing that godforsaken kilt. He’s wearing trousers, you’re welcome. Also, 4k words but feel free to skip to smut babe.

Coriolanus Snow was sitting in a secluded nook of the Academy’s expansive library, his brows were knit together in concentration as his eyes flitted across his history notes. Rumor had it that Professor Demigloss was preparing to spring an exam on them at the last minute that week. As always, Coriolanus strove to be at the top of the class. His focus however diminished as he heard a familiar laugh. His face twisted to one of exasperation. His cold gaze lifted to you. He glared as he saw you sitting with Sejanus Plinth, giggling about whatever pathetic nonsense Sejanus was spewing yet again. You could feel his gaze, it was hard to ignore, after all. However, you gave a friendly wave and a smile. Coriolanus abhorred how friendly you were. How could you remain so friendly when you were constantly competing to receive the highest marks in your shared classes?

You even waved him over to you with a smile. Coriolanus decided to take the bait and smoothed out the blazer of his academy uniform. “Yes, did you need something?” He asked politely. He may have viewed you as competition but that didn’t mean he’d stoop so low as to be cruel to you, despite his distaste for you.

“I wanted to let you know that Professor Demigloss plans to surprise us with an exam on Friday.” You said with a cordial smile. You had your notes set before you. A perfectly bulleted list of what was discussed during class, as well as highlighted notes in the margins.

Coriolanus tucked his notes under his arm and kept them close. “Yes, Clemensia mentioned something about that to me as well.” He said airily. He wasn’t terribly worried, after all, history was something he excelled in considering how routinely his Grandma’am had discussed the history of the Panem with him since he was a child. He could recite it as if it were a bedtime story.

Sejanus sighed. “I hope this doesn’t tank my grade too much.” He sighed as he took a glimpse at your notes.

You nodded. “Apparently it’s going to be a full-fledged exam, not just a quiz.” You sighed; a hint of worry flashed across your face.

Coriolanus couldn’t help but smirk. “Oh, surely you’re not worried about such things?” He asked, arching a brow. He was struggling to hide his delight at the notion that you might get lower marks than him.

Your gaze flitted away for a moment but then settled back on Coriolanus. “I…want to make a deal with you.” You said, nervously. It was as if you were already expecting him to reject whatever proposition you had for him.

Coriolanus tilted his head to the side, intrigued. “Yes?” He said, urging her to continue.

“I want you to help me study history. It’s by far the class I struggle with the most. I know it’s something you excel in.” You said.

Coriolanus couldn’t hide the flash of disbelief that fluttered across his features. “You want…me to help you study?”

“Yes, but I’ll help you study rhetoric. I know you tend to score lower than me in those exams. We can go to your place or mine, but my parents are away on a business trip.” You offered.

You had done your research on him. He could use a slight boost in his rhetoric grade, after all, he didn’t want to slip up and get lower marks than someone like Festus Cree for instance. He paused for a moment, then finally made his decision. “Fine, your estate, after classes today.” He said shortly. Naturally, he couldn’t have you see the state of his own home, it was quite embarrassing how low-class he appeared compared to his fellow classmates.

You nodded with a bright smile. “Perfect! I’ll be expecting you Coriolanus.”

For a moment Coriolanus could feel his heart stutter as you beamed and said his name in that sweet voice of yours. “Until then.” He said with a nod as he strode past her.

Classes were relatively boring as usual for Coriolanus. He didn’t learn anything he didn’t already have in his repertoire meaning it was all simply all review for him. He walked from the Academy to your estate, making sure to take his time. He didn’t want to look as though he rushed there, leaving him in a state of unkemptness, that would reflect poorly on him. As he walked he paged through his history notes. They were clear and concise, furthermore, they were in chronological order. He finally reached your estate about forty-five minutes after classes had finished. He rang the doorbell to the grandiose mansion and waited patiently. The door swung open. He was expecting to see a housekeeper of some sort. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of you…wearing simple, pink leisure attire that consisted of comfy cotton shorts and a lowcut tanktop. He felt his breath hitch slightly as he caught himself gawking at you.

“Hi Coriolanus, you can just put your stuff wherever you want.” You said as you ushered him in. That damn smile was still gracing your features as you spoke to him. He couldn’t help but rake his gaze up and down your figure. He hadn’t seen you in anything other than the Academy-provided uniform.

He set his book bag down on an ottoman in the foyer. “So,” he cleared his throat, “what is it that you struggle with in particular with history?” He asked, trying to keep his mind focused on the task at hand. He followed you as you led him through the expansive mansion. His gaze flicked to the different ornate decorations your family had set up. It was minimalist to be sure but everything was undoubtedly costly.

“Well, just the memorization of the years that everything happened is tricky for me.” You sighed as you opened the door to your bedroom and strode in.

Coriolanus halted his movements for a moment as he realized where you would be studying together. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in other girls’ bedrooms but that was either his friends or one-night stands that he had. He apprehensively stepped into your room. It was decorated in pure white hues with light blue accents. It suited you well with your bright, friendly disposition. However, Coriolanus couldn’t help but feel as though he was intruding on your personal life.

“You can sit wherever you want.” You said as you plopped yourself down on your cushy-looking bed. Coriolanus decided to perch himself in the chair at your desk.

“So you said you struggle with memorization?” He asked as he looked you up and down. He still couldn’t get over how different you looked out of the Academy uniform.

He felt his breath hitch once more as you lay down and arched your back to stretch on the bed. “Yeah, I guess so. Doesn’t help that Professor Demigloss always tests us on so many things at once.” You sighed.

Coriolanus caught himself staring at the peaks of your breasts, your nipples poking at the fabric slightly. He averted his gaze to the notes that he set on the desk. “Perhaps you aren’t using the right memorization tactics.” He murmured.

His gaze snapped over to you as you let out a little whine. “I’ve tried everything! I think the professor sets me up to fail.” He felt warmth rush to his cheeks at the way you sounded. The little whine accompanied by the breathy sigh you exhaled when you stretched once again was distracting him.

“Perhaps you aren’t organizing your notes properly.” He offered.

“Come here let me show you.” You said patting the open space on your bed. You got up and moved to your book bag, bending over at the waist to grab your notes. Coriolanus’s eyes were fixed on how your shorts hugged the curves of your ass. He couldn’t deny the temptation that was bubbling within him now. He sat down on your bed. You straightened and spun around to return to him. You lay down on the bed as you passed him your notes. He scanned over the notes, desperately trying to keep his gaze on the neatly written cursive on the page before him.

“It’s not bad, but could use a few corrections,” Coriolanus said, grabbing a nearby fountain pen. He began writing more notes in the margins, assigning dates to different historical events that you had written down, as well as the people of importance regarding the events. He felt you inching closer to him as he worked. You leaned over him to see what he was writing. He flicked his gaze down to your breasts as you did so. “You’re a little close.” He said, desperately trying to remain professional.

You looked up at him with those big doe eyes of yours. “Hm?” You hummed, cocking your head.

Coriolanus ran a hand through his blond curls. “You’re…quite distracting.” He admitted softly.

“Hm? Why?” You asked, still gazing up at him.

Coriolanus couldn’t tell if you were really that innocent or just playing dumb. He cleared his throat.”There’s no denying your beauty, surely you know that.” Your face blossomed a rosy hue as he complimented you. He found himself tossing the notes aside to the desk. “Not to mention you’re brilliant.” He added. He found himself smirking as the color on your cheeks turned an even deeper shade of crimson.

You sat up straighter and gazed at him, seemingly shocked that he was heaping praise upon you. “You’re too sweet Coryo.” You giggled softly, looking away shyly.

“Now, tell me why you really brought me here. You don’t need my help to study do you?” He asked with a knowing look. He used his fingertips to turn your chin so you were looking up at him again.

“Hm?” You asked, glancing away nervously.

“Those notes, they’re different than the ones you were sharing with Sejanus,” Coriolanus jutted his chin in the direction of the notes sitting atop her desk, “these were purposefully written to look sloppy. Very unlike you.”

You had been caught, your face reddened once more out of embarrassment. You had quickly scrawled a set of notes during the last period of class that day simply to have a reason for Coriolanus to stay and help you study. “I…well…” You trailed off at a loss for words.

“Did you perhaps…want me to spend more time with you outside of the Academy?” Coriolanus teased as he brushed a piece of hair out of your face.

That struck a nerve. He had deduced the true reason why you asked for tutoring within the span of minutes. “Yes…” You muttered shyly. “You’re just…I don’t know… fascinating. Someone who can keep up with me academically? That’s something I find…interesting.”

Coriolanus chuckled as he looked you up and down. “And by ‘interesting’ do you mean attractive?” He asked with a smug expression.

You looked up at him, damn him for being so attentive. Most boys in the Capitol were completely oblivious. You grumbled but nodded.

Coriolanus gave an amused smile. “And what if I told you, I’ve been thinking about all the things I wanted to do to you since I arrived?” He asked running his hands through your hair.

You felt your breath hitch. Did he want this too? It seemed outlandish considering the rivalry you two had but his words were firm despite the teasing tone. “Like what?” You asked breathlessly. You felt anticipation welling in your chest.

Without a word, Coriolanus tugged you closer to him and kissed you softly. His touch was gentle for a moment but then he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He tugged you further on top of him, only breaking the kiss briefly to help you get situated on his lap. He pulled you back into another searing kiss. He couldn’t hide his slight smile as you melted at his touch. “And just how long have you wanted this?” He asked with a wolfish grin.

“So long, so fucking long Coryo.” You said breathily.

“Tell me, what sort of things have you imagined me doing to you?” He asked. His hands began to wander your body, groping your hips and thighs. He chuckled as you tried to hide your flustered expression in his chest. “Oh, look at me when I speak to you, darling. It’s only polite, surely you know that.” He said, gripping your chin harshly and lifting it to meet his gaze. You still averted your gaze, you had fantasized about this moment for a while but now that you were in the the thick of it, you caught yourself losing confidence in yourself. “Perhaps I need to give you a lesson on such things.” He said softly. He fought the urge to chuckle when you simply nodded wordlessly.

“Get on your knees for me then. Go on, be a good girl for me.” He said, jutting his chin to the floor. To his content, you were quick to follow his commands. Your hands quickly moved to his belt but he stopped you. “Remember to look at me the whole time, you wouldn’t want to be rude would you?” He teased. You blushed a deep crimson as you went back to fumbling with his belt, keeping your gaze linked to his. His pale blue eyes were glazed over with lust as he watched your actions. He could feel himself growing harder as he observed your submissiveness. You set his belt aside and unbuttoned his trousers quickly. Coriolanus smiled as you seemed to be grappling with your own impatience. He lifted his hips as you unzipped his trousers and tugged them down along with his underwear. His cock sprang up as the waistband was tugged down to free it.

“I wanna make you feel good Coryo.” You said softly, still gazing up at him.

“Don’t be coy, you know how to do that.” He taunted. Instead of holding himself for you he sat back and rested his palms on the bed. He watched as you slowly licked from the base of his cock up to the tip in one long motion, letting out a soft grunt as you did. His fingers clenched the sheets of your bed as you traced lines along the underside of his cock and made circles around his tip with your tongue. By far his favorite part of all of this though, was how you looked up at him with that desperate look in your eyes. So eager to please him.

Coriolanus let out a groan as you gripped his base, slowly taking him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you bobbed your head, taking him in further and further each time. He threaded his fingers through your hair, testing the waters of how much you’d let him take control over this. He couldn’t help but indulge in his fantasy, he held you in place there as he lifted his hips, pushing himself deeper. His eyes rolled back and groaned as he felt his tip hit the back of your throat. He looked back down at you, tears filled your eyes but you were still eagerly bobbing your head as you sucked his cock. “Such a good girl…you’d probably let me do anything I wanted to you, hm?” He mused. He tugged your hair, pulling you off of him. “Isn’t that right?” He asked leaning down to deepen your gaze.

He chuckled as you pathetically nodded your head. “Mhm…whatever you wanted.” You said, squirming slightly.

He started to unbutton his blazer. “Whatever I wanted?” He chuckled. “Don’t test me, I have a wild imagination.” He said as he unceremoniously tossed his blazer to the floor. He yanked you by the hair back down to his cock. “Go on, I’m not done with you yet. You look so pretty on your knees with my cock in your mouth.”

You moaned as you took him back into his mouth. You kept your gaze pinned to his. He began to unbutton his shirt as he kept his watchful eyes glued to yours. He noticed you writhing from where you were seated, desperate to get some sort of friction. “You want me to touch you, hm?”

You pulled off of him with a pop. “Yes, oh god yes.” You sighed as you kept moving your hand along his cock.

“Be a good girl and beg.” Coriolanus teased.

“Please Coryo, please! I’ll be a good girl, I’ll let you fuck me however you want, just please touch me.” You begged pitifully, still stroking his cock with your fingers as you pleaded. Coriolanus couldn’t suppress his groan as he watched you pleading for him to touch you.

“Take your clothes off.” He said huskily. “You’ve been teasing me since I got here.”

You were quick to follow his commands, stripping in front of him and tossing your clothes aside. You stepped towards him and tried to look away as you noticed his eyes trailing up and down your body as if he was taking in every detail of you. “What did I say about looking away from me?” He asked, using a fingertip to turn your gaze back to him. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.” He trailed his palms up your thighs, squeezing your skin as he did.

“Coryo please…” You sighed softly.

“Not done looking at you yet.” He quipped. You let out a little whine as he continued to run his hands along you but not touching you where you needed him most. “First, I’m going to have you show me how you do it.”

You felt an embarrassed blush flood your cheeks. “Coryo that’s…”

“How will I know what you like if you don’t show me, darling?” He asked. “Come lay down and show me.”

Much to his content you clambered onto the bed next to him, laying down on one of the fluffy pillows. He moved so he knelt in front of you on the bed. Your first instinct was to bring your knees together but he gripped them to spread them apart. “I want to watch.” He said firmly. “Go on.” He urged with a patient smile.

You slowly trailed your hand down your body, you made circles around your clit with your fingertips, letting out a breathy sigh as you did. Coriolanus’s gaze was fixed on watching your fingers as you played with yourself. He could feel himself growing harder than he was before. He slowly started stroking his cock as he watched you. He smiled cruelly as he saw you try to tilt your head to the side to hide your face. “If you keep hiding your face, I’m not going to touch you.” He warned. You let out an exasperated moan but turned back to look at him feeling a familiar heat pool between your legs as you watched him touch himself. You slowly glided two fingers into your dripping cunt and let out a breathy moan as you did so. “Good girl, show me how to make you feel good.” Coriolanus praised. You started pumping your digits faster, his praise fueling your desire.

“Coryo please I want you to be the one doing this to me.” You begged pathetically. He moved his free hand to trail down between your thighs.

“You want me to finger you? If I do I’m going to finger you til you’re screaming for me.” He teased with a wolfish grin.

You let out a shameless moan and gave him an agonized look. “Please Coryo, please!” You felt euphoric when his fingers finally reached your clit. You pulled your hand away and instead started tugging on your nipples. He slid his fingers between your folds and finally plunged them deep into your pussy. You let out a moan at the new sensation. You were so used to doing this to yourself, imagining it to be him but now here he was with fingers twice the size and length of yours; it made your head spin.

He pumped his fingers in and out slowly watching your wanton reactions. “You look so pretty like this, such a desperate thing.” He quipped. He used his thumb to rub circles around your clit. “I wonder what else you like…” He moved his other hand to wrap his fingers around your throat, not enough to cut off the airway but enough to let you know he could. You let out a gasp and shuddered beneath him as he did. “Struck a nerve did I?” He teased as he sped up his digits. He moved his fingers within you and crooked them to find that sensitive spot within you as he squeezed your neck. You let out a breathy moan as he did, looking up at him with a begging expression. You rolled your eyes back as he quickened his fingers, making sure to curl them in that soft spot within you. You couldn’t hold back the scream of delight that erupted from your throat.

“Please, I…I want you to fuck me.” You managed to choke out.

“So good at begging darling.” He praised. Coriolanus pulled his fingers away and started to drag the head of his cock along your clit and your folds. He moved his hand from your throat to your jaw. “Look at me when I do it.” He commanded. You whimpered and nodded, you knew better than to argue with him. He slowly slid the tip of his cock into her with a grunt. He smirked as you let out a gasp at the unfamiliar sensation. “That’s it…good girl. Such a good girl for me.”

He slowly pushed in further and further til he bottomed out. “God you feel so fucking good.” He growled as he started setting a steady pace. With each moan of pleasure that came from you the more he struggled to hold back. He wanted to absolutely ravish you to take you at a bruising pace.

“More, god I need more.” You desperately begged as you clawed at his shoulders, sure to leave marks.

Coriolanus’s resolve snapped. He placed one hand on your hip while the other gripped your throat tightly. He quickened his pace, the hand on your hip pulling you down to help you meet his hips with each thrust. You were a moaning mess beneath him, your eyes filled with tears at the feeling of pleasure and pain. You started rolling your hips on your own once you got a feel for his rhythm. He moved his hand from your hip to your clit rubbing circles around it as he fucked you. “Just like that, you’re such a good girl for me aren’t you?” He said huskily.

You felt a familiar feeling bubbling up within you. You knew you were close you just needed an extra push. “Coryo I’m…I’m so fucking close.” You moaned.

“Be a good girl for me and cum on my cock, I want to watch you fall apart for me.” He demanded as he tightened his grip around your throat. You felt your climax wrack through your body, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and a moan ripped from your vocal cords. You clawed at Coriolanus’s shoulders as you came, desperate to be closer to him. He didn’t slow his pace as he fucked you through your orgasm, gaining speed as he chased his own. “Such a good fucking girl. All for me.” He let a ragged breath as he felt himself twitch before spilling into you. He caught his breath as he looked down at you. He slowly pulled out watching as the cum spilled out of you to the sheets.

He moved to lay down beside you. He placed an arm around you, pulling you in closer to him. You laid down on his chest, you could hear his heart still hammering in his chest. “You were perfect, such a good girl.” He murmured as he kissed the top of your head

“I wanna do that again.” You mumbled as you cuddled up beside him.

Coriolanus chuckled as he started to play with your hair. “Trust me darling, if you want I’ll do that with you every day. We need to have these tutoring sessions more often.” He teased.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus smut #coryo snow #smut #female reader #x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x you

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starpirateee · 2 days

Note

Hi!! Could you write one of the Curtwen prompts I made, yet didn’t cut it? I love your writing style!!

Honestly there was a bit of deliberation here because you put some really good ideas out there on the form, but I did say I'd write em myself, and by all means, I'll still do it! So, I decided to go for this prompt:

Would you take a modern au from me? Can I do that?

I mean, I'm going to anyway, because I have a dire need to call Curt and Owen husbands (and also for wider Starkid lore), but i just thought I'd warn you beforehand!

"Agent Carvour, have you found anything yet?"

Owen leaned back away from his research. He'd been looking at the same page now for a while, trying to make some sense of it. Redacted government files were hard to get hold of, but even harder to make ends of. His system had been trying to translate it, but not even he had the software for that.

"Quite possibly, sir. I have a few sources, at least."

"What have you got?"

With an air of something that was almost excitement and almost elation, Owen pulled up a series of documents and started the walk through them. "Well, sir, the easiest source was from a few years ago. There's a company in Michigan that's been trying to conduct various temporal experiments under their parent company— some kind of analyst company, I think. They're surprisingly ordinary. Anyway, apparently the experiments just… Stopped. They never drew a conclusion on whether or not their research was connected to what was on the other side."

This had all started when Chimera had dug up a series of centuries old reports about people claiming to have looked into the eyes of old gods. None of the people had known each other, but all of the reports showed some form of consistency, and all told of great, unknowable power.

So, they had decided to look into it, to see if there had been anyone else who'd dared to brave the process of trying to find an answer. Owen was one of those lucky enough to find himself with the resources to start a thorough investigation.

"They didn't finish?"

"No, I don't know what happened, but the reports just stopped one day."

"Is there anything else?"

"An american government report, but it's as hard as you can imagine to decipher. Most of it is redacted…"

"Anything worth noting?"

Owen nodded, carefully turning back and switching the tabs. This felt a little like he was giving a presentation that he hadn't prepared for, and he hadn't felt like this in quite some time. He took a breath, trying to slow down the rampage that was going on in his head. "They started in the early noughts. 2005, to be precide. That's the earliest I'd gotten without looking at those old reports from the pioneers. A branch of the military tried to build a gateway to the other side, to investigate what existed outside of our plane. I don't know names, only one. The name of the man who performed the experiment."

"They got this gateway open?"

"Yes, sir. And they sent someone through. I think there's a good reason why his is the only name they disclosed."

"Why?"

"Because he was declared dead, sir."

His screen still displayed the document, and the man's name sat among the black markouts, clear enough to see. Cross, W.D. Apparently, he'd ventured into the portal, and nobody heard from him or saw him after the date of the experiment. They gave up the search after a month, and after that, Colonel Cross was indeed declared dead.

"So, another dead end?"

"Maybe not. I'll do what I can to uncover this with what I've got available, but it was scanned, so…. It might take some time." Owen was normally confident in his abilities, and uncovering government documents was a difficult yet necessary part of the job. There was something almost genuinely enthralling about scraping off the parts that the world's governments wanted to keep secret. It felt like giving people a small yet surprisingly effective slice of justice every time.

"Keep looking, Carvour. We need to know if this is viable, or even worth our time…"

If Owen had any kind of normal life— if he and his husband didn't both do the dirty work for secret operation services— he would have a blast trying to decide how to describe the intricacies of what he'd been researching lately. The throws of domestic life confounded him to no end, which was why it was so funny when he and Curt tried to imitate that.

The otherwise simple question of "how was your day" turned into a battle of who could craft the most believable lie that better concealed what they'd actually done. Neither wanted to jeopardise their jobs, and Curt had always been brilliant at crafting stories, so it was never dull.

He started to think about what today's excuse would be. Something about pioneers, or the Oregon trail, or perhaps he could bring up that old, dead colonel somehow, that would be interesting to add to the pile.

"You know what I'm gonna ask already…"

By the time he got home, Curt was already waiting for him, and the mid-spring sun was starting to set. For anyone else, it was a day at the office, but the trails he had begun to uncover had really put all other days at the office to shame.

He laughed softly, having prepared this answer a number of hours before, and took up a position on the couch. "No, love, you first. I insist."

"Fine, okay," Curt answered with a chuckle. "It was nothing really, just your standard… But, the bear returned, and in about a month, I'm gonna get really rich and run off to central Europe, with a really pretty lady and a dollar store box of magic tricks."

"The same bear from last month?"

"Yeah. Bastard won't leave me alone."

"Sounds wild. Are you coming back after your plans to run off with this really pretty lady?"

"Plan is to cut myself off after three weeks, but at this rate, I might not make it two."

"Not good enough?"

"Owen, I'm a bit too gay for that." To sell his point, he flashed his wedding band, and Owen laughed harder. "Besides," he added, covering his own bout of laughter. "Who needs a fake wife when I've got my own right here?"

Owen shot him a faux-offended glance. "How dare you!"

"You might fool the guys at work, O, but you couldn't pretend you don't think about it…"

Or that he hadn't been experimenting in that part of himself in little segments since he was seventeen. Turns out he suited long hair better, and he wouldn't hesitate to admit that he both looked and felt rather good with the occasional flourish.

"You know me well..."

"I should hope so! Anyway, what're you keeping from me? How was your day?"

"Office, just like you. I've had a conversation with a pioneer, and tried to erase marker pen over the body of a dead soldier. Oh, and I tried to teach myself statistical analysis."

"Jeez, that was— that was a whole rollercoaster there, huh?"

"Mhm, I've been busy."

"You can say that again, god… So, a pioneer? Like those guys that travelled to Oregon?"

"Yeah. Quite interesting people, if a little paranoid." Something other than their oxen might be watching them would've been a perfect addition to the statement, but Owen felt that was a little too close to the line to pass, so he decided not to add it.

The important part was, apart from the knowledge that Curt was on an assignment in a month's time, both of them were none the wiser. Curt didn't need to know that he had started the deep dive into a pack of eldritch gods and was even slightly nervous about the outcome.

He didn't sleep well that night. He knew that he had right to believe that this was all one great hoax, that there was something in the water that made the pioneers mass hallucinate this supposed watcher. They all travelled on the same trail, it was entirely plausible that all of them found the same hallucinogenic and envisioned a thousand eyes watching them and their familes. It was less of a coincidence when two subsidaries of larger companies started describing details of experiments that led them to discovering other beings beyond just the watcher, of course, but he still wasn't sure whether he was privy to believing any of it.

There was something about redacted government files, though, that were meant to be believed. There was a reason they hid information from the public, and that was often because they had found something worth disclosing in the first place. That meant huge news, large press cover ups… The whole works… And that was the last thing any self-respecting government with something to hide would want. Owen imagined the size of the initial press conferences for dealings like Roswell, how many people must've shown up to that conference, under the impression that they were going to get answers, only for the press to redact the next day and claim that it was no more than a weather balloon.

He felt like he was dealing with a weather balloon of his own right now. This was something that this branch of the military clearly didn't want people knowing. The only reason they'd had to disclose any information at all was because one of their own had died looking for this information, and they had to provide the closure for whatever family he had left. Part of him wondered what they'd said, how they'd tried to cover up this man's imminent demise at the hands of another dimension. What did his family know? Was he ever given a sendoff?

When Owen tried to sleep that night, plagued with the thoughts of how much his research was worth, and what really happened on the other side, he couldn't get his head in the right place to take a suitable rest for long enough. Flashes of colour— brighter than anything he'd ever seen— danced behind his eyelids, chasing each other in sequence. Blue. Purple. Yellow. Pink. Green. White. Blue…. He didn't have much of the capacity to think, not when those colours started consuming his subconscious thought, but he spared a moment to the hope that he may get answers of his own if he stuck around long enough.

"He thinks he's brave… He thinks we don't know about him…"

Whatever dream he had been having was taken over by blurred edges and violent pangs of pain that he was sure he could feel outside of this existence. Everything faded out, leving only ruin in it's wake. Broken pieces, scrambled signals… Owen didn't even try and make sense of it, he already understood the futility of trying. There was nothing left in his mind but those colours and those voices— for he was sure there was more than one. A sickening chorus, holding perfect time with each other.

"He's foolish, if he thinks he can go further without us finding out."

"Owennnn…"

"We know what you're doing, Owen…. It's not going to last."

He'd thought about meeting his maker before. He'd thought about the possibility of death, the idea that he may not live to see another day eventually. It was hard to deliberate something so serious in his early thirties, but his line of work called for it. He knew that he had a dangerous job, and that there were few who would be able to save him if something happened.

But, he'd never considered the possibility of his own demise to this extent before. In the formless remains of his dream, where he was forced into hearing these voices talk about his death and how soon it would be to coming, he had pause for deliberation. And it wasn't good.

He had to strain to take control of his own voice, in this space that was once his own. Once so sacred, now scarce and left entirely to the whim of whatever was taking residence in his mind. This was a bad idea. All of this research was a bad idea, and he was suddenly more aware of that than he was anything else. Never before had he had such a violent urge to overturn everything he'd worked on for the sake of something this seemingly trivial.

"There's nothing you can do. It's already started. This is bigger than me…"

"We know that. You're not the only one we have heard trying to work your way into what is ours… Choose your next step carefully, Owen. I'm sure we would delight in taking you in the same direction as the others…"

Before he could really ask what that meant, he was left entirely alone. The ruin of his dream still stood strong, which was strange enough given that the voices had left him alone, but he had the strangest feeling that there was more to this landscape than just what he was being shown. He started to wander, to look around in an attempt to find the real end to all of this. His mind was a wasteland, taken over by the lack of colour and the apparently deafening absence of those voices that had only appeared a moment before. He felt empty without them, although he knew nothing more than the sequence of colours that paraded through his vision.

Blue… Purple…. Yellow…

The pattern was familiar, like he'd seen it before somewhere. And while he wasn't resting easy, he couldn't force himself to wake up, either. No matter how hard he tried, he was just left stuck, wandering the expanse until he found what he was apparently looking for.

Pink…. Green…. White… Blue…

The expanses of his mind stretched out into a road, occupied by nothing but empty space. He supposed that was mostly his own fault; he had known for years that his imagination was never one to be put on par with anything else. He couldn't so vividly picture that which others could, and he'd never really had much of a capacity to dream, either.

So, this warning was strange. Seeing such vivid, bright colours in the back of his mind, knowing that he couldn't have conjured them himself…

He started to walk the road, curious enough to want to know where it went.

"Owen?"

That voice wasn't like the ones who had left moments before. That voice had a personality, and a person to go with. It was warm, though scared. Human all the same. And Owen knew the shape of it.

"Owen?"

Owen let his instinct lead him down the road, through it's many curves and winds. Eventually, the road gave way to what could only possibly be a stage. There was a set of stairs to one side, that he let himself climb before he could think to wonder where they led, and then the familiar voice gave way to a man in the wings, staring at him with desperate, fear-lined eyes. Of course he knew the voice, and of course he had never tried to doubt himself on the matter.

He tried to advance towards Curt, but he took a hasty step back, shaking his head.

"Curt?"

"Prove you're Owen."

"I'm sorry?"

Curt hesitated, and then slowly emerged from the wings. Even though he stood on the light of the stage, it still looked like he was carefully enveloped in shadow, like the darkness was a comfort to him. Owen looked around, wondering what had made him so cautious, and whether it was still around. Had Curt seen what he'd seen? What had those things whispered to him?

"I'm not falling for it again. Tell me you're actually Owen…"

Owen frowned, not wanting to dwell too much on why Curt was so afraid to reach out to him and realise that all of this was as real as they could get it. "Curt, love, I don't know what you want me to say…" There was a certain desperation about him too. Improvisation had never been his strong suit, but he wass confident that, given the right prompt, he would be able to convince his husband that he was who he said he was, to quell any discrepancy that it may have been otherwise.

"Don't. Show me… What happened on your 25th birthday."

The pieces fit into place, and Owen nodded dutifully. He had been out in the field that day, a strikingly hot day in the middle of June. The two of them had barely ended up with three hours together by the end of it, and they'd gone out drinking to celebrate what little time was left of his birthday. He'd never been particularly big on celebrating, but Curt had insisted. They were newly married then, and getting used to the idea of sharing a life with someone else. That was one of the first nights following their wedding when Owen truly came to realise that he'd made entirely the right decision, and that there was nobody he'd rather share his life with than Curt Mega.

"My 25th… That was a home ground mission. I was in the state."

"What happened to you?"

Owen smiled, somewhere between fondness and a need to hide the melancholic air that hung about that question. He pushed up the sleeve of his jacket, and huffed a weary breath of laughter. "I was trying to make my exit, but the suit jacket caught on a fence. Here…" With his sleeve rolled to just the right length, Owen held out his arm and pointed out a pale flash just below his elbow— a jagged scratch that had never quite healed right. "That's what happened after the fabric tore. Is that enough?"

Curt had known about the scar. He'd also known about the story. He was pretty sure that nobody else knew, though, so in his head, that had always been his fallback option in the event that he was ever sure Owen needed to prove himself. Those stories lined up perfectly, and while Owen had missed out on some of the details, in the grander scheme of things, he'd gotten it exactly right. He shifted, letting a knowing smile cross his face through the fear that still gripped him.

"It's really you…"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

Curt's approach was still careful, premeditated. Even though he knew the truth now, there was still something about him that screamed a lack of trust directly into his ear, and it made actually reaching out for Owen so much harder. "You… You were trying to kill me."

"What now?"

"I know what I saw…"

"I don't doubt you, but I would never… I swear it on my life."

"I know, that's why it was strange… I— What the hell's happening?" This stage was the only thing connecting the two of them to reality. There was nothing beyond it but the end of the road that Owen had travelled down, and nothing behind it but black, empty space.

Owen let his instinct take over. If the two of them were going to face the unknown, whatever and wherever this was, then they were going to do it together. They always had, and they always would. That was the way things worked, especially for the two of them, because their lives were built so heavily on the idea of distrust that any semblance of the opposite they could get, they would cling to. Normally that was exclusively each other, and so the world wasn't usually much larger than the two of them.

Their hands connected in the middle of the emptiness. Owen pulled Curt Closer to him, and the two of them stood side, performers to an unknown audience, marionettes for something larger than themselves. They exchanged a glance, and Owen registered the warm, homely spark residing in Curt's eyes.

"I think we're trapped in a nightmare, crazy as it sounds," he tried to respond, but he wasn't entirely sure where this was going to go. "I can't wake up, but I remember falling asleep last night."

"Me too. I fell asleep before you did, you were still reading."

"Right, and now there's this. Whatever this is. did you, by chance, see those colours too?"

Curt nodded. "They came before you did, before the- other you. Blue, and purple, and yellow…"

"…Pink, and green, and white..?"

"And then blue again."

Owen heaved a sigh. "Curt, there's something I have to confess. It's safe to do so now, there's little that could get in the way of what I have to admit, but this is one of those things I wouldn't be able to tell you awake, you understand?"

There was a moment's pause, in which Curt tried to work around Owen's phrasing. Both of them felt the incredibly revealing sense that they were being watched, so Curt understood that Owen had gone into the professional mindset— switching off his senses for the sake of making as much sense of something as possible. It was always how he rationalised his way through situations, and it hadn't failed him yet.

Eventually, Curt nodded again, as the words started to sink in and he started to get a sense of what was being said. "This about what you told me this evening?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid there's a little more to it than what I told you, but I suppose that was rather obvious."

A nervous breath of laughter left Curt, only partially voluntary. "I thought there'd be a bit more to it than erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier…. What the hell kinda explanation was that, anyway?"

"One I spent a good hour crafting, thank you very much. I thought it was clever."

"Better than a pretty lady and a box of tricks?"

"And a bear, yes."

"… And the bear. Right. Well, what's that mean? erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier, what're you saying there?"

"I've…" This is not going to get you done for. Those documents were already top secret before you saw them. And if it gets you out of this nightmare prison, then surely it has to be worth it. "I've been uncovering sealed military case files that might explain what's happening to us right now."

Curt's eyes went wide. "Fucking what?!"

"It's all part of the job. I can't… I can't elaborate. Know only what everyone else knows: that the only reason any part of this is disclosed at all is because someone died during one of the experiments."

"What's that got to do with what's happening here?"

"That's what they were researching."

That seemed to click to some degree. At least, Curt seemed to understand a few of the larger pieces, perhaps the more obvious ones. "The colours?" In his head, there was an experiment, someone tried to make sense of whatever that was in their shared mindscape. Someone— a soldier, presumably, had died in the middle of these experiments, and now Owen had gotten tangled in this mess through his agency, and the two of them had been dropped into the same nightmare.

Owen nodded. "The colours."

At the moment he said that, a loud rumble disrupted their moment and forced their attention out into the expanse of nothing. Laughter— multiple sources with varying shrieks and gasps that couldn't be placed to a single source— burst from behind the wings, and from in front of them, and from the endless expanse of black that surrounded them. A loud crack followed, and Curt swore as the stage splintered beneath his feet. For a split second, his grip loosensed, and the next time the ground rumbled, they were torn apart by the growing crack in the stage. He staggered back, and the two of them ended on opposite sides of the stage, the crack between them growing and delving deeper into the unknown.

"Owen!" He called, trying to regain his footing but falling back.

"Curt! Hold on!" Owen yelled through the growing laughter, scrambling back to reach out for the pulley system backstage. He needed a foothold on something, a way to sturdy himself so he could regroup and think. It was too loud, he couldn't think in this kind of heat, with this kind of mess, and Curt, and-

Another crack. The stage was starting to fall away from itself, split not quite perfectly in two. Owen's breath ran short. In the swirls of colour and mayhem and possibilities, he saw a way out. One chance to get this right, and to make sure that they both survived the fall while they were still stuck here. He gripped the rope tight, levering himself further towards the crack, and looked to Curt. "You're gonna have to jump it!" He called, desperation winning over any attempts to stay sane. "Don't worry! You know I'll never let you down!"

"Are you crazy?!" Curt managed, staring into the gap. "I can't jump that, it's too far!"

"Curt, before the whole place splits in half, you have to get over here!"

"What if I don't make it?"

"Trust me! Please!"

Curt backed off a few paces. Owen stood ready, one hand gripping the rope wrapped around his wrist, and the other reaching out as far as he could, waiting for a move to be made. After a singular preparatory breath, he sprinted for the gap, and pushed off from the splintered wood at the edge.

He reached out.

Owen reached out.

Their fingertips connected briefly in the space, and then Curt slipped away beneath his grasp.

Owen threw himself forward, feeling the rope worming itself free and burning his wrist in the process. He'd promised. He wasn't going to let Curt fall. And he was nothing if not a man of his word.

Curt's eyes squeezed shut, preparing for an endless fall through the ineviatble. Something laced around his wrist and he felt himself stop moving. Exerting all the caution he knew to exert, he looked up, and caught a familiar whiskey brown staring back at him.

"I've got you!" Owen breathed, and Curt fought to angle himself so that he could get a better chance to grab the broken stage floor. When Owen started hauling backwards, Curt managed to get a hold of the edge of the stage, and made it a joint effort to haul him to his feet. "You're alright… You're okay…"

Curt essentially fell into Owen's arms. Owen held on tight, like he could lose his partner at any second to the swirls and the crevice. He stared out into the emptiness, ignoring the very real pain that he could feel at his wrist but cherishing the very reel feeling of Curt's shirt underneath his hands. The very air seemed to shift. Owen wasn't previously aware that colours could get angry, but this green that flooded the space behind his eyes was pissed. He could feel it.

So was he. Pissed, and way more desperate than a man ought to be.

"Alright," he muttered once, and Curt drew back ever so slightly. He noticed Owen was staring off into the greater expanse, and hoped for all it was worth that he couldn't see something out there.

"Alright!" His voice got louder, and he tried to mask his utter despair in an authorative tone. "I get it. You hear me? I get it!"

Everything fell eerily silent. The only sound that remained was the pounding of Owen's heart in his ears. He took a breath, strangely certain of himself. Glanced at Curt. Spared his attention on the void again.

"That soldier… Wilbur Cross? That was your fault, wasn't it? There's a good reason nobody can get very far into digs like these, and it's because you strive to kill them before they do. Nobody ought to know what's on the other side, and that's why nobody does…"

"Owen, what're you doing?" Curt whispered, but to no response and little avail. Owen was lost in whatever he was about to say.

"… But, I've heard talk of bargains being made here, so how about it?"

"Your desperation speaks for itself."

Owen had to pretend that that— the voice from the middle of nowhere or what it had said to him— didn't bother him in the slightest. He steeled himself, not sure where to direct his attention but knowing he'd probably have it right no matter what he chose. "What do you say, am I allowed to make a deal?"

The air shifted. Owen didn't receive a direct answer, but he knew that he'd been allowed to continue. "If I don't continue— if I go back, and tell my people that it's an impossibility, that it can't be done— would you let him go?" Another quick glance at Curt, as if the green something needed clarification, or as if he knew what he was signing himself up for.

Curt was frozen in place, his eyes wide. He'd heard every word as it echoed in the void, and he hated what it was implying. His gaze was fixed on Owen, fear blazing through his face. "No, Owen—" his voice came out weak. As far as literal interpretations go, that was not a good one. He didn't understand what was happening, but it terrified him to know that Owen was being so calm about this, while he could be selling his life away with nothing more than a few choice words.

Owen frowned, and muttered an apology he was sure only Curt would catch. The green grew angrier, setting a violent fire behind his eyes and forcing him onto his knees as the pain flooded his body.

"You better not be fucking with me."

"No! I— I wouldn't! I'm serious! I'll call it off, I swear on my life, just… He has nothing to do with any of this. It's not his fault."

The thing considered, holding Owen firmly in place while he deliberated. Curt couldn't move— he didn't dare, lest something happen to Owen that put him in more danger than he was already in. All he could do was force himself into keeping his breath steady, and not thinking about what a single wrong move could do to either of them. His eyes landed on the friction burn winding neatly around Owen's wrist, and he decided to focus on that for a while; the only other colour in a void of blackness and green.

"Very well."

That was the last thing Owen heard. Some part of his mind just shut down, and he collapsed to the floor of the stage. He didn't hear the way Curt screamed his name, or the return of the chorus of laughter. His eyes closed, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up with a start, underneath the sheets of his own bed, gasping for breath. He sturdied himself out, and once he was sure that he was real, and definitely in a familiar space, he looked over to Curt, and found him still asleep.

"Curt?" His voice was soft, but his mind was a knife point of tension. If that had gone wrong, then why was he the one to live through it ant not Curt? He tried again, biting his lip. "Curt..?"

Curt groaned. His eyes opened slowly. The relief that Owen felt hit him like a tidal wave.

For some reason, Curt was entirely surprised to see that Owen had made it through to the other side. He managed a weary smile, and tried to get his vision into focus. That was one of those decisions that he immediately came to regret. As soon as he brought himself a little more into the real worls, he noticed that the brown in Owen's eyes was stained with something else, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Dripping down his irises was a flash of toxic, unsettlingly bright green.

#spies are forever #saf #starkid #agent curt mega #owen carvour #star mail #void offering #nova's tags →#wiggly would have an absolute field day with owen and curt huh #bc desires run deep. they want each other. they want to be free...#but curt wants to not be haunted by the ghosts of his past #and owen wants to move on. to get a better future where he doesn't have to devote his life to an agency #might be fun to play around with

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