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awkward-sultana · 11 months

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5 Times Joel Engaged in Minor PDA + 1 Time He Engaged in Major PDA

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Implied smut, use of Y/N, medical terminology and mentions of medical conditions (child death/miscarriage, head injuries) and operations (stitches,) injuries, drinking/alcohol, cursing, mentions of death, guns and shootouts, PDA (mostly kissing), panic attacks, unwanted advances from minor male characters.

Summary: Joel Miller has always had a bit of trouble with PDA, but he's learning.

I. You loved Jackson, loved this new normal you had never even considered possible in your 30 years of life. You had only been 10 when the outbreak happened, all scraped knees and tangled hair, giggling over notebooks and glitter pens. Now, after losing your entire family, being expedited through an intensive medical training program, and trekking across the country with a feral 14 year old and a loaded gun of a middle aged man, you felt about 100.

Here, in Jackson, surrounded by laughing children, smiling parents, and a wall that seemed to keep out the rest of the world, you felt like maybe you could discover some semblance of the normal you had before.

Even you, Joel and Ellie had bloomed into the little family you dreamed of having on those warm nights when you couldn't sleep for the sound of death in the distance. It had been rough, the three of you settling into your small home in Jackson, especially between you and Joel. It had all culminated one night in a screaming match in the barn between the two of you when, like you knew he would, he tried to run away, afraid to lose another family. You had told him to leave and never come back, so goddamn angry he would abandon Ellie like that, make her lose another person when you had both promised her you'd give her a good life with two people who loved her. Joel had left, shattering your heart and sending Ellie into a spiral that resulted in quite a few fist fights with older kids. Thankfully, she had had Dina to ground her. You had no one. You didn't let Ellie see your heartbreak after he rejected you, didn't let her take on the weight of someone else's world again. Joel had ended up returning a week later at 3 AM with soft words you didn't know he was capable of, promises to never leave again, and a ring you didn't pry about, not wanting to know where he got it. You had forgiven him almost instantly like the lovesick idiot you were, but it took a few days and a few rancid curses and half hearted shoves from Ellie before he found forgiveness from her.

Now, your normal was beginning to lay a foundation. Ellie was attending school, Joel had found his footing as a handy man and patroller, while you were at the medical clinic, using your medical education from one of the last remaining hospitals in the US and learning from the more experienced doctors already set up in Jackson.

Things were as perfect as they could be. Except for one or two things that irked you a little bit. Most specifically, Joel's complete aversion to PDA. You were young, pretty (of course you were pretty, you looked like your mom and your grandmother), and had a growing appetite for physical affection now that you found a man who spoke to every part of you. Joel, on the other hand, struggled quite a bit with physical affection in public settings. He was affectionate in private and had no problem keeping up with you behind closed doors, but out in public...let's just say, people were honestly shocked when they found out you were a couple, and not just because of the age difference.

While it was something you had long ago made peace with, you still found your mind wandering down other avenues of possibilities, such as now as you finished putting away the last of the files at the clinic. It was Friday afternoon and the clinic was closing early because there were no patients on the schedule and it was the first day of fall, so everyone wanted to get outside while the sun was still up and enjoy the beautiful weather before the winter chill settled in. The other staff had taken off before you, eager to go and be with their families. You were happy to stay behind and close up, as Ellie was staying after school to help out with one of the teachers and Joel was on patrol until late.

"Need any help?"

Cursing hysterically, you whirled around at the sound of a male voice behind you. Greg, one of the farmers stood in the doorway, having the courtesy to look bashful for scaring the hell out of you.

You took a moment to catch your breath, putting a hand to your pounding heart and letting out a startled laugh. "Jesus. Sorry. No, thanks, Greg. I appreciate it but this is all confidential information. I'm actually almost done anyway."

He grinned and you had to admit that he was handsome. "Is anything really confidential in Jackson?"

You laughed again, seeing his point. Nothing was private in such a small town. Sometimes 300 people felt more like 30. "Even so, I know at least four people in these files who would be pissed if anyone besides their doctors saw their medical information."

Greg held up his hands in a well meaning acknowledgment of defeat. "Totally understand. I actually have a question for you."

More than used to having citizens pull you aside and bashfully ask for medical advice, you set down the stack of files in your hands and turned to fully face Greg, your stethoscope swinging on your neck.

"Sure. What the problem?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

You blanched, but recovered quickly. This wasn't the first time a man in Jackson had asked you out since you had arrived in Jackson, and you were sure it wouldn't be the last. Greg was the second this week. Of all the gossip that seemed to travel around Jackson, the fact that you weren't interested in dating didn't seem to be part of it.

You pasted on what you called your 'patient smile.' "I'm flattered, Greg, but I'm not really looking right now."

He chuckled. "I'd be careful with that. Pickins' are pretty slim here. Wouldn't want to find yourself runnin' out of time." You pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes, not impressed by his not so subtle implication that you were already over the hill at 30 years old.

"I'm actually not too worried. Again, I'm flattered, but I'm not interested." When Greg took a step closer, you instinctively backed up further into the room. You didn't know if he was purposefully being intimidating, but you weren't a fan either way. "Any way I can change your mind?" he asked.

"She said she wasn't interested."

You jumped at the deep voice coming from the doorway and Greg turned, neither of you having heard Joel come into the clinic. He stood in the doorway, his rifle slung over his shoulder and his brow furrowed deep. In his heavy boots and heavier coat, he looked even bigger than normal.

"Hey, Joel," Greg chirped, somehow unaware of the menace in the room. "I'm just chatting with y/n here. Thought you were on patrol."

Joel was walking through the room this time, sticking to the perimeter, his eyes not leaving Greg. "Horse started limpin'. Doc Jetson's takin' a look at her." Joel had made it to your side and had angled his body toward you, the front of his coat brushing your shoulder. He looked ready for a fist fight. You were just shocked he was being this obvious about getting close to you in a semi-public place.

"Well," Greg continued, somehow missing the obvious body language of the two people in front of him. "I was hoping to talk y/n into changing her mind." A bright, boyish smile. "Got any tips?"

"Don't think it's going to work out for you this time, bud," Joel responded, no longer looking at him. He was now reaching very deliberately across your chest and pulling the stethoscope from around your neck and tossing it gently on the counter next to you. "You ready?"

You nodded, still baffled at his behavior. His hand on the small of your back sent a thrill up your spine and you allowed him to usher you past Greg, who was staring at the both of you with raised eyebrows.

Outside, the sky was frosted and there was a glorious bite in the air. You had been in the clinic all day and the sharp temperature change made you shudder and wrap your arms around yourself.

Joel looked down at you and quirked an eyebrow. "You bring a coat?"

"No, Bev Lanson's daughter fell out of her bed and needed stitches in her scalp at 5 this morning so I didn't get to grab one."

"And Ellie said she never saw you at the mess hall for lunch."

You grimaced at the chiding, but a glance at Joel showed his mouth was quirked up in amusement and he was shaking his head. "Hold this." You only just caught his rifled as he hauled it over his shoulder and plopped it in your arms to take off his coat.

It was heavy and warm as he settled it around your shoulders. You grinned like an idiot as you held it around your shoulders and leaned into him. While he didn't put his arm around you, he let you lean deep into his side as you walked through the town.

II. You exploded out of the clinic, making three women who were headed to 5 AM morning patrol jump and look at you like startled deer, their rifles clattering together as they stumbled against each other. You ignored them and Dr. Hansen's voice behind you as you stormed down the steps and down the road toward the barn.

Your chest was tightening. Your lungs were constricting. Your heart was a hammer in your chest. You were having a panic attack. The first since you got to Jackson and the first in months. Your last panic attack had been when you though the fireflies were going to tear Ellie's brainstem out. Flora's baby hadn't made it. Only two months left on a seemingly health fetus and she had miscarried. Jackson didn't have the equipment for an operation, so you had done your best to stem the bleeding, then held her as Dr. Hansen finished up. She had been bawling so hysterically you thought she was going to pass out and you were the only person she would let hold her.

It was the first time in Jackson that something had felt so truly hopeless. Was this the future here? Watching people die? You had come to Jackson to escape that and now you wrist deep in the blood.

You sucked in a violent breath as you approached the sheep pen, a new sense of panic settling in when you realized breathing was getting more difficult.

In...Out...In...Out.

You closed your eyes and repeated the mantra in your head as you leaned against the rails of the paddock, gripping the splintered wood in your palm.

"Y/N?"

Starting violently, you whirled around and ran straight into Joel's chest. When he grabbed your arms to steady you, you jerked back, your body defaulting to fight or flight. He held fast, pulling you back into his chest, even as you shoved at him.

"Calm down, honey. Take a breath. Just like you taught me."

You closed your eyes again and took another deep breath, but it only whistled through your lungs in a weak gasp. Gripping the lapels of his thick coat in your hands, you tried again, shutting your eyes tight and bending your head in concentration. Joel took a step forward until the top of your head was pressed to his chest. After a few more deep breaths, he cupped your face in his callused hands and pulled your head up to rest your forehead against his heart. You listened to the strong beat beneath his sternum and the soothing words he murmured into your hair, felt the bite of his zipper against your palms and the scent of hay on his flannel.

After what felt like a lifetime, your breathing returned to normal and your heart resumed it's regular beat.

"There, honey. Good. Good."

Pulling your head from his chest, you opened your eyes and stared up at Joel's bearded face, his eyes creased with worry but strong with resolve. Leaning forward, you buried your nose against the exposed patch of skin beneath his shirt and took a deep inhale. The two of you stood like that in comforting silence until you cleared your throat and pulled lightly at his grip. He let go of your face, but cupped your shoulders and pulled back slightly to look down into your eyes.

"What happened, baby?"

You cleared your throat again. "Nothing. I mean...I'll tell you later. I have to get back before Dr. Hansen finds me and calls me a pussy." A grizzled old army surgeon, he didn't take lightly to what he perceived as weakness.

"I'll walk you back."

That took you a bit by surprise, but you wouldn't say no. One of the first things Joel had ever told you when you met - after nearly blowing your head off - was that he didn't do comforting or coddling. He had gotten better, but he was always visibly uncomfortable.

He didn't press any further as you walked down the road back to the clinic, but he reached his hand out to brush it against yours and eventually tuck it into his own.

You took another deep breath when you got to the porch of the clinic, bracing yourself for Dr. Hansen's inevitable speech.

"You sure you're okay?" Joel asked again.

"Yeah," you answered, not actually lying this time. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks."

Before you took a step forward, he took the back of your neck in a gentle grip and laid a long kiss to your temple.

As you trudged up the stairs, you turned and gave him a sultry look over your shoulder. "You can just talk me through anything, can't you?" You squealed and laughed, jumping through the door as he reached out to pinch your ass.

III. "Hey!

When Joel didn't immediately turn around, you looked around for something to throw at him. Spotting a bucket of freshly picked apples, you picked one up, tested the weight with a little toss, then hurled it at the back of his head.

He turned immediately, looking every bit the grumpy old man as he glared at you and rubbed the back of his head.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You didn't answer me."

"I didn't hear you."

"Hence the apple."

Joel rolled his eyes as he picked his way through the sheep he had been corralling into the paddock. Slipping yourself through the gaps in the fence, you leaned back against it and gave him an innocent smile.

Crossing the paddock, he fixed you with an exasperated but amused look. "What do you want?"

"What do you want for dinner tonight?

He snorted. "That's what you threw an apple at my head for?"

You rolled your eyes in response. "Ellie left for that nature trip with her class this morning so we can make whatever we want." For a feral cat of a child, Ellie could be surprisingly picky.

That seemed to peek Joel's interest. "Hmmm. How about steak and potatoes?" You grinned, having started prepping this morning knowing he would choose that. "Perfect."

You stood in companionable as Joel got the sheep settled and fed. You piped up again, "Ellie won't be getting back until Sunday night."

"That's what I heard."

"And neither of us are on shift this weekend."

"Yeah, 'bout time."

"I wonder what in the world we'll do all weekend."

Joel shrugged, your innuendo flying straight over his head. "No clue. Probably catch up on the sleep I haven't gotten for the past 20 years."

You rolled your eyes. "Joel...Joel." His head shot up from the stubborn sheep he was trying to push around with his knees. "What?"

"We're alone for a whole weekend, with no reason to leave the house, for the first time since we got here and all you can think about is sleeping?"

It took him a long moment, but then his mouth turned up into a sly smile and he maneuvered around the sheep to stand in front of you.

"Did you have something else in mind, darlin'?" His broad hands settled on your hips.

You pretended to think. "I'm not sure. Sounds like sex isn't on my husband's mind half as much as mine. Plenty of other single men to choose from--"

You squealed and laughed when Joel plucked you up off the ground and sat you down on the top rung of the fence. You hooked your feet around the bottom rung and clutched his shoulders for balance. He squeezed your hips and gave you a narrow eyed look, oblivious to the stares you had garnered. "Brat. Try it and I'll suddenly remember how to brawl."

"I've seen you brawl at least ten times since I've met you."

"Should've seen me in my twenties."

You squeezed his shoulders, kneading your nails into the thick material of his coat before murmuring quietly, "All I care about is that you know how to brawl with me." Joel groaned and hauled you down for a long, desperate kiss to your mouth. Turning, he tried to adjust himself as discreetly as possible before walking back out into the pen. You remained on the fence for a little while longer, heart glowing every time Joel walked past to give you a peck on the knee and a sultry look that promised many things.

The two of you turned in about three hours early that evening, your carefully prepared steak barely touched.

IV. "Where'd you get that dress, y/n?"

You turned away from the carrots on the counter to Ellie, who was flopping down the hallway of your home with her usual puppy-like grace.

"Oh, Mrs. Sawyer made it for me for delivering her new grandbaby. Do you like it?" It was short and airy, made you feel feminine and beautiful after spending day after day in scrubs. It was unseasonably warm today, probably the last warm day before fall fully settled in. "Yeah, I like it a lot," she answered as she swiped a carrot off the counter.

You gave her a side eyed smirk. "Want me to ask her to make you one?"

Ellie blushed and sputtered. "What? No! No way! I mean...I'm okay. Seriously. Where are you going?"

"Maria, Leslie and Megan invited me to the bar. And no I'm not sneaking you a beer."

Elli glared and grumbled something as she headed to the front door, trying and failing to dodge the hand you reached out to ruffle her hair. As you turned back to your food prep, you heard Ellie say hello to Joel as he walked into the house, heard his answering grunt of greeting. The door closed behind Ellie and you heard Joel stride across the wood floors until he was standing right behind you. You shuddered when he traced his hands lightly up the sides of your thighs, inching the dress up your legs. "I like this dress," he rumbled, laying a long kiss to your hair.

"Yeah, me too. Brenda Sawyer wanted to pay me somehow." He was pressing in tight to you now, cradling your hips back against his, your dress above your waist now. He nuzzled another kiss to you hair. "I'll have to thank her. Where you headed all dressed up?"

Your grip tightened on the hilt of the knife as he slowly kissed down your neck, his hands kneading your hips. "Tipsy Bison with Maria and, um, some other women. Drinks." Joel gave your hips a squeeze one final kiss to your shoulder before pulling away. "I'll go with you." You looked over your shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He raised an eyebrow right back. "Yes, really. Why is that so shocking?"

You shrugged and went back to chopping carrots. "No, it's just you've never gone with me before. I guess you're usually on patrol." He struggled being idle.

"First time for everything. What time you going?"

"I was thinking about 30 minutes?"

"Plenty of time."

The knife was pushed out of your hand and the carrots swiped to the side. You shrieked and laughed when Joel whirled you around, shoved your dress back up your hips, and plucked you up onto the counter. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders as his mouth found yours.

A quick 20 minutes later and narrowly avoiding a second round, you two were walking into Tipsy Bison, which was already in full swing. Joel had walked a little closer to you than normal, his fingertips brushing the hem of your dress as you walked. After a brief brush of his hand on the small of your back, you went your separate ways in the bar, you heading toward a booth with the women who had invited you, and Joel toward his brother and some other men he often found himself paired with on patrol. As much as you would have liked to stick by his side all night, you were happy he was trusting people enough to make friends. Despite the fact that he fucked you hoarse nearly every night, you felt a bit like a proud mom sometimes.

As the night went on, the drinks flowed and the laughter became louder. The warm weather seemed to settle in everyone's bones and everyone was on the small dance floor, from the 70 year old carpenter shuffling with his three toddler granddaughters to the fifteen year old girl shyly asking her classmate to dance. You and your friends had made your way out to the floor as well, your drinks sloshing onto the floor as you laughed and danced like teenagers. When a slow song came on and the lights dimmed, the string lights on the ceiling coming on, you began to make your way back to your booth, but a warm hand on your wrist stopped you. Turning, you found Joel standing behind you. You frowned in confusion. "You okay?"

He frowned right back as he tugged you toward him, pulling your arm around his shoulder and sliding his other hand across your waist. "Does something have to be wrong for me to dance with you?"

Smiling big, you tightened your arms around his shoulders and pressed tight to his front as his callused hands settled on your hips, massaging your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. "Joel Miller knows how to dance?"

He chuckled as you both began to sway to the beat. "I never said that." Grinning back, you massaged the nape of his neck and nuzzled you cheek against his shirt, closing your eyes and listening to the strong pulse of his heart. When the song ended, he wrapped your hand in his and led you back to the bar, shouldering through curious looking patrons. Maybe it was the whisky, but he was handsy for the rest of the night, pulling you between his legs as he sat at the bar talking with some of the other guys from his normal patrol, his arm around your waist as he laughed and sipped his whisky. Around midnight, it was you who tugged on his hand and informed him it was time to go. You only made it around the back of the bar before your dress was around your waist for the second time that night.

V. It had been a long, busy day at the clinic. All the doctors and nurses were called in to treat all sorts of injuries, allergies, bites, coughs, stomach aches, bloody noses, etc. By 6 PM, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed, but a pile of charts was waiting for you and you had already been hounded twice about being behind. Scrubbing your hands over your eyes, you reached for the folder at the top of the file.

"Y/n?"

You turned as Maria came into the clinic, red cheeked and huffing like she had run there.

"Yeah, hi, what's wrong?"

"It's Joel. Sally's gun went off close to him, grazed him on the side of the head. He says--"

You were already shoving past her and sprinting down the road, your heart hammering beneath your ribs. You heard Maria call after you then curse, but you didn't stop, dodging people and moving past the guards through the now open gate.

The patrolmen had stopped a few hundred feet from the entrance. A few had dismounted their horses and were gathered around someone with their head down. "Move," you ordered, putting every ounce of hard earned medical authority into your voice. The crowd parted and you saw Joel standing there, his head bent and his gloved hand prodding at a serious laceration at the side of his head. Your heart flew into your throat as you stopped in front of him and pulled his hand away from his head. "Stop doing that," you snapped.

Joel rolled his eyes but did as he was told, letting his arm fall to his side but keeping his head bent so you could take it in your hands and turn it this way and that. You cleared your throat, not fully trusting yourself to speak, but knowing you had to nonetheless. "Decent laceration, nothing serious. Worse than it looks. Few stitches should be fine."

"Can you make it to the clinic, Joel?" Tommy asked, earning an irritated look from his big brother. "Yes, I can make it back to the damn clinic. She didn't blow my head off." Then he turned back to you. "And what are you doing out here without a gun or an escort?"

You gave him a furious glare. "Don't start. C'mon before you faint." With that, you turned on your heel and strode back toward the gates. There was some shuffling and mutters before you heard the group following behind you.

You got back to the clinic a few minutes before them and grabbed the suture kit, laying it all out for when they arrived. Hearing heavy boots come up the stairs and Joel tell Tommy to "get off me", you turned in time to see Joel poke his head in, then quickly duck back out. You came to the door. "What?"

He cleared his throat, looking a little green. "It...It smells. I'm gonna be sick if I have to go in there."

"You're nauseous?"

"Yeah, I guess."

The anxiety flared back up but you slammed it back down. "Then your head wound is worse than I thought. You might have a concussion. Fine, sit down on the bench."

He did as he was told, this time not yelling at Tommy for guiding him with a hand to the elbow. He sat down with a grunt, pulling off his gun and disarming it.

"Ya'll good here?" Tommy asked and you nodded. "Yeah, I'll patch him up and put him to bed."

"I don't need-"

"Be quiet."

Joel scowled at you and then at Tommy, who didn't bother hiding his grin before turning away toward Maria, who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

You unloaded your kit in silence, cleaning up the dried blood before running a lidocaine pad over the cut. It really wasn't too bad, but it was over his old scar and would be tricky to suture at the angle you were now at. After a few minutes, you very gently prodded the skin around the cut. "Feel that?"

"No ma'am."

"Good, tilt your head to the side and don't move or I'll sew your ear to your head." You heard him chuckle, but he once again did as he was told. Stepping closer to him, you angled his head to the side. You were so focused you almost didn't notice his hands come up and begin massaging the backs of your legs in slow, sweeping motions from the tops of your thighs to the back of your knees. When he got close enough to your backside to make you shudder, you gave his hair a little tug. "You're distracting me."

Joel only hummed in answer, his eyes closing almost in relaxation, as if you weren't sewing his head shut. His hands settled at the backs of your knees, his forehead resting against your chest as you finished up your work. He didn't let go of you immediately, instead pulling his head up and resting his chin between your breasts, blinking lazily up at you. You let yourself wrap your arms around his neck and stare down at him, the forceps and scissors still in your hands.

"You were shot."

"Yep."

"Don't let it happen again."

His mouth curved in an amused smile and his hands squeezed your knees. "Yes, ma'am."

"Now go to bed."

He seemed to open his mouth to object but you cocked your eyebrow in a withering glare. Sighing, he stood with your help, gave you a chaste peck on the head, and grabbed his rifle before moving off toward your home.

+ I. "Wait, so are you and Joel actually, like, married?"

You blinked at Maria's question. You had never actually never been asked that before, as most people didn't even know you were together. You often wore the ring he gave you, if not on your hand, then on a thin chain around your neck, and you had never bothered getting a ring for Joe, as you wouldn't even know where to get one. You did refer to him as your husband and he told you he thought of you as his wife and referred to you as such whenever it came up.

When you were younger, you had, of course, had the girlhood dreams of a big white wedding and a storybook marriage, but when the virus struck, it all seemed so trivial. Now...you weren't really sure how you felt.

"I mean, I guess not," you finally answered with a shrug. "Never really considered making it official."

"What're you two yappin' about back there?"

Both you and Maria flinched in your saddles when Chet barked back at you, nudging your horses faster to keep up with the rest of the patrol. They had been short a man today after Will sprained his ankle, so you volunteered to step in since the clinic was slow and fully staffed. Joel had groused about it, but you were excited to go beyond the walls for even a few hours. And nothing had happened on patrols in months, so you weren't particularly worried.

"Do you want to make it official?" Maria prodded when the two of you got a little closer to the rest of the group, but still far enough back to have some privacy.

"Again, never really thought about it. We've just been getting settled and making sure Ellie gets settle." Another shrug. "It just hasn't been a priority."

"Do you want it to be a priority?"

You gave her a hard side eye. "What's with the sudden investment in me and Joel's relationship? When we got here you didn't even like-"

"RAIDERS!"

Your stomach dropped, panic barreling up your spine into your heart as chaos ensued. Shots rang out and people shouted as horses screamed and reared up in surprise. You scrambled for the gun at your hip, pulling it out just in time to get a raider in the knee and finish him off with one to the head. More shots sounded, closer this time and there was another cry of pain as eleven more raiders closed in.

Pain burned through your arm and you cried out, dropping your gun, which went off as it hit the ground. Your horse reared up in surprise, sending you out of the saddle and sprawling to the ground. When your back met the grass, the pandemonium faded away, overwhelmed by a deafening ring as your head snapped back on your spine and your brain slammed against your skull. Groaning, you tried to breathe through the pain.

It all came roaring back when a massive weight fell into your gut, pushing the air out of your lungs in a massive below. The unblinking eyes of the raider sprawled over you stared back at you and you heaved him off with a grunt. Pushing to your knees, you just avoided a riderless horse as it galloped past you, back toward the commune.

There was still shouting, gunshots, shrieking horses and grunts of pain. As everything came back into focus, you managed to reach out and grab a raider by the ankle, sending him sprawling onto the ground in front of you. He turned onto his back, eyes wild as he leveled the barrel of a pistol between your eyes...

His head snapped back and his gun dropped from his hand, his whole body going limp from the bullet in the back of his head. Blinking against the sun, you could see the group of people running from the direction of Jackson, each of them stopping sporadically to steady themselves and fire off a shot. It was Joel who slowly lowered a rifle aimed in your direction, his eyes wild and his chest heaving.

The group was on you in the next second, falling on the last remaining raiders as they attempted to escape, leaving their dead behind. You hadn't made it to your feet yet, the pain in your arm screaming even as the pain in your head receded. It was Joel who finally hauled you up despite your cry of pain when he grabbed you under the arms.

"What is it? Where? Where does it hurt? Show me! Show me!!" You had never heard him sound so frantic as he ran his hands roughly over your body, unzipping your jacket to look for blood on your shirt.

"My-My arm. It's my arm."

His hands became gentle as he took your arm in his hands and cradled it for Dr. Hansen as he bustled over with a medical kit.

"Just a flesh wound," he said gruffly. "Let's get her back to the clinic. You'll need quite a few stitches. Thank christ you're the only injury."

Joel rounded on you, taking your other arm in his hand and placing a hand on your back to guide you back toward Jackson with the rest of patrol following close behind.

An hour later, you and Joel walked out of the clinic, your arm freshly stitched but still burning in pain. Joel had watched over Dr. Hansen like a bear until you thought the two of them would come to blows. You were exhausted and just wanted to shower and sleep forever. Joel had been quite since you had gotten back and you had a feeling he would blow up when you got back to your house, ban you from ever going on patrol again, and sleep outside your bedroom door with his rifle.

"Joel," you finally prodded as you stepped onto the porch of the clinic, his back to you as he stared out over the town, hands on his hips. "Are you okay?"

Silence.

You sighed. "Joel, will you please--"

"Let's get married."

You blinked, not sure if you had heard that right or if you had rattled your brain more than you thought.

"I'm sorry?"

He turned to face you, his face completely serious. "Let's get married. Right now."

"Joel, what are you--"

He strode toward you and cupped your face so tenderly you could have cried. He let out a trembling breath as he leaned his forehead against yours. "We should have gotten married the day we got to Jackson. It didn't seem important then but now...I didn't know why."

You reached up to grip his wrists. "It doesn't matter to me if we make it official in any way or any of the legal stuff. Is that what's bothering you?"

"You could have died today."

That realization settled into your stomach for the first time and you barely suppressed a shudder. "I could have."

"We've both almost died a hundred times since we've met, and every day I wondered...would they have buried us next to each other? Would anyone have known that we loved each other after we're gone?"

For the first time in a long time, you were speechless, enamored by this man who made you weak.

"I just..." he took a shuddering breath. "I-I love you on purpose. And I want everyone to know. I want you to know."

You opened your mouth once. Twice. "I...okay. Yes. Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"TOMMY!"

His shout sent your brain reeling again and you nearly fell as he let go of your head and whirled around.

Tommy poked his head out from behind the horse he was leading to the barn. "Yeah?"

"Where's Pastor John? Y/N and I are getting married."

"What?"

"Pastor John? Where is he?"

"I heard that part." Tommy had abandoned the horse to a passing woman and headed over, his face comically confused. "You're getting married?"

"Yeah."

"Right now?"

"Yes! Right now!"

Joel had grabbed your hand in his and was pulling you down the stairs toward the church.

"I...okay." Tommy trailed behind the two of you, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out for Pastor John. You had drawn a crowd by this point, Jackson citizens wandering out of the buildings and murmuring excitedly as Joel beat a warpath toward the church and you stumbled after him, grumbling at Tommy to stop yelling before you punched him.

Finally, Pastor John appeared out of the mess hall, adjusting his glasses and straightening the collar of his flannel like it was a full cassock. "What's all the hollerin' about?"

"Y/N and I are getting married," Joel stated as he came to a stop, causing you to run into him with a grunt. "Right now."

Pastor John blinked and looked at you as if for confirmation. You leaned into Joel and nodded happily, the reality of the situation finally beginning to settle. You were getting married. Joel wanted to marry you. And he wanted the whole town to see.

"Ah, okay," Pastor John finally said, adjusting his glasses again. "I guess we should head on over to the church."

The mass of people at your back grew with every step you took through the town until you were all 300 of them were tittering like school kids behind you.

"Move! MOVE! No, you get out of my way. Y/n!"

You turned in time to see Ellie shoulder her way through the crowd until she was at your side, her chest heaving like she had personally shoved aside all 300 people to reach you. She stared up at you with huge eyes. "Were you really going to get married without me?"

You cupped her face in your hands. "Baby, I didn't even know I was getting married until five minutes ago."

"Can I be your bridesmaid?"

You laughed. "Of course." She gave you a massive grin and threw her arms around your middle, holding you tight and you could hear her sniffling against your chest.

Twenty minutes later, every citizen in Jackson, from the oldest to the youngest, had squeezed into the small church with you and Joel at the front with Pastor Joe, Elli standing behind you holding a handful of daisies she had ripped from the ground outside the sheep pen.

"...I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

You expected a small, chaste peck on the lips, but Joel took your face in his hands and swooped down to take your mouth in a kiss so intense you had to grip his shoulders to stay upright. The church exploded in applause and cheers and Joel pulled you back upright, giving you one more chaste kiss before giving you the biggest smile you had ever seen on him. Taking your hand in his, he walked you down the crowded aisle.

He never let go of it again.

#The Last of Us #The Last of Us HBO #Joel Miller #Pedro Pasal #Joel Miller x Reader #TLOU #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller x Y/N #Joel Miller x You #The Last of us fanfiction #Awkward-Sultana #5 + 1 #TLoU fanfiction

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raz-writes-the-thing · 3 months

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Anything You Need (Supernatural One-Shot)

Dean Winchester x Sam Winchester x GN!Reader (no Wincest) / requests are open

Summary: The boys discover you've been having some... unpleasant thoughts.

Fic type: emotional hurt/comfort

Potential Triggers: mentions of suicidal thoughts and regret over not having perished to the MOTW

SPN: @wereallbrokenangels (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Not that many things made you cry these days. You'd seen some shit, that's for sure. Mothers pinned to the ceiling in flames, vampires being beheaded, babies crying out for family members that wouldn't come home- and spirits that cried out for company and whose sadness waded through towns like thick, boggy, slimy water.

None of that made you cry.

Almost having the sweet release of death and having it ripped from you by your partners in (quite literal) crime, however? That. That made you cry.

The boys, they chalked it up to you having a near-death experience and copping a few new badass scars in the process. They thought it was shock at first. And it probably was. At first.

But the hours ticked by and you were ushered back into the safety of the Impala and, well, the shock wore off. You'd almost died. You would have been grateful for it, to be quite honest, but no. They took that away.

"Come on, sweetheart," Dean said, leaning over the back of the front seat to look at you, curled up and watching the window with a fairly dead-inside expression on your face. "You can't still be upset. We almost die every damn week- so tell us what's up, huh?"

Your eyes shifted from the window to the door handle. If you pulled it you'd fall out onto the road and get flattened like a pancake by that semi crawling up the Impala's ass.

"I'm fine," you replied thickly, not making eye contact.

"All due respect but that's a load of crap," Dean said, scoffing to himself. You could see Sam watching you in the rearview mirror as he drove along the highway. He knew something serious was up. It was only a matter of time before he pulled over and sat you down for a big long chat about your feelings.

"All due respect but I don't care," you replied back before the words had registered in your head. You regretted them as soon as they left your mouth and the clenching of his jaw and flash of hurt in his eyes as he looked to his brother for help just lodged that heavy stone of guilt further into your gut.

"Sorry. I'm- I've not been myself lately," you sighed, not wanting to get into this but not feeling as though you had much of a choice now. "You-you ever just... wanna die? Like, not actually die, but you just feel like it sometimes?"

Dean was quiet, looking at your knee as he processed the words. Sam's eyes flicked to yours in the mirror again.

"Yeah, I've felt that before," Sam said after a beat, avoiding his brother's piercing stare. "I get why you didn't, but you could have told us."

You dropped your head onto the car door, huffing out a grunt because to be honest- that was all you could muster right now.

"Fuck, I didn't know I was living with the Downers' Club," Dean said, scratching at the back of his head. He didn't mean anything by it, of course. Humour was his coping mechanism. He was quiet for another moment. "Shit, I- you know I'm not good with the whole words thing. Hang on-"

Then Dean set down his father's notebook and clambered over the back of the seat, landing unceremoniously next to you with a grunt, mumbling something about mud on the leather.

"Wh-Dean-" you said, moving to make room for him. He just shushed you, set his feet down in the footwell and turned you around so your head was in his lap. You looked up at him, melting into his touch. He put one hand under your head, bracing you and making sure you didn't get a neck-ache, and with the other, caressed your hair, massaging at the scalp.

"No good with words but I'll be damned if I don't know how to play with someone's hair. Sammy used to love it when he was a kid. Used to get these nightmares 'n nothin' would calm him except me touchin' his head. Little weirdo. Got damn good at it, though."

You snorted, but you couldn't deny the magic he was weaving with your nerves, untangling them and braiding them back together. You felt your muscles slowly start to un-tense, and your eyes drift closed with pleasure.

"We're always here for you, darlin'," Sammy said, reaching a hand back and over the seat to brush your cheek comfortingly. It looked like an awkward angle, and it was gone a moment later, back on the wheel.

"Absolutely," Dean said reverently, looking down at you with so much love in his eyes that you could feel it warming you up from the inside even with your own eyes closed. "Anything you need."

#yes i am struggling lmao and yes i am sort of venting #winchester brothers x reader #sam x reader x dean #sam x dean x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #spn fic #spn fanfiction #sam winchester x dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sam winchester x reader #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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I NEED A GHOST FANFIC WHERE WE FALL IN LOVE WITH GHOST AND WINNIE AND IT SHOWS THEIR RELATIONSHIP ABD MORE!!! OMG I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH 🫶🫶🫶🫶

Dear Winter | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: my first 2023 post! happy new year!!! thank you for requesting and being patient - this took a while lol. it might not be what you want but i literally could not NOT write this. it would be illegal.

song reference: Dear Winter by AJR

summary: Simon had to find a toy for Winnie, but discovers what finally pushes him over the edge to confess his love for you.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT

Simon didn’t feel like he should’ve been searching in his attic for a mindless little toy that Winnie wanted. He had packed it away when he recognized that she didn’t like it anymore, but now it’s all she’ll talk about. The goddamn elephant that he bought at the hospital when she was born - it was before he was able to see her. It sang “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and he put in a voice recording of himself saying, “I love you, Winnie.”

All Winnie ever wanted was the bear that Price had gotten her, the little green bear that did nothing but stare lifelessly. Now it was “I want Ellie, Daddy. I want Ellie!” all day and night, and his poor nanny was doing her best to keep Winnie entertained - which wasn’t enough, apparently.

He opened another plastic tub, placing the lid on the box beside it. It was full of Winnie’s baby clothes, ranging from frilly dresses to onesies. He dug through it, but still not seeing the pink elephant. He huffed in frustration, slamming the lid back on the tub and pulled it away, revealing another tub just like it.

This one was full of photos, which were of Winnie, him, and you specifically. Special milestones like when it was Winnie’s first steps, his eyes wide as he watched Winnie take her first steps. Or the picture in front of your family’s Christmas tree, the year he needed your help to figure out Christmas. Winnie sat on his shoulders and your arm around his back, his girls’ smiles large as his eyes were only visible from his cloth balaclava.

His girls.

His thumb swiped at your bubbly smile on the picture, a smile of his own now on his face.

He had fallen for you that Christmas. Spending more time with you than Winnie, since your three brothers kept the little one occupied for most of the trip. He had found you fascinating, you never pushed an answer from him, choosing to let him understand you first. He had very reluctantly allowed you to hug him, rest your head on his shoulder, and tried his best not to flinch when you grabbed his hand. That was two years ago - he was so far down the rabbit hole that he had convinced himself that you were just being friendly. He figured out later that you had a crush on him.

Simon sighed, beginning to move the large cluster of pictures out of the box and onto the floor when a folded piece of paper tumbled across the floor. He grunted in annoyance, dropping the pictures onto the spot next to him before stretching and reaching out for the paper, grasping it in his fingers. He was ready to toss it into the box when he looked back into it, only seeing old notebooks of his from when he was a kid. He thumbed the piece of paper, seeing a date that he remembered well.

If he was a little bit less tired of his daughter’s constant pleading for a toy he was very sure was in her room, he might have thrown the folded paper in the box again, shoving all of the picture on top of it. If he was a little more awake, he would’ve buried the paper at the bottom of the box - but it was something he had thought about for a few weeks.

It was an old assignment he had done in school as a teenager, on his 16th birthday when he used the last of his happiness and sanity to do the one assignment he really wanted to. Write a letter to someone in the future.

He tucked the piece of paper and the Christmas photo in his pocket, shoving the photos back in the box - he decided Winnie could wait another day for that stupid elephant. He slid the lid back on the tub and made his way back to the attic entrance. He quickly climbed down, pushing the ladder back up with one arm. It clicked into place and he turned away, making his way downstairs. He heard the thunderous footsteps of his daughter before she ran in front of him, her blanket tied around her shoulders as she held up her green bear. He watched her go by as she made the noise of an airplane, disappearing into the living room.

He looked back to where she came from, seeing a glimpse of you moving out of the playroom and into the front room. Simon then followed his daughter, walking into the living room as she then noisily made her way into the kitchen. He didn’t mind, he always hated noise but hearing his daughter have fun was an exception. Every noise his daughter made assured him that she was still alive, his worst fear was losing Winnie. He swiftly sat down on the couch, pulling out the folded piece of paper.

His fingers moved the flimsy paper to open, and it was like he was transported back in time.

Dear Winter,

I hope you like your name. I hope they don't make fun of you when you grow up and go to school, okay? 'Cause Winter is a badass name.

I hope you talk to girls or boys or anyone you like, I just hope you don't stay in every night. 'Cause I wish I was out tonight.

I hope you like your name. I'm hoping that someday, I can meet you on this earth.

I hope you like this letter. Even when you're thirteen and you scream at me for parenting you wrong.

I still hope you like your name. You know I cannot wait to teach you how to curse.

But Winter, please don’t move too far away. And please don't say I'm hovering when I call you to ask about your day.

I wanna hear about your day.

Will we still hang out and talk when I'm no longer in charge?

Winter, I hope you like your name. I hope you let me take a shot with you on your 21st.

He remembered writing this at a small park near his childhood home, turning it in the same day and hoping his teacher wouldn’t talk to him about it. He remembered forcing this piece of paper at the bottom of his bag when he got it back so his father wouldn’t see it, so his brother wouldn’t either and mock him. He had walked into his house, rushing through the hallway to the kitchen where his mother was humming.

“Mum,” He had said, she looked up from the food she was mixing in a bowl and smiled at him. He remembered how vibrant her dark blonde hair was, how his eyes matched hers - how her smile could instantly change his mood. He was a mama’s boy. “I got an A on my assignment.”

She set down her whisk and batted the flour off of her hands onto her apron, moved around the counter as he dug into his bag and handed her the folded paper.

Simon Riley would never forget how his mother had kneeled in front of him, held his hands and whispered, “I can’t wait to meet Winnie, I can’t wait for you to find someone who loves you even more than I do, Simon. You’ll be a good husband, a good father one day. You’ll always be better than him.” She had settled her hands on his face, wiping his tears as she said, “You’ll find her.”

He had planned to call his first daughter Winter, her name staying the same for a nickname. But, he now called his daughter, ‘Winnie’, so that it was like his mother was in his daughter’s life.

Dear Winter, I'm looking for your mom.

I gotta find a girl that doesn't mind that I'm inside my head a lot.

Winter, it won't be too long.

First, I just gotta find your mom.

“Simon.”

He looked up and locked eyes with you, seeing your wide smile as your hands settled on your hips.

“Did you find it?”

He didn’t register your words, he just gazed at you. He folded the letter that he had wrote when he was sixteen, the only thing he would’ve ever had hope for was love. That all his teenage self wanted, a family to love and be loved by.

Did you find it? You said.

He wanted to hand you that letter. He wanted you to read the most vulnerable thing he’s ever created - he knew he shouldn’t. But fuck, he wanted to. He shoved the letter into his pocket, and calmly spoke, “No.”

Your face fell, looking deep in thought before you said, “You checked everything up there? I could’ve sworn I went through her whole room…” You began to mumble to yourself as Simon held out his right hand towards you. You immediately stopped talking, gaze looking to his hand then to his masked face. “What?”

He turned his palm towards the ceiling, as if he was asking for your hand. You looked back down at his hand before placing yours on his large palm. He gently curled his fingers around your soft skin and pulled you towards him. You sort of stumbled forwards, your knees now hit the front of the couch and his thighs ghosted the side of yours. His other hand came to gently hold your empty one that was settled by your side.

He could feel your heartbeat quicken as his finger pressed into your wrist. His own heart was beating so fast that he thought he wouldn’t be able to go through with this.

Did you find it?

The picture of you three? Yes, and it made him pull the letter out again. He bit the inside of his cheek before placing it in your palm.

“What is this?” You curiously asked, he gestured for you to open it. He let go of you then, allowing you to read the letter.

His heart was in overdrive as he watched you read it, eyebrows sort of furrowed.

“You asked me if I found it. I didn’t find what Winter wanted, but what I wanted. Want.”

You read the last line and looked up at Ghost, gasping as you now saw his maskless face. His brown eyes watched yours trace his face, commit it to memory. And your right hand reached out, ghosting the skin of his cheek before his own hand pressed it down, his face leaned into your touch. You memorized every white scar, the way his lips curved, his jaw - he was beautiful.

“Tell me if I’m wrong.”

His hand pulled yours from his face, allowing his other hand to place a folded photo on your palm. You took it and opened it, staring at it.

It was the one Christmas that Simon and Winnie had spent with your family. You were looking up at Winnie as the little two year old sat on Simon’s shoulders. She was reaching for you, and then you looked at him in the picture. Even with the balaclava on and his face turned, you could clearly see that he was gazing at you.

Your gaze looked up to Simon again, still amazed at how beautiful he was. You knew him for almost four years, and this was the first time you have ever seen his face. Your heart skipped a few beats as his hand grazed your hip.

Your hand rested on his shoulder, he spoke again. “You. You are what I want.” His other hand settled on your waist, sort of coaxing you closer to him. He took a deep breath and leaned forward, resting his forehead against your stomach. Your hand moved from his shoulders to his dirty blond hair, you gazed down at it as he continued. “I didn’t always want to be a dad, I didn’t want to be after what happened to my family. But when Grace told me that she was pregnant, I ran. I ran away like a fuckin’ coward.” His arm moved from your hip up to hold the small of your back. “I…cared for her, I did. And when she died, I was surprised that I didn’t feel anything about it. Because I had to put all of my focus and strength in my daughter, the same thing you do while I’m gone.” He looked up at you now, his eyes meeting yours. “I care for you. And I can’t go a day without thinking of you.”

“Simon…”

“Please, tell me.” His hands pushed into your skin just a little more. “Tell me if I’m wrong and I will leave you be.”

You stared at him. You would have never expected any sort of confession from him, ever. He was the type to bottle everything up until he rots in a casket - not the type to say what he felt. And to be honest, your heart and stomach both fell from your body. You had pushed that ‘harmless’ crush all the way down into your soul, and here he comes- ripping layers of protection out of your heart and soul.

Your eyes darted to his lips then back up to his beautiful eyes, your thumb gently threaded across the short hair on the back of his head.

“Love me, Simon Riley.”

Oh Winter, I have already found your mom.

———

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley cod #simon riley #simon riley x afab!reader #simon riley call of duty #simon riley mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #lethal chiralium #lethalchiralium

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dotieeee · 3 days

Text

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 16

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

Overall Warnings:

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

Masterlist

Level 16 Warnings:

Non-consensual dom-sub dynamic (belt-flogging), alcoholic consumption, bullying

Replay Level 15

Ready? Level 16 Start:

You didn’t really want to be here. Not at all, no sir.

You were a big fan of routine. Every day from Monday to Friday, Ms Rosenthal would come by at your home to supervise your studies. You’ve heard her compliment you many times to Uncle Cas about how you’re quite a few levels too advanced for children your age; you’ve been getting perfect scores in all your arithmetic tests; your reading and writing skills are superb.

Two months ago, however, Uncle had decided to take a pause on the routine and mentioned it was perhaps time to try something new: going to school for a day to see how you’d like it. This, you didn't understand. You’ve been doing exceptionally well with your studies, kept your nose clean and everything – so how come Uncle had to disrupt the way things were just because your psychologist told him to?

“Nellie is just eight and she needs to spend time with people her age, Mr Innis. She may be intellectually gifted, but besides her tutoring sessions, you may want to see her enrolled in any of our elementary schools and be around with other kids to prevent emotionally stunted growth.”

According to your research, the psychologist just called you aloof and immature.

But Uncle Cas pleaded that you give this day a chance. Just this first day of school, and he said if you didn’t like it, he wouldn’t pressure you to stay.

So far, except for odd stares from the other kids on the playground, you’d been left alone on a stone bench reading a book you had brought for comfort.

Algebra I For Beginners.

You wanted to be like your uncle working with computers one day, and he said if you wanted a leg-up, Algebra was the way to start. You took out a notebook and a pencil, intending to begin with an equation on page thirty-one, when you spotted several kids convening around the base of one of the slides, whispering among themselves. One of them, the blonde girl with pigtails in the middle, pointed to someone on the swing – a boy with thick brown curls and downcast brown eyes – followed by everyone else’s laughter. Anyone from a distance like yours could easily see that they were making fun of him for whatever reason – all of them except the tall boy with blond wavy locks and bright blue eyes, who ignored both the laughter and the boy on the swing, merely hanging back to observe. There was something a tad snobbish in his facial expression, but you couldn’t really tell. Maybe that’s just how he usually looked. You’d later discover how correct your initial assumption would be.

One of the kids, you didn’t see who, pelted the boy with brown curls with a pebble, but it hit the sand near him, loud enough to attract his attention.

From across the short distance you heard one of them say, “Hey, is it true they eat babies in the districts?”

Everyone, save the blond boy, burst into raucous laughter and went on to call him names you’ve only heard on television before, which made you frown a bit.

The boy was clearly minding his own business. Why would they bother him at all by calling him needlessly cruel names?

You abandoned your book and your bag and approached them.

“Excuse me,” you politely interjected. “What did he do?”

The girl with pigtails in the middle said, “Who are you?”

“That doesn’t matter,” you said.

They whispered among themselves, which you only caught glimpses of.

“You think she’s District too?”

“She doesn’t sound like it…”

“I haven’t seen her before…”

One of them quipped, “He’s District. Are you?”

“That shouldn’t matter, either. Everyone should be treated fairly.”

“You know what my father calls your type? A rebel s-sin..synthesiser,” a brown-haired girl said with contempt.

“I think the correct word would be ‘sympathiser,’” you replied with a tilt of your head, which earned an eye roll from the girl.

“Whatever, freak,” she said snootily. “Ugh, I’m leaving, this isn’t fun anymore.”

Everyone in the group groaned but they dispersed. The blond boy, however, stared at you with mild interest, which he tried to hide using a blank expression. You ignored him in favour of talking to the brown-haired boy – he could’ve stopped his ‘friends’ from calling him terrible names, but instead, he just stood back and did nothing.

“Don’t mind them,” you gave him what you thought was a friendly smile. “They’re all just huge shitbags.”

Both the boys seemed taken aback by your language. Your uncle always had to tell you not to say things like that, but you hear him use that kind of language all the time, especially in the kitchen. “My name is Prunella Innis. You can call me Nellie.”

You held out your hand to the brown-eyed boy, which he shook tentatively.

The blond boy confidently strode over to you and took out his palm. “Coriolanus. Coriolanus Snow.”

“Hi,” you flashed him the same smile and shook his hand lightly. You then turned to the other boy, who got out of his perch on the swing and introduced himself, sniffling.

“My name’s Sejanus Plinth.”

“I know,” Coriolanus said matter-of-factly. “I heard your family just moved to the Capitol.”

The boy named Sejanus nodded, but there was something sad behind his eyes. To try and make him feel better, you said, “Sejanus, huh? Mine did about two years ago.”

Both the boys gave you surprised looks; you shrugged it off and said, “So what? It certainly didn’t do my parents any favours.”

Sejanus actually cracked a smile, but Coriolanus’s real expression remained masked behind what you could tell was a fake smile.

A word you recently learned, ‘elitist,’ crossed your mind. You’d discover much later that assumption too, would be correct.

“You’ve been here since the middle of the war? I haven’t seen you in school before,” the curious blond asked.

“I’m homeschooled.” And if you had anything to say about it, you liked it better that way.

Sejanus bashfully showed a tiny brown bag. You peered inside and saw gumdrops. Your uncle didn’t hoard gumdrops as much as he did with chocolates, so you suspected that he didn’t like them very much. You took one, saying ‘thank you’, and Coriolanus took some after you.

“Am I going to see you around?” Sejanus asked you, looking somewhat hopeful.

Your smile faltered a little. “Probably not.”

Sejanus’s brows drew together. “Why not?”

“My uncle says I don’t have to stay if I don’t like it. And I’ve decided that I don’t.”

“So you’re going to keep studying…at home?” Coriolanus wondered with a tone that sounded like it was a foreign concept to him.

“Yes.”

You smiled at them both and went back to your bench to pick up where you left off in the book. Your uncle emerged not much later from the building with an expectant look on his face. That look immediately morphed into exasperation once he saw you begin packing your bag.

“Let me guess: the place didn’t even stand a chance.”

Nodding, you added, “The kids here are hostile; therefore I think the environment may be cutthroat.”

Your Uncle Cas sighed to himself and commented under his breath, “You know, sometimes I think your vocabulary is a punishment for my past actions…”

Ignoring this, you glanced up at your uncle with an innocent grin and asked, “So, do we get ice cream after?”

“A big, whopping ‘no.’ Not a damn chance.”

Uncle Cas only laughed at the pout on your face, but you glanced back at the boys named Sejanus and Coriolanus, nodding farewell to them both. The corner of Coriolanus’s mouth twitched upwards and Sejanus gave you a small wave. Your gaze lingered just a little on Sejanus’s warm brown eyes.

You would see both of them again in a few years’ time, but that little girl walking away from the schoolyard didn’t yet know that the boys would remain a permanent fixture in her life: one of them, taking her heart with him to his grave, and the other, forcibly twining with and shaping her entire future for the worse.

Nine fifty-eight on a Friday night is quite a busy time for Club She Said. The girls-only membership club is already packed with well-dressed rich Capitol women with pretty drinks in their hands, chattering about and giggling among themselves. The company whom you invited seems to have arrived surprisingly earlier than you have and is sitting at the bar seemingly engaged in a lively conversation with the lady bartender.

“You’re early,” you comment as you take the seat beside her.

“It’s called ‘growth. You should try it sometime, it wouldn’t hurt,” Livia Cardew jabs at you as she sips her drink.

Your maid of honour, casually dissing you. You roll your eyes in mild amusement as she orders a drink called The Dark Lady on your behalf – a blackberry-lemon smash – and say, “This is a nice place. It feels cosy and...safe.”

Your eyes dart around the club, spotting nothing but female staff – waitresses, DJs, bouncers – plus the numerous cliques who seem to be having a blast catching up with their girlfriends over drinks without the presence of their male partners. You’re thankful Livia chose this place on your behalf – even with your fiancé’s money and influence, this is a place he’ll never be allowed to enter.

Livia grinned smugly at your compliment. “Well, with your ridiculous time limit, I figured we both deserve to spend it wisely and without your boyfriend breathing down your neck.” She gives you a dead-eyed look and adds, “Honestly, he’s the only man I know who gives his girl just a measly one hour and thirty minutes to be out and about on a Friday night. So, unless he’s horny and he wants to fuck all the time, he’s just being an ass.”

This, you can’t agree more.

The lady bartender arrives with your drink, elegantly presented in a tall, slender glass, garnished with fresh blackberries and a lemon wedge. You thank her and turn to Livia to reply, “What can I say, I hit the jackpot. Oh my, this is amazing.” You had just taken a sip of the drink, which is by far the best you’ve ever had, to which the bartender beams in thanks.

Livia lets out screech of excitement. “Wait till you try Better Than Sex...”

She then proceeds to explain the drink’s etymology in great detail – a drink made of coffee liqueur, chocolate liqueur, full-cream milk and cherry grenadine, garnished with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. She goes on from She Said’s cocktails to showing you photos of bridesmaids’ gowns which she fishes out of her purse.

“I think this one fits your theme best,” she says as she points to a photo. “Besides, I look fucking fabulous in that colour and cut.”

Then she starts pointing out to you who’s sleeping with whom in the club, right before she jumps into the topic of arranging your bachelorette party.

“What? Absolutely not,” you say. Images of you passed out, drunk, and being hauled home by a displeased Coriolanus cross your mind. You shiver inwardly in horror at the idea.

“And why not?” she retorts, clearly outraged. “How could you fucking pass on your own hen party? That’s like, the hen’s only chance to have a bit of fun before the cock locks her in a cage and throws away the key. Pun totally intended.”

She takes a long swig of her drink and holds out a pointer finger for emphasis. “Read: by ‘fun,’ I meant strippers.”

With your eyebrows raised, you shake your head and respond, “Try mentioning that when he’s around and see if you get more than the icy stare.”

“Oh, boo-hoo. He used to hire escorts all the time. Honestly, he’s such a hypocrite.”

It takes you quite a bit of convincing for her to finally drop it and relent.

“Ugh, fine. Forgive me for trying to take my role seriously,” she sighs as she rolls her eyes dramatically and curls her lips in mock disapproval. “Don’t blame me down the line if you start feeling unfulfilled for not trying out other dicks for size.”

The lady bartender brings another round of cocktails for two, and you both clink your glasses together before sipping. This is the most alcohol you’ve consumed not just in one night, but also your entire life. You haven’t even gone through your second glass halfway and you’re already feeling the proverbial buzz.

“Okay, Innis. Spill. I know you didn’t invite me out for drinks just to shut down my hen party-hosting skills. Plus, we’ll get to meet at that cake-tasting thing tomorrow anyway. What is this about, for real?” Livia, ever the sharp one, rests her chin on the back of her hand and stares at you inquisitively.

You meet her gaze nonchalantly and reply, “Nothing. I was just bored. Can’t wait to try the cakes out.”

There is truth to that, somehow, because aside from the wedding preparations, college classes, and Coriolanus dragging you along to these events he’s always invited to, he still hasn’t allowed you to freely roam the city, perhaps fearing you’d attempt to contact your uncle and make a run for it again.

Livia squints her eyes at you while inching closer and not breaking eye contact. “You’re a good liar,” she concludes, leaning back into her seat and nodding in approval. “I like it.”

She gestures to the bartender for another round of drinks – your eyes widen when you realise she just ordered shots – and says with a mischievous grin as they arrive, “Luckily for me, I have methods of extracting valuable information – methods, mind you, that have, so far, yielded me with satisfactory results.”

You shake your head in mirth, accepting the drink from her. She raises her glass as if taking you on a challenge.

“Mark my word: you are going to fold, Innis.”

“Bite me, Cardew.”

Both of you burst into fits of laughter and throw your heads back in unison as you empty the shot glass. Two more of those and eventually you tap out of the drinking spree, earning the scathing comment ‘lightweight’ from your drinking buddy, who isn’t too far from your level of tipsiness despite what she brags about. You decide to order a basket of bacon-jalapeño poppers to nibble on, and you manage to get through half the basket before Livia takes it away and places it behind her, well beyond your reach.

“Easy on the grease, will you please?”

You pout. “Hey, I wasn’t done with that.”

She just replies with a frown, “Watch your figure. Tigris won’t like it if she makes adjustments to your dress at the last minute.”

You finish off the piece you’re holding with a single bite and lean on the bar with a slumped posture.

“Or not. You know, maybe if you let yourself go, your boyfriend might just – ”

“It’s Sejanus’s second death anniversary tomorrow.”

A pause passes between you two, with Livia staring at you as if she doesn’t know how to react or what to say to what you just blurted without warning.

“‘District boy?’” When you shoot her a half-hearted glare, she corrects herself, her tone a little more mellow, “Sorry, force of habit. And not to be a bitch, but why do you care?”

Why, indeed? The first year, you had no trouble going through, but the second somehow seems like another empty hole in your heart, slowly growing and gnawing away at the rest of it. Like all the aches you experienced just a few months after his death has come back in full force.

“Shit.”

Livia’s curse is followed by a slump in her posture as she leans on the bar and processes the information. “So, you really love him.”

“I do. Or did. I don’t know anymore.”

She motions for two glasses of water which arrives instantly. You’re only too happy for something without any trace of booze in it and drink the entire glass in one go.

“So, you called me here,” your drinking buddy says carefully, “Because you don’t know what to do and you can’t really talk to your boyfriend about it because he’d get jealous.”

Once again, she’s spot-on. Except she missed the part where you suspect that your boyfriend might’ve also killed him. You give her just a single look and she instantly confirms her hypothesis.

“He won’t get jealous; he’ll just shut me down.”

“That’s the same thing.” She sighs audibly and stares at you sombrely.

“You’re a sucker for self-punishment, you know that?”

You merely shrug in response.

“I’m not invalidating your feelings and shit, but this isn’t helping you at all in this Snow-situation.” Livia empties the last remaining shot glass. “I know you miss him, okay? It’s pretty clear. But that’s not going to bring him back. Just because your first love is gone and you’re stuck with your sociopathic fiancé doesn’t mean you have to be miserable.”

Livia gives you a look that can only mean ‘get your shit together’ and orders one more set of cocktails. When they arrive, she takes one for herself and hands you the other.

“But that also doesn’t mean we can’t toast to his memory.”

You take the glass and raise it. “To Sejanus Plinth.”

She copies your movement, muttering, “To your District Lover Boy, Sejanus Plinth.”

You both empty your glasses at the same time and you almost slam the glass back on the table. Never in a lifetime did you ever think toasting to your dead friend over a fruity-boozy drink could feel so cathartic, but here you are.

“There. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, get your shit together, Innis. You’re smarter than that.”

Despite her harsh reprimand, you find yourself chuckling, to which she just rolls her eyes, smirking exasperatedly.

“You know, he gives me so much grief for asking you to be my maid of honour.”

Livia lets out a shriek of glee. “I’d pay a fortune to have seen his reaction when you told him.”

“Oh, he was beyond m-miffed.” Your words are beginning to slur, indicating you probably had way too much of your capacity. “I was jus’ wondering why you accepted. Curious, ‘is’all.”

“If you’re asking if I’m over’im – ” her own garbled words are interrupted by her loud burp, which startles the waitress passing by – “Yes, I am. I’m over him, swear. But if I can get laid while I’m at it, why the fuck not, right?”

Guffawing, she adds, “Jus’ wanna see him suffer. ‘Magine the guy losing you? He’d spiral the fuck down. Honessly, I tried, m’kay? All this wedding prep – I already bumped into him sooo many times, made a loooot of passes, but no-ooo, he only has eyes for you.”

Side-eying you in jest, she adds, “No accounting for taste.”

You giggle. You actually giggle along with her as she shoves your arm playfully. Then, both of you share a look and dart like lightning to the washroom, throwing up in separate cubicles in unison. Having let some of that out, you begin feeling just a tad better even if the buzz still lingers.

You’re on the sink washing your hands when you notice the time on your watch.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I have to go.” According to the time, you’ve gone thirty minutes over your fiancé’s time limit.

Livia lets out a groan as she emerges from her stall. “Yeah, me too. I’m so hammered. I already paid, you get the next one. And you better not pull a District and go cheap on me, Innis.”

“Trust me, Cardew. When I pay, you can go drown in it for all I care.”

She snorts in laughter on the way outside the She Said Club, where she says her driver is waiting in the parking lot.

“Look sharp, Innis. Your executioner has arrived,” she mutters so only you can hear.

True enough, you look into the icy blue glare of Coriolanus Snow, leaning against the service car door, the stone-cold smile on his face concealing his ire.

“Did you have fun, sugarplum?” he says as he approaches.

From behind you, Livia fakes a retching noise.

You, however, are rooted to your spot as you try your best to appear sober.

“Livia, pardon me, but I have to take my fiancée home.” Coriolanus’s falsely cheery tone is disarming, as usual.

“You heard him. To the gallows, you go.” Livia pats you on the back and mumbles a ‘good luck’ under her breath before addressing the male. “See you both tomorrow. Try not to tire her out too much tonight, will you, Coriolanus? She can’t miss this; you know how she lo-oooves cakes. Loves them.”

Inwardly, you groan the way she just tries to rile him up, but he seems to keep a level head as always. In fact, he goes on to give her a wider grin.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself too much with what my fiancée and I do behind closed doors, Livia, and I am well aware how important this is for her.”

Livia just blows a loud raspberry in his direction before getting inside her car and driving off. A firm, large hand immediately grips your arm and the now stern voice of your fiancé chills your blood.

“Come, Nellie. We will talk when we get home.”

And you all but get shoved into the car before it drives you both home, where you suspect he might just pop off.

To the gallows, you go, alright.

Coriolanus Snow had never thought he’d see you again, but here you were, in the same year as him and in his class, sitting just a few seats before him to his right, listening aptly to Professor Cecil drone on about a linear equation on the board that he was well aware you’d be able to solve blindfolded and with hands tied behind your back.

You had left an impression on him when he met you in that playground all those years ago. Even if he remembered you using such colourful language unbecoming of a girl, there had already been something behind your eyes and in the way you spoke that he couldn’t pinpoint then.

He'd later discover the correct adjective: erudite.

Everything about you perplexed him to no end: your perfectly natural Capitol accent, your exemplary manners, your sharp wit, your gifted mind…

Your District origins.

Coriolanus had never thought someone of your calibre could emerge from such a place, yet here you were: an enigma he didn’t know what to feel about.

Festus elbowed him discreetly, distracting him from his thoughts and passing a crudely written note.

u crushing on district-homeschool freak?

Festus sniggered behind a closed fist to avoid drawing attention to himself. Coriolanus grinned imperceptibly and wrote down below the scribble a tasteful reply before handing it back to him:

Fuck off, kindly

The note comes back with more of Festus Creed’s infamous chicken-scratch handwriting:

really pretty though. too bad she’s district.

Coriolanus crumpled the note and tossed it in his bag and went back to staring at the back of your head.

Now, Festus’s former observation he could firmly attest to. You were undeniably easy on the eyes and considered one of the prettiest in his class. Over the next few weeks, he would find out that even the boys in the upper class agreed, with the way they would throw stares at you when you walk by them in the hallways. Unfortunately, he can’t confirm the part about you being District; you weren’t really forthcoming about your personal life to anyone yet. He’s heard of rumours circulating about you being born to a former Capitol actress, though, so the thought that maybe you’re not even District. Maybe someone else spread the idea of your District roots out of jealousy, and maybe you hinting at them when he first met you was just a way to make the real District rat feel good about himself.

Because if you were indeed not of Capitol origins, then that meant the Districts had the capacity to produce more children like you, which they could one day weaponise to try and overthrow the government once more. An army of district kids like you, putting the ones like Arachne, for instance, from the Capitol to shame…

Coriolanus shuddered at the thought.

He’d later discover another aspect of you: that underneath your well-mannered demeanour, you hid what he can only describe as intellectual savagery.

It was lunch break sometime in the first semester. You were alone at a table as usual, declining the nicer girls’ offer of sitting with them at their table.

Coriolanus sat with Festus Creed, Sejanus Plinth, and some of his other male classmates were sitting just a few tables away when Arachne Crane, for whatever reason, had just decided to cause a scene in her usual fashion, backed up by Juno and her other lackeys. The group seemed to have come from the Talent Show rehearsal and approached your table looking just about as menacing as a pack of squirrels ganging up on a rattlesnake.

“Hey, district-homeschool freak,” he heard Arachne call out, as she leaned on your table.

Coriolanus saw a hint of danger flash in your eyes before you stood with grace and an uncannily calm air.

“Oh, so she thinks she’s so tough, huh?” one of the girls quipped behind their leader, but he didn’t see who it was.

“Not at all. I’m just supposed to stand when somebody’s addressing me,” even your tone came off as non-confrontational. “It’s called courtesy, you might’ve heard of it.”

Arachne sneered. “Is that what they teach you at home? What else did they teach you, how to fold your laundry? How to be more submissive to your future husband?” The group laughed with her in a jeering manner.

Plastering a cold smile, you responded, “On the contrary, Arachne, they teach me Algebra II. We’re currently on the radian measure which you wouldn’t know because you’re not on that level yet. I could ask you what they teach you here, but judging by the way you talk, I’d say not that much. In fact, I fear for the state of the Capitol Academe.”

Arachne’s eyes narrowed at the insult. “Just because you have money for tutors doesn’t mean you’re smart.”

“True,” you said. “Money can’t buy intellect.”

“Well, it can’t buy class, either,” Arachne countered a little more loudly.

“I know. I can tell,” you said, clearly unfazed by her increasingly hostile behaviour. “Because you clearly have neither of the two. Are we finished?” You took a quiet, demure sip from your juice pack, before continuing, “Because this is boring me. That’s great Talent Show material, by the way: boring people to death.”

Arachne hid her hurt by scoffing, muttering, “Come on, this is pathetic.”

As they left you alone, you sat back down with the grace of a princess and continued your lunch like nothing happened. Festus kicked him under the table, grinning obnoxiously, and said, “What’s the matter, Snow? Scared that she’ll bite?”

Coriolanus curled his lips in a challenge and kicked him back, while the rest of the table chuckled, still in disbelief at what they just witnessed. He could’ve sworn it was this very moment that made you earn his classmates’ respect, even if you eventually revealed your underlying intolerance for blood and gore during a Hunger Games rerun in History class.

With his eyes glued on you across the mess hall, he couldn’t deny that the way you maintained your cool while hurling witty insults was a form of art you seemed to have mastered.

Later on, he would have his first proper conversation with you in an empty classroom when he arrived earlier than he had planned for a math period. You had been there earlier than he was, your razor-sharp focus on a fourth-year pre-calculus problem written on the board, your arms crossed in full-concentration mode. He watched you take a piece of chalk and attempt to correct what seemed like a solution written by a student.

It took him ten seconds. Ten seconds before he could stop himself and break the silence.

“What made you change your mind about attending school?” Coriolanus asked.

“Hello to you, too,” you turned to face him with a smile momentarily before shifting back your attention to the problem on the board. “Psychologist’s orders. She said I needed to spend time with people my age.”

As if he wasn’t already curious about you – or at least, matters concerning you – you had to add this to the mix.

“Why are you in freshman year?”

“As opposed to what, being locked up in an insane asylum? They have pretty rigorous qualifications that I haven’t met yet.”

It was this moment that he decided he liked your humour immensely. Coriolanus let out a genuine laugh, and you turned to grin at him before you writing a few more lines and returned the piece of chalk to the side of the board.

“No, I meant, why aren’t you in a higher year?” He clarified. “That’s clearly senior-level material.”

“It’s just math,” you shrugged. “Outside that, I’m just like everyone else.”

“I highly doubt that,” a voice said.

You both turned to the voice at the same time to find Sejanus Plinth standing at the classroom doorway.

Ah yes. The District rat.

Now, Coriolanus could confirm that he was, beyond a reasonable doubt, full-blooded, cloddish-accented, one hundred-percent District. The blond quickly masked the sneer of disdain forming on his face with his usual grin as a greeting. He spared you a glance and you both catch each other’s eye. He had thought for a moment that he’d seen a flash of recognition behind them – had you caught that scornful look he had for the District rat? But before he could even confirm, you were already smiling warmly at the other boy – that other boy who was leagues below who you deserved (even if you were part District). That boy with a bag of gumdrops you both briefly interacted with about six years ago who needed you to come to rescue him from almost being ganged up by a bunch of other children.

Sejanus Plinth, who would later grow closer to you and thus would divulge to his best friend the tragic events that would explain your need for a psychologist. Sejanus, who’d later reveal to him that he’s developed a crush on you. Private Plinth, who’d be too chickenshit to tell you until before he left for District 12 and ultimately stayed there.

The teenage Coriolanus might not have been aware then, but the two would have profound, lasting influences in his life: the girl, he’d fall madly in love with and force into marriage, and the boy, very much dead yet he’d still be competing with for her love.

Behind you, you hear the apartment door slamming close and you almost jump at the noise.

You sit on the loveseat in the living room, where Oscar the cat greets you with a head bump on your leg. Before you can pet him, however, Coriolanus picks him up gently and exits, presumably to put him back inside his playroom. He soon returns, pausing on the other side of the coffee table and staring down at you with an utmost displeased expression. Nowhere near comparable as when he found you crouching inside a wooden crate in the middle of a botched escape attempt, but it’s still significant.

“Explain why you went over thirty minutes beyond what you were allowed to spend outside.”

With his hands inside his pockets, he draws to his full height and glares at you icily while he waits for you to speak up and defend yourself. You rub your face with your palms to appear more sober than you really are, but so far, the buzz is still there like an annoying fly you can’t swat off.

“How much did she make you drink?” He asks, crossing his arms in his growing impatience.

“Wha-no, she din’ make me do anything.”

Great. Because slurring your words when you’re being interrogated by a former peacekeeper leads to excellent results. Still, you can’t help but frown at the way he makes it sound like Livia forced you into it.

“Fine. How much did you drink?”

“Much.” Dammit. “I mean, plenty.”

Coriolanus pinches his nose bridge and exhales audibly. “You know you’re not a heavy drinker. You shouldn’t have allowed her to goad you into this. How could you be so irresponsible?”

“Stop talking to me like ’mma child,” you bite back and cross your arms. Inebriated or not, you will not be reduced to an invalid without an agency of your own. “I can think for myself.”

Letting out an aggravated sigh, he gives you a condescending glower. “This is exactly why I told you not to pick her. She is not a good influence on you, Nellie.”

You blink once or twice to process what he just said. You get to your feet, finally realising why he’s so upset with such a simple thing as you drinking out like a normal young adult on a Friday night.

“No, you don’t like her because I’m actually having fun with her. There’s a difference,” you conclude softly. The idea is so absurd, it sobers you up a little. “Remember when you said, I needed to reconnect with old friends or some shit? This is me doing that.”

“This is not about you making friends,” he admonishes in the same patronizing manner. “This is about who you chose as your maid of honour.”

You choose to stand your ground and glare at him. “I made it clear I’m not changing.”

“And I made it clear that I do not approve of your choice,” he says roughly. “Get her off the list and call Clemmie or Lys.”

“Or just call off this fucking wedding, how about that?”

As you harden your expression, he, in turn, gives you a look that you are aware does not bode well for you.

“I don’t like your language, Nellie.”

At this moment, you find yourself agreeing with Livia.

Who cares what he thinks?

“It’s my wedding too, okay?” you snap. You exit the living room quickly, intending to just get the argument over with and lock yourself in your room where he can leave you alone. Unfortunately, he follows you at once. “I can choose whoever I want in my own damn entourage. It’s the only thing in this...this charade that I get choice in and you’re not going to take that from me.”

Coriolanus catches up on you and grabs your arm, which you yank back without much force. “Do not talk to me that way – ”

“She’s the first real friend I’ve ever made since Seja – ”

But there’s something within you that catches you mid-speech. the temperature in the living room seems to drop several degrees, which matches the tone he uses.

“Carefully choose what you say next.”

So, you’re really not even allowed to talk about him as a friend, now. It almost physically pains you that even the man he once considered to be his best friend now refuses to even speak of him.

“Coryo, it’s his second death an – ”

“I know what fucking day it is,” he draws close and hisses in your face. “And you don’t get to use that tone on me. You don’t get to endanger yourself this way and step out of line.”

After his menacing tirade, Coriolanus pulls away. In a second, his fury instantly dissipates, replaced by a blank, even serene expression.

The calm before the storm.

“I can’t have my future wife misbehaving like this,” he says with a tone enough to chill your blood. He then closes the space between you two in a calculated manner, stopping merely inches away from you to stare down at you. “I should be nipping this in the bud.”

Your vision spins next, and you wonder for a second if the alcohol you consumed finally has gotten the better of you – until you notice an almost painful grip around your thighs: your fiancé had just hauled you off the floor and placed you over his shoulders. Before you can protest, you’re dumped unceremoniously into a soft surface. Disoriented, you make a feeble attempt to get off the surface, but you’re harshly flipped over on your stomach, unable to lift yourself off owing to being pinned down by something you can’t shake off.

You’re filled with dread the instant your mind processes what just happened: Coriolanus had just carried you to his room and is keeping you in place on his bed with his entire body draped on your back.

It's the alcohol you’d have to thank for your delayed response time.

Desperately, you claw at the pillow, as if it’ll help you out from underneath him, but you freeze when you feel his breath fan your ear with a whisper that sends shivers down your spine:

“I want you to count to from ten when I say so, sugarplum.”

You feel him pull back, the bed shifting slightly. It takes the rustling of a belt behind you to send you into hysterics; the feel of the cold, night air on your ass as your dress is lifted, revealing you in just your underwear, is enough to make you beg.

“Coryo, please, no – ”

Your words die in your throat as a sharp, white-hot pain lands on the swell of your ass, almost at the same time you hear a loud crack.

He's just hit your almost bare backside with the softer side of his leather belt, and it fucking burns to high hell.

You’re still reeling at the shock of it, but your hair is bunched and pulled, not enough to hurt but to gain your attention.

“Start counting,” he commands from behind you.

Ten. That means ten lashes of his belt. Nine more of this and you can barely handle one.

You sob out of fear, but you don’t know if it’s out of fear of pain or of him.

“Please, I won’t do it again – ”

A pained yelp escapes you the moment the belt lands on your ass again. Another hair pull, followed by his stern voice from behind you.

“Nellie, you’re prolonging this by not counting as I said. Now, I will not ask again: count to ten.”

Go to hell.

You don’t know what compels you to – perhaps it’s the thought of you being unable to sit for the next few days on any surface without wincing in pain – you inhale sharply, swallowing back the insult you’re planning to hurl, and whisper:

“Ten.”

Another cracking of the belt, followed by your cry as it hits you, followed by you shakily whispering a number. He repeats this without mercy and without reprieve – just pure malice and the intent of inflicting pain.

Sniffling, you manage to stammer “f-five,” bracing yourself for another, but it doesn’t come.

You lay flat on your stomach as you weep audibly in your helplessness and shame, belatedly realising he’s removed himself from you and has gone off fuck-knows-where. Just as you’re about to try and get up, he makes a re-entrance, having come from the bathroom. He’s completely shirtless now, eyes locked in and heading straight towards you.

You begin sobbing anew and try to crawl off the bed, but he’s instantly on you, pinning you down as he straddles your thighs with his own, taking your wrists and pinning them above you with a single hand.

“No, please…”

Directly over your ear, he whispers gently, “Sshh, shh, it’s over, sugarplum, I’m here to take care of you now.”

Despite your rather pathetic sobs, he continues cooing over your ear, while you feel something wet and cold being rubbed gently on your ass where the belt had hit you multiple times.

“It’s just a salve, my little sugarplum,” he explains. “It’ll help heal the skin faster and reduce bruising.”

The salve helps like he says, thank goodness, because after he’s massaged the area, it had numbed almost entirely – too bad it does absolutely nothing with the trembling on your hands. For the next few minutes, your fiancé strokes your hair, kisses your crown, and whispers what he thinks are comforting words, all of them a blur to you as you continue lying down on your stomach, unmoving and still trying to wrap your head around what just happened.

“You made me do that, my sugarplum,” he says, and you’re almost tempted to believe how contrite his voice is. “I will never hurt the love of my life – as long as you give me no reason to.”

You’re barely paying attention when he starts peeling off your dress entirely, even when he jerks himself off above you and spills himself on your bare back, even when he cleans you up and wraps you almost lovingly in his blanket and pulls you close to him in a cuddle you’re all-too-familiar with.

What you listen to aptly, however, is what he tells you quietly as he runs his fingers through your hair in this sick form of forced intimacy.

“I will move the wedding to a month and a half from now. Mid-October. In return, you get to keep your maid of honour, and I will lift your uncle’s exile the day before the wedding. That way, he can walk you to the aisle and hand you over to me, just like he should’ve done from the start.”

Just before you let yourself succumb to sleep in his arms, you make a mental note to ask Livia for a crucial favour as this last-ditch attempt to throw a wrench at your fiancé’s plans for the future.

Sejanus Plinth felt a little guilty as he sat beside you on his bedroom couch. You were hunched over the coffee table poring over three open books at the same time, scribbling madly on a nearly full page of your notebook, essentially doing your part and more in this supposedly partnered effort of writing a ten-page analysis of some pre-Panem fantasy trilogy. It was obvious you had been spending the recent nights getting some work done on the paper based on the way you rubbed your eyes constantly and yawned into your palms. He was supposed to have written about three pages now, but he had barely scraped one and a half, and the open notebook he had on his lap was devoid of handwriting.

Yet he still couldn’t quite believe his luck that he had you in his bedroom, the first friend he had ever made since his family’s official move to the Capitol. His friend, the smart, quiet, sassy, pretty girl who had once defended him from one of the many bouts of name-calling by his own classmates and then vanished from his life. He had little hope he’d see you again, but here you both were in your second year, your friendship stronger than ever.

“You know, experts say that staring into paper has been scientifically proven to yield a ten-page book review.”

Your cheeky little comment did not go unnoticed, but Sejanus just flashed you an innocent smile he knew you couldn’t resist. You rolled your eyes at him and proceeded to sigh, before setting your pen down and heavily leaning back on the couch.

“I guess we could take a break,” you admitted as you rubbed your eyes, and grabbed a throw pillow, hugging it to yourself.

“Speak for yourself, I can go all day,” Sejanus joked. “I’ll go get us some food.”

He stood from his couch, but before he exited the door, he looked back at you and grinned, “Nellie, try not to fall asleep before I can come back, yeah? Ma worked hard on those strudels.”

You gave him a sweet, exhausted smile, and said, “Please thank her for me. Not that I won’t be thanking her later before I get home, but still.”

“I’m sure she’d like that,” Sejanus nodded when he finally closed the door behind him.

He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and straightened the collar of his shirt. As if having you alone in his room – albeit for completing the essay together – had him feeling nervous enough before you even arrived, his Ma just had to gush over you just as soon as you crossed the threshold.

Of course, he’d revealed to them how he met you all those years ago, carefully omitting a few details, but when he told her last week he’d have you over to visit, she had wildly assumed you to be his girlfriend, which you weren’t. Something he had always been so adamant with her about. Besides, he knew he had zero chances on you, as gifted and as talented and as attractive as you are.

Sometimes, he’d find himself wishing that weren’t the case.

It wasn’t your looks or your brains that had him developing some sort of…feelings for you. You were a breath of fresh air in the Capitol for him, starkly different from the other girls in the school who were either vapid, vain, or arrogant, or all those three at once.

“So? How is it with you and your…friend so far?”

He hadn’t even crossed the doorway to the kitchen and his Ma was already on his case. He loved her with all his heart, and he was extremely grateful for her hard work, but she could scare you away even before he had made a move.

He met his mother’s expectant smile with a tired grin and replied, “It’s going great, Ma.”

His mother beamed at him – he didn’t have the heart to take this little joy away from her when she was so excited – and told him a maid would carry the tray of food upstairs for him instead and shooed him away from her kitchen.

“She’s really pretty, by the way,” she added just as he was leaving to go back to his room.

Sejanus found you resting your head on the couch’s armrest, hugging the throw pillow to yourself and in blissful slumber.

He didn’t have the heart to take this little bit of rest away from you, either.

Sighing to himself, he grabbed a fresh velvet blanket and tucked you in it before sitting beside you and observing you. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face and let his fingers linger on your cheek.

You didn’t wake up until about two hours later, and by then, Sejanus had made good progress on the essay since you weren’t distracting him too much. He then spent the rest of the day doing more staring than actual schoolwork, trying to commit this day to his memory, no matter how inconsequential.

Aside from the kiss he would eventually share with you, Sejanus would constantly remember in his last days just how soft your cheek was and just how he could’ve snuck in a quick kiss on them that day if he hadn’t been so faint-hearted.

Enter Level 17 - soon

Next on Level 17 - Wedding bells toll, Snows going honeymooning on the beach, just filthy filthy smut (fucking finally lmaooo)

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated! Sorry for the delay as well, the next update will likely take about 2 weeks from now duw to work still being crazyyy. Thank you for your patience!!!

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

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sunboki · 6 months

Text

004. SUNDAY’S PARADIGM — ANTHOLOGY

PAIRING. Hwang Hyunjin x gn. reader | WORD COUNT. 2.6k & 15 minute read | SERIES PLAYLIST. | WARNINGS. cursing | TROPE. college au, friends to lovers, she fell first but he fell harder (lmao), fluff

( ✉️ ) — hi everybody! i’m very happy to announce that this is the last addition to my mini-anthology “METANOIA”, thank you so much for the support this far and for so much anticipation and patience along the way— have a wonderful day!!

He was a cold person. Spiteful and brash to all people too close, scared to let his walls down. Except, to him, you’re a spectacle. A classmate he realizes he can’t exactly find reason to dislike while he sketched you from his stool in the art room.

Hyunjin knows your habits.

He knows when you’re talking to someone you like your voice becomes higher, knows you prefer to work alone on certain projects, and that you have a low social battery in public spaces. He knows when you're talking to the professor, when you’re anxious, you hold your arms close to your body.

In fact, Hyunjin may know more about you than your friends do. Except, Hyunjin isn’t your friend, nor a stalker or admirer. He’s just Hyunjin and you’re just Y/n, someone he never gets bored of watching from afar without knowing why.

Perhaps it’s the careful sculpting of your nose, the way your eyes perfectly fit with the rest of your face, rose hued lips curling when you smile. Oftentimes he wonders what shade your lips would be if he watercolor painted them. Dusty or dark, pink, or maybe red. He wonders.

And on occasions, he wonders why you aren’t the model for their class while one hand absentmindedly traces you, seated a few stools ahead of him while his canvas successfully blocks the repeated glances in your direction.

Maybe the endless sketches of you in his notebook are the reason he treats that thing like a porcelain vase, held dearly close to his chest as if a mere drop of water would rot the binding.

Hyunjin doesn’t like his sudden interest in you—doesn’t like how he can’t dislike you compared to his usual stark coldness for everyone and anyone, but he can’t help it.

There’s just something peculiar about you that he can’t put his finger on. He doesn’t like that either. But somehow, he can’t seem to get enough.

His lips pull into a frown, the usual one that unconsciously causes the rest of his face to turn grumpy. Oftentimes, Seungmin (the boy occupying the stool to his left) would snap his fingers just to watch surprise cross Hyunjin’s face for a change. He’s a strange kid.

Noticing a friend of yours stumble into the classroom, he can’t help but repeatedly peer from his work, memorizing the small creases of your clothings fabric onto the canvas.

For a moment, Sana (the girl whose name he finally remembered) pulled a small candy from her pocket and popped it in her mouth, urging you to take one as well.

She doesn’t like that flavor, she likes the strawberry flavor better. He thinks to himself.

And sure enough, after delivering a kind smile, you sneakily shoving the treat into your bag when she turns around. Hyunjin bites back the ghost of a smile creeping onto his lips.

Stupid. This is stupid. He tells himself constantly, but still finds his heart beating faster upon seeing you each day.

Really, really stupid, Hwang Hyunjin.

.. .

“I got it!” Sana shrieks, and you attempt to even your sudden panic as the girl begins gesturing wildly. Perhaps Hyunjin isn’t the only one getting surprised on a daily basis.

Frantically piecing together the thoughts circulating around her caffeine dispenser of a brain, she slams her hands down in front of you, another jump scare.

“He’s a ‘look don’t touch kind of guy’, that’s why every girl wants to be in our department!”

Crickets could’ve chirped in the amount of time you blankly stared at her.

She’s fervently nodding, seeming to have discovered an entirely new world in the process of describing your class spectacle as a ‘look don’t touch’.

“..Einstein would’ve stayed in his grave.”

“Would not,” She retorts, pushing her inky black tresses behind her ear and clasping her hands together. “In fact, he would’ve used all of his stone-dead energy to climb out of his grave just to tell me how smart I am!”

“Now that’s just wrong.”

So after more pouting, more glaring, and more unconvinced stares, you finally rise off the bench, shaking the iced coffee in hand.

It’s your lunch, and you would rather not talk about Hwang Hyunjin, but you might just have to give up even trying to avoid the topic at this point.

You don’t dislike him or anything, it just becomes a tad bit irritating once his name has been brought up forty five times in the last two hours, y’know? Because if there’s one thing Sana was right about, it’s that every girl is obsessed with him. Borderline. Obsessed.

Meanwhile, Hwang Hyunjin has no interest. In fact, Hwang Hyunjin doesn’t seem interested in anyone, nor much of anything. That is, unless it’s art.

Back when you had first taken the class the two of you debated on if he was gay, trying to find something that explained it. Although, by the third week you both concluded he acted like that towards everything.

Well, at least he looked bored.

Hwang Hyunjin was hard to read.

Setting your materials in their coordinating places, you steady the easel in front of you, prepared for Ms. Hoon to burst through the door and demand a new mock-up in five minutes or less. She’s known for being spontaneous in all of the wrong ways.

Except, today, Ms. Hoon saunters in, fingers nimbly adjusting her skirt that hangs close to her ankles—close to her tawny leather boots clicking when she walks. She’s pleased, too pleased.

Sana sends you a look saying the same thing you’re thinking:

We’re fucked.

Whipping a random roster from nowhere, her pointed index slides down names before looking up. Right at you.

“For our end of semester project, I want us to explore new options. I’m assigning all of you in pairs to visit different exhibitions around Seoul. Y/n L/n?”

You raise your hand.

“Your partner is Hwang Hyunjin, you’ll be visiting the National Museum of Korea’s Greece exhibition this Sunday,” She smiles, scarily resembling a Cheshire cat. “Infographics are here.” Ms. Hoon finishes, patting the stack atop the podium.

Never has there been so many eyes boring into your back.

And with that, the students either drag their feet or plow through to grab the papers.

Meanwhile, you’re feeling something only recognizable as impending doom.

You’re fucked.

.. .

Hysterically staring ahead, you flinch when a piece of paper is slipped beside you, forcing your eyes off the board.

Can I get your number? It reads, so when you notice Hyunjin’s name is addressed below, you’re convinced you’ve been trapped in some alternate universe. Mere seconds ago Ms. Hoon assigned partners, or did you miss something inbetween the lines?

Your number? Hwang Hyunjin, asking for your number?

Unbelievable.

Instead of darting for the door like you’d planned earlier though, you wait until the classroom is empty to approach him, looking unfairly handsome as always. But before he can say a word, you form a jumbled sentence through fast-blinking eyelids and manically expressive nods of your head.

“Hyunjin I— I’m sorry I’m flattered but I don’t think of you like tha—“

“Huh? For the project?” He replies, and a hundred tons of steel might as well drop on your head at this rate.

Not only are you fucked, but now you’re fucking yourself. And not on good terms.

Talk about a bad first impression.

Opening your mouth, closing it, and opening it again, you chameleon redder and redder the longer he looks at you, shakily typing your digits into his phone to spin on your heel and march out at an alarming pace.

Although, you don’t see the small quirk of his lips, nor how he named “Pretty Project Partner Y/N” as your contact.

“God I’m such an idiot!” Clutching your head, you prop your elbows on the kitchen island while Sana sifts through Netflix on the sofa. She chortles, but lets you wallow in your misery no less.

It’s your secret language, a coping mechanism in its own, sweetly bitter truth.

The day of and you’re still hung up about Hyunjin. Well, your overwhelming embarrassment about Hyunjin—something that kept you up well throughout the night.

Weird. Since when did you care so much about your impression on him anyway? He’s never been a particular stake in your road, but now he’s the sudden speed bump in every once-peaceful moment.

Your pocket vibrates with a notification.

Funny enough, he seemed to live up to that speed bump role.

Hyunjin : Can I come over? Chan’s a bit.. busy

You : Busy?

Hyunjin : Busy

You : Yikes, come over

Hyunjin : Thanks

Sprinting into the living room, you have to stop yourself, hoping to appear composed to the all-knowing best friend of yours.

“Hey, um, could you run to the convenience store for me?”

What a side-eye. She could slice cheese with that glare.

Number one rule? By no circumstances can you have Sana plotting something. Especially not with Hyunjin involved.

“Are you constipated?”

Here goes your ego.

“I’m in denial.”

She taunts. “You poor thing.”

“Aren’t I?”

“Fine, send me what you want and pay me back.” Waving her off, you take the opportunity to attempt at rationalizing what exactly you’ll do, say, look like, act like, and the other billions and trillions of possibilities you only have a few minutes to think about before he arrives.

Real reassuring.

Hyunjin : I’m here

He sends five minutes later, sequentially leading to your phone dropping on your face, slipping on the rug, and giving yourself a once-over (more like a thrice-over) in the mirror, where you greet him at the door.

First thing your eyes are drawn to are the bouquet of flowers held in hand.

Flowers.

Flowers?!?

“Look, they were on sale and it adds to the atmosphere.” He deliberately avoids your gaze. You don’t mention it.

You never took Hyunjin as the guy bringing you flowers. Come to think of it, you never took Hyunjin as a romantic either. Guess this project is teaching more things than just the philosophy of Michelangelo’s sculptures.

Placing said flowers into a vase you miraculously found in the cabinet above the microwave, you anxiously tap your finger atop your thigh.

It’s awkward, until it isn’t. Because Hyunjin is surprisingly good at small talk.

“Why are you like this to me?” Blurting, you wish you would’ve bitten your tongue. Luckily, he doesn't seem to mind too much.

Instead, he fixates on your face, noting your details as you speak. Dusty red is their color he decides, the watercolor shade matching your lips best.

“Like what?”

“Well,” You meet his eyes. He memorizes that color as well. “You’re just different in class.”

Leaning further into the opposing loveseat, he shrugs.

“For the record, Ms. Hoon wears that awful perfume every day. Not to mention everyone falls asleep anyway.”

He’s not half wrong.

“Aren’t you observant,” You muse, cheekily giggling to yourself.

He rolls his eyes, ears pink nonetheless.

Abruptly interrupting your teasing, there’s a knock, and you haphazardly edge to peer through the peephole, Hyunjin simultaneously tailing behind you.

“Who is it?” He whispers, uncharacteristic to his usual unbothered demeanor.

Shit, it’s Sana!

Already aware she’d find out something was up one way or another, you find yourself with no choice but to slowly open the door, a hand leant against the doorframe, another covering Hyunjin’s mouth where he hides on the wall to your left.

“Hey you better pay me ba- are you okay?” She hesitates, surveying the sweat on your brow and how off-balance you’re standing, plastic bag in clutch.

“Oh yeah, I just remembered! Did you buy the extra bag of potato chips?” Diverting the conversation, you nervously grin, feeling Hyunjin’s hot breath against your palm when he stifled a giggle.

Squinting incredulously, she scrolls through her messages without answering. Shaking the list you sent right in your face, you wrinkle your nose, putting on the best “please? I promise I’ll buy you lunch for a week” face you can muster.

Like you said. Secret language.

Sighing heavily, you thank whomever above when she slumps away and you excitedly slam the door shut, both releasing exhales of relief.

Checking the time, you glimpse outside, making sure the perimeter is Sana-free. You need absolutely no traces.

Great. Coast clear.

“Shhhh!” Shushing him, you carefully lock the door before running out of sight down the hallway at full speed. Bewildered, he chases along, mini ponytail swaying with each stride.

You have to cover your mouth to keep from laughing. Unusually, he’s doing the same.

Your unwavering, certainly monotonous class spectacle is laughing.

He’s pretty.

Wait. Duh.

He’s gorgeous.

Yeah. That fits better.

A soft hue decorates his cheeks, and he stumbles down the stairs like a drunkard. Yet, in the midst of your admiration, your foot slips—more drunkard-esque than him—from beneath you. Before your forehead makes contact with the marble floor though, a hand fastens onto your sleeve.

Hyunjin leans down, brows furrowed worriedly. Also uncharacteristic.

“You okay?” He asks, tone soft, voice concerned.

Responding breathlessly from both your near-death experience and how ungodly close you are to a prince, you meekly nod, allowing the boy to ease you upright.

Dear god what is with you?!

Navigating the exhibition tucked away near a library, neither of you waste time getting to work. So as the sky begins dimming to eve and you briefly think of Sana, likely beyond confused back at the dorm, you curve around to the last sculpture replicated, the world renowned “Bacchus”.

“Greek sculptures are beautiful, aren’t they.” He speaks, voice hollow and hardly audible unless you craned close. His eyes flit to every inch of the statue, taking in the precise attention to detail carving the fingerprints lingering on flesh, specific shadows emphasizing pained expressions or that of happiness, fingernails so deliberately intricate it terrifies you.

Hyunjin has a way of leaving you breathless.

“Yeah..” You mutter, scribbling some messy bullet points and getting a decent basis on the overall anatomy of the sculpture.

You often wonder how such masterpieces have remained perfectly intact after countless years. You wonder if Hyunjin is like that too. That, even if you got close to him, he’d stay the same. Bitter, uninviting. To others at least.

To you, he’s different. You like it.

Or, he’d change.

Perhaps become sweeter, lace his tongue in honey when he spoke to you.

You quickly force the thought away.

However, what you don’t realize is that you leave Hyunjin breathless all the same. Because with your attention being elsewhere (for a second occasion), you hadn’t noticed his gaze landing on you when he said beautiful.

.. .

Hyunjin is a gentleman. And in all honesty, this occasion, despite the fact you’re simply visiting an exhibition, feels more like a date than anything.

He’s geared you to the left of him while he shields the road on your walk home, he brought flowers, and even saved you from a catastrophe. You’d count that as a pretty gentleman-type move.

Arriving at your complex and promising to text more details to each other tomorrow, his hand—stirring déjà vú in your stomach—grasps your sleeve for a second time.

Gently turning you around, his thumb reaches up to lightly press against your bottom lip, index hooked beneath your chin.

You’re certain you’ve forgotten to breathe by now.

“Hyunjin.. What're you doing….?” You hesitantly drag out, phrase muffled.

Absentmindedly clicking his tongue, he maneuvers your head left and right, a slow smile crawling onto his cheeks upon witnessing your flustered state.

“Making sure I get the color right,” He responds nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t mere centimeters away from your lips.

Dusty red, he was right.

Leaning his head down with a small tilt, his breath barely ghosts over your face, mischievous smirk beginning to grate your nerves the longer he holds that smug cockiness.

“See you tomorrow?” He muses, shoving cold hands into his pockets while ensuring you get inside safely.

“Yeah Yeah..” You grumble, praying he doesn’t notice you trip up the stairs, mind buzzing wildly.

He does, and he laughs.

Hyunjin knew your habits, and now, in the middle of your coincidentally ideal project, he finds himself learning again and again. There’s so much to you, so many layers he hopes to uncover, so much that becomes hard not falling for.

He can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

“Y/n?”

Sana knocks on your room’s door. You hum in acknowledgement.

“Where did you get those flowers?”

> SERIES TAGLIST. @phtogravi @liknws @luckieleaf @jhstayy @meloncremesoda @chans1aptop @eternitywaveshello @meanergreener @ladylexis @love-gy-u @hanjingin @idkluvutellme @dark-anxel @yubinism @rachabreathing @seung-scrittore @fylithia @skzsupremacy @alrm02 @ener-energy @koliki @anskiiz @dprkbyn @bellamuerte1987 @ylixbok @hanjisung-enjoyer @youngunknownwitch @hwangflora @starlost-andfound @taeriffic @flwerfield

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rehfan · 1 month

Text

La Belle Dame avec Merci

Eddie Munson x Unpopular!AFAB!fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ readers only please - minor children DNI! – No Upsidedown; SLOW BURN; Eddie & Reader are both over 18; fake dating/relationship; reader is technically a virgin; mutual pining; Eddie has trust issues; emotional hurt/comfort; masturbation; emotional manipulation; reader is kinda shitty to Eddie; reader gets better; angst; more angst; Eddie’s mom is dead; small act of accidental physical violence; Uncle Wayne is the best

Tagged: @bluestuesday / @ali-r3n / @winchester-angel / @iletmytittiestitty-russ / <— let me know if you want to be added!!

DO NOT POST TO ANY OTHER SITE. My words are mine and mine alone.

Inspired by @/hard-candy-writing ‘s ORIGINAL POST — I sincerely hope I do this justice.

1.8K words of Chapter 1 below (no smut yet - this is a SLOW BURN) — more chapters to come! AO3 link

Tumblr Masterlist Link

Eddie Munson was on your radar about as much as any other guy in school. That is to say, boys were people to avoid on the whole; whether because they were just cruel to you, or users trying to get you in bed, and therefore people to pointedly stay away from or - if it ever would happen - a dreamy-eyed boy were to come along and finally be kind, the fact remained the same: boys were an inconvenience at best, a source of torture at worst. Keeping your head down was the rule for every day. None of them wouldn’t have anything to do with you anyway, but some would actively jump out of the way in the halls all the while thinking themselves clever and funny by quoting Monty Python: “She’s a witch! A witch! She turned me into a newt! I got better…” An act somehow always followed by a cackle from their clique.

Of course, Eddie himself wasn’t one of these. He mainly kept out of your way, even though you shared a biology class together. You knew him enough to hand him a pen or pencil if he asked you for one in desperation, but otherwise, he kept to the theater club and his D&D group, Hellfire, and gave you a wide berth.

So it was a surprise to you when you received notice from the librarian that Eddie asked for a tutor in history. Ms. O’Donnell was a challenging teacher, no doubt, but you were one of her favorites and were currently in her AP History class. Eddie was in American 20th Century history and while it wasn’t your favorite part of history, you could still help him get by. You thanked the librarian and went looking for Eddie.

It didn’t take you long. The librarian simply pointed behind you. He was at one of the smaller tables in the middle of the space, doodling in a notebook. His leg was pumping a mile a minute and he looked bored. It must be his free period, you thought. You sat opposite him without asking and he looked up surprised.

“So when would you like to get started?” you asked, unpacking a datebook and pen from your purse.

“What?” He was genuinely thrown off guard, but soon regained his composure. This was some kind of trick. Had to be. He searched the room and discovered the table behind you was loaded with jocks and party kids. They weren’t looking at either you or him, but something still smelled off. He narrowed his eyes at you and waited.

“For your tutoring. 20th Century History? Ms. O’Donnell’s class? The thing you asked to be tutored in?” You clicked your pen. “When are you free?”

“What are you talking about?” he said, utterly confused. You had never spoken to him for any length of time before but there was something about the sound of his voice you found fascinating. The more he spoke, the more you wanted to hear. Even if it was him turning you down for your academic services. “I never asked to be tutored,” he said, insulted. “I’m not that stupid. I’ll make it through her class all on my own, sweetheart, m’kay?” He tilted his head and gave you a smart-ass grin.

“Well then why did the librarian give me your name? And why did she say that you wanted to be tutored?”

“I don’t know, princess,” he said, leaning forward, that grin still painted on his face. “Maybe she’s trying to set you up with the only guy in school who isn’t terrified of you.” This was not true. You did terrify him. Deeply. Your piercing eyes. Your pretty hair. Not to mention your rather distracting body. You were a fucking masterpiece and totally untouchable. The Impenetrable Ice Queen. The Queen who was now talking to him, the lowly bard. What was happening here? Doubling down on his declaration, Eddie leaned in even further and whispered: “I can be scary too, you know.”

Your spine stiffened. That was a shot across your bow you weren’t expecting. “I don’t understand. The librarian always keeps track of who the tutors are assigned to. If you didn’t put your name in for tutoring-“

Just then a group of kids behind you laughed. “Hey Munson! The Ice Queen? You getting desperate? Want to take your chances with the frigid bitch of Hawkins High?”

“Yeah man, hope you like cold fish!”

“And cold showers!”

You didn’t even want to turn around. From the look on Eddie’s face, you knew that it was the same group of people that hated him too - that is to say, almost anyone else in the school.

You closed your eyes and took a deep calming breath. “Jocks or preps?” you asked him.

“Looks like a mix of both,” he answered you and raised his middle finger at them all. Because fuck them, that’s why. He wanted to punch them all in the face. After all, they were also insulting you and face punching after someone insults a lady is expected, no? The knight errant in him was itching for battle.

“The freak found the geek!” one of them called.

“Shh! Quiet in the library or all of you can leave!” said the librarian. She stayed long enough to watch the big group behind you duck their heads and pretend to study their books. Satisfied that everything was over, she went into her office to answer the phone.

As soon as she was gone, it started back up again, just quieter.

“Hey Munson, be sure your dick doesn’t freeze and snap off inside her.”

“Don’t worry. She’ll probably cut it off as soon as he pulls it out of his pants.”

“And hey, Ice Queen, watch out Munson doesn’t have anything catching.”

“Yeah. God knows what that freak carries.”

”Probably what the green monkey had.”

“It’s so nice to know they care,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. As you kept your gaze in Eddie’s direction, you saw his jaw clench and his eyes darken. You commended him for keeping his temper, if only barely.

In that moment, as Eddie was steaming and you were trying to let their words pass over you, you came to an important realization: you and Eddie were in the same boat socially. It was also then that you realized that Eddie might be the answer to your prayers. In fact, out of all the guys in Hawkins, out of every single male soul, he was likely to be the one person that you could co-conspire with - if he were up for it, that is.

And if you were honest, there was something fundamentally attractive about the metalhead. You enjoyed how he held court in the cafeteria from time to time. It took bold resolve to speak his truth to the entire school. And there was something about his eyes. The intensity behind them was magnetic. You didn’t need much more thought.

You leaned in, resting your elbows on the table. “How game are you?”

“Huh?” he said, snapping out of his murderous plotting.

You slowed your speech to match the speed of his brain: “How. Game. Are. You? Will you play along with me?”

He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t see where this was going, but it was better than being carted off to jail by Hopper on a battery charge. He was an adult in the eyes of the law, after all. He allowed his curiosity to override his anger. “A little improv, sweetheart? Heh. What do you have in mind?” He honestly didn’t know what to expect from you at this point, but he was seriously intrigued. The Ice Queen wanted to conspire with him. He was flattered.

“Just follow my lead,” you said, “and let’s blow all their tiny minds.”

Slowly you rose from your seat. Your skirt was long, almost to your ankles, but had a slit that ran to just above your left knee. You came around the table and lifted and parted the skirt, swinging your left leg clean over Eddie’s legs and settled yourself in his lap. Automatically, his hands were on your hips, sliding down to stop on your thighs, warm and firm. Eddie looked shocked for about three milliseconds, and it was a good thing he had recovered; if he were too shocked, you didn’t think it would sell the way you wanted it to.

Taking his face in your hands, you turned your head to place a gentle kiss to his cheek, another to his temple, and yet another to the side of his head near his ear. You were testing his waters. You could feel him tremble slightly, but he was holding fast. Good for him. “Follow my lead,” you whispered gently. Then you pressed a searing kiss to his lips.

Eddie’s brain shut off.

He responded to you much more respectfully than you expected; he kept his tongue to himself. In truth, he was still trying to recover from the shock of having you so close and pressed against him. All it would take would be you grinding your hips against his and he wouldn’t be able to walk anywhere without a book in front of his crotch.

The whispered “What the hell-?” from behind you was completely worth the risk of trusting the honor of Eddie Munson. The sound of the rest of them whispering to one another in amusement, fascination, and shock was also satisfying.

The kiss lasted a good thirty seconds or so when the bell rang and everyone gathered their things. You got up. As you gathered your datebook, you smiled at him. “See you in biology, lover.”

There was an extra swing in your hips as you left the library. You could feel Eddie’s stare and knew that his dumb grin was on his face.

You were wrong, however. Eddie was too in shock to react. Too overwhelmed by your energy just now. He stared in confused longing, swallowing hard, knowing he could never really have you and wondering desperately what he was supposed to do now that he knew what kissing you felt like. What having you in his lap felt like.

With that kiss, you knew that the Hawkins High rumor mill was going to spin so fast, it might set the school on fire. That much, you could have predicted. What you didn’t expect was how hot and bothered it had left you. The warmth of him you had expected. Even the plush feel of his lips was a foregone conclusion. But the feel of him - him beneath you and in front of you, his hands on you, his scent spinning around your brain. That was overwhelming. This was either the best idea you’ve ever had, or the worst. Unfortunately, only Eddie Munson could define that for you.

**************

CHAPTER 2 is now posted to AO3 and TUMBLR

#fanfic #writing #joseph quinn #joe quinn #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #fake relationship #la belle dame avec merci #lbdam #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #slow burn

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spicy-apple-pie · 7 months

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Fuck it, here’s some video games I think the Wayne’s would like.

First up, Return of the Obra Dinn. A murder mystery that relies on environmental clues to discover who’s who and what happened. I think Tim eventually got Bruce into the game. Bruce doesn’t play games so it was really Tim controlling the player while Bruce instructs him where to go. Duke likes it too, he has a whole section in his notebook to keep track of his thoughts.

Kinda in that same realm, The Case of The Golden Idol. Again, murder mysteries with environmental clues. Bruce can play this one by himself since it’s just a point and click. Duke and Tim also really like the game.

Duke really likes the Rusty Lake series. It reminds him of the computer games he used to eat up as a kid. Jason likes some of the storytelling beats and the metaphors. Damian can’t stomach the game because of the mistreatment of Mr. Harvey.

Disco Elysium. Omg would Jason love Disco Elysium. The storytelling, the art, the shitting on rich people. Damian got into it for the art but then got really invested in it. I don’t think Bruce would play it but my god would he do everything in his power to adopt Cuno and Cunoesse. Steph plays it because she saw a few memes of it online and always chooses the worst option for shits and giggles.

Damian secretly loves cozy games. He has a Stardew play through and the first cow he got he named Batcow. Him and Jon have a game together for when they’re “studying” every Wednesday. His favourite NPC is Sam, because he reminds Damian of Jon, but he would never admit that. Yes, this is me pushing my; “Damian gets a farm and becomes a veterinarian and goes out as a vigilante some of the time” agenda.

#Batman #Batman comics #dc #dc comics #comics #Robin #red Robin #the signal #red hood #damian wayne #Tim Drake #duke thomas #Bruce wayne

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kyojurismo · 8 months

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★ — spider-man!bakugo part 2 !

character : katsuki bakugo

tags : spider-man!au, fem!reader, 2.9k words (yeah i got carried away), this is a continuation of a series of hc i posted a while ago, bit of angst, injuries, mention of getting shot, kissing, happy ending i guess? both r & katsuki are 18 by the way, half proofread so don’t look at it too closely.

part one

notes : hi guys !! okay so i finally finished writing it, i was way better in my mind but i wanted to post it anyway since spider-man!bkg is bringing me loads of comfort — idk if i’ll post more about him, for now that’s all i guess >_< so anyway, i hope you’ll enjoy it. plus, i take this opportunity to thank you those who showed love for the part 1, it means the world to me <3

“katsuki!” you rushed to his side as he finished putting some books into his locker. he turned his head to look at you. “what is it?” he tried to hide his nervousness, the look on your face seemed that of someone who discovered something big. “i know who’s behind spider-man!” you said excitedly, but not that loud to let the whole school hear you.

bakugo’s heart skipped a beat and he had to fight for his expression to remain calm. “ah? r-really?” he chuckled as he closed his locker, gulping down. “tell me everything.”

“it’s a student. i wasn’t too sure about this before, but i watched a couple of videos and he had a backpack with a pin from our school! isn’t it cool?” you explained while walking beside him. bakugo sighed in relief in his mind, grateful you had no real information about spider-man.

wait… a backpack?

he was grateful you didn’t seem to notice but he mentally noted that he must change backpack as soon as possible.

“you don’t seem so interested in spider-man, huh? you don’t like him?” you then looked at his face, noticing that he seemed rather distracted. “no no! uh, i just… i’m not a big fan of superheroes, y’know? i trust the police and the government,” he explained offering a small smile before looking away. “hm.” you seemed to be thinking too much about his answer so he changed subject. “today at 4? mine or your place?” he pulled your attention over homework. “i live closer to school, so…” you shrugged and he nodded, before you two entered your classroom.

─────────────────────

“welcome, katsuki!” your mother greeted your friend with a huge smile, happy to see him. he seemed to be liked by your mother a bit too much in your opinion. “hello,” he smiled timidly. you grabbed his hand and pulled you with him towards your room. “keep the door open a little bit!” your father shouted from the living room. you rolled your eyes and stepped into your room, followed by an amused katsuki.

“i’m not a kid anymore, for god’s sake,” you murmured and closed the door anyway. katsuki sat by your desk, as usual, and followed you moving around the room before grabbing your notebooks. “alright, can you help me with this math exercise before we start with biology?” you pleaded, showing him the reason behind your distress. “yeah, sure. it’s nothing too impossible,” he comforted you with a smile.

after hours of studying your mother came and offered katsuki to stay for dinner but he politely refused, saying that his mother was waiting for him as his father was out of town for a couple of weeks due to work. “oh, you don’t have to add more. i totally understand! maybe next time, okay?” you hid your face behind your palms in embarrassment as she left.

“she’s sweet,” he commented, chuckling at your status. you groaned in response and hit his chest playfully. “just with you,” you said and watched him pack his things.

a couple of pins attached to his backpack caught your attention, resembling a bunch of superheroes and a group band. you remembered katsuki told you that he wasn’t too fond of superheroes, so it confused you a bit.

“hey, ‘tsuki… what do you think about that superhero who helped spider-man last week?” you try to sound casual, playing with your pen. “uh, he was cool,” he answered while shrugging. “i saw him on the news, i don’t know if he actually is,” he was quick to add, laughing. he gulped down and finished to put his books away when you threw your pen at him and he caught it without even turning around.

you gasped and quickly got up to your feet as katsuki groaned and turned to meet your face, your hands covering your lips as you tried to process what just happened.

“l-listen…” he tried to think of something to justify his reflexes but you were quick to start throwing small objects at him, to see him do that again.

“why aren’t you catching them? you’re doing it on purpose?” you tilted your head to the side, your tone showing a bit of annoyance. “no, it’s just that the way you’re throwing them is not gonna hurt me so… fuck,” he groaned and sat down at the edge of your bed. “forget it, please. it’s just a thing my father taught me, it doesn’t mean anything,” he lied straight to your face.

did he not trust you enough?

“you’re spider-man, right? it-it just makes sense! god i’m so stupid!” you started pacing around the room, connecting the dots. “when you got hurt, that one time you came here… the next day you couldn’t play basket because you said you fell or something. it was because the wound would open up right? and when you showed up with a big bruise under your eye, it was because of that criminal hitting you with… whatever that thing was,” you spoke fast, your hands shaking slightly as you kept explaining all the things that gave him away — they didn’t, actually. you caught him just because he stopped the point of your pen from hitting his nape a bit too hard.

“[y/n], take a deep breath and sit down for a moment, hm?” he moved closer and grabbed your hands making you sit down on the bed. “you’re spider-man,” you squeaked, covering your mouth once again. “spider-man kissed me, so you kissed me…” you added and katsuki sighed at the memory, regretting it not because he didn’t like it but because it was extremely dumb for him to do something like that.

“you idiot!” you then hit his chest, for real now. he looked at you in confusion. “what was that for?” he asked, stopping you from hitting him again. “you nerdy coward! why would you kiss me as spider-man?” you asked in an angry tone.

katsuki let go of your hands and simply shook his head before going to grab his backpack and reaching the door. you swiftly reached him and planted yourself against the door so he wouldn’t open it. “you can’t just walk away as if it’s nothing, you know? why didn’t you tell me? we grew so close since the last year… don’t you trust me?” you didn’t seem angry in that moment, you seemed… hurt?

he took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling for a moment before glancing at you, his hand timidly took yours and his thumb started caressing your palm. “it’s not exactly something you shout when entering a room, y’know… plus, no one knows it.”

you were the only one?

“be serious,” you gasped, not expecting to be the only one to know his secret. “i am!” he swore, not breaking eye contact not even for a second. “oh ‘tsuki…” your eyes filled with tears as you suddenly hugged him, holding him tightly. he looked confused as you held him, his eyes staring at the door in silence. “it must have been so hard… but now you have me! i’ll help you, like a sidekick or something!” you smiled enthusiastically at him. katsuki’s face darkened at your statement and pushed you away as gently as he could in that moment, you frowned.

“help me,” he spat, walking to your window instead. “you can’t help me without getting involved or worse, killed. i can’t allow it, so forget about your silly discovery,” he shook his head, his voice was firm as he said all that. you tried to move closer to him but he turned and glared at you with a cold look, you froze in place at that. “forget about it. i think it’s better if i distance myself from you.”

those were his last words and they hurt you deeply. you could only watch him exit your room through your window and swing away, leaving you standing there in silence.

─────────────────────

for the following month, katsuki kept his word. he barely waved at you in class, you didn’t meet up to study anymore. he became something similar to a stranger. your friends noticed how you two became distant and you shrugged it off with a simple ‘we had a fight and he never apologised so i don’t wanna be friends with someone like him.’

your own words hurt. katsuki heard them too, but he thought it was for the best so he was okay with what you told your friends.

this whole situation worked until spider-man was attacked by a strong group of criminals and got shot. you heard the news about how he helped capturing them but no one heard about what happened to spider-man after that. what scared you even more was that he was missing school, something that was unusual for someone like him.

after three days you decided to go to his house, using the notes from the lessons he missed as an excuse.

you rang the doorbell and waited patiently, an anxious feeling biting at your heart. when the door opened you noticed that you were actually holding your breath. “hello!” katsuki’s mom, mitsuki, offered you a warm smile. “h-hello, i um… i brought the notes from the lessons katsuki missed in the past days,” you explained, gripping your bag tightly.

“oh, thank you! come inside,” mitsuki nodded and let you enter inside. you followed her and quietly glanced around, it was the second time you visited his house after all. “i can make you some tea?” she asked while entering the kitchen, glancing at you. “uh, no. no, thanks. i’m fine,” you shook your head before smiling politely. she nodded and sighed, losing herself in her thoughts for a moment. “katsuki is upstairs, first door on the right” she turned and smiled at you. “got it,” you thanked her and reached the stairs.

now you could feel your heart racing in your chest, wondering how could you initiate an actual conversation with him. you bit your lips and knocked on his door, waiting to hear his voice. “i told you i’m not hungry!” he shouted from the other side, making you realise he didn’t know you were there. you sighed and decided to open the door anyway.

he was sitting by his desk, his headphones were covering his ears. you closed the door and slowly reached him, jumping when he suddenly turned ready to shout to get out of his room. he was about to say something before deciding to keep his mouth shut as he took the headphones off.

you noticed the bandage on his right temple and the bruise on his cheek, his rest of his body seemed alright but you were sure he was hiding other bruises and minor injuries. you felt a sense of relief fill your chest, as you realised he was alright after all.

“t-tsuki, i…” you glanced at the floor and gripped your bag nervously, trying to find the right words. “i uh… well,” you bit your lips before simply pulling out the extra notes you took for him and putting them on his desk. his eyes followed your actions before he glanced up at your face, your eyes not meeting his.

“i-i’m glad you’re okay, i just came here to make sure… so i’m leaving, alright,” you spoke after a couple of moments of silence, turning around and walking towards the door. before you could open it, his hand planted itself on its surface and his shadow towered over you. you gulped down and held the doorknob nervously.

the silence was suffocating, you felt more and more anxious as you didn’t know his intentions.

“say something!” you finally snapped, shutting your eyes closed. “thanks for the notes,” was all he said, his deep voice making you shiver. “not about that,” you turned to look at his face, visibly upset. katsuki tilted his head to the side, looking at you in a way that made you feel small. “what do you want me to say then?” he asked, his voice was low now.

“y-you got shot, katsuki!” you screamed as low as you could, not wanting his mother to hear. “you could have died a-and all you can say is thanks?!” your eyes started filling with tears, making it hard for you to keep eye contact. katsuki felt his heart clench at the sight, knowing that he was the reason you were feeling like that.

“but i’m not, so it’s fine,” he shrugged, sighing. “don’t look down on me, i know what i’m doing,” he then added, clenching his fist. “oh? then explain this!” you pointed at his head and he caught your wrist before you could even touch him, making you flinch. “i got distracted, it happens you know?” he said while gritting his teeth.

you shook your head and turned around, trying to open the door. “you’re so self-centred you don’t even acknowledge the feelings of those around you,” you muttered coldly and were about to walk out before he grabbed your arm and made you turn around, surprising you. katsuki cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss.

it took you a couple of moments to reciprocate it, your hands grabbing hold of his shoulders as you closed your eyes. katsuki pulled you even closer as he moved one of his hand down to your waist, pulling you inside his room and closing the door. your back was pushed against it as he kept kissing you with more desperation now, his hands holding you more firmly. you had to push him away to catch some air, your cheeks warmed up now as he looked at you.

you were the one being silence now and he started to grow nervous as you simply rested your hands on his shoulders. “oi, say something, dammit.”

“it was definitely better than the first one,” you murmured before chuckling. katsuki rolled his eyes before kissing your forehead, his warm hands caressing your cheeks. “i missed you. keeping you away was the hardest shit i’ve ever done in my life,” he confessed and pulled you to his chest, resting his chin on your head. you silently cried into his t-shirt, holding him even tighter. “i’m so sorry.”

“don’t push me away again,” you pleaded, sniffing. he smiled and held you even tighter. “how can i push my little sidekick away?” he chuckled and you gasped, pulling away to meet his eyes. “sidekick?” your face lit up and katsuki was quick to pull you back to reality. “my sidekick that keeps her butt at home and stays in contact with me,” he clarified, making you pout like a little girl. “that’s not a real sidekick, ‘tsuki.”

“i gotta make sure you’re not getting hurt,” his voice was dead serious, he was promising to protect you. “hm. ‘kay,” you nodded before kissing his bruised cheek softly.

“i’m dating spider-man,” you jumped a little while smiling happily as you reached his desk. katsuki chuckled at your reaction and smiled while looking at you, his eyes shining.

tags : [ since multiple ppl were interested in reading more, i thought it would be okay to tag you guys in the second part… if you want to be removed just lemme know !! ] @doumadono @reyathens @ohwhale-exo @its-claude-time @nikoruropesu @selfindulgenthoe @sigmaswaist @archer-fb

#📂 — writing !!#spider man au #spider-man!bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo one shot #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo fanfic #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader

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layla4567 · 8 months

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Teach me ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Adam warlock x fem!reader

Summary: You were a guardian of the galaxy but when your team broke up you decided to stay in Knowhere attending to other types of tasks. Now Adam, Kraglin, Groot, Cosmo, Phyla, and Rocket are part of the new team. And while you help with Nebula and Drax to take care of the children, Adam has an eye on you.

Warnings: none

Word count: 3k

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎… ⋙

Since you left the guardians things had changed a lot. Although, well, it couldn't be said that you really "left" the guardians because you were still working in Knowhere, only now you were doing less dangerous missions. Now you were in charge of taking care of the rescued children and some animals as well. Your specialty was teaching them basic things like reading, writing, etc. Thanks to that, you were now nicknamed "Knohere's teacher" and you could only laugh sweetly when you heard it.

But you weren't the only one who helped with the care of the children, occasionally Drax and Nebula also gave you a hand, but you soon discovered that the children adored you more than the other two, maybe it was because you had more patience or instinct Motherly, you weren't sure. You still remember that time a girl approached you happily saying something that makes you smile to this day.

(flashback)

You left your room always well ordered and full of several different species of plants that you watered daily. Even though you no longer went on missions with the team, you still wore your special suit because it was comfortable and beautiful. You walked out the door tying your hair into a messy bun ready to greet the kids and teach them something new today. You were reunited with Drax and Nebula when a girl with close-cropped platinum hair and purple eyes approached smiling with a notebook in hand.

"Well?, are you ready to learn about animals today, Ulani?"-Drax said

The girl in response began to jump happily while nodding her head fervently.

"Good, Come with me and Drax so we can teach you.."-Nebula said as she took Ulani's delicate hand to gently drag her towards a room, but the girl stood stoically in her place as if she was bolted to the ground and looked at them with a frown.

"I don't wanna"

Nebula was puzzled looking at Drax as if asking for an explanation. He crouched down to be at the height of the little girl.

"What's wrong? Don't you want to come with Uncle Drax and Aunt Nebula?"

Little Ulani shook her head with a pout without breaking eye contact and then to your surprise she pointed a chubby finger at you.

"I want her to teach me"

Now Ulani was looking at you with those beautiful little purple eyes shining with enthusiasm while a big smile returned to her face. Nebula crossed her arms in confusion as Drax patiently asked why she wanted to study with you.

"Because she has a nice smile and she always draws pictures for me"

you couldn't help but cover your mouth to hide your laughter as you grabbed the girl by the hand and took her with you to study.

(end of flashback)

This is how all the children of Knowhere, especially Ulani, would visit you in your room so that you could teach them numbers, colors and other things that seemed to be fun and useful to them. Meanwhile, the new guardians kept traveling through space fighting aliens and all that stuff you used to do. Of course, the newest member that got everyone's attention was Adam, especially your attention. Several times when they returned from missions and went to work on Knowhere, you had noticed how Adam would look at you while you played teacher. Even sometimes when he stared at you and you noticed it and turned to see him, he quickly turned his head and looked in another direction pretending that nothing had happened.

You were heading towards some tables and chairs that were outside the Knowhere dining room with your bag with everything you needed: pencils, papers, etc. There were already four excited children waiting for you and clearly among them was Ulani. You had grown fond of the girl and she with you. She was the most energetic of all the kids you taught and was always the first to ask when she didn't understand something.

"Hello miss (y/n), we are ready!"

you smiled at such a cordial welcome and sat down in the chair next to them ready to teach them how to write. You took out a couple of papers and several pencils for them while you dictated a few simple words. They obeyed you, paying attention and copying the words in big, messy letters. While you was reading what they had written and correcting them, a somewhat deafening noise accompanied by a fresh blizzard that made the papers fly was present. Out of the corner of your eye you saw how the guardians' ship landed near you and Captain Rocket and the others came down from it. They got out and people came up to them surrounding them and cheering like they were rock stars. They was always received like this and it seemed that the mission was successful. Rocket thanked and retired to his room drinking from a glass with a straw, the others stayed greeting the people of Knowhere. You smiled admiring them from afar. Suddenly you couldn't help but see Adam, he was greeting an old woman listening to her praise while he gently held her hands, you tilted your head a little and an "aww" escaped your lips without even thinking.

Ulani noticed your sigh and raised her head from the paper to look at you. You had lost sight and smiled like a fool. The intrigued little girl followed your gaze and noticed that you were looking at the sovereign.

"They're amazing, don't you think?"

You shook your head in confusion with raised eyebrows looking at her.

"What do you say, little one?"

Ulani pointed to where the guardians were. "They, are the best warriors in the galaxy, especially that tall golden boy"

Your smile became small while Ulani smiled, it seemed that the girl knew how to hit the nail on the head or she just couldn't imagine that you had some kind of crush on Adam. You blushed, muttering a vague statement, you felt ashamed for having been caught red-handed. But just like that, you looked at Adam again only to find his gaze fixed on yours, now he was looking at you with a tender smile. You felt your ears redden and you smiled nervously greeting him with one hand, he returned the gesture.

When the class ended and the dictations were corrected and scored, you announced that the next class you were going to read them a story so they would learn to read. They squealed with excitement while you laughed in amusement. So much fuss caused the sovereign looked at you smiling delighted. You collected your things while you said goodbye to the children with a kiss on their foreheads. Adam put what he was doing aside and turned to you. You put your backpack on your shoulder and you were going to go to your room when you saw him approach you with a happy step, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

"Greetings (y/n), how are you today?"

Adam hugged you leaving you speechless, he always used to hug people including you but every time he did it you felt a roller coaster in your stomach, of course he didn't know

"Hello Adam, I'm very well thank you. In fact I just finished a class with the children"

"Yeah, I saw you guys. It looked like fun"

Thousands of thoughts passed through Adam's head and they were all about you. The sovereign couldn't stop thinking of you every time he went on a mission and when everything became dangerous and they were at risk of being seriously injured, he thought of you, and your sweet face filling his mind comforted him and gave him strength to continue. Go ahead and tell himself that he would finish the mission so he could see you again. And now seeing you educate the children his heart melted, your patience and the love you gave to those kids made him feel things in his stomach, he remembered that someone had told him what that was called… butterflies? Yes, that was it, he felt butterflies and he couldn't help it.

"The effort he puts into the education of these children is beautiful"

The words came out of Adam's mouth like a torrent, he didn't want to say them but they escaped. You looked at him surprised, not really knowing how to react. When he realized it, he looked down with regret and blushed, placing his hands behind his back and kicking an imaginary stone with his foot like a child would. At this behavior you giggled

"Thank you so much Adam, it's nice that you say that"

Now you looked down and they both blushed like two college teenagers. Why did you behave in such a foolish way when you were around him? Couldn't you act like a normal person? And why did he have to look at you with puppy dog eyes all the time? He was about to say something when a scream interrupted him.

"Adam come here! the roof of a house fell again!"

It was Kraglin, Adam looked at me as if apologizing while you just nodded smiling. He floated away and you went back to your room with your pulse racing.

🍀💮🍀💮

The next day you woke up and remembered that you would read something to the children today, so you grabbed a children's book from a shelf, "Little Red Riding Hood". You were sure that the children would find that story curious. You smiled and left your room smiling with the book under your arm and your backpack hanging from your shoulder. You saw out of the corner of your eye that Adam was helping Rocket with some boxes. He looked at you and greeted you, you greeted him back and kept walking. Adam felt in the clouds every time he saw your eyes, that's why with a lost look he didn't realize that he had a box in front of his feet and when he wanted to take a step forward he tripped and fell with his red cape throwing on his face ahead and covering his head. You stopped, startled by the noise when you saw Adam lying on the floor and covered your mouth laughing in embarrassment. Rocket who was next to Adam did it too, but less subtle.

"HAHAAH, what's wrong Adam, did you want to kiss the ground?-Rocket exclaimed throwing his head back while slapping his knee.

Adam stood up quickly as he pushed the cloak away from his face with a flushed face as he watched you walk away shaking your head and smiling, surely now you thought he was a fool. You went to the usual place and you met your faithful student and two other children.

"Hi miss (y/n)! They are Ciro and Eber, they are my friends. I told them to come to hear the story!"

The two boys seemed more shy than their eloquent friend but they smiled at me with kindness and devotion. You greeted them gently and began to tell the story. You stood next to them so they could admire the drawings on the pages and continue reading with you.

"Once upon a time there was a sweet girl who loved her mother and grandmother very much. He helped them in everything he could and since he was so good on his birthday his grandmother gave him a red hood. Because she liked it so much and went with her everywhere, soon everyone started calling her Little Red Riding Hood."

you would read and point to the images, they would pay attention to you with eyes wide open. You never considered yourself a good storyteller, to tell you the truth, you didn't like your voice, but these kids seemed to like it. As you were turning the pages, you were pointing to the words so that they could repeat them slowly. You emphasized each letter and separated them into syllables to make it easier. Also, if they didn't understand something or didn't know what was mentioned in the book, you patiently explained it to them. Adam from afar looked at you curious and enthusiastic again, when he had finished his work (and after some reproaches from Rocket) the sovereign came a little closer to where you were to better listen to what you were saying.

"...The wolf sent Little Red Riding Hood the longest way and arrived before her at granny's house. So she pretended to be the little girl and knocked on the door. Although what he did not know is that a hunter had seen him arrive. "Who is it?", answered the grandmother "It's me, Little Red Riding Hood," said the wolf. "How good my daughter. come on, come on" The wolf entered, pounced on the granny and ate her in one bite. She put on her nightgown and got into bed to wait for Little Red Riding Hood to arrive."

A gasp came out of the mouths of the little ones who looked at the book with surprise, you smiled delighted by their attention. Adam seemed surprised and amused as well.

"..When Little Red Riding Hood entered, she found Granny different, although she didn't quite know why. "Grandma, what big eyes you have!". "Yes, they are to see you better, my daughter". "Grandma, what big ears you have!". "Of course, they are to hear you better". "But granny, what bigger teeth you have!". "They are for eat you better!!" As soon as he said this, the wolf pounced on Little Red Riding Hood and ate her too. His stomach was so full that the wolf fell asleep"

With each part of the body that Little Red Riding Hood named, you pointed to the eyes, ears and mouths of the little ones who laughed with amusement. But when the part came where the wolf ate Little Red Riding Hood, you growled as if you were the animal from the story and you began to tickle them and the children kicked their feet laughing happily. Adam also chuckled softly with a tender look. Ulani, Ciro and Eber were impressed by the story and above all by the way you told it, you gesticulated a lot and you knew how to interpret each emotion as if you were a theater actress. Suddenly the youngest of the children became serious and with a trembling voice said

"I don't think I like this story, the wolf is very mean"

You looked at him like a loving mother and caressed his cheek

"But don't be sad, the story isn't over yet"

This is how you reached the end of the story when the hunter found the wolf and filled its belly with stones, throwing it into the river, thus saving Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother. The children clapped happily and cheered, while you laughed lovingly. And again you promised them another story for the next morning, since it seemed that they adored it. You went back to pick up your things and Adam came over to help you.

"What a sweet voice you have to tell stories…"

You were surprised by his presence so close and his words charged with love that you awkwardly dropped the book you had in your hand. You and Adam reached under the table to pick it up when your hand accidentally touched his. They stared at each other for a few seconds until you looked away feeling your cheeks burn. You got up from under the table but not before Adam covered the edge of the table with his big hand so you wouldn't hit your head, he smiled innocently at you and said "careful". You thanked him, still blushing, and brushed an unruly lock away from your face, placing it nervously behind your ear.

"It seems that the children love that you read them stories…and I do too"

This last he said in a low voice, hesitating whether to confess it or not. You were getting redder, was he…flirting with you? It just can't be.

"I really don't think I have that good a storytelling voice.."-you whispered lowering your head

Adam stared at you stunned with a frown in confusion, did you really think that of yourself? The sovereign was about to reply "Oh if you could see yourself as I see you…" but he bit his tongue and didn't say it.

Since he didn't know what to say, you were about to leave when in an attempt to keep you longer he grabbed your wrist. your breathing quickened a bit

"Is it true that tomorrow you will read them a story again?" You nodded "Then I think I'll be there too, I want to hear you"

You smile perplexed, you were supposed to teach children to read, not adults, but you thought it was a tender gesture.

🍀💮🍀💮

As you promised, now you were heading back with another book in your hand, "The Little Prince". But this time you were a little nervous because you knew that among the children would be Adam, who was not a child. When you arrived at Knowhere Square there were at least 15 children waiting for you. You swallowed scared, you had never read for so many people. You thought that there would only be three or four children like the previous days but this time it was a whole contingent and not only that, now instead of reading in a small and private room or at a table outside the cafeteria you would have to do it in the middle of the square where people passed. Your palms sweated.

Nebula walked over to your side and looked at the children who were already sitting on the floor in a circle.

"I think you have a great audience today"

But you were pale and serious and you were squeezing the book as if it were going to fly away, Nebula noticed it and placed a hand on your shoulder rubbing it.

"Don't worry, I know you'll do well. I've seen how you read to them, you really do well and they love you. I'll be around if you need anything"

You nodded gratefully and when he left you sat on the floor next to them, you opened the book and were about to read but the words got stuck in your throat, unconsciously you searched for Adam with your eyes and there he was at the bottom of the room. He rounded sitting like a Buddha with his elbows on his knees and his hands on his chin, looking at you and encouraging you to continue. His presence gave you the courage you needed, you began the story with more relief and encouragement.

"isn't she fantastic?"-Adam whispered with a lovesick face to a boy who was sitting next to him.

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