#readers don’t want snow’s pov | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlyswan · 1 month

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summary: in which the sweet ache of yearning metamorphoses into the art of intimacy and knowing.

idol!jk x reader, est. relationship / fluffy fluff, a dash of angst, explicit content (minors dni!!) / word count: 10.5k

warnings/content: divided into seven parts. it’s like a timeline hehe <3 ; mainly in jk’s pov!! ; underaged drinking (oc is 18 in that part but the legal age of drinking in sk is 19 so!) ; mention of almost? n*des (neither sent by our mcs) ; making out ; thigh grinding ; brief or*l (f. rec + allusions to m. rec) ; mention and allusion to s*x [yesyes it’s the first time] [oc may or may not cry a little too…] ; they have a ‘what if i die before you?’ discourse lmao

playlist! restless - bibi ; lily of the valley - daniel ; who do you love - the black skirts ; intro (end of the world) - ariana grande ; snow - josh makazo

> in which masterlist!

note: look at my gorjus ethereal bf !!!! anyway… hi, i’m back ^_^ here’s my not so little offering to those who’s been missing the iw couple <3 as always i’d love to hear your thoughts :") come chat!!

—

I. THE FALLING

“just stay the night.” you blurt out, turning to jungkook to express your worry. “i can’t let you leave right now. it’s not safe.”

his wide eyes scan the headline of the news once more.

heavy snowfall, road accident, several injured… versus staying the night at the apartment of not quite his friend, not quite his lover, for the first time.

he can’t deny that he favors the latter over the former with an explicable feeling rendering him breathless. still, he can’t allow his enthusiasm to cloud his better judgement. he knows he’s still somewhat of a stranger to you. he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome or make you feel uncomfortable in your own space.

“are you sure you’re comfortable with it?”

“sure. should i be worried?“

“no! uhm, i just thought not everyone would be comfortable to have a person they’re not very close with to sleep over.”

you chuckle, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. “chill. i have bigger things to be scared of than the guy who just cried with me while watching an anime movie.”

oh… he thought you were too absorbed in wiping your own tears to notice him crying too.

he slumps back on the sofa with a sigh. “i see. i guess we’re left with no choice then.”

“i have an extra toothbrush!”

—

jungkook doesn’t quite understand people’s obsession with his eyes, but getting enamored by the innocence that yours seem to glisten with, he wonders if he is experiencing the same case.

“can you see if this fits you?”

you stand before him with a stack of neatly folded clothes, unraveling a pair of gray sweatpants to hold up infront of him.

“i think… there’s a string? oh, there’s none.”

he chuckles. “you forgot?”

“well, it’s not mine. my ex never came back for his clothes.“ you huff with a roll of your eyes, muttering a silent his loss into the air. “i’ve washed it though! don’t worry! it’s just- you know- sleeping in denim pants is uncomfortable.”

does that mean you still wear the clothes of your exes? this pisses him off for some unknown reason. he would much rather sleep uncomfortably than wear their clothes.

you kindly smile, pushing the black knitted sweater against his chest. “but this is mine. it’s really warm and comfortable!”

but on another note, you’re too sweet and thoughtful. how could he ever say no?

—

the sweatpants is a little loose around his waist. your sweater, however, feels incredibly soft against his skin. as he walks back into the living room, he pulls down his sweater paws and runs his hands across its sleeves. if he had to describe the feeling it evokes, he would say it is very much similar to rolling around on freshly washed and dried bedsheets.

“it’s nice, right?”

he whips his head around upon hearing the sound of your voice. for a quick second, you caress his arm with the back of your hand, and even with the barrier separating your skin from his, the casual touch causes his breath to hitch.

“i finished cleaning the room. i set up a comforter on the floor so you can take the bed.”

“is that so? thank you!”

he zooms past you. you’re left standing alone, blinking in confusion. he is more than happy to welcome himself into your bedroom… so he can slyly steal the bed you prepared for yourself. he slides under the covers, makes himself all cozy with his hands resting on the back of his head as if it’s not a raging winter and he’s lying under the summer sun.

“and what do we have here?”

jungkook cracks one eye open. there you are leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed. you raise your eyebrows at him, demanding an answer.

“what?” he smiles childishly. “you’re the one doing me a favor. i’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

“how polite. suit yourself, sir.” you shake your head in amusement, smiling.

you enter the room, flicking the lightswitch off and locking the door at the speed of light. without thinking, probably; muscle memory formed by your routine. he is the only thing not a part of it. yet.

“goodnight, jungkook.”

“goodnight.”

he still sees you moving around in the dark. you crouch down beside him and he feels the extra pillow he’s partially crushing under his weight be jerked away all of a sudden.

“i need this one. sorry.” you whisper-shout apologetically. “goodnight! sweet dreams!”

—

jungkook sighs, tired of mindlessly scrolling through social media. his eyes flutter shut as he allows his phone to collapse on his chest. he is yet to even figure out if going to work later would be possible because of the blocked roads. he has gotten enough earful about not heading straight to the dorm and he cannot risk any more. because then, he would have to see less of you.

he sneakily opens his eyes, craning his head to the side to steal a glance of you, but he finds that you’ve already fallen asleep on your textbook and he’s unable to look away again. bathed in the warm light of the lampshade on your bedside, he has never seen you more peaceful. he learns with hard evidence that you’re a side sleeper, curled up underneath the blanket and cutely snuggled against the pillow you took from him.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been admiring you, but he knows he doesn’t want you to think of him as a creep. you stir in your sleep and his hand swiftly flies to his phone. pretending to be absorbed in reading the first tweet he comes across, he tries taking another subtle glimpse of you.

it’s as if he’s been caught and punished.

he flinches.

your textbook collides with the floor, landing only inches next to his pillow. he begins sweating. he could’ve easily gotten a concussion at best, death at worst.

he sits up with his elbows anchoring him, poking around to investigate the cause of the fall. admittedly, he’s a little sad to see your back now facing him.

“shit, what am i doing?” he roughly rubs his face to knock some sense back into him.

he needs to get some sleep. yeah, that’s it. nothing more.

he picks up your textbook, taking it upon himself to bring it over to your desk. on his way back, he also decides to to turn off the lampshade.

his finger freezes on the button, however. he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to silence the giggle that threatens to escape him— so fucking endeared to discover that you’ve kicked off your blanket and rolled over to your other side along with the pillow, your thigh carelessly slumped over it.

he tucks himself back into bed, heart feeling all warm and fuzzy.

“so, so adorable.”

the words escape him without thought; the smile on his face ever-present even as he drifts off to dreamland.

—

II. ALLOW ME TO LINGER BY THE DOOR

“hey, it’s getting late. shouldn’t you be heading home by now?”

you sit beside jungkook on the sofa after a phone call, and his round eyes grow twice their size when you steal the iced tea from his grasp, nonchalant as your lips wrap around the same red straw his have been only seconds ago.

he awkwardly clears his throat, perhaps to mask his loud heartbeat. “is your friend okay?”

“oh, she’ll be fine. it’s her fault so i can’t do much for her this time.” you shrug, picking up your chopsticks as you eye the last dumpling in the bowl. “still hate that guy, though.”

“the one you think is lying about being rich?”

“i don’t know much about real ones, but i’m pretty sure i’ve seen enough fake diamonds!”

that seems to hits the right spot to elevate your mood. you hum happily as you chew, collapsing on the cushions and looking straight ahead at the television screen.

“sorry about that. you must be bored and tired by now.”

“about that…” jungkook swallows his nervousness. he rests his arm on top of the sofa, just to act cool. he’s so close to you yet still so distant. “i’m dead tired from filming today. i’ve been up since four in the morning. would it be too much trouble if i spend the night again?”

“i should be the one asking you that. why do you like this trashy place way more than i do?” you shake your head, wiping your mouth with a paper napkin. “i’ll go fix up so you can rest then. you’re lucky minji didn’t claim the bed first.”

fuck, he was supposed to get kicked out?

“wait! do you need a change of clothes?”

“there’s no need!” he replies a little too quickly. if he has to wear the clothes of another one of your exes, he might end up on the news for setting himself on fire. “i have extras in my backpack i didn’t got to wear today.”

“oh, okay.” you flash him a smile before disappearing into the bedroom.

yeah, how convenient.

he exhales through his mouth.

when did he start lying? his mother would be very disappointed in him. but on the other hand, his father would explode in boisterous laughter and pat him on the back. nevermind… that just makes it worse.

“guess i’m going to hell!” he shrugs, wearing a smile that is rather too jubilant.

he grabs his backpack on the floor and heads to the bathroom; your home is another home away from home.

—

jungkook is exhausted from dance practice. he must’ve exerted himself too hard again without realizing it. for the third time this week, he’s attaching pain relief patches to his neck and shoulders, shirt pulled to the side as to expose the area. normally, he’d just take it off without care, but he’s in a different setting. while he’s pretty confident with the current condition of his body, it would be rude to strip out of nowhere. and you make him nervous. would he fluster you or would you fluster him? he’s not prepared to find out yet.

“are you okay?”

his movements from below capture your attention amidst catching up to the events in your group chats.

“i’m okay, just a little sore. don’t worry!” he waves off your concern with a scrunch of his nose. “i also fell asleep in the car earlier so…”

“i can give you a massage. if you want.”

“no, it’s fine.” even though the offer sounds extremely tempting, especially coming from you. “i know you’re tired too.”

“hm, your loss. i’m kind of an expert at it.”

he squints his eyes at you. “really?”

“you don’t believe me?”

you sit up on the bed with an offended gasp, and he laughs at how you quite literally rose up to the challenge.

“we do have actual experts come in and take care of us too, you know that?”

“excuse you, i’m an actual expert! i have more than a decade of experience!”

he isn’t surprised to witness you climb down immediately afterwards, sitting behind him with your hands already on his shoulders.

“hmm, my dad worked at construction sites. my mom had a desk job. this- this was my job.” your fingers begin pressing down as if you’re assessing him, touching the bare skin of his still exposed shoulder. “got paid with extra allowance. making money was easy back then.”

“you’re so adorab- ah, ah, ah-” his sentence is cut short by his own self when you apply pressure on a big knot, gently massaging it in small circles to loosen the tightly wound muscle fibers. “fuck, it hurts… yeah, that’s good. don’t stop.”

he hears you snort, feels your forehead collapse on his back as vibrant giggles rack your body. a blush of red creeps up to his cheeks and he’s thankful that you can’t see his face.

he laughs along, belly aching. “okay, okay- i heard it! i should keep my mouth shut!”

“no no no, i won’t laugh anymore!”

“you’re still doing it right now!”

“i’ll stop!” you sniffle, laughed to the point of tears. you squeeze his shoulders. “just relax! you’re so tense here, see? no wonder it hurts.”

there’s no denying that his body is pushed to its limits everyday; he has grown accustomed of this kind of lifestyle and he doesn’t complain. you’re making him want to do it all the time, though. if it means getting pampered like this? hell yeah.

“it hurts here too. over- over here-” he reaches a hand to his back, patting the area that has been bothering him all day. “this part. will you make it go away, please?”

“here? your shoulder blade?”

“yes!”

“okay. tell me if i should go gentler or harder. i don’t want to hurt you.”

it’s his turn to snort. he shortly learns that was not a smart move.

“ah, ah, ah-” you pull at his ear and this time he moans in pain. “oh, come on! you gave that one away!”

“shut up! you’re not allowed to laugh too!”

—

he tries not to create more embarrassing sounds. at some point he begun to busy himself with his phone, but to no avail, there are occasional moans and grunts he can’t bite down because you weren’t lying about being a pretty damn good masseur. and then he does it on purpose once, just to hear you laugh again, because his being already feels a million times lighter and you show no signs of exhaustion or boredom.

“you have a mole here,” you casually observe. he feels a light touch on the side of his neck and the butterflies in his stomach become untamed. “it’s sexy.”

he blushes, caught off guard by the compliment. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” you hum.

the minutes pass by and he is no longer faking silence, however. all he can think about now is how he wishes that he was lying down for this. how long has it been? you’ve been definitely at it for almost an hour. he yawns, eyelids fighting to stay open but failing miserably.

“hey, wipe your drool.”

he blinks. your beautiful face greets him— for a second, he’s convinced that he has begun dreaming. with a mischievous grin, you lift the collar of his shirt to wipe the corners of his lips, and in a state of near delirium, he cackles.

“seriously, thank you… i-i don’t even know what to say. i really needed that.” he sighs, carelessly rubbing his heavy eyes. “i’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow. how about that?”

“sounds good. now go to sleep.” you pat his back before rising on your feet. “your head kept on dropping and i felt bad.”

“that happens a lot.”

“well, it’s bad for your neck. keep doing it and i’ll get more free dinners.”

the unmistakable sound of a kiss that follows, it suspiciously matches with the warmth that lingers on his cheek.

“goodnight!”

“goodnight…” he only manages to mumble.

his mind has gone off to space. you tuck yourself into your bed after turning off the lampshade while jungkook feels like he just got blasted to the moon. he needs to get out of here. STAT.

“i’ll go drink some water. do you want me to get you a glass?”

“no, i’m fine.”

he makes out your figure shuffling in the dark, snuggled closely to a pillow.

he nods, which you probably didn’t even see. he steps out of the room as quietly as possible, slowly closing the door as to produce the smallest click. he pads to the kitchen still feeling light, almost like he’s walking on a path made out of clouds. he pours himself a glass of cold water from the fridge, chugs it down to the very last drop.

he licks his lips as he sets down the glass on the counter. he sighs deeply. he can still feel the outline of your lips, sticky lip balm printed on his skin. is it normal that he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it off?

“totally worth going to hell for.” he muses, unaware of the smirk that has started playing on his lips.

he briskly washes the glass at the sink, wiping it dry with a towel before deposting it back into the rack.

as expected, you’ve already fallen asleep by the time that he returns. the light from the hallway casts a glow over your face and it’s a sight that is painfully intimate in its own peculiar way.

he can’t put a name to it, but whatever this feeling is, he likes it and he wants it to last.

and so, he lingers by the door for a few seconds more.

—

III. THE YEARNING

jungkook hisses your name with yet another curse, heart so close to jumping out of his chest. when you were on the phone incoherently begging him to take you home from the club, he expected to carry out a passed out person from his car to their apartment floor, which he found no problem with aside from the possibility of having to deal with them throwing up.

instead, he is struck by an unusual combination of amusement and distress. he has been running around trying to capture you as you spend your final bursts of energy ringing strangers’ doorbells. your exhilarated laughter echoes throughout the hallways. he must confess that he was laughing along with you the first time… until it started to get a little bit out of hand.

if someone recognizes him by chance, he would be beyond fucked.

“don’t- don't do it! stop it! please!” he finally manages to seize your wrist before it can reach another, forced to wrap his arms around your torso so you won’t escape from him again. “are you crazy? it’s 3am! people are sleeping!”

“that’s the point.” you mewl, looking back to him with a childish pout underneath the hood of your coat. “why are they sleeping? it’s when the ghosts come out. does no one ever think about ghosts’ feelings? because i do! if i were a ghost, i’d be lonely and crying right now!”

oh my god, what is happening?

“so let’s invite them and everyone for more drinks!” you jump up and down, his secure hold doesn’t hold a candle to your hypernese. “jungkook, i want to drink more! more more more! buy me!”

unfortunately, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on your cuteness. he hears a door click from behind and his instincts instantaneously kick in. oh shit, you actually fucking woke someone up. he sweeps you off your feet, clasping a hand over your mouth to mute your angry protests. he turns at a corner, trapping you against the wall.

a deep and manly voice fills the silence. “hello? who’s there?”

two pairs of eyes widen, staring at each other as if they can read minds through them. he notices the unsteady rise and fall of your chest; your heart must be beating as fast as his. he has to pull down his black mask to be able to breathe.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he grumbles with a pointed look.

when you smile, he perceives it first through the palm of his hand before it reaches your eyes. only then does he fully register the dangerously close proximity between you.

dangerous because he wants to kiss you.

dangerous because you’d dare him to do it and his self-control has been reduced to a million cracks.

“ah, this prank again! fucking teenagers!”

and the door slams shut. you both flinch.

“that guy has a fridge full of beer!”

you are vexed, voice muffled but still clearly loud. you harshly paw at his forearm to remove his hand, and your pout finally comes into view.

“no, you’ve had enough! seriously, what am i going to do with you? huh? you shouldn’t even be drinking at all.” he blows a loud breath, frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. “how did you even get in the club? fake id? you have it, don’t you?”

you rush to defend yourself. “i’m only younger by a year and i don’t look like it! as if they actually care in those places. they only want money.”

he begins to question if the bloodshot of your eyes is solely because of the alcohol or you’re also on the verge of tears.

“why? are you mad at me?”

“no, i’m not mad. should i be?”

“…i don’t know. why do you even care about things like that? you’re not my boyfriend or my parent so i don’t need to explain myself to you.” you angrily ramble, wriggling out of the tight spot he had you trapped in.

and that felt like a fucking dagger to the heart.

“you know what? i-i can do this. i can take care of myself, so go home.”

“____, don’t be like this, please. you’re drunk.”

“i’m not drunk, just tipsy! you can go home!”

he runs after you, but you shrug him off and continue walking away, perhaps a little too fast. he curses himself when he catches up to you seconds too late, witnessing you fall over to the floor with a thump and a whimper.

“are you okay?! where does it hurt?!”

you shake your head profusely, but your hands gripping your ankle gives away the answers. he doesn’t press you further. without another word, he hooks an arm under your knees and the other under your back, swooping you from the floor. he stands up straight, adjusts your position slightly, and walks the path you attempted to travel alone in your intoxicated state.

perhaps he is mad. he went and abandoned his rest time when you said that you needed him, only for you to rudely send him home. he has the right to be mad, even just a little bit, despite the fact that he isn’t your boyfriend, right?

not that it matters.

you cling to his neck and it all melts away.

he glances down at you. a soft smile has replaced your frown. “oh, so now you’re happy again?”

“yes,” you tilt your head. “feels like i’m floating.”

“where’s your key?”

“huh?”

“your key-”

“oh!”

you dig out the item from the pocket of your coat. you proudly dangle it infront of his face along with the colorful keychains attached to it; the bear was gifted by yours truly from japan. he totally forgot that it existed. the last time he saw it was when he tossed it in the paper bag he gave you.

he’s not even your boyfriend. the two of you know that doesn’t make sense anymore.

—

after he sets you down on the sofa, he kneels on the floor to remove the heels from your aching feet. he gets the hang of it after unfastening the second strap. while he’s preoccupied, you strip off your coat to combat the increased temperature of your body.

“i need to pee.” you urgently kick off the heels as you rise on your feet.

jungkook looks up and forgets how to breathe. you are irresistibly gorgeous; the cherry red mid-thigh dress you’ve been hiding from him hugs your body so perfectly. he’s ensnared and thoroughly convinced that you’re aware of your power to leave men and women alike sweating and tongue-tied.

goddammit, he is mad. you were at the club looking like this among flashing lights and grinding bodies and he is not your boyfriend.

“doesn’t your ankle hurt?”

“doesn’t matter. i need to pee.”

he clicks his tongue as you limp your way towards the bathroom.

“you’re so hardheaded.”

he lifts up your arm to bring it over his shoulders; he holds your waist to assist you.

“and your heart is so soft.” you giggle, and his world stops when you hold his face… peppering his cheek with an amount of kisses he doesn’t have half the mind to count.

you said you’re not drunk, just tipsy. does that mean you genuinely like him this much and you’ll remember it when you wake up?

dear god, he hopes so.

—

jungkook is supposed to wake up in four hours. however, he’s still wide awake sitting by your pillow, mind completely blank on what he’s supposed to do now that you’re safe and sound. he can’t bring himself to leave just yet. you bump against his knee as you shuffle and squirm, eyes closed but yet to land in the confines of slumber. he can hear your rugged and frustrated breathing, can’t help but to hopelessly adore how pretty you are even with knitted eyebrows and tousled hair.

he likes you so much. he knows it hasn’t been that long since you met but the thought of losing the chance of winning you over makes him want to cry and throw a tantrum. you’re running in his mind day and night. you have permeated all his senses. you charm him with your unapologetic existence and you effortlessly captivate his ungiven affections.

when it comes to love, his passion becomes a weakness.

a whine emits from your parted lips as if you sense that something is wrong. your hands pat around the mattress— searching and searching, until they stumble upon him. you push yourself up, head landing on the pillow, and your arms, they hug him close by his waist. only then do you finally come to a still, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

you are at peace and he is experiencing an emotional turmoil— falling in love. this is simply not fair.

the lines are becoming so blurry. he is losing control of his hands, hyperaware of what he is capable with his possession of them. he strokes your head gently, hair brushing across his palm— this is soothing to him as much as it is you.

this feels right, he thinks. he wants time to stretch from this galaxy to another.

he feels a weak tug at his sweater.

“i’m cold now,” your complaint comes out mumbled against the thick fabric.

next thing he knows you’re pulling him down by his collar, leaving him with no choice but to lie down beside you as to not crush you under his weight. where the hell did you gather the strength to do that?!

he hisses in panic. “yah! what are you doing?”

“i’m cold,” you repeat.

“____, we’re lying down on the blanket. if you can just scoot over for a seco- i’ll take it out. move-”

his attempts on communicating to you only fall on deaf ears. he zips his mouth to admit defeat.

you cling to him for warmth, and jungkook finds himself giving more than that. he volunteers his arm to be your pillow, softly cupping the back of your head as you nuzzle your face on his chest; his other arm wraps around your torso to keep you close. it is quite a tight fit on a single bed— he figures out a lame excuse for later.

now he can say for certain that you’re hearing his heartbeat, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore. he also doesn’t mind the scent of alcohol because it’s tragically losing the battle against your sweet perfume. it renders him enchanted. and the dress… that hypnotizing dress. he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to banish the sinful thoughts flooding his imagination.

he didn’t peg you to be the physically affectionate type, but seeing that you can’t sleep without hugging something, someone— he wants to be just the thing that you cherish as your safe haven. he wants this memory to be cute… and romantic. but too much heavy on the romance, you affect his body and heart in ways no one can.

he tries to will his growing erection to ebb away. it’s not an appropriate situation. he likes and respects you too much.

“my makeup…”

you said it so quietly, he almost believed he was making it up in his head.

“what was that?”

“will you- please, will you help me take off my makeup? it’s bothering me.” you make one final request at the depths of drowsiness, speech slurred and stuttered. “the wipes… the drawer behind you.”

he should’ve thought of that. he’s learning. next time, he will.

he settles into his previous position after grabbing the wipes.

“how do i help? is it okay if i d-”

he interrupts his question when he realizes that you’ve finally fallen asleep.

his sigh momentarily fills the defeaning silence of the night. the exhaustion has also begun to take a toll on him. he’s going to have to catch up on sleep during car rides and set breaks. he’s already dreading it as he’s planning around their hectic schedule.

as he wipes off your makeup as carefully as possible, he mutters into the thin air. “you owe me a massage for this.”

—

IV. HAPPINESS OUTSIDE DAYDREAMS

“you’re my boyfriend now and you don’t sleep on the floor anymore. how cute is that?” you happily think out loud, swinging your feet dangling at the edge of the bed. “but if you want to go back to our old ways… my bed is small even for me.”

“no way. are you kidding?!” he jokingly protests in an angry manner. “your bed is perfect.”

jungkook is on cloud nine. it sure does feel good to hear you sound so happy calling him your boyfriend, even more so to reap its special privileges.

“i keep forgetting to ask. which side do you prefer?”

you’re sat facing the door. “i don’t know, but i’m used to sleeping here.”

“alright. i’ll stay here.” he climbs under the covers, spreading his arms once his back hits the mattress. the smirk on his face widens. “come here, baby.”

a grunt slips past his lips when you jump into his arms without warning, eventually falling over to the side when he moves to envelope you in his embrace.

“you’re so warm.” you purr in contentment as you bury your face against his chest. “i love cuddling so much.”

“i’ve noticed,” he replies. he softly squeezes your exposed thigh after you slump your leg over his hip to maximize your comfort. “your pillow must be softer than me though.”

“no, i like you more… cuddling is proven to have health benefits, you know?”

he quirks an eyebrow. “oh really? give me examples.”

“it releases happy chemicals in the brain… it apparently also helps to lower blood pressure and heart rate, and it-” you fail to stifle a sleepy yawn, hands grasping the cloth of his shirt and forming closed fists. “…improves one’s quality of sleep.”

“i can see it’s working well for you.” he chuckles.

“is it for you?”

“mhmm, yes,” he presses his lips to your forehead. “i’m happy. there’s only happy chemicals in my brain right now.”

jungkook means it wholeheartedly and it feels strange. he doesn’t feel happy in this moment alone. this happiness is colossal and there’s not nearly enough hours in a day to take it all in. this happiness will still be here when he wakes up tomorrow, and the day after that. this happiness stays with him even when you’re not physically present. you’ve turned him into an optimistic fool but it’s not always that he experiences an attraction this strong.

he’s smitten and he can’t hide it. the people who are around him everyday sees it on his face; he doesn’t even need to say it out loud. all that corny shenanigans about romance giving you a certain type of glow is apparently true, it turns out.

“kissing is said to have the same effects, actually.”

your coyness captivates him from his thoughts.

he draws back slightly, the glint of mischief in his eyes mirroring yours. “where do you learn these things?”

“through reading and experience.” you shrug innocently. “want to test that out too?”

you’re everywhere. he can taste your lips, your tongue; your body wash floods his sense of smell with a sweet and clean scent, plus something else he can’t quite name. he can only it describe as you. your hair is tangled in his fingers and your hands… so delicate and teasing with every touch, it feels like being electrified. it still feels incredibly chilly outside but heat is radiating off his skin. he needs to peel himself off you before he loses his last shred of self-control.

“baby…” he whispers, lips only a couple inches from yours. he takes your hand in a tender hold, placing it over his racing heartbeat. “i’m not sure about this one being good for my health.”

“but it is. you just burnt some calories.” you smile, wiping the sweat that has started to form on his forehead. “should we stop?”

he feels his cheeks become more flushed, but his craving for you has overtaken his shyness. he might as well be drunk; intoxicated by you.

“no.” he refuses, conflicted and almost pained. “i can’t…”

he gets rid of the distance between your lips once more, swallowing the first obscene moan he brings out of you.

—

V. THE SPRING FLOWER IN THE EYE OF THE STORM

although you know they held affection for you, the boys you’ve attracted in your life have made one thing clear: they see you as an object of desire, and you unintentionally play the part well. if you were going to make their wet dreams come true, then you ought to derive pleasure from it as well without shame.

but with jungkook, the tables have turned. you wore the same lipstick from last time to rile him up on purpose, but instead you’re the one stuck trying to recall a time you were this putty in somebody’s hands. you’re not in control— you expect this thought would make you spiral, but it doesn’t.

you stumble inside your apartment making out with your boyfriend and you have an orange azalea tucked behind your ear. his hand is in your mess of a hair and it protects your head from the impact of the wall as your back collides with it. you don’t know if it was on purpose or not but your heart flutters nonetheless. this is sickeningly romantic and you want to drown yourself in it.

“oh, feels good.” his mouth on your neck is addictive, you imagine it would be heavenly on more vulnerable parts of you. your nails harshly dig into his shoulder as he takes his time with every lick, every nip of his teeth— eager to learn more about your body and what makes it weak at the knees.

you tug at his hair with a whisper. “jungkook…”

“mhm? yes, baby?”

you thought you’ve seen and felt enough. you know about lust, but never felt a chemistry this electrifying. there’s an emotion screaming beneath the daze in jungkook’s eyes; it’s always been there, but not this loud. you think if you trust your gut and open yourself up… you might just come to gain an understanding of it.

you bite your bottom lip, behind it a shadow of a smile. “bedroom.”

his restless hands slide down to hook around your thighs, and not long after, your legs are wrapped around his waist as he navigates your apartment blinded by the mutual refusal of your lips to disconnect. you giggle every time he bumps into something and groans. with his fear of accidentally letting you fall felt through his tight grip, you’re the one who kicks the bedroom shut. the sound couldn’t have been louder than the pounding of your heart reaching your own ears.

jungkook is gentle as he lays you down on the bed, but your lack of inhibitions reign over you. you begin unbuttoning his shirt, unconsciously grinding your heat against his thigh as you do so. it catches him by surprise, but then his strong hands find purchase on your waist, and you know he wants this as much as you do.

the kiss is broken up by a moan when his grip falls to your hips, guiding your wild movements in chasing pleasure with a tenderness and sensuality that transforms you into a feverish mess. another gush of arousal ruins your underwear worse. you kiss him again and eventually you lose count of the buttons— patience runs thin and with adrenaline rushing through your veins, you tear his shirt apart.

he hisses. “baby, shit- what did y-”

“shhh,” you place an index finger over his lips.

he chuckles raspily, shaking his head in disbelief. your giggles join him, equally amused with yourself.

it’s still for a few seconds, but you can hear each other breathe in the dark. you’ve seen him naked but his silhouette alone stirs the fuel spreading throughout your body. he’s perfect. your lips reclaim the place of your finger. your hands caress every inch of his skin, every curve of his flesh they can reach. he doesn’t make an effort to hold his noises and it turns you on more, if that is even possible at this point. his muscles continue to tense under your touches, even worse when you find his nipples to tease and play with. he’s perfect.

“it’s my turn.” he tries to say in the middle of the kiss, but you don’t hear a thing until he’s pulling away breathless and you’re whining in disappointment. “let me return the flavor please? i’ve been going crazy thinking about it. fuck, please.”

you sit up on the bed, pushing his naked chest challengingly. “what? you want to eat me out?“

he swallows, wide scandalized eyes failing to escape your keen observation. “i do.”

you watch him watch you strip off your sweater, “really…?” and then unclasp your bra, allowing its straps to provocatively slide down your shoulders.

“ye-yes, really.”

“then what’s stopping you?”

he whines out your name, interrupting himself with his craving for another kiss as he slips off your bra completely. it gets lost on the floor along with your sweater and you smirk deviously against his lips. “you’re testing me like this, huh? you’re so mean.”

you lie on your bed but you feel like you’re on top of the world. jungkook scatters kisses from your neck down to your chest, occasionally licking and biting as if he can’t help but to taste you. he uncovers another ticklish spot along your ribcage, but you bite your lip to control your giggles. instead, you touch his face to subtly guide him away from it.

he nuzzles his cheek against your palm, eyelids fluttering close as he presses a soft kiss to your wrist.

“may i?”

the shape of his lips lingers there. no one has ever kissed your wrist, nor have you ever imagined the first time to take place in bed.

your thumb strokes his cheek tenderly. the silence that follows there after concerns jungkook. he calls out your name, snapping you out of deep thought.

“may i?” he repeats himself.

he is patiently suspended over the waistband of your skirt. ever the gentleman, you half-smile.

“will you fuck me good after?”

the hand on his face sneaks down to pull up the skirt over your stomach; an even tinier piece of fabric covers the most intimate part of your body.

“whatever you want, baby, i will do it.” he promises.

you can hear the smirk in his voice, but you’re unable to form another response as his tongue laves over the lace, the warmth and wetness saturating through and stimulating your clit— once, slowly, and then over and over again.

you gasp, jolting and squirming in pleasure. he only makes it worse when he hums and you feel the vibration against you. you whine and he squeezes the soft flesh of your inner thighs in an attempt soothe you, keep you still, nuzzling his cheek as he meets your heated gaze.

“relax… is my baby always this sensitive?” he places a chaste kiss over your clit, causing your breath to hitch. “‘cause i’ve barely started.”

“jungkook,” you impatiently whine. “why’d you stop? just do it, please- need you.”

you’d wipe off that stupid smirk on his face if only you weren’t so pent up and you didn’t need his tongue.

“wow… didn’t think you’re the type to beg.” he muses, more so talking to himself. “i like it.”

hell no, you’re not.

but finally, he dives in, greedily pulling aside the flimsy material for a real taste of you. instead of a sharp remark, erotic sounds between a moan and a sob emit from your lips. your toes curl at the surge of mind-numbing ecstasy overwhelming your body. your hands fisting the sheets fly to his hair, frantically tugging like you can’t take it, but you beg and beg and beg him for more.

—

the last time you had sex was more than four months ago. you realized that you liked jungkook, and you simply didn’t want to do it with anybody else. sexual frustration combined with the romantic pining for a man that could potentially ruin your life; your youth has been nothing short of eventful.

has sex always been this good? you can’t remember. you’re drunk on pleasure even in the aftermath; you’re not sure if you’re really here or floating someplace else. as you catch your breath, jungkook soothes your body with gentle kisses and strokes of your skin, whispering sweet nothings. mostly babbling about how beautiful you are. and you feel it— feel beautiful, you mean.

you gradually open your eyes, vision adjusting to the divine view infront of you. jungkook is golden, skin still glistening with sweat under the warm glow of the lampshade. your heart skips a beat when he smiles at you.

“are you good? do you need anything? water?”

“again.”

his eyes widens. “again?“

“round two.” you giggle.

you push yourself up to reach his lips, but the kiss ends too soon for your liking.

“jungkook-” you complain.

“wait!”

you stare in bewilderment as he bends down from the edge of bed, appearing to be reaching for one of the objects discarded on the floor.

“what is it?”

“i found it!”

it’s the flower.

beaming with a hue of pure excitement, he tucks the azalea behind your ear for the second time tonight. pretty, he says it so quietly that you only understand through the movement of his lips.

he looks bewitched by you. in a different setting you’d be smug about it, but at this moment, you don’t understand. you can’t read what’s on his mind. if only you could see yourself through his eyes, even for just a moment, then maybe you’d understand why he’s dancing with fire and folding with his tower of cards.

it would be too silly and embarrassing to start crying now, right?

you swallow the lump in your throat, glassy eyes overshadowed by your boyfriend leaning in to plant a kiss on your forehead. as if that isn’t enough to entirely melt your heart, he intertwines his fingers with yours. your walls come crumbling down. in a haste to forbid your emotions from breaking free, you reach for him and slip your tongue in his mouth for a fervent kiss.

the burning tears that drip down to your temples are lost evidence you will bring to the grave.

—

“you’re not supposed to be awake.” jungkook complains as soon as he opens the door.

you only spare him a glance before returning to your task. instead of being under the sheets, you’re sat on the floor with his button-up shirt from last night laid across your lap. only several steps closer and he realizes that you’re sewing.

he exhales through his mouth in surprise, setting aside the tray of food on the bed before joining you on the floor.

“baby, what are you doing?! it’s fine. you don’t need to fix it.”

“i know, but i want to.” you reply, smiling, eyes still swollen from sleep focused on the needle and thread. “i stepped on one of the buttons so i looked for the two other.”

he’s dumbfounded watching you sew with so much care and precision. oh my god, he is in love with you. he thinks it so loud he gets terrified that he might’ve ended up speaking it out loud too.

“at least eat first!”

“wow, where did you buy ingredients so early?”

“early?” he scratches his head. “it’s lunch time.”

“what?!” your eyes grow twice their size. “jungkook, i’m late for work! what didn’t you wake me up?!”

“you- you we- you were tired!” he stutters defending himself.

he awkwardly catches his shirt when you throw it aside in a rush to get to the bathroom.

“baby, what about your food?!” he yells.

“wait, i forgot my towel-” you pop out from the doorframe, beaming at him breathlessly. “oh, please pack the food in my lunchbox!”

—

VI. SPEAKING TRUTHFULLY, YOU’RE THE ONE FOR ME

“i missed you.”

you giggle. “you look drunk.”

you hold jungkook’s cheeks in the palm of your hands, and he revels in the comforting warmth radiating from them.

he closes his eyes with a toothy grin. “i’m exhausted.”

“then go to sleep!”

“i don’t want to!”

he opens one eye, peeking at you.

“i came here so you won’t have to tire yourself out more going to my place.” you pout. “why do you hate resting?”

“this is me resting,” he says as a matter of fact, leaning down to give your lips a peck. “you are my rest.”

while it may be true that his body is begging for sleep, his mind is willing him to stay awake for as long as he can. he likes that he has nothing to prove here; he can simply be. you’re softly tracing his skin, forming constellations from the moles on his face, and he knows they’re created out of pure wonder and love.

“this one’s so cute!” you gush. “nobody talks about it enough.”

you place an affectionate kiss on the mole at the bridge of his nose.

“maybe because nobody has noticed it but you.”

you roll your eyes. “as if i’m the only one who spends their free time looking at your face.”

“but you’re the one who can view me in the highest quality.” he brings his face a little closer to tease you; noses almost brushing. “no one else can have me this close.”

“that’s right. or else you will never have me this close again.”

you squint your eyes at him as a threat; a frown making a permanent residence on your lips. fuck, when is he not thinking about kissing you?

“aigoo, look at you sulking!” he exclaims with a laugh.

“i’m not!”

“okay, whatever you say.” he replies in a sing-song voice.

it’s silent for a few beats as he engulfs you in his embrace. he feels like he’s being recharged, and with that comes along the overdue acknowledgement of his exhaustion. he meant it when he said that you are his rest.

“you know, i can’t help but to wonder sometimes.”

there is an undertone of hesitance in the way you spoke which is not typical of you. this prompts him to draw back a little, just enough to get a good look of your face.

“wonder about?”

“i’m not trying to put myself down or anything like that, by the way. i’m not expecting you to say the right thing or whatever either. i’m just-”

you pause, teeth nervously biting your lip. his heart aches in an instant when you avoid his eyes.

“i’m just genuinely curious? and saying what’s on my mind.”

“what is it?” he juts out his bottom lip. “you’re scaring me.”

“it’s not a big deal!”

“go on then. i’m listening.”

“i mean, i know i’m a catch, and- and i have a lot to offer, and i’m special in my own way. but you have a lot of…” you blink, trying to find the right term. “options.”

the word alone causes distaste to morph in his facial expression.

“okay, okay, i know! ugh, i don’t know how else to say it. but you have these beautiful and amazing people throwing themselves at you and sometimes i’m flabbergasted that you actively reject them for me.”

“baby, what are you even saying-”

“i’m serious. there are girls i would’ve totally gone for!”

“but they’re not you!”

he tilts your chin, smiling when at last, he recaptures your wide-eyed gaze.

“it’s really as simple as that.”

“but when we weren’t official yet-”

“i liked you from the start, if i didn’t make that obvious enough.”

you scrunch your cute nose; a smile of pure giddiness starting to form on your face. “you did… i knew.”

“i can’t believe you’re thinking about things like that. i only have eyes for you, baby. do you remember the first fight we had, huh? remember how i got drunk and cried?”

he doesn’t particularly like to relive the trauma and consequences of receiving unsolicited… almost naked… photos of an acquaintance while he’s watching a silly youtube video on his phone with his significant other. anything can be fixed in a relationship if both parties exert the effort, but trust, it is almost impossible to rebuild.

she didn’t know he was, is, in a relationship. in general, no one outside his inner circle really expects him to be in a relationship, or at least be in one that is serious or long-term. because, well, where would he find the time and energy for that kind of stuff?

but keeping you as a secret was his way of protecting you, and if you were hurting because of that, you didn’t show it.

oh, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t mad.

you needed some time to clear your head, you said. ignored his texts and phone calls; shooed him away when he begged at your front door. that issue may already been resolved, but he’s still not done proving that he’s solely committed to you.

you’re one of the most important people in his life. he loves you and he tends to get worried that you will never know much.

you gasp, hitting his chest. “when did that happen?!”

“why are you shocked…?” he narrows his eyes. “you didn’t know?”

“how would i know?”

he scratches his head in confusion. he should probably stop talking at this point and not dig his own grave, but his honesty leads him on. “…didn’t taehyungie-hyung send you a video? or did i make that up in my head?”

he immediately regrets it when the sparkle of mischief appears in your eyes.

“he’s still awake, right?”

“actually, he sleeps early nowadays!”

you wiggle out of his embrace, playfully sticking out your tongue at him. “i’ll go get the copy from him right now.”

“it was so long ago. it’s probably deleted by now!”

“wouldn’t hurt to check.”

“baby, no! it’s embarrassing!” he attempts to pull you back, but his hands barely reach you. “let’s just go to sleep, hm? didn’t you come here to put me to sleep?”

“aw, my love…”

he melts when you gingerly stroke his hair too. he will never live it down if his friends witnessed you babying him and him loving it.

“just close your eyes.”

and with your hand obstructing his vision, he sees pitch black and floating spots and flecks.

“i’ll be back in a minute! mwah!”

but despite his sense of sight being taken away, he still feels you spring off the mattress. the weight of your feet against the floor resonates along with the shout of your name as he follows you out of his bedroom.

you squeal in panic when you realize that you’re being chased. “go back to bed!”

“i won’t unless you go back with me!”

this is one of the instances in which jungkook is grateful for his gifts of athletic prowess and long limbs.

with little to no effort, he overtakes you in the race towards taehyung’s bedroom. doe eyes akin to a deer caught in the headlights, he swings the door open.

taehyung’s eyes flicker up from his phone. he’s frankly not surprised about the intrusion, not after hearing the commotion outside.

“need anything?”

“all the videos you have of him drunk!”

“hyung, no! you can’t give it!”

—

VII. THE CHOICE TO STAY

“give it to me.”

the blanket that jungkook carried from the bedroom is snatched away from his hands. it becomes unfurled and thrown over to shield your shivering vessel from the cold. without a word, he crawls on the couch and under the blanket, hugging you from behind as you catch up on your ongoing tv shows.

relief… he’s been looking forward to this all day.

the tension in his muscles, from head to toe, begin to fade away, especially as you take his hand in yours so you can give it a chaste kiss. it’s quick, but long enough for him to feel the softness of your lips. his hug tightens. he remains silent as he inhales, and exhales, slow and calm. he’s not trying to fall asleep as much as trying to shut down his brain. they say the world has stopped but from his point of view, it has erupted into chaos and he has no other choice but to watch it fall apart and to attempt to rebuild it at the same time. god knows he is doing the best he can but it feels like his best will never not be lacking.

jungkook is scared, and he is more scared knowing that everyone else is too. but for the past two years, whether you’re whole or broken, whether he’s climbing or falling— it never made a difference. you’ve always stayed.

he finds comfort in knowing that he has this constant among the ominous unknown.

his little firefly; your light won’t go out even as the world lets out its final sigh.

“my love, why are you sad?”

you flipped to your other side when another commercial break rolled in; now you’re hovering over him, curious eyes studying every inch of his face.

“is my love hurt anywhere?” you coo. “where should i kiss?”

his body shakes with quiet laughter as you pepper his face with kisses, trailing down to his jaw until you reach the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“or do you want a massage? here? know you had a looong day.”

“really? how’d you know?”

“yeah, ‘cause you haven’t showered. you’re all stinky.”

“oh, am i?” he playfully pinches your waist, which you react to with a drawn out whine. “and yet you’re still cuddling with me.”

“so? do you need my massage therapy services or not?!”

“no. i only need my lover, please.” he pleads with droopy eyelids, emphasizing his request by tangling his limbs with yours.

he can’t hide from you like he hides from himself. you’re much more gentler with his heart than he is; unconciously, he trusts you more with it.

“you have me. what’s wrong?”

your hands anchored on the sofa are swept away as he pulls you closer, your weight crashing down on him entirely. he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your natural scent and the lavender in your body wash.

“eh, it’s just work… everything that could go wrong is going wrong. we’re trying to figure things out, but what can we do really…? there’s nothing. i- this-this whole thing is just so fucking frustrating, baby. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not just work! it’s your reason for living. of course this is frustrating and painful for you. it’s understandable to feel that way.”

he can practically hear you pouting. he is proven right when you lift your head, leaning in to give him a kiss. he smiles against your lips. he loves you so much.

“so please don’t burn yourself out trying to be okay. you have me by your side who can help you carry your burdens.”

it was scary at the beginning, but now it only feels right. it is impossible not to love you with all of his heart and soul; you deserve nothing less and more than what he can give. when you hug him, he hugs you back tighter.

“you’re my reason to live too.”

“i shouldn’t be. what if i die before you?”

“yah, don’t says things like that!” he scolds you faster than he can think, eyebrows knitted together and frown a tad deeper. “you won’t. it won’t happen.”

“i will die eventually.” you grimace.

“please don’t say such things as ‘i want you to move on and meet someone else and fall in love again and remarry.’ i don’t want to hear it!” he rambles so fast that he doesn’t even understand himself, stumbling and lisping. “i will seriously cry!”

“oh, i don’t care for things like that.”

you make yourself more comfortable; your boyfriend as your own personal bed. sleeping on top of him has been a natural occurence these days, not that he minds. you’re so soft and warm. it’s like hugging a stuffed toy to sleep. still, he’s mindful of you falling off the couch again.

“do whatever you like.” your eyes meet as you bestow him with a smile. “i’ll be dead; i won’t even know what happens next.”

“you don’t care? huh…” he huffs over the hypothetical.

the mere consideration of it feels like cheating. he knows that it technically isn’t, but he can’t imagine spending the rest of his life with someone who isn’t you. nevertheless, if he was being honest and it was the other way around, he’d probably do tell you to leave your heart open. but the topic is not the other way around and jungkook’s heart is stubbornly bound to you.

“why am i getting upset?”

“i don’t care because i’m confident.” you say candidly. “you can fall in love with someone else, but no one will ever love you the way that i do.”

ah, and here comes a side of you that he knows and loves. he swears that cupid is in the room and his heart was just hit by another one of his arrows. it feels so good to be loved so fearlessly.

“i know, so why even bother?” he arrives at a conclusion to his defense, but there’s a much better solution. “please never ever leave me so i won’t have to deal with this dilemma.”

he catches you roll your eyes before he comes face-to-face with the back of your head. your cheek rests on top of his chest; he feels it above his beating heart.

“what then? are we supposed to die together?”

he hums in thought. “it’s not a totally bad idea. we live together, so wouldn’t that make sense too?”

“wow, very shakespearean of you.”

“oh, that’s right! see? isn’t this your type of thing? let’s do it!”

“oh my god, you’re so stupid.” you hide your face behind your hand, giggling in disbelief of the sharp turn this conversation took.

jungkook loves making you laugh. for a little while, he forgets everything else. the world outside may be terrifying but you have your own in your shared apartment. you’re his reason to live too. you ignite the life in his veins. you kiss him with an appetite for passion and love and he enters heaven on earth.

“thank you.” you mumble against his lips.

“thank you?”

“for loving me, for living with me…” your voice wavers and his heart drops to his stomach. he can hold back his tears, but never when he sees yours flowing. “even when you’re tired and having a hard time.”

“you make it sound like a chore, but the truth is loving you gives me the strength to work hard everyday. you do know that, right? baby?” he strokes your hair tenderly, hoping that you receive his sincerity. “i should be the one thanking you… i should say it more often. you didn’t give up on loving me even when it was hurting you.”

“it’s all in the past… you were hurting too.” you reply in a faint whisper. “i love you.”

cupid must owe him a tremendous favor to have granted him the purest form of love a human being could have.

he plants a kiss on your forehead, noticing the rise of your shoulders. an endearing thing they occasionally do when you’re happy, shy, or flattered. it’s one of the many things he learned about you since you started living under the same roof.

he’s been learning about himself too. he tried saving you from himself but this fact is now well-established— you are the sun; it only hurts him to push you away because you’re in everything. it’s the little things that will haunt him if lost. when pieced together, they declare that you love him and he loves you.

the words i’m going home have gained more meaning and he’s excited to say them at the end of each day. he talks about his day and you talk about yours. you find out he’s the reason your lotion ran out too fast again and you chase him around the apartment until he promises to buy you the biggest bottle. you play rock-paper-scissors to figure out who will wash the dishes or receive the food from the delivery guy. you watch too many cooking videos on his phone until one of you falls asleep. most of the time it’s you. tonight, it’s still you.

he must confess that up to this day, he admires you when you sleep. you are safe and sound, and he is mended in places he did not know existed.

it’s time to sleep, he also decides.

he cocoons you in the blanket, then provides another layer of warmth which is his body. once settled, he closes his eyes, sighing in contentment. “what’s the use of our giant bed if we keep on sleeping on the couch?”

—

(?). AN ETERNAL RECORD: MY TREASURE, MY LOVE (ARCHIVED)

[DEC 25 ‘17 02:12AM]

“is it rolling?”

“yes, it’s rolling.”

you excitedly look at the film camera from the thick pile of snow on the ground, moving your arms up and down and your legs from side to side. an attempt to create a snow angel.

your giggles and the crackles of the snow are heard through the speaker.

the lens zoom in on your face.

childlike joy in the form of an everlasting smile and snowflakes on your hair.

“am i doing it?!”

“you are!”

“really?”

“really!”

“is it pretty?”

your face comes out of the frame. for a second only the white snow is seen, and then the dark brown of your coat as you skip towards the camera.

“let me watch!”

the camera shakes before it pans to the ground.

rustling of clothes and a shy, panicked voice.

“hold on- i-i’ll just fix the…”

“why?”

“huh, what do i do?” a forced laugh to mask nervousness. “i think it didn’t save-”

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction

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writers-potion · 12 days

Note

Could you give any advice for "descriptive" writing of any scene or action scenes or mapping out the scenery (Mountains, forests, streets etc) - i believe this is a struggle for Non-English speaking writers due to lack of vast vocabulary.

Common Scenery Description Tips

Vocabulary is clearly an important part of description, but it doesn’t have to be a limit. The most important thing about description in fiction is picking the right details to mention:

How does the details add to the mood of the story? A mountain ridge will be dark, gray and foggy if the overall mood is meant to be mysterious/brooding. In contrast, a mountain can be brilliantly snow-capped, lush green and “smiling down” upon the character if they’re out for a light stroll.

How are the contrasts/complementary aspects being brought out?

Are you using the five senses? You can even combine the senses, ie. blue ringing of the church bells

(If you have the POV character) what

Some other tips for setting description:

Use similes and metaphors. Creative figures of speech always get my attention as a reader.

Mention story-specific elements. For example, “The sky was the shade of Zoes’ eyes” or “the mountains looked like a group of trolls sleeping on one another”

Be concise. Today’s readers don’t want to read paragraphs and paragraphs about one landscape. Outline the larger elements in the scene, their location and general mood. Add some details, then move on.

If the same location appears multiple times, differentiate the description little by little as you write, instead of trying to lay out one scene in too much detail at once.

That said, here are some helpful words/phrases:

Forests/Mountains

Color: bone-white, phantom-white, hazy gray

Sound: rumbling, booming grumbling, bellowing clapping, trundling, growling, thundering

Shape: crinkled, crumpled, knotted, grizzled, rumpled, wrinkled, craggy, jagged, gnarled, rugose

Action: sky-punching/stabbing/piercing/spearing, heaven-touching/kissing, snow-cloaked/hooded/wreathed/festooned

Sloping sides, sharp/rounded ridges, high point/peak/summit

Majestic, gargantuan humbling, vast, massive, titanic, towering, monumental, mighty, vast, humbling

Mountains having faces, etc.

Seas

Color: blue-green, crystal-clear crystalline, emerald, frothy, hazy, glistening, pristine, turquoise

Size: boundless, abyssal, fathomless, unconquerable, vast, wondrous

Sound: billowing, blustering, bombastic

Action: boisterous, agitated, angry, biting, breaking, brazen. Churning, bubbling, changing, brooding, calm, convulsing, enticing erratic, fierce, tempestuous, turbulent, undulating

Alluring, blissful, betwitching, breezy, captivating, chaotic, chilly, elemental, disorienting

Deserts

Sight: A landscape of sand, flat, harsh sunlight, cacti, tumbleweeds, dust devils, cracked land, crumbing rock, sandstone, canyons, wind-worn rock formations, tracks, dead grasses, vibrant desert blooms (after rainfall), flash flooding, dry creek

Sounds: Wind (whistling, howling, piping, tearing, weaving, winding, gusting), birds cawing, flapping, squawking, the fluttering shift of feasting birds, screeching eagles, the sound of one’s own steps, heavy silence, baying wild dogs

Smell: Arid air, dust, one’s own sweat and body odor, dry baked earth, carrion

Touch: Torrid heat, sweat, cutting wind, cracked lips, freezing cold (night) hard packed ground, rocks, gritty sand, shivering, swiping away dirt and sweat, pain from split lips and dehydration, numbness in legs, heat/pain from sun stroke, clothes…

Taste: Grit, dust, dry mouth & tongue, warm flat canteen water, copper taste in mouth, bitter taste of insects for eating, stringy wild game (hares, rats) the tough saltiness of hardtack, biscuits or jerky, an insatiable thirst or hunger

Streets

Dusty, fume-filled, foul, sumptuous, broad, bucolic, decayed, mournful, seemingly endless, empty, unpaved, lifeless, dreadfully genteel, muddy, nondescript, residential/retail

Bleach, flimsy, silent, narrow, crooked, furrowed, smoggy, commonplace, tumbledown, treeless, shady

The blacktop streets absorb the spring sunshine as if intent upon sending heaven's warmth back through my soles.

The streets absorbed the emotions in the air, the city as the steady and reassuring mother.

The streets were a marriage of sounds, from bicycle wheels to chattering.

In the refreshing light of early daytime, the streets had the hues of artistic dreamtime, soft yet bold pastels.

Cobbled streets flowed as happy rivers in sunlight.

Parties

Some extra tips for locations like parties, where lots of action is going around practically everywhere:

Focus on the important characters - where they are, who they’re with.

Provide some overall description of the structure of the party scene (a pool, a two-storey house with yard?), then move on to details.

Don’t try to describe everything.

whirlwind of laughter and music, a symphony of joyous chaos.

It was a gathering that shimmered with the glow of twinkling lights and echoed with the rhythm of dancing feet.

The air was alive with excitement, buzzing with conversations and the clink of glasses.

Every corner held a story waiting to unfold, a moment waiting to be captured in memory.

It was a tapestry of colors, a mosaic of faces, each adding their own brushstroke to the vibrant canvas of the night.

Laughter cascaded like a waterfall, infectious and unstoppable, filling the room with warmth.

The night was a carnival of senses, with aromas of delicious food mingling with the melodies that filled the air.

Time seemed to slip away in the whirl of the party, moments blending into each other like colors on a palette.

The energy of the crowd was electric, pulsing through the room like a heartbeat, binding everyone in a shared moment of celebration.

It was a celebration of life, where worries faded into the background, and the present moment was all that mattered.

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rene-spade · 3 months

Text

growing up räikkönen | f1 grid

fem! reader x räikkönen family, f1 grid

note(s): reader is kimi’s eldest daughter 👍 2nd pov but for the plot reader has a name. We start off in the 2021 season, reader becomes a driver for mclaren the 2022 season. main idea is everyone is obsessed with her lolol

Warning(s): potentially triggering relationship dynamics, some obsessive behavior tbh bc i like em crazy, mostly cute stuff tho!

GROWING UP RÄIKKÖNEN MEANS having a chaotic first few years, but with your father everything always works out. kimi isn’t even 22 when you’re born (2001), and your mother is just a fling who sadly passes away before you turn one, but you are his world. he melts at the sight of his eldest daughter; the one who he raised as his alone. Sure, you’ve had a couple step moms, but only one father who happens to be the protective type. You grow up in the f1 paddocks because kimi doesn’t like being apart from you for too long. even with his marriage to jenni, he has her watch you during his races. Just the racing part though, he commonly totes you along with him during anything he can, even media duties. due to his own upbringing, your schooling is the highest of priorities, but it’s still a guarantee you know how to drive anything by age 16. He wants you to be prepared for anything life throws at you, though of course he wouldn’t let you do it alone.

♤ ♤ ♤

SOME DAD! KIMI THINGS; childhood

he named you after himself (kimi -> miki, unoriginal)

when you were ages 1 month - 6 years, he took you everywhere with him

he nicknames you “lumienkeli” snow angel in finnish

his first tattoo was a portrait of baby-you with your full name and birth date

kimi can’t say no to his little girl, so you end up bringing all kinds of stray pets home, even from other countries

you and step-mom jenni iconic duo

uncle seb vettel and michael schumacher (who babysat you growing up) buying you and kimi matching outfits

kimi is very bad at documenting things properly, so jenni organized and labeled his entire “isä ja miki-mäiri” photo album. after they divorced, minttu took over that position, adding robin and rianna.

no-dating rule implemented as soon as you mention a crush at school (you were 6)

crazy dad! kimi who tried to run over your first boyfriend with a snowmobile

a responsible drinker around his sweet daughter but when you’re home attending school, he has his iconic drinking benders (championship era all the way to his divorce era)

kimi who learns to braid hair so you can keep your hair tidy and untangled beneath your first helmet

you are his mini-me (mostly, just in the ways he intended)

♤ ♤ ♤

Twitter; self-ran

♤ ♤ ♤

Instagram; self-ran

♤ ♤ ♤

photo album; written by kimi-matias räikkönen (edited by jenni dahlman and minttu räikkönen)

äiti ja miki-mäiri lumienkeli mik ja isä

2001 <3 (2004)

isosisko miki, minun miki-mäiri miki-mäiri ja robin ja rianna 10th syntymäpäivä setä rami (2006)

miki ja jenni <3 isän vauva miki-mäiri ja

(2003) (kesäkuuta 2002) serrku justus

♤ ♤ ♤

this is the introduction to this fic / au. Please send asks to get the ball rolling! If you don’t know kimi lore, this might not make much sense oops

- ren

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eddiemunsonw · 1 month

Text

Snow Storm

Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: You're on a 'date'. Sort of. You're really not feeling it, especially when you realize that the guy has been lying. Steve, witnessing it all during his shift at Family Video, is more than happy to meddle a little.

CW/Disclaimer: Hmmmm things start to get a little heated and sexy but nothing too dramatic. So... idk. Mention of porn?

Author's note: I have a tendency to post fics out of their season, it seems

Words: 3435

Steve’s POV

He watched as your eyes followed the section of horror movies slowly, scanning each title to try and remember if you had seen them before. Next to you, a guy stood impatiently as he eyed the curtain that separated the adult section. Steve watched with interest, as it was all that was currently happening in the store apart from a regular who looked into the slapstick classics on the other side.

“Come on, I just wanna see.”

The guy sighed, nudged you with his arm. You were having none of it and Steve couldn’t help but wear an amused smile. Eventually, when you had picked out two movies, you followed him towards the curtain. Steve, feeling particularly menacing today, quickly left the counter and approached the curtain just in time.

“Hello there! ID’s please.”

He held his hand open and you took it out immediately, showing that you were 23, a year younger than he was. When the guy handed it over with some reluctance, his curiosity piqued.

“Oof, sorry dude, can’t let you in. It’s 21+”

“What? Since when?” the guy responded, but Steve clocked something much more interesting.

“Clark… You said you were 24. Jesus this is why I never wanna say my age first,” you groaned and rolled your eyes. Steve bit down on his lip to stop himself from smiling, but it was too hard not to.

“Damn, why’d you have to lie to the lady? That’s not cool,” Steve added on.

Your POV

“You weren’t supposed to know. Now come on,” Clark mumbled and attempted to pass the curtain but Steve quickly moved in between, the smooth glide of his body grabbing your attention.

“Still a no, Bud.”

You were already tired of his pushy behavior earlier, so while Steve had him occupied, you entered the adult section. You didn’t even want to go in there, but it was better than staying.

“Grab some deepthroating! And some lesbian porn?”

Steve’s POV

Steve shook his head at him as he leaned against the wall right next to the curtain.

“Jesus, dude. Are you trying to make her run away from you even harder?”

“Shut up,” Clark grumbled, side eyeing him with annoyance.

“Hm, no,” Steve said, a small smile on his face. “Not for a pipsqueak like you.”

“Oh fuck off, says the failed jock whose daddy no longer funds him so he has to do a shitty job like this one, the highlight of his day being to be a total asshole to a guy trying to have sex with a girl.”

Steve stared ahead of him, taking a deep inhale before replying.

“Yeah. Sure. That’s a neat description of you and me both. Emphasis on the trying.”

“The day’s not over yet.”

“Oh but it is, pipsqueak. Cause you’re gonna turn around and leave now.”

They looked at each other, eyes dark and challenging. Steve wasn’t sure what came over him. He just knew that he needed to do you the favor of getting rid of him.

“The hell I am,” Clark bristled.

Steve chuckled darkly. Woah, when did he become this super villain huh? Hmm. Interesting.

“Oh you are. She wants you gone and so do I.”

“You don’t know shit about what she wants.”

“Let me go ask,” Steve said as his hand lazily slid the curtain aside. “What’s her name again?” he asked, pretending like he hadn’t checked your name on your ID. He didn’t wait for his answer and walked behind the curtain despite his protests. This, however, made him miss out on the emergency alert on the radio.

“We interrupt your favorite tunes for an important message. The blizzard is getting worse. If you haven’t yet, go home. Chances are you won’t be able to if you wait much longer.”

Clark, however, did. Besides, he wasn’t that much of an idiot. He knew he had lost his chances with you the moment he tried to get you to grab his favorite porn videos. Whatever.

Your POV

“So… see anything you like?”

His voice startled you, but at the same time it was met with relief from your end that it wasn’t Clark. Steve slowly walked closer and quickly noticed you didn’t seem interested in any of it in the slightest and chuckled.

“Or are you just planning to stay here forever until he leaves?”

You shrugged.

“Something like that. Also, you don’t just ask a lady about her favorite porn, Harrington.”

Delighted by your response, he cocked his hip against the wall as he crossed his arms with a grin.

“I mean… we both already know Clark’s…” Steve said jokingly, earning a smile from you.

“All men are the same,” you sighed. Steve pouted and scanned the titles for something interesting.

“You say that now but… wait until you find out that my favorite is actually… Granny getting a— nope, nope, forget I started that sentence,” Steve said quickly as he put back the tape he just had in his hands.

“All the grannies over the world are crying right now,” you said sadly, a smile on your lips.

“Too bad, I’ve set my eye on girls who actually are the age they say they are.”

“I’ll admit that’s the most interesting belated opening line I’ve ever heard,” you said dryly.

“As long as it catches your intrigue, I’m satisfied,” Steve said with a playful, cocky grin.

You grabbed a tape and smirked, holding it out for him.

“So I’m guessing you don’t need yourself a… Satisfyer 2.0, then?” You asked, holding up the tape which had sensual “instructions” for a vibrator.

Steve laughed and shook his head.

“These satisfy just fine,” Steve said, holding up his hands. Your mind drifted off to what he could do with those big hands. Not just to himself but to—

“… left?”

Steve had apparently just asked you a question.

“Huh?”

He smirked and nodded towards the curtain.

“I think he left. Just heard the bell above the door.”

“Maybe someone came in though…” you wondered out loud.

“Maybe. I’ll go check.” He spun on his heel and approached the curtain when—

“Wait—” It was out before you knew it. Steve halted, turned back around and looked at you patiently.

“Yeah?”

“If he is in fact not gone, can you… get rid of him somehow? I normally wouldn’t ask but he’s just such a—”

“Dick.”

“Yeah…” You smiled a small smile and watched as he approached you again. His eyes were on you, taking in even the smallest changes in your expression.

“So is he like… your boyfriend?” Steve asked softly. “Or uh, was?”

You chuckled and shook your head.

“Nah, this was the second date which I had reluctantly agreed to.”

“Why’d you say yes?” Steve asked curiously. He followed your movement as you skimmed some more tapes and smiled at the playfully quipped corner of your mouth. “I mean, it didn’t look like you wanted to be here.”

“I didn’t. I just… I kind of never said yes but he just showed up on my doorstep and then I felt too bad to not go with him, so… yeah. Didn’t know he had plans to rent some porn and spend the second date in his bedroom or whatever.”

Steve crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully.

“Hmmh… yeah that sucks. Well, I’ll make sure there won’t be a next time,” he said as he shortly winked at you and once again turned on his heel, this time actually continuing his walk through the curtain. He was out there for a few minutes when he turned back with a frown.

“Uh… Y/N? We’ve got a little… hiccup.”

You approached him with a frown of your own and followed him to the front, unsure what to expect. What you certainly didn’t expect, was to see a snow storm going on outside.

“Apparently there’s a code red. Just heard a repeat of it on the radio but it keeps breaking up. They urge everyone to stay inside until it’s over.”

Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared ahead. It was the worst storm he had ever witnessed and the fact that nothing had seemed to be going on apart from some gentle snowfall surprised him.

“Stay… here?” you asked eventually.

“I mean, yeah? You can’t drive in this weather, it’s too dangerous. So is walking. So…”

“But I can’t just…”

“Hey, I don’t bite,” Steve said softly, nudging your arm with his own. “Besides, Clark seems to have left after all. Maybe he heard the warning and decided to bolt? If so, very nice to let us know as well but I will say that I wasn’t nice to him, so…”

You smirked.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing, nothing. I mean, genuinely, I didn’t say much. Just that he had to fuck off, using different wording. He didn’t seem all that ready to leave when I went to look for you though.”

“Oh well, good riddance.”

“Agreed.”

Steve walked forward and locked the door, putting the closed sign up front just in case.

“Let’s go to the back, it’s warmer there. And there’s a coffee machine.”

And so your “Stuck at Family Video with heartthrob Steve Harrington” began.

Once you were settled around the table in the break room, Steve gave you an odd glance. It was hard to figure out what he meant by it, although his frown disappeared the moment he got up from his chair.

“Coffee? Tea? I think we even got a few of those instant hot choc packages,” he offered, his back already turned to you as he searched the cabinets.

“Oh, hot chocolate sounds nice actually. Is it just me or is it… still kinda cold, even here?” you asked hesitantly. Steve nodded ruefully and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet he was currently facing.

“Ah, yeah… it looks like the heating is struggling again. I could kick it to see if it helps but… chances are it’ll get worse.”

“How could it get worse?”

Steve shrugged.

“Beats me, but I’m speaking from experience. Sometimes it does the trick and other times it really, really doesn’t.”

“Let’s not risk it then. At least we have a warm drink, right?”

Steve nodded and grabbed the kettle. You watched him busy himself with putting it on, emptying the hot chocolate powder and grabbing two spoons. He was humming along softly to whichever song he seemed to have stuck in his head and shot you a smile when he caught you looking.

“So what do you usually—”

Suddenly, the room turned pitch dark. You heard Steve swear softly when he shuffled back towards the table and bumped into a chair.

“Uh… okay. That’s… kind of a problem,” he mumbled as he managed to sit back down. “No hot choc I guess, sorry. No… heating either. Maybe we should check how the weather’s doing?” he opted.

“Yeah, sure.”

There was a small strip of light seeping in from the doorway, slowly turning brighter as you adjusted to your surroundings again. Warm fingers teased your arm before your wrist was grabbed and Steve helped you up. As he opened the door, the brightness of the snow outside was almost blinding. The thin windows made it a lot colder at the front, making you shiver as you watched the outside. It wasn’t just snow anymore, as heavy hail rained down, large enough to leave dents into cars. Steve groaned and let go of your wrist.

“Let me check if I can get the power back on,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. He grabbed a flashlight from below the counter and went to the back again. After a few minutes, he returned, looking apologetic.

“Sorry, nothing. I guess it’s my fault you’re stuck here, huh?” he sighed. “If I hadn’t bothered Clark as much you’d be on your way already. Or if I just… I don’t know. Sorry, I guess.”

“It’s not your fault the weather decided to fuck us over, Steve,” you said with a soft smile which he returned with some hesitance. “What do you usually do for fun around here?”

Steve gave you a wry smile.

“Watch movies?”

“Ah, yeah.”

There was a short silence until Steve clapped in his hands and rubbed them together. “I’ve got this huge blanket in the back, brought it here once because Rob, Robin, my colleague, gets very cold easily so sometimes we’d just huddle under the blanket during breaks and stuff. I think we might as well sit out here, at least it’s light… for now.”

You nodded, smiling as you thought of Robin Buckley. You knew her of course. Not super well, but well enough to know she was nice.

“Yeah, it’s already getting dark, huh? A blanket sounds good though.”

Steve nodded and once again disappeared for a short moment, until he returned with a bright blue blanket, which he partially draped on the floor in front of the counter before he motioned for you to sit down and wrapped it around your shoulders. He joined you after grabbing you both some water and put the other end around his shoulders once he settled down.

“How’s this?”

You were really trying not to let it get to you that you were cozying up to Steve right now. Heat was radiating off of him and it made you wonder if he was actually cold, or if he was basically doing the whole “it’s better to stick together for body warmth” kind of thing. With the addition of clothes, of course.

“It’s nice. Better than without for sure,” you told him softly. Steve’s shoulder brushed yours and soon enough you felt the pressure build up until he was actually resting against you. Not in an uncomfortable way at all. It was really… nice, actually.

“Your parents? Do you think they’ll worry?”

“Ah, no. My mom’s visiting my grandma in another state actually and my dad’s no longer around, so. Doubt he can worry,” you joked lightly. “What about yours?”

Steve snorted, then realized it probably wasn’t all that funny and shrugged.

“Dunno, they’re somewhere in Europe now, I think? So no.”

Another silence. It was by that point that you remembered how little you actually knew about Steve Harrington. Sure, he had been popular in school for some time, and then he wasn’t, and then he graduated. But you had never really talked to him other than giving him a pen or two in English class. You were from different social ladders, really. Although, right now you felt quite equal to him, somehow. Which felt weird, considering he looked like a freshly cut out of a painting model and you were… you. Mr handsome decided to steal you away from your brain, which honestly, was a good thing.

“Hey, wanna play a game?” he asked, peering into your eyes as he leaned forward a little. You watched him with newfound curiosity.

“What kind of game?”

“I spy with my little eye.”

“Isn’t that just called “I spy”?” you wondered aloud.

“Dunno. So. Yes?”

“What else is there, right?”

Steve grinned and rested his head against the counter.

“That’s right. Okay. I spy with my little eye… something green.”

“That tape,” you said as you pointed. Steve leaned into your space, following your hand.

“Which one?”

“The green one.”

“There are maaaany green ones.”

“The green one with… Fuck I can’t read,” you sighed as you tried to squint. Steve laughed warmly, which you could feel the tremble of against your shoulder. “Okay so. The sci-fi shelf, yes? Fifth on the second row.”

“Aaaah, I see it now. Nope!”

“You knew that wasn’t it from the start.”

“I had to make sure.”

“Mhm, sure.”

Steve grinned and nudged you with his shoulder before tapping your thigh with his hand.

“Your turn, your turn!”

He left his hand on your thigh. Oh shit. Yeah, you were totally normal about that. You could still think. You could definitely still find some kind of object that you could use—

“Wait, I didn’t even guess it, how is it my turn?!” you questioned. Steve, who had been looking at… somewhere that wasn’t your eyes, quickly lifted his eyes to meet yours and grinned.

“Right. Guess!” “Your vest?”

“You are absolutely right. See? Your turn.”

“It wasn’t— okay. Hm… I spy with my little eye… something red.”

“Your cheeks.”

“Shut up, my cheeks aren’t red.”

“They are a little.”

“If you keep talking about it, yes, they will turn red.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Once again Steve leaned forward to look you straight in the eye, this time lifting a hand to cup your cheek gently. “Hm, they’re a little pink at the very least.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and took his hand off your cheek as you looked away. Steve chuckled softly and turned his hand around so he could grab yours.

“Fine, then… the bike outside?”

“Nope.”

“Damn, I thought that was it for sure. That red blob of paint that Keith never managed to get off the ceiling?”

“That’s it!”

Steve grinned at you and gave your hand a squeeze. For a moment you had forgotten about his hand, too drunk on his animated face. Fuck.

“I spy with my little eye…” Steve turned his head to look at you and smiled. “Something pretty.”

“What?”

“Purple! Purple.”

“My shirt.”

“So clever.”

It was getting darker rapidly and soon enough, even your little game became harder to play. You did some other ones, word games, guessing games, whatever you could think of. The blanket was wrapped closer around you both now, as the store became colder without the heating. You sat hip to hip, your arms a little awkward sometimes although neither of you really minded.

“Would you have stayed here if I hadn’t been around?” you asked softly.

“Hmm, nah, I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t really care if— I mean, I’d only be risking myself in that case.”

“That’s a bad reason. You’re just as important.”

“Am I?” Steve asked, and for some reason you felt like he needed an honest answer.

“Yeah, you are, Steve.”

“Hm…” A beat of silence. “I spy with my little eye… someone pretty.”

“You can’t even see.”

“I’ve memorized her by now.”

“Is it the blonde babe cardboard cutout?”

Steve, not expecting that answer at all, burst out laughing.

“Fuck, no,” a giggle, “it wasn’t.”

“Oh… hm. What about that girl from the ring? Samara?”

“Shush.”

“Or the woman from that movie where—” “Ssshh.”

You felt his hand cup your cheek and it was as if your heart was gonna jump out of your chest at any moment now. His breath tickled your cheek, warm and comfortable against your cold nose. Your lips parted on their own, eyes closing even though there was only an outline of his face to see.

“You sure it’s not the blond babe?” you murmured teasingly.

Steve giggled softly and shook his head, causing the stray strands of his hair to tickle you a little.

“Positive.”

A faint sound of lips being licked, and then his lips brushed against yours. Soft and pliable, eager to taste yours. He hummed softly, pleased, as he pulled you closer. You were easily pulled into his lap as his tongue teased your bottom lip for access. Hands smoothed up and down your waist, the blanket forgotten as your kiss provided enough heat between the two of you. It was silent, save from the gasps and soft, pleasant hums leaving you both. He gently moved his hips while simultaneously guiding yours, a gentle moan leaving him as he found a rhythm. His lips found your neck and your hand made its way into his hair to have something to grasp onto. One hand found the hem of your shirt and he was about to lift it up when—

Brightness. Light. The electricity was back on. Meaning… everyone outside could see you. If there had been anyone, that is. Still, it broke the moment instantly as Steve dropped his hand to your thigh and looked up at you.

“Shit,” he murmured, a lopsided grin on his face. “They really know how to spoil the fun today, huh?”

You smiled down at him and turned around to look outside, one hand resting on his chest for balance.

“Hm… I don’t know. It seems safe to go back home.”

Steve dug his fingers into your hips with eagerness before leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

“Your place or mine?”

end.

If you enjoyed reading this, please know that comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) Likes are lovely but sadly do nothing to spread the fics around! Help your favorite writers (not saying me - in general) out like that so you can continue to enjoy consuming the free work they put out, it's a win-win.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fanfics #joe keery #i'm so great at promoting my fics with a cool description #not

405 notes · View notes

cyberpunkgyu · 4 months

Text

╰☆ Times when Sunghoon’s heart beats too fast

pairing: bf! sunghoon x fem reader

genre: fluff! all cheesy and romantic stuff d:

warnings: none

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺ * *ੈ

sunghoon’s pov

When you play/fix his hair

sunghoon doesn’t really like people messing with his hair

like get your hands off him pls

he will give most people a side eye if they ever touch his hair

but when it comes to you he doesn’t mind AT ALL

he actually likes it when you do touch his hair

there was a time you and sunghoon were on a simple date/hangout

it was a random weekday and he asked if you’re down to go on a picnic with him, a break/quick distraction from studying for both your finals

sunghoon just decided to order a box of pizza, chicken, and some desserts as well

once you both started to eat, you noticed there were some strands of his hair out of place and some almost poking his eyes, so you decided to fix his hair, an innocent gesture

what you didn’t know is how that made sunghoon feel so giddy inside

like the tips of his ears turned red really quick

while your eyes were focused on his hair

his eyes remained on you, so mesmerized by you

like he always thinks to himself how lucky he is to have you

he still can’t believe you’re his girlfriend

once you finish you then finally look at his eyes and smile

and then you’ll notice him staring at you

suddenly he gives your lips a peck, startling you a bit

“w-what was that for?” you’d ask

now you’re also feeling warm because of this man

“sorry you’re just so beautiful i can’t help it”

then hits you with a “can i kiss you one more time?”

SUNGHOON MY HEART PLS

of course you reply with “you don’t have to ask, you can always kiss me”

now both of you are blushing hard

When you give him a fashion show when shopping

when shopping, you don’t mind inviting him in the fitting room because he doesn’t like just waiting out there

also he likes being with you all the time

he looks at you soo lovingly whenever you show him the dresses that you try on

you would be too focused on checking how you look on the mirror, while he’s just admiring you with a smile on his face

the thing is he doesn’t even notice himself smiling, it just happens whenever he sees you

“do you think it looks good?” you would ask as you finally face him

and once you do he felt as if you took his breath away

his lips would part :0

“you look pretty”

he would say it in a calm way but inside he is literally dying trust me

like after he would be smiling so wide that you could see his fangs

he’s so cute :( and in love with you

and then he loves it when you ask him for help with the zippers

like sometimes you can do it yourself (you just don’t tell him) but you do ask if he can help you

and sunghoon would just blush so hard

When you’re extra clingy

sometimes you just feel clingy okay?

like how can you not when you’re boyfriend is so attractive

you can’t help but want to cling onto him or just hold him

one time you and sunghoon were getting ready for bed

and he finishes first so once you do finish you see him under the covers, scrolling through his phone

and he just looks so cuddly and aHhh

like don’t get me wrong, sunghoon always looks good but barefaced sunghoon >>>>

you finally sit on the bed and then just stare at him

once he notices, he places his phone down and then raises his brows, his hands automatically placed on your hips

“i love you” you tell him and lays down

gosh he feel so warm and fizzy inside

he then kisses your forehead and wraps his arms around you

“i love you, baby” he would respond with a big smile on his face :>

When he sees you all happy

of course he loves seeing you happy

but he loves seeing your reaction

like when it first snowed

you two were having a stroll around the city while holding each other’s hand

christmas lights filled the streets and it was just so pretty

you kept smiling throughout and sunghoon kept looking at you bc you look so cute :(

in his head he’s like “my baby is so cute”

you had a puffer jacket with a scarf around you and he thought you looked so cute

like he just wants to squish you

you both also went to a cafe and a restaurant to eat

sunghoon ordered different food so you can have different choices

ahh he's the type to spoil you

and then after you both decided to go to a nearby park, sitting on the grass

there were a lot of people, chatting and hanging out with each other

you sat between sunghoon's legs with your head resting on his chest

his arms wrapped around you, his head on top of your head

he enjoyed just holding you, and he also appreciated the quietness

you both didn't talk, just enjoying each other's presence

suddenly, snow started to fall down and everyone cheered

people starts taking pictures/videos

but you on the other hand just watched, a big smile on your face

you were in awe because you haven’t seen the snow for a long time

sunghoon looks at you so lovingly and gently AHHH

he had such a cute smile on his face

he can’t help but take a picture of you ;_;

literally changing it to his lockscreen as soon as he took them

whenever you stare at him

OKAY BUT LIKE

i feel like sunghoon is that type of guy to get flustered whenever someone look at him for too long

you often do that because i mean your boyfriend is THE sunghoon

A BEAUTIFUL ASS MAN

this often happens whenever you guys are at home hanging out

for example you two would be watching a movie

you both sat next to each other on his bed, leaning against each other

sunghoon had with other arm wrapped around you, watching whatever movie you decided to play

it’s one of your favorite movies that you have seen multiple times

and sometimes you do get bored

SOOO you decide to just admire your man

he’s literally just watching a movie but you feel so giddy looking at him

he will quickly notice as he could see you from his peripheral vision

at first he would just glance

but then a small shy smile would appear on his lips

“you’re staring”

you would just giggle and then place a kiss on his cheek

“sorry, you’re just so handsome”

GOSH sunghoon feels his cheeks warm up so fast

his heart beating so fast because of how flustered he is

he then leans closer to you, forehead touching each other’s

and now both of you are blushing hard

“you drive me crazy” he then whispers

AHH SUNGHOON

he then kisses you hard

his hands placed on your hips

and now you’re both just kissing

while the movie just playing in the background :)

#sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon scenarios #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios

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winterarmyy · 1 year

Text

Plot Twist | Part I

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

Run-through: I just need to get this out of my system. Most of arranged marriage mob/mafia!au I've read has a strong/bratty reader. And a really mean/asshole Bucky. Which is absolutely fine btw but its getting repetitive for me. I wanted to see a reader who's actually soft but fierce when she wants to be. And Bucky who is generally cold and seems to be married to his job but notices small things that the reader do, thus subconsciously started to care about her. They don’t hate each other, nor do they are infatuated. I don’t know if this exist, so I decided write it myself just in case. Enjoy!

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III* (end) | Extra

Words: 1.1k++

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just fluffy and wholesome stuff here. Nothing graphic or explicit.

P/S: I like to write in 3rd pov btw. There's a few mentions of y/n sometimes too. Beware of the grammar mistakes, English is not my first language. This might be 2-3 parts type of fic, so tell me what you think so far.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

“He's late.”

The soft clinking sounds of his rings colliding with each other and onto the dresser woke her up from her deep slumber. Though her body remained still, her mind continued to wonder,

“Late. Again.” She thought.

The sound of fabrics rustling about hinted her of what was happening beyond her closed eyes. The shut of the bathroom door confirmed her speculations.

“So, what if he came back home late? Why does it concern you?” She questioned herself.

Only a fool would believe if she said that she didn't care at all about the whereabout and well-being of this man. He is her husband after all.

Six months ago, she stood on the alter with that man. They swore an oath. They sealed the kiss. He was hers and she was his.

James Buchanan Barnes; Bucky was what he preferred to called. He is what every man wants to become, and every woman wants to be with.

An Adonis of a man; impossibly tall, 6'5"; body armored with thick layer of muscles. Bucky is huge, that if he trapped her against the wall, she might just see the resemblance of him to a grizzly bear. His dark hair flowed just above his shoulder and his steel blue eyes were as cold as his personality.

Though she wouldn't compare him to a frozen blizzard during the winter, he was more like the first day of snow, when the white flakes started to fall.

Cold enough to make you shiver and warm enough to lure you out but most importantly, obscenely beautiful.

However, of course, the main reason of the marriage set up by her father was not because of how beautiful he is, but to fulfil his hunger for power. As if the territories that their family has wasn't enough, her father arranged this union to extend his reign.

Y/N protested at first but knew better than to fight against her father. Being raised in such family, at a very young age she learned to think always ahead; pass the emotions and intuitions. What's the rational and logical way to solve a problem.

Took her a week to wrap her head around the matter, research about Barnes and go through the agreement between her father and her then husband to be. Barnes had listed some main demands regarding the union and although most of them were about their business, but one particular demand had caught her attention.

“After marriage, the couple must be faithful to one another. Any romantic/sexual relationships prior must be severed/resolved immediately. Failed to do so will result to termination of the contract.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” She thought.

Not that she was in any relationship at the time, and all the research result to possibly positive outcome. So, in the end, she complied.

Which then explained why she was sleeping in Bucky's bed six months later.

“I know you're awake.” Bucky's gravel voice startled her internal thoughts. She could feel the indentation of the mattress on his side of the bed, the fresh and clean scent wafting from him. She nearly purred from a sniff of it.

She slowly opened her eyes as if she was trying to peep and god what a sight to see after a restless sleep; Bucky's idea of pajamas was basic pants and nothing above and Y/N didn’t know what to feel about that. Does she hate it? Absolutely not. Does she like it? Well, he is easy on the eye indeed.

The room was dimly lit, but she could see his slightly damp hair; it looked longer than it is dry. Her eyes followed the outline of his body leaning against the bed. The soft light reflected on his metal arm particularly follows the gold lines decorating the dark surface.

She often had intrusive thoughts of tracing the lines; what would it feel like against her fingertips. Does he feel anything? Is it cold? Will it feel good?

“You do know that it’s a waste your time to wait for me, right?” He huffed a heavy breath. She could hear the fatigue in his sigh.

And how does Bucky know that she waited for him before admitting her defeat to the drowsiness? Somehow, Bucky always managed to know things, to the littlest matter, even when he’s million miles across the world.

Just like when she found a copy of Pride and Prejudice on the bed a few months ago. The day before she received it, her copy was drenched in coffee; a young woman bumped into her in front of the café she often visit. He was in Russia that time. “Was it Clint? Did he tell Bucky?” she wondered.

“Whoever said I was waiting for you?” She scoffed, yet if the room was well lit enough, Bucky would’ve seen how playful her expression was.

He hummed a deep voice, “Hmm.” there’s a hint of doubt in his tone.

Y/N quickly follow her previous sentence, “I was simply enjoying my reading, that I lost track of time.” She shifted to face him and tucked herself further into the blanket, hiding the lower half of her face as she looked up at him. She wondered if he could tell that she was smiling just from her eyes.

Bucky’s gaze remained still on her, as if he was trying to reach into her soul, before he leaned closer to peek on the book on the table. Pride and Prejudice written on it.

He chuckled, which was rare. At the least the real ones are.

Of course, she had seen him smile and laugh countless of time. Especially during those gala they often attend. But those were just another set of armor he wore on a daily basis.

Bucky tried to bite back a smile, sinking his teeth into his lower lip, “Lost track of time, huh?” Yet, somehow Y/N can hear the smile in his tone.

“A good read?” he asked as if he did not know why his wife brought up about the book. She never said anything about the gift; not a thank you or a complaint.

She simply cherish it in her own way. He heard from Clint that she rearranged her whole bookshelf just to make space for the book he gave her. Maybe this was her way of saying thank you.

He had been giving her books every week, since.

She pulled the blanket away from her face, lips curled into a genuine smile, “Always.”

Bucky preened to her reply before suddenly, “Okay, enough chit chat. It’s late.” he said almost monotone sounded, as he made himself comfortable under the blanket.

Before she could overthink of what went wrong, why the sudden drop of chemistry; that was when she felt his hand roamed to find hers. Bucky brought her palm closer to his face, she could feel his hot breath against her cold skin.

He leaned his lips on her palm, leaving a soft and tender kiss as he mumbled, “Goodnight, doll.”

Rush of red shades bloomed on her cheeks, before caving into the feeling of his stubble on her hand. She gently caresses the side of his cheeks, hoping it soothes him to sleep.

The corners of her lips curved upwards into a smile, "See? Like, the first day of snow."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: It’s my first fic so... share your thoughts? ily 🤍

#winterarmyyfics #plottwistfic #mafia!bucky #mob!bucky #bucky barnes au #mafia!bucky x reader #mob!bucky x reader #arranged marriage #husband!bucky #beefy!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

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andvys · 7 months

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 10

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of Billy groping reader, Billy saying gross things about reader (as always), mentions of weed and alcohol, Steve’s pov!

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Steve learns how to move on from the past and give the love he wanted a second try.

Word count: 5.1k

A/N: @mysticmunson thank you for helping me with ideas and being a huge inspiration as always, I love u!! 🫶🏻

series masterlist

Winter break is almost over and 1984 has passed in a blur. So much has happened, things that Steve didn’t think would happen. Had someone told him that he would start a new year without you, a year back, he would call them crazy. You had always been there, walking into every year with him.

This time you are not here. You weren’t the one to kiss him at midnight. You aren’t the one he will go home with. He can’t help but wonder if you kissed him at midnight. If you think about him the way he thinks about you, right now.

He shouldn’t be. He should be thinking about her. Nancy who is willing to stay with him even after he confessed to her that he still loves you. The day after you left him standing in your driveway, he told her everything. He told her about the kiss that almost happened if you hadn’t pushed him away. He told her about the fight you two have had. He told her about the party. He came clean about everything. He promised himself that he wouldn’t lie or keep any secrets anymore. He wants to be better.

She didn’t get angry at him like he thought she would. She seemed to understand it but she was hurt and she was ready to end things. He was too.

He didn’t see a point in keeping the relationship going. Why should he? You are the one for him, you are the one he wants, you are the one he loves.

They had talked about breaking up but he hated the thought of being alone, he hated the feeling of being unneeded and unloved. He thought about your words – She is the one for you. You should be with her. I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.

You had always been the selfless one, the one who would sacrifice her feelings to save someone else's. You saw something in him with Nancy, something that you didn’t see in him when he was still with you and he couldn’t help but think that maybe you were right.

Maybe she is the one for him, after all.

Maybe he just really has to let you go so he can let her in. Maybe he can be good for her, the way he could never be good for you. Maybe he can be a better boyfriend for her. Maybe he can change. Maybe he can learn. Maybe he can learn how to stop loving you. Maybe he can be happy with her. Maybe he can make her happy. Maybe he can get you back someday. Maybe.

They didn’t break up. He didn’t leave and she didn’t leave him but they settled on a break.

On Christmas night, he went on a walk and passed by your house. He saw you with him and the sight of you standing under the falling snow, smiling up at him as though he is the only good thing in this world made him feel sick. He didn’t stick around long enough to see that you had never kissed him, that you simply went back to throwing snowballs at each other.

He went back to Nancy the next day and asked for a second chance, a fresh start. He didn’t question why she hesitated, he didn’t question the guilty look in her eyes. She said yes and that’s all it mattered.

She is all that matters now.

Steve might never let you go but he is willing to try.

You don’t want him anymore and the look in your eyes showed him that you won’t ever give him a second chance again. It’s over.

You are moving on.

And so should he.

And he tries, he really tries. But when school starts and he sees you again, he can’t ignore the pain in his chest when you walk past him like you are nothing but strangers.

When he left you, you pretended that he didn’t exist. You didn’t acknowledge his presence, you always acted like he wasn’t there, like he was a ghost.

But now, after you talked things out and you were the one to leave, this time, things are different. You don’t pretend that he doesn’t exist, you do acknowledge his presence now and you don’t act like he isn’t there. You see him and you don’t pretend to not see him when you walk past him. Your eyes lock when you see each other in the hallway or in the parking lot but the look in your eyes that he was used to, is long gone. There is nothing in your eyes when you look at him. There is no love, no happiness, no excitement, no warmth, no longing. All these things are long gone. The way you look at him now, is the way you look at a stranger you pass by. He has become a stranger to you and that hurts so much more than being ignored by you.

You don’t see him as your friend anymore, you don’t see him as your past lover anymore, you don’t see him as anything good in your life.

Every time he thinks that it can’t hit him any harder, it hits him even harder. The realization that he is nothing but a stranger to you now, broke his heart all over again and took everything in him not to break down in the school's hallway.

A month had passed since the night you had become strangers and while you seem to have a great time, Steve is trying his hardest to keep himself together, to be a good boyfriend for her.

Billy’s laughter pulls him out of his thoughts, he narrows his eyes at the blond, who pushes Tommy back so he can look at himself in the mirror.

The smell of the locker room makes Steve feel sick and he can’t wait to get out. A cloud of cologne mixed with sweat and the fog from the showers hangs over the room. He looks into the mirror as he dries his hair with the towel. Drops of water dribble down his chest. Steve looks at Eddie through the mirror. He is surprised to see him here. Usually, he skips gym class. His friend Jeff is standing next to him as he puts his shirt on, laughing at something Eddie had whispered to him.

Eddie is still shirtless, his jeans hang low on his hips, the chain jingles as he fastens his belt. Steve can’t help but compare himself to Eddie. His hair is darker and longer and so are his eyes. He has tattoos, on his arms and on his chest – something that he doesn’t have. He wears rings and chains, clothes that Steve would never wear.

Is Eddie your type? Is he the kind of guy you go for now?

“Hey Munson!”

Steve glances at Tommy, who is already wearing a smirk on his face as he looks the metalhead up and down.

Eddie turns around to face the jock.

“I never seen you in P.E., are you trying to impress someone?”

“Yeah, your mom.” Eddie smirks and turns back around to put his shirt on.

Billy snorts, licking his lips, he glances at Steve, “nah, he’s trying to impress someone else.”

Tommy notices the smirk on Billy’s face. A laugh falls from his lips, “aw, is the freak trying to impress the queen?”

Jeff rolls his eyes and looks down as he puts his shoes on. He already knows what’s coming next.

“I don’t think you can impress her with your shitty car and your dirty trailer, Munson.”

Jeff notices the way Eddie clenches jaw, the way his eyes fill with anger.

Steve narrows his eyes at Billy and Tommy.

“Yeah. I mean going from a rich kid to some lowlife trailer trash–”

“Shut the hell up, Tommy,” Steve snaps at his old friend. “Leave him alone.”

Everyone in the locker room, including Eddie, turns to look at Steve in shock. Never has Steve ever stood up for anyone, let alone someone like Eddie.

Steve is sick of the cruel words he hears daily, they may not be directed at him but he still can’t stand them. He doesn’t like him but Eddie doesn’t deserve this. He helped him and made sure he got home safe when he got drunk at the Hideout, he owes this to him.

He glares at his old friend and steps towards him.

“Put your clothes on and get the fuck out of here, man. I’m sick of you assholes.”

Tommy laughs in surprise.

“Wheeler is turning you into a pussy, Steve.” Billy says as he looks at him over Tommy’s shoulder.

Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, he clenches his jaw.

Tommy chuckles to himself and shakes his head, “he was always a pussy.”

Eddie looks at Steve, waiting for him to react. To his surprise, he turns around and continues to put on his clothes.

“Says a guy who runs after balls and his cheating girlfriend.”

Jeff snaps his head up to look at his friend, he holds his fist up to his mouth as he tries to keep himself from laughing.

Steve looks at Eddie in surprise and narrows his eyes at Tommy, whose face gets redder each passing second. His breathing picks up and he clenches his fists.

“What did you just say?” Tommy mumbles as he walks towards Eddie, who smirks at him.

It’s no secret that Carol is cheating on Tommy, she’s been caught with a few too many basketball players behind the bleachers and even tried to make a move on Billy, in front of Tommy.

“You heard me,” Eddie says, smirking. He isn’t afraid of Tommy or any of the other guys that try to give him a hard time. He isn’t immune to the cruel words or the bullying but he is good at hitting them back with harsh words, not caring that he might get hit with something more than a few words. Eddie put on armor and a front that keeps people like Tommy away from him, they always make sure to keep their distance – too afraid of the freak who worships the devil.

Billy looks at Eddie, he raises his brows.

“You’re getting a little bit too comfortable back there, freak.”

“Just speaking the truth,” Eddie shrugs, snorting at Tommy who tries to intimidate him with a glare. He doesn’t step close enough to be able to even throw a punch, he keeps a safe distance, as always.

“Careful there, Hagans. Or you might get sacrificed to the devil tonight.” Billy smirks.

Tommy finally backs away, shaking his head.

Steve sighs to himself, he grabs his backpack and walks towards the door. He wonders how he could ever be friends with someone like Tommy.

Why didn’t he listen to you when you told him that he was no real friend?

Why didn’t he listen to you when you told him how awful he was?

Why didn’t he care when you told him how much you hated how he acted when he was around Tommy and Carol?

How couldn’t he see how awful they were when he was still with you?

Would things be different if he dropped them earlier on?

Would things be different if he dated her first?

Steve steps out into the hallway. It’s quiet and no one is around after the last period, no one except for you.

His breath gets caught in his throat.

You are here, leaning against the wall, looking down at the book in your hand. You are wearing your cheer uniform, you let your hair loose, the green scrunchie is around your wrist. The dark denim jacket is thrown over your shoulders.

You haven’t seen him yet, you are too absorbed in the book you are reading.

Another deja vu.

This moment takes him back to all the times you waited for him after cheer practice. He would walk out of the locker room to find you waiting for him, sitting on the floor, reading a book or drawing in your notebook.

The door shuts behind him and you look up, finally noticing him.

He waits for something, he doesn’t know what but he waits to see that look in your eyes.

The longing, the sadness, the love.

He doesn’t.

There’s nothing in your eyes, nothing except for disappointment because he is not the one you have been waiting for. You look over his shoulder before your eyes meet his again, you give him a tight lipped smile, the way you would give to a stranger. It hurts.

“Hi,” he mumbles with a slight, sad smile on his face.

“Hey,” you mumble before you look back down at the book in your hand.

The door opens behind him and he steps to the side. Eddie and Jeff walk out, glancing at him as they step into the hallway.

“Y/n, you didn’t have to wait for me,” Jeff jokes, putting his hand over his heart.

You giggle.

Eddie nods at Steve before he turns away to look at you.

Steve watches the way you greet Eddie, the way your eyes light up and a huge smile takes over your face when you look at him. He watches the way you wrap your arms around him.

“I can’t believe you didn’t skip,” you grin and squeeze his shoulder.

Eddie rolls his eyes but he smiles at you, “I’m trying to graduate.”

You put the book in your backpack and pick it up, throwing it over your shoulders. You hook your arm around Eddie’s and grin at him, “mhmm, you’re doing good.”

You are helping him graduate, the way you wanted to help him. Steve looks at you but you don’t spare him a second glance. Your attention is elsewhere.

He watches you leave. He watches the way Eddie throws his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into him, ruffling your hair playfully.

Steve looks down, he swallows the lump in his throat and turns around to leave.

February, 14th 1985

Steve looks down at the note in his hand, a smile is tugging at his lips. His heart skips a beat when he looks at the red flowers in his other hand. For the first time in a while, he is excited.

It’s Valentine’s day.

He is taking Nancy out on a date. He had planned it all weeks ago. First, he will take her out to dinner at Enzo’s and then he will take her home where he had prepared a surprise for her.

He looks at the note she had left in his jacket this morning. He puts it back in his pocket and walks towards the cash register, greeting the old man behind it. He places the flowers and the chocolate on the counter and reaches for his wallet.

A love song is playing on the radio, the store is decorated with pink paper hearts.

“Going on a date?” The old man asks, smiling at Steve.

“Yeah, I’m taking my girlfriend out to dinner.”

The doors slide open and as he hears the sound of your voice, his smile instantly falls. He can’t help but look.

You’re not alone, of course you are with him and you look so beautiful but different. You are wearing a skirt, one that is certainly too short for this weather, the fishnet tights do nothing to protect your skin from the cold. You are wearing platform boots and a short leather coat – dark colors, dark nails, red lips, curls and bangs. You are starting to look like the female version of him.

He wonders if your personality had changed as much as your appearance has.

“This is gonna be the best night ever.” Steve hears Eddie say.

“I know it will be,” you giggle, “I still got the credit card my dad gave me, we can book a hotel room afterwards.”

Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at you, playfully.

You disappear in the snack aisle, your voices fade away and so does the excited look on Steve’s face.

“That’ll be $9.80.”

It’s very clear to him that you are on a date. With Eddie. And that’s okay, right? It’s okay that you are on a date with someone else. It’s okay that you make yourself look pretty for someone else. It’s okay that you have moved on.

He should be happy for you, right?

He should be happy to know that you are not in pain anymore.

But then why does it hurt so bad?

He shakes his head and looks back at the cashier, he places a ten dollar bill on the counter, he takes the flowers and the chocolate and leaves, not wanting to risk running into you.

Living in a small town, means running into the same people, all the time. People you don’t want to see, people you want to avoid, people you don’t like, people you wish you wouldn’t think about anymore.

Steve had a hard time getting over you, it took him weeks to accept the fact that you and him, will never be a thing again – platonic or romantic. You are a part of his past, a part that he can never get back. So he let you go or he convinced himself that he did.

While things may not be ideal, he feels content with the way his life is now. He is happy. He has a girlfriend, a group of rowdy kids that had become a huge part of his life, he will graduate soon and he is in love.

He let go of the past that he kept pining after.

It’s still weird to see you and not be with you but it’s okay now. He can walk past you and not feel his heart breaking when you don’t acknowledge him anymore. He can hear your voice and not long to hear you talk to him. He can look at you and not feel himself yearn for you.

He prefers not to see you, which has become one of his biggest challenges in the past few months. Everywhere he goes, he sees you, and every single time, you are with Eddie. Well, maybe not every single time. Sometimes you are with Heather and Chrissy or your new friend, Robin Buckley. Steve knows her from Mrs. Click’s class, she is nice but he doesn’t know much about her, except that she is in the school band and your newest friend.

You look happier than ever. Your eyes are shining with happiness every time he sees you, your skin is glowing and you seem to have a constant smile on your face, especially when you are with Eddie.

It’s been three months ever since you had gone separate ways and you changed, a lot. Your hair is longer now, your clothes are different, your music taste has changed, you are learning how to play guitar, you write songs with Eddie and you work at the record store three times a week after school – he only knows that because Max Mayfield told him, who apparently is your number one fan now. You are her english tutor and ‘the much cooler older friend’. She loves to brag about you to the boys and to him. Steve likes her and she somehow became a little sister figure in his life but he hates the smug look on her face whenever she tells him stories about you.

He doesn’t want to think about you, he doesn’t want to talk about you, he doesn’t want to see you.

But it’s almost impossible to leave the house and not run into you. Whether it’s the school’s hallway, the classroom, the grocery store, the movies, some house party, the cafe downtown – he always runs into you. Tonight, it’s the diner.

He didn’t even see you at first when he walked in. He was in a good mood all night, after a long day of studying with Nancy, he went to Benny’s Burgers to get some takeout for them. He placed his order and waited by the counter when he heard your laughter over the 70s music from the jukebox.

Now he can’t take his eyes off of you. You are sitting in a booth with Eddie, his arm is behind you, his fingertips linger on your shoulder. You are both laughing. Your hair is a little messy, just like his.

You are giggling, a lot.

You must be drunk, Steve thinks. Or maybe, you are just this happy around him.

Eddie dips the fries into the milkshake and feeds them to you which makes both of you laugh when the milkshake dripples down your chin. Steve forces himself to look away when Eddie catches it with his thumb, though he can’t keep his eyes away for too long.

Steve wonders what the two of you are. With the way you are around each other all the time, you must be a couple by now. It looks like you are one. Steve doesn’t even notice that he is clenching his jaw and his fists when he watches how Eddie cups your cheeks and pulls you closer to kiss your cheek loudly, in the most obnoxious way. Steve can’t help but roll his eyes.

He drums his fingers against the counter and narrows his eyes at you. You giggle at Eddie and grab his face, pulling him closer to you and try to kiss his cheek the way he kissed yours but your movements are sloppy and you end up kissing the corner of his mouth instead which for some reason, makes you both laugh harder. Now he is certain that you are both drunk or high or both.

“Here’s your order, kid.”

Steve tears his eyes away from you and Eddie. He reaches for his wallet and turns to look at the waitress, placing the bills on the table and giving her tight lipped smile before he grabs the bag and turns around to leave without looking at you again.

He doesn’t see or feel your eyes on him.

It’s the last game of the season and Steve’s last game, altogether. He can’t believe that this will be all over soon. High school, basketball practice, games, lunch breaks with his girlfriend, studying.

He feels anxious about his future. He decided to take the year off after he will graduate. And hopefully, he will go to college with Nancy, next fall. Deep down he knows it won’t happen, he can’t see himself going to college, he barely made it through senior year.

He doesn’t know what will happen to him and his relationship with her when she goes off to college next year.

He tries not to think about it too much. He tries to enjoy his remaining days at school and his last game. He bounces on his feet as he watches the cheerleaders perform. You are in the front, as always.

“One has to be a real fucking idiot to dump someone with that ass.”

An instant rush of anger rippels through him. Billy’s voice will never not make his blood boil.

Billy smirks as he watches you bend down, his eyes flicker over to Eddie who surprisingly came to the game, probably just to watch you dance in your tiny cheerleader uniform.

“She wouldn’t even look at the freak after I’d fuck her dumb.”

“Shut up, Hargrove.” Steve mumbles under his breath.

Billy chuckles, he steps up beside him, narrowing his eyes at Steve.

“Her taste has changed a lot,” he says, smirking. “Did you know that she listens to heavy metal now?”

Steve scrunches his face up. He hates heavy metal.

“She supports Munson’s shitty band and goes to concerts with him. Do you think they fuck in his shitty van?”

Steve opens his mouth but Billy cuts him off again.

“I bet they do. I bet she’s a little freak, that’s why she’s with him now.”

Steve clenches his jaw, his eyes find Eddie who stands in the crowd, grinning at you.

“That’s why she never looked happy with you, you didn’t fuck her good enough. The freak seems to do it better.”

Maybe he is right. Steve never took care of you the way you always took care of him. You always made sure that he felt good, he never did the same for you and he feels ashamed about it.

“I could still fuck her better though.”

“Shut the fuck up, man. She is not interested in you, she never was,” Steve snaps at him, ignoring the prying eyes of the other guys from the basketball team.

Steve had realized that you were never interested in him when it was far too late to apologize for accusing you of things you never did. You didn’t care about Billy or any other guy but he didn’t trust you back then even though you never gave him a reason not to. He always waited for you to give him one though, he waited for you to hurt him, he waited for you to cheat on him, he waited for you to leave him for someone else, he waited for you to fail. But you never did.

You loved him, only him. You wanted him. You were good and loyal, you were an amazing girlfriend and you never deserved the things he did to you.

He is angry at himself for how he treated you. He hates himself for how much he hurt you. He hates how he didn’t protect you from Billy, he hates how angry he got after he had touched you after you had pushed him off once, already.

“Are you sure about that?” Billy smirks, “then why did she let me fuc–”

Steve grabs him by the collars of his shirt, he slams him against the wall. Finally, he has had enough of him.

“She never let you do anything, you piece of shit,” Steve says, angrily. “You touched her without her permission, you made shit up about her. We both know that she would never touch you.”

Billy laughs at his words but Steve can see the anger flashing in his eyes.

“But she did, she’s a little sl–”

Before Billy can even react, Steve throws a punch, slamming his fist into his jaw.

“Dude!” Tommy yells.

Some of the guys around him gasp, the others laugh.

Billy doesn’t take long to recover, he ducks when Steve tries to throw another punch and hits him in the stomach before he throws a punch at his face. Steve stumbles back and almost falls to the ground if it wasn’t for Chase steadying him.

“Guys, this is not the right moment!” Jason yells, holding his hands up as he tries to get in between them, “we’re supposed to go out there and fight the other team, not each oth–”

“Shut the fuck up, Carver!” Billy yells, “I’m sick of your motivation speeches.”

Jason clenches his jaw and steps back.

Steve wipes the blood from under his nose, he breathes heavily as he stares Billy down. The guys look between them as they slowly inch towards each other, everyone tenses up, looking around to see if anyone is willing to get in between them.

“You really wanna do this, asshole?” Billy asks, licking his lips.

“I should’ve done that a long time ago, Hargrove.”

“Seriously?” Jason exclaims, throwing his hands up. “The game is about to start!”

Billy walks towards Steve, he is never one to back down from a fight. He had been waiting for a reason to beat the shit out of Steve but so did Steve. He should have kicked his ass a long time ago but he always directed his anger at you, instead of the guy that tried to come in between you and him – the guy who made you uncomfortable.

Steve feels the need to make things right, he knows that this won’t fix anything. It won’t take back all his actions but he still wants to hurt him.

The tension is high and both Steve and Billy are glaring at each other. The guys look between them, anxiously. The music inside the gym is still playing, the cheerleaders are still dancing, unaware to the little fight that broke out behind the doors.

Before any of them can throw any more punches, the coach walks in, taking away the chance for a fight to break out again.

Billy glares at Steve, he wipes his chin and turns away from him but the look in his eyes tells him that they aren’t done yet.

Steve scoffs, he is not done with him either. He tears his eyes away from him. He clenches his jaw. He feels so angry. He notices the way the others sigh in relief, the way they instantly relax when Steve and Billy back away from each other.

When it’s time to walk out into the gym, Steve is at the very front. He forces a smile onto his face and waves at the people on the bleachers, his eyes lock with Nancy’s, they smile at each other. She doesn’t notice how tense he is, she doesn’t even notice the remains of blood under his nose or how red his knuckles are, how angry he still looks but you notice it.

He looks at you, your eyes lock and for the first time in a while, there is no emptiness in your eyes when you look at him. You continue to clap your hands, still gripping the pompons tightly. The smile on your face begins to fade the longer you look at him. He sees the way you eye him up and down, the way you look at his knuckles and his nose that is still bleeding. He sees the way your eyes move over to Billy before you look back at him. Your brows furrow, your eyes flash with confusion and concern. It doesn’t take you long to figure out what happened.

He doesn’t want to look at you but he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. For a moment, you stare at each other.

It feels like forever but the moment only last for a few seconds. Though it doesn’t go unnoticed by a few other people.

Chrissy nudges your shoulder and you finally tear your eyes away from him. He ignores the feeling in his chest, he ignores the ache when you look away and smile again. He looks at you for another long second before he turns away too and looks back at the girl he loves.

He smiles at her, he is happy that she is here.

He is happy.

He is.

next chapter

tagging friends & mutuals only!

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @take-everything-you-can @screammunson @hellfire--cult @taintedcigs @sherrylyn628 @xxhellfiregirlxx @nemesis729

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things angst

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starryevermore · 1 month

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the house of snow (11) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: finally, coriolanus can call you his.

word count: 2,423

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: coryo’s pov, pet name (petal), not proofread

Coriolanus Snow was eighteen when he asked for your hand.

He had just graduated from the Academy—no thanks to Dean Highbottom—and he was due to ship out to whatever Peacekeeper base he was assigned to by the end of the week. He was fine with the idea of being a Peacekeeper. As fine as he could be, at least. Because his father had been a general during the war, people could easily believe that his enlistment was to honor his father—not because the Snows were penniless. His brilliance demanded more, of course, but he could come back to the Capital eventually. Perhaps find clever ways to invest his money.

The worst part, though, was the idea of not seeing you again. He loved, no, adored, his verbal sparring matches with you. He adored how you got a rise out of him so easily, as if you weren’t even trying. He adored the way you occupied his every thought. To not be able to hear you rant, or see the way a smirk would curl across your face when you discovered something particularly clever to say, would be the death of him.

He surely looked pathetic, standing in your father’s office, his hands clasped together to hide their shaking as he asked, “Sir, could I please have your daughter’s hand in marriage?”

Your father scarcely looked up from his paperwork. “You’re shipping out soon, are you not? Or did my friends at the Peacekeeping Office mislead me?”

Coriolanus swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. But your daughter…I have never met a more brilliant person.” More quietly, he admitted, “She makes me want to be a better man.”

Your father glanced up, quickly, then looked down again. “She deserves a better life than one on a military base.”

“I agree, sir. I will provide her one. I don’t intend to serve the rest of my life.” Intent and reality were different. Competing. While Coriolanus might not want to be a Peacekeeper forever, he very well might be. “I already have a ring for her.”

He opened his hand and placed the ring on your father’s desk. It was a family heirloom. One of the few that hadn’t been sold off to pay their debts. His Grandma’am insisted that he keep it. He would need it, after all, for when he found the woman he wished to marry. And for every night after that day at the opera, he had pulled it from his nightstand and imagined how it might look, sitting prettily on your finger.

Your father glanced up again and pushed the ring away. “Ask again when your service is up.”

Every part of Coriolanus wanted to scream and shout and insist that he be granted your hand. No one could love you better, he was sure of it. But fighting your father…That would ensure he never got to marry you. So, he swallowed again, plucked the ring from the desk, and thanked your father for his time.

Coriolanus Snow was eighteen, still, when he asked for your hand again.

Over the last several months, he had worn that ring alongside his dog tags. It was his only rebellion he had against the strict Peacekeeper regimen. It was his only reminder of what he was fighting so hard for. And now, after the Plinths had found some convoluted reason to grant him a portion of their fortune—something about a debt that Sejanus owed him in school—he was back in the Capital.

Your father was leaned back in his chair as Coriolanus asked again, making his case for why he would be a dutiful husband. When he finished, your father said, “The ton knows how your wealth was squandered after the war. How you were only saved from ruin by the generosity of the Plinths.” Your father practically spat on their name. “Why should I let my daughter marry into that?”

“I would never let her experience financial ruin, I can promise you that. What happened with my family was, is, a travesty. But we are a proud family, and we have been working to rebuild ourselves. There was hardly a family not so afflicted by the war. We might have had a boost by the Plinth family, but I will not allow our good name to be sullied.”

Your father eyed Coriolanus, scrutinizing every details. From how new his suit was, to the buzzcut that was slowly being grown out. “I don’t doubt that. But I will need more reassurance that my daughter will be taken care of. You have to understand.”

Coriolanus could only nod, scared of what acid might fall from his lips if he deigned to speak.

“Ask again when you make a name for yourself.”

Coriolanus Snow was four and twenty when he asked again.

He was the King now. The Electors had granted him the title after the Former King Ravinstill passed. Coriolanus had fought like hell, clawed himself up from the pits of poverty, to get to this moment. He made sure he did everything right. Carefully coaxed the Electors and their families into thinking he was a friend. Convinced them that he would do right by Panem, do right by the Capital. Honeyed his words at every turn. But he did not care for any of that. All he wanted was to have you by his side, protected against any harm that may come your way. The only thing that stood in his way was the man standing before him.

Your father stood behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back. Coriolanus barely had gotten the question out when your father said, “You have gone to great lengths to make a name for yourself these last five years.”

And he had. He barely participated in the social seasons beyond speaking to the families in power. Speaking to those who would have sway in his appointment as president when the time came. He made no time for himself. Coriolanus had a goal, and he would be damned if he didn’t meet it.

“None of it matters if I do not have a powerful woman by my side,” he said.

Your father let out a chuckle. “She is something, isn’t she? I worry what she might say if I tell her that I’ve given her away without even consulting her.”

The answer was no, Coriolanus realized. Nothing he did would be good enough for this man. “Sir, with all due respect, I will come here every week and ask for her hand. There is nothing in this land I want more. Your daughter is…Everything to me. And I would give her everything just to make her smile. So, please, just tell me what I must do for you to give her away.”

Your father stared for a long, silent moment. “Court her. Properly. Only then will I say yes.”

Coriolanus Snow was four and twenty, still, when he received your hand.

After a promenade in the square, after a spat where you thought yourself to be little more than a pawn in his game, Coriolanus had come to your father’s office. He could not prove his love to you during this courtship, not when you still thought there was a chance he would change his mind. No, he could only show his love when you knew that he had dedicated everything to marrying you.

Your father stood in front of Coriolanus. He hadn’t even gotten the question out when your father said, “I suppose this will be the last time you come here like this?”

Coriolanus swallowed the proud smirk that dared to cross his face. Finally. Finally a yes. “You can rest assured that she will want for nothing.”

“I don’t doubt it with a man as persistent as you.”

Coriolanus Snow was four and twenty, still yet, as he stood at the altar, watching your father leading you down the altar.

You were a vision in white. Tigris had adorned you in a beautiful gown, white roses embroidered on the skirts and your lacy long sleeves. A veil obscured your face from him, but he was sure you looked like a proper Queen. The sort of woman that would send the proudest of men to their knees. And he would gladly kneel before you.

You stepped up to the altar alone, your father taking a seat beside your mother. Coriolanus reached for your hand and didn’t let go as you stood in front of him.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you, Coryo.”

He hoped you were smiling behind the veil. He hoped you were as happy as him. And he was sure you were when you whispered, “Do you think the officiant should faint if you kissed me now?”

Coriolanus laughed so hard that he considered kissing you right then and there before whisking you away to his private chambers, the rest of the ceremony be damned. “You are wicked, petal, for teasing me like this.”

“You take pleasure in it.”

And, oh, how he did.

Coriolanus never despised events more than when the ton celebrated his marriage while he bided his time to love you the way you deserved. He was tired of entertaining people. It was a beautiful ceremony and even more beautiful reception, to be sure, but Coriolanus could not stand the amount of people approaching him to offer their congratulations. Not, at least, when he was trying to kiss you and dance with you and tell you how he loved you.

You patted his hand as his knuckles turned white, clutching the arm of his chair, when yet another person came up to speak to him. “You need to relax. The ton is going to think that something is wrong if you keep acting like this.”

“Something is wrong,” he muttered. “I can’t even enjoy my time with my wife because everyone thinks they’re more worthy of my time. Worse yet, not a single one of them has so much as acknowledged you.”

How frustrating that was. Did the ton only think of you of some pretty little thing to hang off the King’s arm? Of course they would be so simple-minded. They did not realize you were the most brilliant person in the room. Perhaps more brilliant than him. They did not realize that you were his Queen and you were worthy of their respect. Oh, how they would learn when you would demand it—because he knew you would.

“And you can make that known later. Coryo, this is a day of celebration. Let them be frivolous today. Remind them of who you are and what that means later.”

Coriolanus released his grip on the chair. He took your hand in his own and rubbed his thumb over your fingers. “Who we are,” he corrected.

“Who we are,” you amended.

A smile tugged at his lips. “They’ll learn to bow before you.”

“I don’t want anyone to bow before me.”

“What do you want? I would give you anything. All you need do is ask.”

You said nothing. That is, until a new song began to play. You rose from your chair, and Coriolanus followed after you. “I would like to dance.”

Coriolanus led you to the middle of the floor, trying his best to mask his displeasure. He knew you better than to know you want nothing. Your family was well-to-do, but everyone had to be conscious of their spending as the Capital rebuilt itself. It was not lost on Coriolanus that your mother carefully rotated your wardrobe, ensuring that enough time had passed between one time you wore a gown and the next, less the ton realize that your family could not afford to constantly buy new dresses. Tigris had told him how you would come in to have your dresses tailored, how you could always eye the new fabrics she bought. How sometimes you would stay long after the tailoring to watch her design gowns. With him as your husband, Coriolanus would buy you as many gowns as you wanted. He would buy every book you were interested. Hell, he would adopt every cat in Panem and allow you to name them Coriolanus the III, IV, V, and VI and so on if it meant you were satisfied. You might never ask for it, but he would give you the world.

The ton watched as Coriolanus held onto your hand, the other falling to your waist. The music began to pick up as he spun you ‘round and ‘round and ‘round the floor. All Coriolanus could focus on was you. The rest of the room seemed to melt away. He pulled you closer, your body flush against his. Oh, how he loved you being this close to him. How he could hold you like this and no one could tell him any different.

You didn’t seem to be as captivated as him. With every turn, you would glance over at the crowd, displeasure fighting its way onto your face.

“Ignore them. They are not worthy of your attention,” Coriolanus murmured.

“They’re like vultures, waiting to see me, us, trip,” you said.

“Prove them wrong, then.”

“Why should they care about what I say and do? They only view me as an extension of the King now,” you say, your nose wrinkling.

Coriolanus spared a glance at the crowd. Yes, he supposed they probably did. People in the ton so rarely appreciated true wit. Now that you were his wife, anything remarkable you did would be attributed to him. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Then make then listen. Make them see. Show them the woman I fell in love with.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, petal,” Coriolanus said, his voice a near growl. “You matter to me, and so you shall matter to them.”

You said nothing, much to his ire.

He let out a breath, careful to not lose his temper with you. You didn’t deserve that, not when you were being vulnerable with him. Not when you were finally showing him the parts of you, you kept so artfully hidden. “Tell me, what’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?”

You tore your eyes from the crowd and looked up at Coriolanus. Your mouth opened and, for a second, he thought you might tell him the truth. Instead, you only said, “It doesn’t matter.”

Oh, petal, when would you realize that you were all that mattered?

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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snowsonlylove · 1 month

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Dangerous Woman

a/n note: inspo is also from this delicious edit from topxzae on tiktok and this performance by ashley wagner. btw, i've switched my style of writing a bit and i've made it a bit more direct for i hope you don't mind + i was feeling a lil lazy so i did the sex scene in a third person pov.

Pairing: Captain!Hockey Player!Coriolanus Snow x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow have been in an established relationship for about 5 months. Lately, things have been very stressful for Coriolanus in his job as a captain of keeping everyone in line. Today is his day off and all he wants is to spend time with his girlfriend. What started out as a sweet catch up turned a lot spicier after Y/N noticed how her boyfriend looks at her.

Fic Type: Smut (NSFW) 18+, Established relationship, Love struck Coryo, Reader slaying it on the ice (i’m kinda imagining her as an Alexandra Trusova kinda gal so do what you want with that info)

Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do this guys, use a condom. reader is on birth control), rough pushing, harsh, cunnilingus (female and male receiving), lmk if i missed anything else

Word Count: 1.9k

Inspo: Heavily inspired by Icebreaker (my newest obsession) and the stereotype in the skating world with hockey players looking at figure skaters when they practise (horny bf and gf edition).

Disclaimer: Credits and the idea of this are based off Icebreaker so all credits go to Hannah Grace and her team. This is a spinoff of her idea turned into an established relationship version for Coriolanus Snow and Y/N Y/L/N.

Additional Info (ONLY FOR THOSE WHO HAVE READ ICEBREAKER): In this universe, there is no rivalry. All collegiate teams share the same rink and there is a bond with the hockey and the skating team prior to this occurrence.

I do not own Coriolanus Snow or Y/N Y/L/N (cuz it’s you, boo). All credits go to Suzanne Collins and her team. Song credits also go to Ariana Grande and her team.

I do not allow my works to be republished or translated under any circumstances. Any instances of this happening and YOU WILL BE BLOCKEDDD.

Also, ageless and empty blogs will be BLOCKED as this is a 18+ fic. Report my fics for no good reason and you’re blocked cuz if u don’t like it, LEAVEEEE.

Y/N and Coriolanus have been a strong couple for about 5 months now. With all that time passing, there must be some things they have learned about each other, as well as things they have not learned about each other. Weirdly enough, Coriolanus has never seen Y/N skate because of the divide in their schedule between the hockey team and figure skating team.

Coriolanus is the captain of the collegiate Academy hockey team, which makes the job more difficult for him because of how hard he has to strangle and wrangle a bunch of frat guys to go on the ice and play. This leads to him trying to find his teammates a lot, which means that he doesn’t have time to see his girlfriend skate because by the time he gets there, Y/N’s already packing up her stuff and giving him a kiss goodbye before leaving. This frustrates him. However, it doesn’t look like it would be much of an issue going forward.

Lately, the team has been going on a losing streak. About 3/4 of the team are either high or drunk off their ass in college parties and it’s driving Coriolanus crazy as it’s making them lose. Their coach has demanded that they stop it, Coriolanus even putting it as a ban but it’s still not making the younger hockey members realise that. As a result, Coach Highbottom and Coriolanus have made a decision to make them sit on the bench and think about their actions, which works great for Coriolanus since it creates a window of space in which he can get more alone time and even show up earlier to watch his girlfriend practice.

Today was the day in which Coriolanus got his free time, so he chose to watch his girlfriend train for her test skates after getting them a small box of cronuts and a coffee for both him and girlfriend as a little date after her practice before she has to go back to her dorm to study.

Coriolanus strolled into the ice rink as if he owned it that day, confident in his strides as he didn’t show his excitement in seeing his girlfriend practice in fear of people seeing how weak he was for his girlfriend. As he walked to the stands by the rink, he saw his girlfriend glide across the rink as she stretched her hands in the most delicate way possible while practising her program with her coach looking at her intensely from the stands.

“More, Y/N! More!” “Straighten the back of the knee!” “Smile!” “Don’t be so sloppy!” Coach Gaul screamed from the side of the ice rink as Y/N glided past her to do her quad before doing her triple axel flawlessly. Coriolanus sat on the edge of the stand, looking at his girlfriend almost as if he was observing her before he suddenly heard a bunch of little giggles and laughs beside him as he turned to look at the bunch of junior girls who stopped their off-ice stretching to look at his girlfriend practising her program.

“She’s so pretty..” “Literally, how does she do that?” “Oh my god, her boyfriend is so hot, someone get me a hockey boyfriend please” “I wonder how big his d-” “Oh my god, Sasha! Don’t say that!” The girls whispered amongst each other as they giggled as if they were girls from middle school. Coriolanus smirked as he pretended to cough, making all the girls look at him horrified that they realised that he heard their conversation. They all walk away with their heads down as Coach Gaul’s assistant calls the girls to start their warm-ups on the ice, making Coriolanus smirk even harder.

Coriolanus walks towards the side of the rink as he puts his hands in the pocket of his sweatpants as he watches his girlfriend converse with her coach, waiting for feedback while he stands there, entranced by her beauty. As she glides back on the ice, Coriolanus feels himself getting hard as he watches her practise her routine with her hands behind her back, making his mind go crazy with the possibility of the things they could do. Mind you, by this point they’ve hooked up quite a few times.

As Y/N comes towards the end of her routine, she finally notices her boyfriend as she gives him a small wave before doing her final moves, her coach clapping on the side of the rink. “Good job, Y/N. There are some technical things we need to work on but you’ve improved. Now, go take your leave.” Y/N nods as she bids her coach goodbye before running towards her boyfriend and tackling him with a bone-crushing hug, her boyfriend hugging her back just as hard as she squeals, “I can't believe you’re here! I thought you were on an off-day with the guys today!”

Coriolanus chuckles in a distracted way as he chides while stroking her hair, “Yeah, that’s true but the one thing I didn’t tell you was that I actually wanted to watch my darling skate today. How are you, sweetheart? Anything hurting? I brought us some donuts and coffee for breakfast?” Y/N groaned as she looked up at her boyfriend with a grateful smile, “You didn’t need to get me anything, love. I know you’ve been busy lately.. You know I’m all fine, right? I’m not a broken doll” She jokes as she raises her eyebrow, making her boyfriend smirk as he leaned down to give his girlfriend a peck on her lips before saying, “I know that, baby. But I was thinking we can do a little something as a treat for you doing so well in your practice so far.” He said in a dazed tone as he took a glance at her ass before giving it a slap, making Y/N glare at him from her current stance. Coriolanus’s dick got harder after hearing her groan as it reminded him of the several intimate interactions that he had with his girlfriend. Little did he know, Y/N saw his aching dick right as she came up to him, making the situation much more interesting as she noticed how he looked at her. Knowing how hard he’s been working, she wanted to give him a chance to relax after a long week of training.

The tension between them got a little more heated after that slap as both Y/N’s and Coriolanus’s looked at each other in a much more sensual way, their eyes having a particular sheen over it before a cough from Y/N disrupted the moment. “Okay, then. Let me get my stuff from the locker. I’ll see you later, captain…” Y/N said as she turned around and walked away, her hips swaying just a bit more to tempt her boyfriend into joining her in the locker. Coriolanus immediately took notice of this as he followed her, Y/N stopping at one point to grab his hand and interlock his fingers with hers as they made their way to the locker.

Thankfully, no one was in the locker by that time as all the skaters were on the rink preparing to start practising their programs. Y/N closed the door behind her as Coriolanus pinned her towards her door as he wrapped his hands in her hair and kissed her while her hands pressed up against his chest as she smiled into the kiss. Wet, squelching sounds echoed around the room as their tongues moulded against each other in perfect sequence as if they were made for each other. As they made out, they peeled off each other’s clothes slowly as they were wrapped up in this bubble where they were the only ones there and no one else existed.

By the time they pulled away from each other, they were both down to their underwear. Coriolanus crouched down as he peeled Y/N’s lacy red panties off her as licked a line up her slit, tasting the sweet nectar hidden under her skate wear as he hummed in satisfaction before sucking on her clit, making Y/N see stars as her moans echoed around the room. Y/N reached down to cradle her boyfriend’s head as he worked her up to a beautiful, soul-capturing orgasm, making her heave big sighs while coming down her high.

Y/N and Coriolanus gave each other a deep kiss as she tasted herself on his tongue before it was her turn to kneel down and give his aching hardness the love that it deserves. She kissed her way down his abs as she pulled down his boxers, revealing his aching, hard dick leaking with pre-cum in all its glory. The veins were clearly invisible as Y/N hummed in satisfaction before she licked the tip of his dick, savouring the taste of his pre-cum as she moaned. She continued this a few times before she went deeper and deeper until her throat reached the base of his cock, making Coriolanus groan with great pleasure as she gagged occasionally and started to work him into an orgasm by pulling her head in and out of his dick in a once slow motion before building up her speed in a way she knew her boyfriend liked.

“Ugh, so good, baby… Keep doing that, you’re gonna make me cum, sweetheart.” Coriolanus groaned as he wrapped his hand around a bunch of her hair as he guided her in and out of his dick. His groans and her moans echoed around the room as the atmosphere got dirtier before Coriolanus pushed her head closer than it’s ever been before he came with one final groan, making Y/N moan even louder at seeing his satisfaction in her efforts to please him.

As Coriolanus came down from his orgasm, Y/N pulled her mouth off him as she wiped her mouth clean of her saliva before jutting out her tongue, letting him see that she swallowed it all before she laughed a little at her boyfriend’s dark glance at her. Coriolanus’s head turned around to the side as his groan this time was animalistic as he grabbed his girlfriend from her place on her knees before him and smashed his lips with her before he turned her around and pushed her towards the door before shoving his now hard length into her in one thrust.

Both Y/N and Coriolanus let out a groan as they wrapped their arms around each other as he pushed his dick in and out of her pussy as her ass bounced back towards his dick with her force. The room now echoed with the sound of skin slapping around it, along with her louder moans and his harsher groans as he turned her face to the side before capturing her lips in another searing kiss as they both come with him holding her tits in his hands and bringing her as close to him as possible.

Y/N and Coriolanus breathed heavily as they came down from their euphoric orgasm. Coriolanus cradled Y/N’s face as he leaned in and captured her lips in little kisses as he checked over her to see if she was okay. After making sure she was okay, he grabbed a bunch of tissue paper as he cleaned them up before he helped her pack up her skating luggage before they opened the door and left the rink wrapped up in each other’s love. Little did they know, both Coach Gaul and her assistant were staring at them appalled as they overheard them while going to the bathroom a while ago.

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coryo x reader #Spotify

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noxturnalpascal · 3 months

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Devotion 🖤 I. Stronger Together (Ch 1)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

I. Stronger Together

CH 1 (5.4k) You can hear it behind you, wheezing breath, strangled grunts. You’re pretty sure it’s getting closer but you don’t dare to look backwards. It’s been following you halfway down this mountain, dragging itself along, waiting for the inevitable. You plod on, one foot in front of the other, letting gravity help you fall forward, knees threatening to buckle with each slap of your foot down on the dirt.

It’s been hours of this now, you must be miles away. Away from the little snow-topped cabin where you were ambushed by a single infected behind a closed bathroom door. Away from where the rest of your party was bitten, first by the clicker and then by each other. Away from where you had to shoot each of them, one by one, until you ran out of bullets and escaped out a window.

You wish you could silence your cumbersome steps. You wish you could quiet your labored breaths. You wish you could stop the drip, drip, drip of your blood from smattering onto the dried leaves underneath your feet. Maybe then this one-legged, blind, croaking monster behind you would cease its pursuit. Then you could stop moving and just close your eyes for a moment. You just need a moment, just one moment.

You think you do close your eyes for just a second, and it’s then that you trip over a buried tree root. Your eyes open as your face meets the ground, wet and hard, knocking the wind out of you. Everything immediately hurts. You can barely think. One arm remains wrapped tight around you while you attempt to pull yourself forward on your other elbow, away from the scratchy breathing.

You feel a hand clawing at your shoe. Kicking the shoe off, you roll away, further down the hill as best you can. Reaching one hand out, you grab at sticks and stones, anything you can grasp, throwing them backwards in an attempt to slow down the inescapable. You hear nothing but your own muffled heartbeat pounding in your ears. It's so loud it sounds like hoofbeats.

You finally roll onto your back to face it, watching it slowly closing the small gap between you, bony fingers outstretched towards you. You close your eyes again. You’re so tired.

A gunshot rings out.

Tiny specks of blood spatter outward, covering both you and a circular pattern on the ground around you in a fine red mist. The infected falls backwards, unmoving. Your eyes are open now, ears ringing. You hear muffled shouting and then there’s a gun barrel in your face. You’re too tired for this. You close your eyes again.

Another gunshot rings out.

“What the fuck you think you’re doin’?” Joel shouts, having grabbed the barrel of the gun just in time.

“He’s infected!” the man previously holding the gun says, pointing at your blood-soaked torso.

“You think that–,” Joel points to the deformed clicker lying next to you, “woulda followed him halfway down the mountain if he was already infected?”

Joel leans down at your side, gently opening your jacket to assess the damage. He sees several layers of cloth wrapped around your torso, all soaked in blood beneath your ribcage, where your bloodied hand still clutches right over a large shard of glass sunk into your middle.

“Bring my horse, now,” Joel yells at the rest of his party.

He’s sure about three things. One, unlike the fungus-covered body lying beside you, you are not infected. No one infected fights this hard to stay alive. Two, you are most definitely bleeding to death. The tight bindings around your middle likely serve as the only thing keeping your slowly-draining body alive. Three, despite your short-cut hair and boyish appearance due to the many layers enveloping your chest, you are – in fact – a woman.

Days later someone comes bursting through his office door. Come quick, Joel. It’s all he needed to hear to follow the messenger to the clinic, worried that when he arrived he’d see your cold and lifeless body lying on the bed. When he bursts in the door to your room, ignoring the shouted protests of the medical staff, he is shocked to find you alive. Not just alive but standing up against the far wall, brandishing a pair of scissors, clutching at the pulled stitches on your side. He hears the doctor beside him muttering the words fuckin crazy.

“Who the fuck are you?” you point the scissors at him.

“I saved you,” Joel whispers, not surprised you don’t recognize him as you were basically unconscious when he rode with you into town. He points to the red drops accumulating on the floor, “that’s my blood you’re drippin’ all over the place.” He briefly recalls the argument from the doctor when he brought you in two days ago and insisted you be given his Type O blood.

He watches you look down at the blood spilling over your hand and uses the distraction to close the gap between you. Ignoring the scissors in your hand he quickly grabs some gauze and presses it against your side, hearing you gasp in surprise.

“I want to leave,” you say through clenched teeth, raising the scissors up to his eyeline, as if he forgot they were there. You make no further move to try and hurt him, somehow confident that your feeble threat is enough. He meets your eyes, wide and wild. You’re terrified. You don’t trust him. You’re threatening him in front of four other people while you bleed onto the floor. You’re fucking fantastic.

“Let’s get you better and then you can go wherever you want to,” he says, as he nods to the doctor to come fix you up. The doctor shakes her head, motioning towards the scissors. With no fanfare Joel grabs the scissors easily from your grip and pockets them. He ignores the hey he hears come out of your mouth and guides you back to the bed, nodding once again for the doctor to come over.

You allow the doctor to fix you up with no more threats, Joel standing close guard. About halfway through the re-stitching you wince, internally chiding yourself for showing weakness to these strangers. Joel takes your hand in his, not even making eye contact, holding it for the remainder of the procedure. Once the doctor steps away Joel squeezes your hand and looks you in the eye, telling you to get some rest before following the doctor out of your room.

“When you brought that ‘wounded little animal’ in here the other day, you didn’t warn me she bites,” the doctor mocks as she walks Joel out of the clinic.

“I told you she came down that mountain half-dead with a clicker on her heels. I guess we shoulda known she was a fighter.”

“You really gonna try and keep this one too?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Joel answers immediately.

Joel thinks of the look in your eye; feral, distrustful, combative. When was the last time he saw that look on the face of anyone here? He has a community of people who love and adore him, who hang on to his every word. But none of them look at him like that. You have awoken something deep inside of him, something he thought long dead: burning desire.

“If you wanna keep your little pet, Joel, I think you should be the one to take care of her. I don’t want to see any of my staff get hurt and she seemed to take to you.” The doctor knows. She knows Joel brings her wounded birds all the time and she fixes them up. A broken wing here and there, sometimes scrapes and bruises, sometimes wounds that run deeper.

However, none of them have threatened her with a weapon – until today. But she knows they all “take to” Joel. That’s the kind of person he is. Everyone in this town is drawn to him that way, even her. She knows he’ll gladly take on this responsibility and bring stability to the situation. She knows she won’t have to worry about a repeat of today.

He nods in response and promises to stop by later as he retreats back to his house.

—

He follows through on his promise, showing up later that night and bringing a bowl of hot stew for you to eat. He sits in a chair in the corner of your room, watching you sip at it while you try to avoid awkward eye contact with him. His eyes on you make you uncomfortable. He doesn’t look at you like men usually do, with malintent. He looks at you with interest and curiosity. It makes you feel like a zoo animal. No one looks at you like that. No one ever has.

This goes on for days. He brings you three meals a day, he hands you medication, he fills your water cup, he sits in the corner of your room and watches you. The doctor comes in to check on your wound and adjust the fluid dripping into the IV in your arm twice a day, but they are the only two who enter your room. You hear the doctor call him Joel.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye but you don’t ever make full eye contact, you don’t ever make conversation. You aren’t looking to strike up a friendship. He said you could leave after you get better, so that’s your plan. Get better, and get the fuck out of here. Finally, on the third day he speaks to you. You drop your spoon back into your bowl because it startles you so much.

“What’s your favorite book?” he asks, unphased by the clatter of your silverware.

You’re unsure if you heard him right, but you don’t ask him to repeat himself. Instead you say the first thing that comes to mind. “To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say. A lie. You’ve never read that book in your life. You don’t owe this guy the truth. You don’t even know him, you don’t owe him a goddamn thing. He says nothing further, not acknowledging your response, so you spend the rest of your meal in silence, as usual.

You’re all but certain he didn’t hear you until he shows back up with your dinner, hours later, with a book in his hands. To Kill a Mockingbird. He brought the goddamn book? As you uncover the plate of food, he takes his usual seat in the corner, but this time he clears his throat and starts reading from the book he brought. You stop fiddling with your plate to look up at him.

You stare at him for a while, you’re not sure how long. This is the first time you’ve allowed yourself to look at him, to really look at him. He has a strong jaw, a prominent nose, and dark eyes. His trimmed facial hair is flecked with grays along his cheeks, showing his age along with the lines creasing his face. He’s probably in his forties but you can appreciate he’s still got a damn good hairline.

He’s sitting down, of course, but when he was standing you remember thinking he was decently tall, towering over everyone else you’d seen in the building. His shoulders measured about a mile wide and his clothes seemed to strain against the bulk underneath them. You’d tried to ignore the way he wore his jeans but it hadn’t completely slipped your attention. He certainly wasn’t ugly.

As he continues to read aloud, your eyes drift to his lips. His top lip is obscured by his mustache but you’re pretty sure there is a near-perfect cupid’s bow hidden underneath. His bottom lip, by contrast, is plump and pouty, although you doubt anyone has ever described it that way, at least to his face. His gruff voice continues to scuffle along in the background as you watch his lips curve around the words.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you realize how silent it is. He’s stopped talking. Your eyes move to his, meeting his direct gaze. Why did he stop? Did he catch you staring at him?

“You gonna let your dinner get cold?”

You turn your attention back to your meal, slowly finishing it while he reads on. He continues reading long after your plate is empty, his voice lulling you into a relaxing state in your hospital bed. When he eventually closes the book and rises to leave, you let a goodnight slip from your lips. You’ve spoken maybe five words to this guy and now you’re wishing him a goodnight? Jesus, what’s next, sweet dreams?

The next morning is a repeat of the past three days; he comes in as the doctor heads out from checking on you, speaks with her at the door, then brings your breakfast in a wrapped up parcel, still warm. He takes his usual seat but picks the book up off the floor that he’d left there the previous night. He opens it up, clears his throat, and resumes reading you the story.

He’s about an hour into reading during his afternoon visit. Your lunch is long since finished and you’re trying to make sense of it in your head.

“I don’t understand why they call him ‘Boo’ Radley,” you interrupt. Slowly his eyes raise to meet yours over the pages. A line forms between them.

“I thought this was your favorite book.”

“It is,” you blurt out, poorly reinforcing your deception. “I just– I guess it seems like a strange nickname.”

He shrugs his shoulders then, leaning back in the chair and lowering the book.

“Well, I suppose they call him ‘Boo’ because he’s so reclusive, almost invisible.”

You nod your head, electing not to ask any more questions about the story since you’re pretty sure he’s caught on to your lie. After a minute he lifts the books and continues reading.

The next day shortly after you finish your lunch, he finishes the book. You try your hardest not to react. You’ve been trying your best to listen to him speaking as though you’ve heard his words before, as though everything he says is familiar, as though this tale is not new to you. You’re pretty sure you’re a shit actor.

He gets up and goes to leave the room, hours before he usually would.

“You’re leaving?” you spit out before you can stop yourself.

“That’s the end of the book,” he holds up the book and flips it over, as if to show you it’s empty.

“Y– you don’t have any other books?” you mutter, looking down at your hands.

He crosses the room and sits on the end of your bed, holding out his hand towards you. Your eyes dart between his face and his outstretched fingers.

“I’m Joel,” he says, by way of an extremely late introduction. You gently take his hand in yours, feeling his rough, warm palms grip yours and move your arm up and down. I know, you whisper, not even sure he can hear you. You don’t bother introducing yourself in return. You don’t think it matters what your name is.

“You ever even read this book?”

You look up and he’s wiggling the book in his hands again, as if it wasn’t obvious which book he meant. You don’t answer again, you just look back down. You’re not ashamed of lying. You’re not embarrassed you got caught lying. You don’t even know this guy, Joel. He’s just some guy who keeps you in this room all day because he apparently doesn’t want you to bleed all over everything.

“What’s your favorite book?” he asks for the second time. You open your mouth to let another lie fall out, but before you can, he follows up with, “And let’s try the truth this time.” You meet his eyes.

He should be offended by the way you look at him. You are so distrustful of him. You lied about what your favorite book was, as if it was some state secret, and here you are about to do it again. And don’t think he didn’t notice you side-stepping telling him your name. This is the fifth day he’s spent by your side and you won’t give him an inch. He’s got to find a way to crack you open. He wants you to let him in so badly.

C’mon, he urges, reaching his hand forward to touch your leg comfortingly. You pull your leg back quickly, recoiling from his touch. His eyes go to your face again, finding it full of fear, your eyes blazing. He pulls his hands back into his own space and lifts them slightly, to show that he has no intention of putting them on you again. He mutters I’m sorry as he slowly rises and heads towards the door, certain he’s just set himself back by miles. This is turning into a real shit day.

—

When he comes back with dinner, passing by the doctor at the door, you look surprised to see him. Clearly the moment between you earlier scared you, but you don’t look scared to see him, just surprised. He’s determined to gain your trust, he’s not going to be driven away by a setback here or there. He hands you your dinner plate and then lays three books down next to you on the bed.

“Pick what you want next,” he says softly.

Ignoring your dinner you look down at the selection he’s brought. Pride and Prejudice. Little Women. Jane Eyre. You can’t help the disappointment that flies across your face. He brought you girl books. He thinks you’re just a girl who likes traditional girl books. You’ve never read any of these books and you don’t want to. You don’t care if they’re ‘classics’. You don’t care if they’re read to you in a scratchy, southern drawl.

You shake your head and eat your meal in silence while he sits in his chair with knitted brows, rubbing his hand over his beard. After you’re done he immediately rises, takes your dirty plate and all three books into his arms, and leaves the room. You don’t try to stop him this time.

To your surprise he returns twenty minutes later. Wordlessly he places a small bowl in front of you filled with some kind of baked apple treat. He’s never brought you dessert before. Then next to you he places three new books. You look at the three very different titles. The Chronicles of Narnia. The Count of Monte Cristo. The Hobbit. You can’t stop the smile that breaks out on your face and you bite your cheek to stop the stinging behind your eyes from turning into any embarrassing tears.

You reach out and grab The Hobbit, holding it out to him. You don’t tell him it’s the book your dad used to read to you as a kid. You don’t tell him anything and he doesn’t ask, either. He just takes the book and sits back in his chair as he opens the cover, reading it from the beginning. He notices the smile you try to hide and the wetness in your eyes but knows better than to react. He’s gained some distance back. It’s a good day after all.

—

The next few days go by much the same, with Joel spending several hours surrounding each meal reading to you. The only difference is that he’s started asking you questions. They start off about the book. You tell him you’ve read it, and this time, it’s not a lie. You’re pretty sure he believes you. He asks if you’ve traveled as far as Bilbo has, nodding to your healing side, making reference to your ill-fated trek down the mountain.

The questions slowly become more personal; did you have any siblings, how old are you, where did you grow up. Unsure of his motives you ask him back every question he asks you, making him answer first. He says he has a younger brother, he says he just turned forty five, he says he’s from Texas. If he’s making up lies then he’s quicker and better at it then you are. You’re finding him easy to talk to, which is why you almost let it slip out when he tries to get your name again. But you hold it back.

He sees you practically bite your tongue to stop it from rolling off. He thinks you’re starting to trust him but you still look at him warily whenever he stops to ask you a question. You don't even trust him enough to tell him your damn name yet. You seem confused why he’d want to know about you, why he’d be interested in stories that don’t involve him, why he’d want answers that don’t benefit him. It’s like no one has ever tried to get to know you before.

He’s been building this community for nearly two years now and he knew the QZ’s were getting bad. He wonders where you’ve been, what you’ve gone through; these are the questions he doesn’t dare to ask you. You are frightful and distrustful for a reason. Whatever you’ve experienced it hasn’t been kindness, not for a long while. No one has been nursing you back to health, feeding you home cooked meals while they read classic novels to you.

It’s been just over a week and the doctor finally gives you clearance to start moving around and regaining some strength, albeit slowly. Joel brings you some warm clothes and guides you out the back of the clinic, which leads to a large square park in the center of town. Despite the chill of fall, you’re eager to get better, and you revel in the opportunity to feel like your old self again. You get tired easily but Joel is always a few steps away to help you back to bed if you overexert yourself.

He leaves the book in the room but he continues on with your conversations, which have become more lengthy. Despite your reluctance to trust and his seemingly gruff nature, you find your time together has become easy, maybe even friendly. He still asks most of the questions and you still make him answer them all first. But you wonder things about him that he isn’t asking.

You know he’s in his mid-forties, but you don’t know if he’s married or if he has kids. It makes sense though, most people don’t talk about their family because people aren’t exactly living white-picket-fence lives anymore. You know he’s from Texas but you don’t know how he ended up here, in the mountains of Vermont. You don’t know why he comes to see you three times a day, why he reads to you, where he goes when he’s not with you. You don’t know what his favorite book is. You don’t know why you care.

You jokingly call yourself a Plain Jane and he perks up, chuckling while he tells you that’s your name now. Well you still haven’t told him your real name so it might as well be. When he calls you that name an hour later – Plain Jane – you feel your cheeks burn. It’s not exactly a complimentary name but the smile on his face when he calls you by it makes you look away from him. What is he doing to you?

Why does he look at you like that? You have been half-invisible most of your life and when anyone does actually give you attention it’s never been a good thing. You prefer it when they don’t look at you, when they don’t see you. But Joel has been sitting in that chair and watching you, looking at you, seeing you. He’s been asking you questions, reading to you, and bringing you meals. Yet you still don’t trust it. You don’t trust him and you don’t trust the feelings he stirs inside of you.

Joel is walking by your side during one of your afternoon walks and he tells a bad joke. He wasn’t expecting you to laugh, he’s never made you laugh. Until today. You’re not just laughing, you’re giggling, and he thinks it might be one of the best sounds he’s ever heard. It makes him feel as light as air. You grab his arm as you double over, losing yourself in the laughter.

This is the first time you’ve ever touched him aside from your hands grazing when he hands you your meals. Not that those count, he doesn’t even count those. He shouldn’t even notice when it happens, yet he does. It’s like you have his insides twisted up and his head all fuzzy but somehow he feels like himself for the first time in nearly a decade.

He has been ignoring responsibilities for over a week now, sneaking away three times a day to spend hours with you. He rushes out of the house with breakfast in his hands, opting to eat it with you instead. His afternoon and evening meetings all get pushed back, until he’s left your side and can make time. No one questions him but he knows Tess is starting to get annoyed with him. She doesn’t approve of his behavior, his attention so focused on one person. She hasn’t said anything yet but she has that look.

It’s easy to be with you. It was easy in your room, even when you weren’t talking to him yet. He could sit there in the corner in silence and just be, without anyone asking him anything. Then when you finally spoke to him he couldn’t wait to hear more. He asks stupid, pointless questions all day just to hear you answer them. He has to be more guarded when you’re outside together, everyone is watching.

They’re all watching him, watching you, wondering why he’s spending all of his time with you when he used to spread himself around to the whole community. But the answer is easy. You don’t look at him the way they do. You don’t have their expectations of him. You don’t think he’s got all the answers. You don’t stand around waiting for him to save you.

–

When it’s been almost two weeks since you came under the doctor’s care she tells you that she thinks you’re well enough to leave the clinic. “Where do I go?” you ask her before you can stop yourself. She lets a huff escape her lips, but before she can reply, you both notice Joel standing in the doorway. You see a look of panic cross her face and you don’t miss the way she dodges his hand grabbing for her arm as she slips out the door past him.

He turns back to you and you notice he has three new books tucked under his arm. He’d finished The Hobbit, The Count of Monte Cristo, and The Chronicles of Narnia this past week. Part of you wonders what selection he’s brought for you this time. You still haven’t told him your favorite. Now you’re not sure you ever will. The doctor said you’re well enough to leave, and that’s what you wanted to do. Leave. Right?

You look up at Joel and just as he opens his mouth to speak you hear the main door open behind him and a commotion of conversation coming through the door. You hear someone say, “fell off a ladder” and Joel’s attention is diverted down the hallway behind him. Suddenly a woman is at his side. She’s tall, with long chestnut hair and freckles that dot her cheeks and nose. She’s gorgeous.

You instantly feel like you’re one foot tall. You feel inferior. You feel like you’re staring at a marble sculpture. This woman is beautiful and she’s standing so close to Joel. He’s listening to her talk and nodding and he’s not even looking at you anymore. He probably forgot you were even there; look at this goddess in front of him. She stops talking and looks at you, pinning you with her stare. You freeze.

“Hi, I’m Tess,” she reaches out her hand to you, closing the distance between you since you’re stuck to your spot. “You must be the reason I never see this guy anymore,” she teases. You think she’s teasing.

“I was just about to invite PJ to come stay with us,” Joel clears his throat behind her, using his newest version of your nickname – Plain Jane. You look at him, eyes bulging out of your head. He was going to what? Stay with him? Who is us?

“Oh, you were?” she says, as if reading your mind. She’s still gently shaking your hand, regarding you with a curious eye.

“Yeah, we’ve got the room,” he says casually, flashing you a smile. Tess says nothing. You look back and forth between them. They’re both looking at you, waiting for you to speak.

“S– stay?” you manage to squeak at him. Does that even begin to cover the questions you have?

“Just until you’re feeling a hundred percent,” he says, gesturing to your nearly-healed side.

Now Tess drops your hand and turns back to look at Joel. You can’t quite read her expression. He doesn’t meet her eyes, he keeps them locked on you. He walks over to you and hands you the three books, placing your small breakfast plate on the top of the stack.

“Pick which one we should read next and Tess’ll come by after lunchtime to bring you home.” Without waiting for a response he grabs Tess by the shoulders and leads her out of the room.

“Since when do we ‘have the room’, Joel?” she questions as soon as they spill out onto the front sidewalk of the clinic.

“You can put her in the room next to mine,” he replies, taking strides so long that she has to hustle to keep up.

“My room is the room next to yours,” she mutters. He stops dead in his tracks, causing her boots to scuffle on the sidewalk to stop from crashing into him.

“Well obviously I didn’t fuckin’ mean your room. She can have Bianca’s room,” Joel huffs as he walks on.

“So, across the hall from your room?” He stops again and this time she does crash into him. He grabs her shoulders, pulling her even tighter to him and brings his head down to her ear.

“You’re supposed to be the one who worries about all this shit for me, so just figure it out, okay Tess?”

She stays standing in place while he resumes his walk back home. She doesn’t bother answering him since she knows his question was rhetorical. Tess did agree to manage his house. However, that was before she realized that he was going to be bringing little lost pets in and out of it all the time. She always knew their relationship was transactional. It served a purpose, it fulfilled their needs, but it was never loving.

When they agreed to start this community, she thought they’d do it together. He convinced her that he needed her help, and he did – he still does – there’s no way he could do this without her. He never wanted to manage the details. But she thought she’d be his partner, in the community even if not in life. Instead she finds herself at his mercy. She also finds herself not disliking it as much as she should. She lets herself get lost in him, lost in what they’ve created here in this valley.

She plays the role of his partner, but only behind the scenes. She plays his girlfriend, but only when he’s not otherwise occupied. She’s his friend, but only if he’s feeling in need of comfort. She’s mother to his children, but only the broken little birds he brings home to their doorstep. She does all of the work, but reaps none of the rewards. And yet, she lives a safe, comfortable life. She can’t help but feel grateful to him. In a lot of ways she still feels like he saved her. She was once a broken little bird herself.

After lunch she comes back to the clinic and finds you sitting on the edge of your bed, as if you’ve been waiting there all morning. You probably were. She fights the urge to ask if you have everything, reminding herself that you had no possessions save for the bloody clothes they found you in. Let’s go, is all she says, and you follow her out of the clinic in silence, nodding a goodbye to the doctor as you exit.

“Are you Joel’s wife?” you ask as you walk side-by-side, mustering up courage from god-knows-where.

“Joel doesn’t have a wife.”

🖤

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much. Thank you to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @strang3lov3 for your support and help creating this world. 🫶

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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arcanefox207 · 5 days

Text

The Wolf You Feed (Part 2)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 5.6k

Part 2 / ? (Ongoing Series) (AO3)

Summary: Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Warnings: No Outbreak, AU but with TLoU characters, Large age gap (Reader is 29. Joel is 50). Pet names but no use of Y/N. Reader is smaller than Joel and has hair he can grab. POV Switching. Series contains Angst and lots of Smut (to avoid chapter specific spoilers you can expect things such as but not limited to Unprotected PiV, Cream Pies, Oral, Masturbation, Dom!Joel, Subby reader, Pining, Infidelity)

A/N: In case you are just jumping in, you can read Part 1 here. Part 2 is more smut heavy! I aim to have Part 3 out much sooner as time allows!

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N S

Comments / Reblogs are so incredibly appreciated and give me the motivation to write 🧡

Without further ado... for your reading pleasure.

It’s late on Saturday morning and you have a pot of coffee brewing while you shower. You stand in the stream of hot water far longer than you need to. Your thoughts shrouded by your evening with Joel Miller. How rough but passionate his touch was. How he made you get on your knees for him. How he tasted and how badly you wanted… needed more of him. Your hands trace over tender spots where he held onto you and you relish the memory.

He tested your obedience and you followed his orders. You hope it turned him on as much as it did you. You liked surrendering yourself to him. Despite his roughness you felt safe with him. You couldn’t explain it yet but you could feel that his burly facade was hiding something softer.

You finally step out onto the cool tile and dry off in front of the mirror. You pat your hair down with your towel and when the steam starts to dissipate you catch how happy you look. An old you that you have not recognized for a long, long time.

You smile to yourself and resolve to put Joel out of your mind for now or nothing would be getting done today.

The coffee helps wake you up enough to plan out your morning. There is a light coating of fresh snow and the sky looks gray and ominous. A big storm is expected to hit overnight so you head into town to pick up some food and provisions. You make a quick stop at Grind when you see Marlene’s car parked in front.

There are a few customers and you are surprised to see Marlene working. By her expression, she wasn’t too pleased to be there.

“Hey!” You greet her as you approach the counter. “You got stuck working today?”

“Yeah, someone called out.” she rolled her eyes. “Don’t feel too bad for me, it’s your turn next.” she jokes. A teenager is busy checking out a customer and another is making a latte. Marlene steps away for a moment to chat with you.

“So…” she prods. “How did it go?” You fail to hide your smile and thoughts of Joel overtake you once again.

“It went… great.”

“When can I meet him?”

You laugh nervously at her question.

“Lets not jump ahead. Right now it’s just something… casual.”

She is skeptical of your reply and stares at you for a moment, trying to will more out of you, but you don’t give in.

“Ok. Whatever you say.” She rolls her eyes again. “I have to get back to work, but you are going to have to tell me sooner or later.” She points at you and furrows her brow.

“Yeah, Yeah.” You joke. “See you Monday!”

You leave the shop and cross the street to the grocery store. The place is mobbed and the shelves wiped out of the most in demand items. You grab a few things and chat with your mom who calls you to check in. Rather, to tell you all about her excursions and gossip about people you have never even met. You don’t mind and just tell her things are going well, you like your job and let her ramble on, not really listening. Mindless chatter in your ears while you shop.

She does catch you off guard when she mentions hearing about the storm and “Joel will plow for us if we ask him to” casually. Your ears perk at the mention of his name but you act cool and collected. You don’t like the way she volunteers his services so nonchalantly. It strikes a nerve in you and reminds you of how she always insinuates you are incapable of being responsible. It makes you feel defensive for Joel, too. Her disregard for his time further illustrating how self centered she is. This was one of the factors that pushed you away for so many years.

“Your father will call him later—”

Absolutely not. You interrupt her sternly mid-sentence.

“Mom. I will take care of it.” The last thing you want is your parents harassing Joel or trying to control you from across the country. This was a string you needed to make clear was not going to be attached to your current living arrangement.

“I have things under control.”

“Oh… ok then.” Her tone is short and then she is off talking about her beach plans again. This goes on for another 10 minutes and by now you are in the checkout line. You say your goodbyes and calculate another week or two before you have to do that all over again.

You hadn’t really considered the snow aftermath but you had a shovel and your car would be good enough to get out of your driveway… probably. You were not going to bother Joel regardless.

The call puts you in a bad mood as you drive home. The spitting snow reminds you of the impending storm. The cheerful start of the day is gone and replaced with a heavy feeling.

You drive past Joel’s house and wonder if he is home and what he is doing. Wonder if you should call him. Wonder why he has not reached out to you either. You don’t want to be that girl. It’s not like you and him are anything. You shouldn’t be expecting anything from him. However, you still feel a faint sting of disappointment. Maybe he had his fun and that was it. Self doubt poisons your mind but you try to swallow it back.

The rest of the day you spend eating junk food and watching movies on Netflix. You fall asleep on the couch early in the night before forcing yourself into bed. The wind and snow has ramped up and your power flickers.

You pull your comforter tightly over you and take one last look at your phone but you already know there is nothing from Joel.

Saturday Night (Joel POV)

Joel sits up in his loft on his worn out couch, strumming his guitar. He takes a sip of his whiskey, neat, and poorly mouths the words to his song.

He plays a few more riffs but feels distracted and unfocused. All attempts to keep busy have been ineffective today. He spent the afternoon preparing his truck and stacking firewood. Once that work was done he had nothing but free time.

The truth is, you have been on his mind. It was hard not to think about you. He had only explored the tip of the iceberg with you and wanted more. He knew it wasn’t right to pursue you for a magnitude of reasons, but the desire was not waning. He felt things with you that he had not felt in a long time. Feelings he was afraid to give in to.

Joel replaces the guitar in his hands with his phone and hovers your name in the recent contacts. This isn’t the first time today he has almost called you.

What are you doing, stupid. He thinks to himself.

He shuts down the moment of weakness and locks his phone. He knocks back the last of his whiskey and heads downstairs. He turns on his TV to the local news and listens to them fuss over the storm. He knew tomorrow would be a busy one for him with his side hustle as the plow guy many locals depended on. Just another thing to keep him busy.

He goes to take a shower before calling it an early night.

The shower is hot and comforting and in no time his mind is wandering back to you. He thought about your brief evening together and how intriguing you were. How bold you were. How tight you were when he was fingering you and how needy you sounded.

He puts a fist against the shower wall to brace himself and hangs his head low so his shoulders block the bulk of the water. He uses his free hand to wrap around his semi-hard cock. He remembers your playful hold on him and gently strokes himself. It doesn’t take very long to get hard as he relives that moment in his mind. His strokes get harder and faster and he wishes he was fucking into you and not his own hand.

He groans as he comes and watches his spend drip down the shower walls and into the drain. His few moments of bliss quickly fade away. He balls his fist in frustration at his unfulfilling release. He needs more. He needs you.

Your Sunday morning begins with anything but peace and calm. You are startled awake by the grinding sound of heavy metal dragging across pavement. You look outside your bedroom window and see the snow has blanketed everything and there are still a few lingering flurries dancing in the sky. The trees are struggling with bent over branches coated in ice and snow.

Leaving your warm and cozy blanket fortress is the last thing you want to do. You lazily grab a hoodie to pull over your oversized shirt you slept in and your pajama shorts and make your way to the front of the house. The floor is cold on your feet but the air is warm. You cranked the thermostat before bed, making you feel rebellious in the moment but it seemed silly and wasteful now.

You look out the front window that faces the driveway. There you see Joel Miller in his truck, plow attached, barreling towards you and crashing into a snowbank he started building up. He looked so serious and professional backing up his truck with an arm stretched across his seat as he looked over his shoulder. He was so focused he was not aware you were watching him and his scowl at work.

It doesn’t take long before that familiar ache between your legs returns. The longing to let Joel have his way with you. A desire that is getting harder and harder to ignore.

The realization that you look like you just woke up from bed hits and you scramble to the bathroom to run a comb through your hair and brush your teeth. You can hear the drag of the plow continue as you finish up and then rush to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. The stove clock reads 7:32am. Way too fucking early for a Sunday morning.

You hear his truck door slam and the sound of crunchy snow under his boots. He is walking with a heavy foot and grabs the shovel leaning by your door.

Joel is shoveling your walkway, weaving a modest path for you to get from your house to your driveway without trudging through the snow. You can hear him grunt as he tosses the heavy snow out of the way. What would have taken you probably an hour takes him just a few minutes.

He plunges the shovel into a snowbank when he reaches the end of the path and leans on it to catch his breath. He looks exhausted and rightfully so. You want to comfort him in whatever way you can. At least offer him some respite to show your appreciation. As much as you hate to admit it, you would have been totally fucked if you had to tackle your driveway with your inadequate self. Joel saves the day, again.

You crack open the front door and call out to Joel, reluctantly interrupting his moment of peace.

“Hey!”

He slowly turns in your direction when he hears your voice. His eyes scrunch as he makes out your figure hanging out the door. He gives a lazy wave of acknowledgment.

“Come inside and warm up? I made coffee.”

He picks up the shovel to return it and makes his way towards you.

“Yeah, ok. Just for a minute” He follows you inside.

Joel closes the door hard behind him and scuffs his boots on the mat to get off any snow. He brushes his hand quickly over the top of his head to knock off any lingering snow and unbuttons his jacket. He empties his pockets and puts his wallet and phone on the end table. He saunters over to you as you hand him a fresh cup of coffee, black.

“Thanks.” He manages a smile. He returns to the living room and groans as he lowers himself to the couch. He recklessly sips his piping hot beverage and seems immune to the searing heat and delighted to have it. He rests his mug on the table and leans back and closes his eyes. His hand comes up to his brow as he pinches his thumb and finger together across his eyes.

You lean against the doorway between the rooms and sip your coffee. You notice how tired and worn he looks. His damp hair is shiny. His heat is melting the last few snowflakes and making him look messy and wet. His jacket is open and disheveled and his flannel undershirt is haphazardly draping on him as he slouches back.

Despite all that he is still as handsome as ever and you like seeing him this way. Vulnerable in this out-of-character state.

“Tired.” He grunts with his eyes closed and it snaps you out of your thoughts. “Been a long morning.”

You take a few steps towards him to close the gap.

“I’m too old for this.” He sneers as he looks at you with lazy, heavy lids.

“You didn’t have to worry about me, you know…” Your voice trails off as you wonder if he was there on his own volition. You can’t help but ask. You need to know.

“Did… did my dad call you?”

“No.” he answers firmly with a suspicion in his tone, almost sounding offended.

“Good. I mean, thank you. That was really nice of you to come over.” You pause and smile at him. You feel guilty, but also have never had someone so capable looking out for you before.

“I was going to shovel it.”

He raises his brow at the ridiculous claim.

“No you weren’t. Wouldn’t have let you if I saw ya out there.”

“Well.. Thank you.”

“S’nothing. I don’t mind… having an excuse to see ya.” His brows raise and wrinkle in the middle. He has a softened expression as he looks into your eyes.

Your heart skips a beat and is heavy in your chest, you wonder if he can hear it beating. Having an excuse to see you. You replay it in your mind. He wants to see you. You feel stupid for getting carried away thinking otherwise.

You put your coffee down next to his and casually walk around to the back of the couch. There is a force compelling you to comfort him. Encourage him to relax. That fluttering feeling in your stomach surges. Joel Miller is exhausted on your couch and isn’t going to be putting up much of a fight if you fuss over him and you want to fuss over him.

You stand behind him and reach your arms down and spread them slowly from his shoulders down to his sides. He lets out a tiny moan as you circle his taut muscles. You pinch and massage them as you go. You lean forward and bring your mouth just behind his ear.

“You don’t need an excuse to see me.” It comes out softly and seductive. You can feel his body tense under your words.

You rake your hands back up to his shoulders and curl your fingers under his open jacket. He halfway cooperates as you tug the jacket off his shoulders and pull it away from him. It's wet and heavy and most of the snow has melted into it by now. You toss it on the back of the couch and return to his shoulders. Your hands massage him and you can feel his muscles tight and knotted under your grasp. His head tilts back into the couch as he lets you tenderly work him.

“Feels good. Really good.” He says in a low, almost inaudible tone. His exhaustion has let his body surrender to you and he isn’t fighting to be in control.

You lean forward again and plant your mouth on his jawline with a sensual kiss. His damp whiskers prickle your cheek as you drag it against him and go to his ear.

“Let me take care of you.”

He makes a deep, throaty sound in response.

His flannel is damp and hot and he looks so uncomfortable and stuffy now that he has been inside a while. You slide one of your hands down to his chest and unbutton his shirt. You are halfway down and he reaches his arm up and curls his fingers behind your neck, pulling you down to his mouth. You can feel the shift in the room, like you woke a sleeping bear.

“Come here.” He uses his free hand to tap his lap and loosens his grip on you.

You walk around to the front of the couch and stand in front of Joel. His legs are spread and he is still lazily slouched back but he motions for you to join him. His half unbuttoned shirt teases you with his thermal undershirt peeking out, still hiding his bare skin. At least you are getting closer.

You step towards him and move to straddle him on the couch. You have a leg on each side and he puts a hand on each hip under your baggy sweatshirt.

His hold is tender but makes you melt when you feel the wingspan his fingers have on you. His thumbs brush over your hip bones and trace down to the soft skin just above the crease of your thigh as he casually dips them along your waistband. His touch sends sparks through your skin.

He lazily stares you down with a narrow gaze over his nose, still resting his head back.

“Keep going.” He closes his eyes as your focus goes back to finish unbuttoning his shirt.

As you get close to his jeans you can feel him hardening and straining against the zipper.

You pop open the button and carefully unzip him. His cock springs loose in his boxer shorts. It teases you behind the cloth barrier and you reach for his waistband so you can grab a hold of him. His fingers dig into your sides and he pushes you back slightly to make you stop. He fights through the laziness and is now fully alert.

“You want my cock?” He grits through his teeth. “Think it’ll fit in your pretty pussy?” He drags one of his hands to your center and grabs you through the fabric. He smirks as he can feel you are wet and damp through your thin sleep shorts. His fingers sneak into the leg hole of your shorts and he teases your clit through your cotton underwear. You clench remembering the stretch from his thick fingers deep inside you just the other night.

“Yes–” your words catch in your throat as he pushes your underwear aside and thumbs over your folds. He barely touches you and opts to tease you instead, deliberately feathering over your swollen clit. You reach down to grab the wrist of his occupied hand and grind into his fingers. Your body craves the friction.

“Fuck me, Joel.”

His eyes darken and with a devilish smirk he takes his hand back and watches as you slide off him to take off your clothes. He looks at your body with a sleazy ferocity. If any other guy looked at you that way you would have slapped him, but not Joel Miller. You want his attention and you like the way it makes you feel when he is eyeing you like a starving wolf.

You pull off your hoodie and shirt and toss them to the piles of clothes building up on the floor. You stand in front of him completely naked. Exposed. Joel brings out a side of you that makes you feel confident and bold. The way he looks at you with intrigue and desire encourages you. You take a brief moment to tease him back and drag your hands over your breasts and one continues down to your cunt.

Joel stirs in his seat. He is so easy to rile up. He pulls off his flannel and kicks off his boots. His thermal long sleeve remains hugging his body in all the right places. He arches forward as his hand grabs his thermal from the back and pulls it off over his head. It makes a prickly, staticy sound as it brushes over his hair. He tosses it to the ground and for the first time you can fully take in his body without so many layers hiding him.

His broad shoulders and chest taper down to a narrowed waist. His body is rugged and defined. For an older man his physique had been well maintained thanks to his lifestyle. His tanned skin and his messy, dark hair with silver streaks sends tingles through you. You have never been so physically drawn into someone before on a level that almost felt primal.

His eyes sweep your body up and down as he drags his thumb along the side of his mouth and rakes his fingers through his scruff on his chin. He bites his lip while he drinks you in.

“Damn, baby.” He curls his thumbs inside the band of his jeans and tugs them down along with his boxers. He kicks them off his legs and reaches towards you, wrapping around the back of your thigh and beckons you to return to him.

“Come ‘ere”

Your eyes gape as you take in his sheer size. It is intimidating but makes you ache with desire.

You are back in his lap straddling him with little coercion needed. You stretch an arm behind you to hold yourself up and the other touches yourself. This position lets him take all of you in; bare, exposed and wanting. Wet and needy for him.

His hand reaches for his throbbing cock. He palms himself with a few labored strokes. He is already beading precome at the tip. You feel a pang of jealousy and wish it was your body wrapped around him. He catches the hungry way you are looking at him. You catch how much he likes it.

“You wanna ride this cock?” He brushes the tip against your opening and you let out a whimper in response and lurch forward. You brace yourself on his forearm and your other hand pushes against his chest to keep yourself upright. His skin is firm as you grip into him. His body hot and radiating like a furnace.

“Haven’t gotten you off my mind since Friday.” He confesses. “Thinking about how tight my cock would fit in you.” He teases you with the tip again. Your whimper grows into a needy moan making him harder. Making him want you that much more.

He crudely spits into his hand and rubs it along his shaft and then he notches it at your entrance. You can feel your body begging to be filled with him and you’ve been wet since you woke up to him in your driveway. You’ve lost count how many times you imagined Joel fucking you. He puts his hands back on your hips with a rough grip and you move your hands to his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself onto him. He helps keep you steady.

“Joel! Fuck–” You moan. His thick cock sears your skin as it stretches you. He is slowly splitting you open inch by inch and you have never felt more full. He lets you control the pace for now, with pained restraint. He searches your eyes to make sure it isn’t too much. He knows he is a lot to take but the slowness is making him go insane.

Joel lets out a grunt as he gets closer to bottoming out inside you. Your walls clench around him and the sweet pain from the stretch subsides as your body adjusts to his size. You slowly ride him up and down until you have him fully sheathed inside you. Your body is so full you don’t even have room to form complete thoughts. You can only focus on his burning hot heat inside you, tearing you open. Every moment before this pales in comparison.

“Fuck. So tight.” he snarls. His grip on you tightens as he pulls your body up and then thrusts into you, hard. He keeps the pace slow but more forceful than you were. He tries to be gentle but you can feel his patience slipping away.

One hand drags to his biceps where sweat is glistening. As he lifts you his muscles flex and contract he makes it seem so effortless to maneuver your smaller frame. Everything about Joel is big and strong and rigid. The epitome of masculinity.

Each thrust up into you makes you dizzy. You can feel yourself on the verge of orgasm, cock drunk and blissed-out. His heavy breathing and hitches in his voice send you over the edge as he pounds up into you. You ride the wave as he fucks you through it. Your arms entangle in each other and your bodies slap together, sweaty and panting. Your incoherent words and moans heighten with each thrust.

He makes you feel alive and pleasured in a way that you have never felt before. It is intoxicating.

As you start to come down from the high you feel him getting close to his own release but he is still reserved and careful with you. Through gritted teeth he tries to keep his pace steady and builds you back up, never quite letting you recover.

“Joel, Don’t… don’t hold back.” You manage to get out of your lips. You stare into him with hooded eyes and can only imagine how fucked out you look. He brings one of his hands up to the side of your face and strokes his thumb tenderly across your cheekbone.

“Ok, baby.”

He leans into you and in a sweeping motion he twists and lays you back into the adjacent couch cushion. It is more of an oversized loveseat and not very ideal. He barely loses contact with your body as he positions himself above you. You can feel his weighty cock press into you and pin you in place as he leans forward, crowding you in the cramped confines of the couch.

His mouth is on yours; rough and messy. He bites at your lip as he pulls away and reigns in his focus. Your legs clamp around his sides and your arms hold onto his neck. Your fingers snake into his hair and you grab hold of him. He slides his hands down your sides so he can hold you close as he resumes fucking into you.

With this leverage, he somehow hits you deeper than before. His cock kisses the deepest parts of you again and again. Your sides bruise as he grips you harder. All his gentle inhibitions have been replaced with raw, unhinged furor.

His pace quickens as you can feel him coming undone inside you. He is in a frenzy fucking you hard and deep and his grunts get louder. The heavy feel of him dragging out of you and shoving back with such force has you crying out his name along with a steady stream of expletives.

You are so close but you beg your body to hold on, you don’t want the feeling to end. You want to live in this moment forever being trapped under Joel and being filled with his cock. You moan out his name as the second orgasm explodes through your body.

“Fuck, baby..” his body quivers as he tries to hold out long enough for you to peak.

He suddenly sits up and groans as he drags completely out of you. You whimper at the loss of him inside you and his wet, leaking cock slaps onto your belly. He strokes himself once with a heavy fist and grunts as hot ropes of cum spurt onto you. You relish being branded in his release. It coats your stomach and drips messily onto your cunt. You revel in the last fleeting moments of your orgasm being shared with Joel’s.

He languidly strokes himself a few more times until he is empty. His chest rises and falls quickly as he breathes shallowly. His muscles weaken as the high from his climax rolls through him.

He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. The sticky mess spreads between your bellies as his body pushes into you. It's lewd and you love it. You love how filthy Joel makes you feel. All you can smell is sweat and sex and Joel.

He presses a kiss to your forehead and then sits back to catch his breath. Your bodies untangle and he goes back to his original spot on the couch. You stay laying back lazily with a leg draped casually over Joel and the other bent at the knee. You still need a moment for your legs to be in any condition to work properly.

One of his hands rests on your thigh and he grazes it with comforting drags of his fingers. He doesn’t say anything but the gentle contact from him is welcome. The connection you share now is so contrasting to when he was railing you. It is a side of Joel that feels like a privilege granted to you.

The calm is interrupted by a vibration of his phone. Joel reluctantly picks it up to look at the screen and groans with disappointment. He answers it but doesn’t stop rubbing you gently while he conducts his business.

“Fred, I’ll be there in 20.”

You can’t make out the other end entirely but you can detect a man's voice. He doesn’t sound happy.

“Yeah, I’m running behind. Your house is next.” Joel tries to placate him. More chatter and you start to feel bad for holding him up.

You move off of Joel and make your way towards the bathroom to wipe up the mess on your belly and grab your silky bathrobe off the door.

“Ok, Fred. Be there soon.” You hear him hang up and toss his phone down with a grumble. He turns in your direction as he stands up to pull on his jeans.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I gotta’ go.” His tone is solemn now. You pop out of the bathroom and catch him using his undershirt to wipe up his mess. It’s gross but you like seeing him being comfortable being a typical, nasty man in your presence. Points for being resourceful.

“I heard. Didn’t mean to hold you up.”

He glares at you and smirks as you make your way back to him.

“Didn’t mind one bit.” He takes a few steps towards you to meet you halfway and kisses you on the top of your head while he wraps his arms around you. He breathes you in with his embrace and it feels so perfect being wrapped up by Joel. A final moment before it all ends and he pushes away from you, reluctantly.

“And s’not a big deal. Snow aint going anywhere.” He says as he puts his flannel on, sans the thermal, and starts to button back up.

His messy hair is mostly dry now and even more unruly with wild curls. You feel that fire inside you building again. It’s insatiable. You don’t want him to go.

He laces up his boots and gathers his things.

“Ok. I’m gonna hop in the shower.”

“Ok, baby.” You exchange a final look and go your separate ways. You feel his eyes on you as you return to the bathroom.

When you go back to the living room he is gone. All that remains is his dirty shirt and an empty coffee cup.

Sunday Night (Joel POV)

After a few more hours of plowing Joel returns home.

He takes a shower just long enough to wash the sweat and stink of exhaust from his body.

He pours himself a whiskey and collapses on the couch to relax.

His body is weary, but his mind is still firing. It has not stopped. He has to face the reality that he is falling for you, whether or not he should be.

He pulls out his phone and stares at it blankly. Hesitating. He scrolls through his contacts until he finds the one that he has been avoiding. He knocks back his drink and sends the text.

Joel: Tess. We need to talk.

Thank you to @magpiepills for beta-ing 🧡

Love to my ladies that mean everything @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @youandmeand5bucks @exquisiteserotonin @for-a-longlongtime @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen 🧡

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the wolf you feed #tlou

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lqveharrington · 2 months

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Silver Roses & Fallen Snow

6: The Peacekeeper (series masterlist)

summary: Coriolanus Snow is sent of to District Twelve to become a peacekeeper and memories of you and him come up too often in his daily life there, not to mention the news he finds out about you.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: mentions of cheating, fluff, angst, suicidal thoughts, death, hanging, gun shooting, wrongful executions, drinking, implied sex, coriolanus is a manipulator, heavy screaming, backstabbing, uses of Y/N, italics are flashbacks/memories, bold italics are coriolanus’ thoughts (let me know if i missed any.)

word count: 6.9k

a/n: so, almost 7k words is insane for one chapter, but i wanted coriolanus as a peacekeeper to be completely done in one because the main focus for this was definitely being at the Capitol. the next chapter is reader’s POV during this time

Coriolanus Snow was caught cheating by Dean Highbottom. Of course, there were repercussions.

Coriolanus Snow was sent as a Peacekeeper for the Districts. It didn’t matter which District he was sent to, as long as he managed to claw his way to the top of the rankings to get back to the Capitol as soon as possible. He left his family behind with nothing. He lost his favorite person by violating your trust. He lost the opportunity to give the Snow name a meaning again.

He lost everything.

From celebrating the winnings to getting sent to District Twelve played a dangerous shift to his emotions, and it didn’t help that the silver necklace hidden underneath his layer shirts felt hot and heavy.

“Stop fidgeting.” Coriolanus wrapped an arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple. “It’s not going to make it any better.”

You huff, dropping your hand from your necklace, and tilt your head to face him. “Coryo, this is the only class I don’t feel confident in. I need to study.”

“You’ve studied for over three hours straight.” He took a seat in the chair next to you. “I think you’ll be okay.”

“I would be if you were here to help me study.” You look back at your textbook then your notes, tapping your pen onto your hand. “You were supposed to meet me here.”

“I know, but Demigloss had questions about the report I turned in.” He set his hand over yours, stopping the taps. “You’ll be fine.”

A beat passes.

“Quiz me.” You hand him the notes, taking him by surprise. “If I can get all the questions you ask me correctly, I’ll stop studying.”

“Fine.” He shuffled through your index cards. “What type of government did Panem have before the First Rebellion occurred, resulting in the change of government?”

You stared at him and creased your brows, “We learned that in the eighth grade. I’m pretty sure those aren’t even in my—“

“Answer the question.” Coriolanus cut you off.

“Totalitarian dictatorship.” You tangle your fingers into your necklace again, confused at his question. “Alright, give me one of the cards.”

“Sorry, that was all the questions.” He tucked the index card into the inside pocket of his jacket and gave you a smile. One that you did not return. He stood from his seat and left his hand out for you to take. “Let’s go.”

“Coryo.” You deadpan. “I have to study.”

Coriolanus leaned down, pecking your lips. “You answered the questions I asked you correctly.”

You roll your eyes with zero malice, biting back a smile at your boyfriend’s actions. “You are horrible, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Oh, yeah.” He reached one hand up to stop your fidgeting and the other to your chin. “I’m bad news.”

A voice behind Coriolanus interrupted his thoughts, making him stand at the familiar one. “You know, I thought I might find you here sitting all by yourself.”

Coriolanus gave him a surprised look, “Sejanus, what are you doing—?”

“What do you think? For what I did in the arena?” Sejanus shoved his bag down into a seat. “My father had to buy the Academy a brand new gym just so I could get my diploma.”

Coriolanus watched him make his way over to where he currently resided, watching with piqued interest.

“They begged me to stay, but once I found out where they were sending you,” He blew out a small chuckle, crossing over to the seat across from the blond. “I couldn’t get out fast enough. Barely made the train because of this stupid knee, but it’s okay.” Sejanus rubbed his knee as he took a seat, glancing outside the window. “They gave me morphine for the pain.”

Coriolanus looked at him with astonishment, albeit confused at the willingness of the boy. “You volunteered for this.” He replied, almost sounding like a question.

“Figured I get through basic, then maybe I become a medic. Make a real difference out here. Just like you said.” Sejanus gave a weak smile before regarding the bigger issue at hand. “They never told us what you did.”

“I cheated.” He shifted his gaze from the window toward the Plinth, subconsciously reaching out for the necklace but quickly stopped. “I had to save Lucy Gray from the snakes to win.”

Sejanus nodded solemnly, “I’m assuming you told your family and Y/N what happened? Why you’re being sent off to the Districts?”

Coriolanus frowned at the mention of you, clearing his throat. “I told Tigris, and Y/N knew. She uh,” He placed his thumb on his wrist. “Her and I aren’t together anymore.”

“Really? Because you got sent out as a peacekeeper?”

He shifted in his seat, annoyance spreading through his chest. “No, she just thought it was for the best. After all, I did cheat.”

“Coryo…” He shook his head, watching the landscape change.

“You know when you came in, I was weighing the merits of suicide.” Coriolanus looked down at his hands. The gesture he had done for you to calm down wasn’t the same for him.

Sejanus looked back at the young Snow, “When we were about to be free? When the girl you risked everything for might be waiting for you when you get back?”

This time, Coriolanus scoffed, shaking his head. “I’ll be back in twenty years. She’ll be married off to someone else by then.”

Upon their arrival to District Twelve, Coriolanus watched the grime and coal dust stick to the train as he and Sejanus stepped off. There were people dressed in the same uniforms covered in black soot, crossing the station with trolleys.

Coriolanus held back a scoff as he followed Sejanus, along with the other peacekeeper recruits, to their ride taking them to the barracks. Of course, he was sent to the worst District, and as far away from the Capitol as possible. The place was filled with those who thought lowly of the Capitol elites, and here he was among them, one of the District locals.

With you out of the picture and his family at home, the best thing he had for comfort was your necklace, still hidden underneath his layers. It sat high on his collarbone, the weight reminding him of what he had done to be here in the Districts.

“Welcome to Twelve.” Commander Hoff spoke toward the lined-up peacekeepers. “We are proud to have every one of you serving your country out here. For the next twenty years, brothers and sisters in your immediate squad will become your family. You will train together, sleep together, eat together. You will rise together, and you will fall together.” His voice echoed across the vast room, each recruited peacekeeper stoic. “You will be our eyes and ears out here on my base, as well as off of it. And it will be your duty to report anything suspicious you see because if you do not, you are as good as a rebel yourself.”

A few days passed for Coriolanus’s first days of peacekeeping, and there was already a hanging to be done to a man named Arlo Chance.

“Last month, a peacekeeper and two mine bosses were shot dead in the pits.” Commander Hoff shouted over the formed crowd of District Twelve people. “We retrieved the murder weapon. We swabbed it for DNA. And the results…“

Coriolanus focused on his breathing and adjusted his hold to his rifle, blocking out the rest of his Commander’s words. He glanced toward Sejanus, watching his face contort into discomfort before screaming could be heard coming from the crowd, causing both their heads to snap up at the sound.

“He’s innocent! He’s innocent!”A woman screamed from the top of her lungs, others immediately coming over to pull her back.

The man being hung stared in horror, screaming for her to leave. “Run, Lil, run!”

Coriolanus looked back at the man when another peacekeeper pulled the lever, hanging Arlo Chance before he could get any other word out. He flinched as the body dropped and how the jabber jays repeated the last words.

Quickly, peacekeepers came to pull the woman away, causing Sejanus to step forward. Coriolanus pulled him back and stared in disbelief before staring up at the jabber jays once more, taking heavy breaths.

As the day progressed, Coriolanus knew something was wrong with Sejanus, especially the way he would stand and listen to the yelling coming from the cell the woman was kept in.

“What were you thinking back there?” Coriolanus spoke calmly, holding onto his own helmet.

“She didn’t do anything, Coryo. What is she guilty of?”

“Being directly associated with rebels.” He shook his head, looking at the Plinth. “What more do they need?”

“If she had gotten through that crowd… I don’t think I would have been able to shoot her.” Sejanus stayed staring at the brick wall. “Would you?”

Coriolanus creased his brows at him, “You need to find a way to make peace with our life here now. Or have your father buy you a discharge and do something else.”

“You haven’t made peace with your life here.” Sejanus finally looked over, meeting Coriolanus’ icy stare. “Every night at our lockers, I see you mess with Y/N’s necklace.”

“Sejanus—“

“You think I don't realize the small things, but I do.” Sejanus looked up, shutting his eyes for a split second. “I know you miss her, Coryo.”

“Hey! Hoff’s given us all leave passes for the weekend.” A peacekeeper shouted from the side, waving the paper at them. “Boost morale.”

“Boost morale.” Sejanus raised his brows, stepping away from Coriolanus.

The blond watched him leave before looking back at the cell and reaching to grab the necklace hidden underneath his peacekeeper suit.

Coriolanus and Sejanus were at the front of their group of peacekeepers, now changed out of their service uniforms into a more lenient uniform. They were heading to the Hob as the live music echoed from the place, loads of people packed inside with drinks.

“Hey, uh, I’m gonna go get a drink.” Sejanus moves past Coriolanus, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He simply hummed, leaning against a brick wall near the entrance. He shifted his gaze around the room, looking at the different people inside the Hob, not realizing who was about to go on stage.

“Is it hot in here?” A young girl spoke loudly into the microphone, getting a unanimous reply from the crowd. “‘Cause we’re plannin’ on heating it up a set more!”

Coriolanus chuckles at the young girl’s stage presence before she announces the special guest.

“The one, the only, Lucy Gray Baird!” She points her hands over to stage right, her cousin twirling onto the stage with a guitar.

“Well, hey there, District Twelve, did you miss me?” The crowd roars with an answer, making Lucy Gray’s smile widen. “I bet you never expected to lay eyes on me again. And, let me tell you, that goes both ways. But I am back. I sure am back!”

Without fail, Coriolanus reached for the necklace under his dog tags, twirling the silver charm between his pointer and thumb as Lucy Gray started her song after a swig of alcohol to clear her throat.

“Can’t take my past…”

While she sang, Coriolanus flickered his eyes down to the charm, clutching it in his palm.

“That’s enough for you.” Coriolanus pulled the flask of posca away from you, taking a swig himself. “You’re drinking this like it’s water, baby.”

You hum at the name, yet shift from your spot on your bed, pressing yourself closer to him. “It’s only our second bottle.”

“Of posca, my love.” He kisses the top of your head before taking another drink.

“I want some.” You whine, reaching across his body for the glass bottle. “Coryo—“

“Sh, here.” He gave you the bottle, laughing a bit. “Don’t be too loud.”

“I thought you liked it—“

Coriolanus took hold of your thigh and squeezed, “Not the same thing.”

You take a sip — by sip, you swallow almost half of the bottle — of the burning alcohol before pouting at him. “It’s not?”

He smiled at you, kissing the corner of your lips. “No, two different things.”

“Oh.” You furrow your brows, hand finding the necklace.

Coriolanus pulled you by the hips, sliding you closer, and reached over to drink from the posca, hands restless over your skin.

“Wanna know something, Coryo?” You rest your chin on his shoulder blade, watching his head tilt down to meet your eyes.”

“What is it?” He mumbled, pulling you much closer to the point where your legs were tangled together and you were practically on top of him.

You let out a small hum at his action, still resting your head on his shoulder. “My mother used to sing me a song whenever I had to go to bed and I was too loud.”

“Really?” His glassy eyes looked around your face, hands trailing up and down your hip and abdomen. “What song might that be?”

You took one last swig and passed the bottle to Coriolanus who finished it off, placing it on your bedside table. Coriolanus placed a soft kiss on your lips, tasting the alcohol.

“I don’t know what it’s called, but if I had to give it a title, it would be called Invisible String.” You smile into the kiss, feeling one of his hands travel up to your neck.

He hummed, twirling the rose charm. “You have to sing it for me one day, beautiful.”

“Maybe.” You giggle, peppering his jaw in drunk kisses.

Coriolanus shakes his head at the memory, tucking the necklace back underneath his white shirt. That night ended with the both of you throwing up in your bathroom, with horrid hangovers in the morning.

He had a plan for his future. Many of which included you by his side. So having his head rerun a memory of you was not his idea of boosting morale, especially when Lucy Gray reminded him so much of what he had done to lose you.

The music suddenly came to a stop, pulling Coriolanus out of his head. He watched as a man came closer to Lucy Gray, tugging at her skirt.

Coriolanus weighed his options of getting caught in a fight or staying out, sadly, it was cut short when Sejanus came over to punch the guy harassing Lucy Gray.

“Shit.” He pushed past the people, pulling Sejanus away from the man. “Sejanus, stop!”

“No, Coryo, let go!” Sejanus tries leaving his hold. Lucy Gray watched Coriolanus pull his friend away, tilting her head at the brunet.

“What are you, crazy?” Coriolanus asks over the loud noises, pushing Sejanus toward the exit. “Come on, we gotta get out of here.”

“Coryo, you can’t just let her go through that after everything she’s been through!” Sejanus inhales sharply, spitting and grabbing his jaw. “Fuck.”

“Twice now that I’ve had to save your ass.” Coriolanus chuckles, patting his back.

Sejanus lets out a tired laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Where are you going?” Coriolanus let his eyes linger on his friend as he tried stepping away from him. “We’re supposed to ask around about the fight last night.”

“I know, but I just—“ He cut himself off, listening to the strumming of a guitar. “I just want to ask if Lucy Gray is alright.”

The blond raised a brow, “You want to make sure she’s alright?”

“Is that wrong?”

Coriolanus held the urge to roll his eyes, dropping his hand. “Whatever, just be quick. David and Moore will be doing rounds soon.”

He thought that Sejanus had gone insane. Hell, he thought he was insane ever since he met him, but it just seemed worse because he was placed in a District that wasn’t his home. Coriolanus’ eyes followed Sejanus as he trudged down the grassy hill. Coriolanus really didn’t get why Sejanus cared so much about a District girl who ruined his life. His life that he tried so hard to protect and build up. It didn’t matter much as he was called by one of the other peacekeepers in his group, saying he received a letter from someone.

Coriolanus thanked them and sat down outside the mailing station, peeling open the cream envelope.

‘Dear Coriolanus Snow,

I hope you’re doing well out in the Districts. Don’t worry too much about Grandma’am and I, we’re doing as well as we can. I’ve gotten a promotion at my job to make up for the rest of the rent for the month, but it might not be enough until you get back. Please take care of yourself out there and don’t do anything reckless for my sake, I want you back in one piece. I won’t make this long, but make sure to eat right over there and get enough sleep. Please write back soon!

From your favorite cousin,

Tigris Snow’

He let out a quiet chuckle, running his thumb across the cursive writing. He’d be back before his family could worry too much about him.

Coriolanus would make sure snow would land on top this time. No loose ends and no regrets.

Coriolanus held his own envelope as he made his way around District Twelve. He had forgotten about Sejanus and his antics with Lucy Gray until he saw him speaking with Billy Taupe, the man who harassed Lucy Gray at the Hob.

He watched as Billy and another man murmured words to Sejanus, taking their leave when they saw Coriolanus approaching.

“Hey—!”

“You’re back.” Coriolanus interrupted, tapping the envelope in his hands. “I figured you’d be a while.”

“What’s that in your hands—?”

The blond cut him off again, “Why were you with Billy Taupe? And who’s that other guy with him?”

“I remember that from the Academy. Watching you watch everyone. Carefully choosing when to weigh in.” Sejanus says with a calm demeanor.

“Are you trying to help these people?”

“Don’t you think they need help?”

“They lost the war, Sejanus.” Coriolanus shakes his head in disbelief, tucking the letter inside his uniform and reaching for the silver charm for the nth time since being drafted. “A war they started that made your family rich. I am not about to throw away any chance I might have of getting home someday and being with her just because you feel a bit guilty.”

Sejanus squints his eyes, jaw ticking. “Fine.”

Coriolanus didn’t have it in him to argue with Sejanus any longer, taking long strides to deliver his letter toward the mailing station.

“Coryo!” You call for your boyfriend from the bathroom, huffing in frustration. “Can you come here? I need help!”

Coriolanus sets down a book from your bookshelf, shuffling into your extensive closet connecting to your extensive bathroom. “What is it?”

You smile as he comes into view from your mirror, “Can you zip me? I can’t reach it.”

“Of course.” He runs his hand over your waist to the silver zipper, tugging it up with ease. “Happy?”

“Very.” You turn and bite your bottom lip, tugging him down by his black tie. “You look very handsome.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs, tugging you close by your hips, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “You look beautiful as always.”

You smile, twirling your finger around his tie. “Do we really have to go to Ravinstill’s gala?”

“Beautiful, I just zipped you up.” He chuckled at what you were insinuating, rubbing a thumb on your bottom lip as you pouted jokingly. “Plus, I think we should make an appearance. After all, it is the President’s son.”

“That’s too bad.” You sigh, letting go of him to check yourself in the mirror one last time, running your hands across your stomach and then down the back of your legs, checking for any imperfections in the dress that hugged you perfectly in all the right places. “We’re good to go, yes?”

Coriolanus gazed in places he shouldn’t have been staring at before snapping his eyes up to your teasing eyes through the mirror. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” You frown, your voice laced with amusement as you tilted your head. “I’m just fixing myself.”

He wrapped one arm around your waist while the other slid up your arm toward your jaw, turning it toward him. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Do I?” You scan his face then peering at his lips. “Maybe I don’t. I haven’t gotten what I wanted yet—“

Coriolanus pulled you into a fast, rough kiss, sliding his tongue inside as you let out a surprised noise. You simply returned the gesture, not wanting to ruin his hair or his perfectly pressed suit. He tapped your waist as a warning before pulling you flush against him, chest to chest.

“Coryo—“ You pull away for a bit, staring up at him before he starts to kiss you again, cutting you off. You finally push away, holding his face in your hands. “Okay! I get it! Let’s go.”

“You’re fucking spoiled.” He kissed your temple. “Next time, wear a dress that doesn’t show everything.”

“Got it, wear a dress that shows everything.” You link your hands with him, watching him roll his eyes. “What? You love it.”

“I do.” He pulls you toward your vanity in your room, pulling the makeup wipes to wipe the lipstick smearing across and around his lips then pulling one out for you. “Open.”

You obliged, letting him wipe your lipstick off your lips and carefully around the side, not wanting to ruin the rest of it. “You’re lucky my father’s out on a business trip, or you wouldn’t be able to act like this at all.”

“I wouldn’t be allowed to step foot into the house, my love.” He took the lipstick from the set and carefully applied it to your lips. “Done.”

“Perfect.” You grin and grab your clutch. “I was thinking—“

“Don’t think you're getting off so easily from the antics you just pulled.” Coriolanus interrupted, making you raise a brow. “Just wait.”

You shook your head as you exited your room, not thinking much about his words until you were completely bent over the Ravinstill’s guest bathroom a few hours later, body flush against Coriolanus with his hand over your mouth, silencing any loud noises coming from you. The repeated shaking of your necklace was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Coriolanus blinked at the sudden memory, adjusting his uniform as he walked through District Twelve’s peacekeeper vicinity, nodding at the peacekeepers at the metal gate before getting stopped by them.

“Private Snow? Come with us.” A pair of peacekeepers pushed him around, making him confused at the sudden action.

As soon as Coriolanus learned where they were taking him, he walked at a steady pace, posture perfect as he entered Commander Hoff’s office. He saluted before he was given the command to be at ease, feet spread and back straight.

“Snow.” Hoff shuffled the papers on his desk, looking at the young male. “I received the results from your aptitude tests this morning. Looked over your training records too. Your performance is exemplary.”

Coriolanus gave a small grin without showing too much pride, looking around the commander’s desk. “Well, half the other recruits can’t read, sir.”

“You’re General Crassus Snow’s boy.” He clasped his hands together. “What did you do to end up here?”

I ruined a relationship. “I made an enemy, sir. In the Capitol.”

“I’ve made a career out of ruining my enemies’ plans. I’m gonna reassign you to officer training in District Two. You’ll earn a real wage. Maybe even another shot at the Capitol one day.” Hoff’s gravel voice echoed through his office. “Train leaves in ten days. Keep a clean record, you’ll never see anyone from District Twelve again. This is an honor, Private. Not an option.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Coriolanus collects the papers and cards from Commander Hoff, doing his best to hold back a smile.

Coriolanus left his commander’s office, heading toward the telephone booths to call Tigris about the promotion.

“Coryo?” Coriolanus heard through the static, messing with the dials.

“Tigris?” He leaned in, looking at the screen with his cousin slowly coming into focus.

“Coryo!” She smiled brightly, scanning his features.

Coriolanus let out a small, tired laugh, “Tigris.”

“Your curls!” She laughed softly, eyes squinting with glee.

“Yeah, I know.” He reached up to touch his buzz cut, laughing with her. “Where are you?”

“Coryo, we’re fine—“

“Tigris, where are you?” He tried peeking at her background.

She sighed, looking around before speaking again. “We had to move out. We’re renting this place just for right now.”

“They evicted you?” Coriolanus murmured, frowning at the words his cousin spoke.

“Listen, I’m fine. Grandma’am is fine. I really don’t want you to worry, okay?” She whispered, watching his emotions through the screen.

“I think I found a way out of here. I just have to make it through Officer Training in Two. And then I can make my way back to the Capitol. I will fix this.” He shook his head, doing his best to stay positive for her.

“Okay.” She smiled, opening her mouth to say something before another voice slowly came around from the kitchen, making Coriolanus flinch.

“Tigris? I need your help with something. I don’t think I made this the right way.” You frown at the mixing bowl in your arms, showing the older girl. Your eyes flickered up at her when she didn’t respond, catching her on the phone. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—“

“It’s just Coryo.” Tigris did her best to cover both the screen and your body, knowing about the breakup between you two.

“I’m gonna be home soon. I promise.” Coriolanus held the charm in his finger for the umpteenth time, smile turned down at the sound of your voice.

Tigris let herself smile again, “Don’t give me hope.”

Just as she finished, the phone glitched and the screen became static, losing all connection with the Capitol. Coriolanus slammed his palm into the metal contraption, shoving the telephone into its slot.

Coriolanus, Sejanus, and the rest of their unit were assigned to recollect and check over the Jabberjays, then place them into a train car that would take them to the Capitol. However, Coriolanus thought it would be best to confront Sejanus about what he’s been doing while on his outings with Lucy Gray and conversations with those in jail cells.

“Whatever it is you’re doing, you need to stop it.”

“What are you—“

“Don’t.” Coriolanus shook his head, hands fisted on top of the table. “I saw you talking to that woman in the jail. If I don’t report you now…”

“You don’t know anything to report.” Sejanus lowers his voice, slowly setting down his clipboard.

“They know we’re friends, Sejanus. You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“You told me I could do something. You told me I could make a difference.”

Coriolanus pursed his lips together, looking away from Sejanus. He shook his head as he continued to speak, Sejanus’ voice getting louder by the second.

“Don’t. Stop Talking.” Coriolanus got closer but Sejanus kept him away. “I can’t hear this—!”

“Listen to me.” Sejanus pushed Coriolanus back to his side, watching a peacekeeper walk by before continuing.

He continued to talk about this ‘plan’ that Coriolanus had no intention of understanding. All Coriolanus knew was that he could get murdered for associating himself with someone working with rebels. Just to be safe, he took the remote for one of the jabber jays and hit record, finally putting Sejanus’ plan onto a database.

“I was just trying to save you the first time you did something stupid enough to ruin my life.” Coriolanus returned with some anger toward the Hunger Games. “What if they catch you bringing this woman off base?”

“It’s worth the risk to do the right thing.”

“For you.” He let his shoulders drop in frustration. “Your father will just buy your way out of it like he always does, while I’ll be hung just for knowing you. Please. Don’t make me rescue you again.” He let his hand drop toward the remote again and switched it to ‘stop.’

“I don’t need you to rescue me, Coryo.” Sejanus grabbed his two cages of Jabberjays. “And instead of worrying about me, ask yourself how Y/N feels nowadays. I hope you know it’s not good.”

Coriolanus bit the inside of his cheek, watching Sejanus walk away like he didn’t just drop a bomb on him. Of course, Coriolanus was wondering how you were. The last he heard of you was from the phone call the other day, and it’s not like he actually saw you. All he heard was you asking Tigris something. It was torture not knowing how you were. He knew that he broke you, but he also knew that your father wouldn’t be kind to the traveling news of him being drafted as a peacekeeper.

As Coriolanus put his jabber jays onto the train, his thoughts were moving one hundred miles per hour just thinking about how you were.

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your temple as you rested your head against his shoulder, soaking up the sun as you strolled through the park. “I can practically hear your thoughts, beautiful.” He murmured against your head, pressing one last kiss before glancing down at you. “What’s on your mind?”

You sigh but softly smile at his gestures, squeezing his hand that was intertwined with yours. “I don’t know, mainly the future.”

He hummed, taking a sip from his coffee before pushing for more. “What about the future?”

Shrugging, you look across the Capitol park, watching families walk around with their children. “Just in general, and what it would look like later in life… What I would do or where I would live.”

Receiving silence from Coriolanus, you continue to speak, occasionally receiving hums and nods to know he is listening.

“I also figured that I would probably still love you.” You whisper, earning an eyebrow raise at the sudden switch in topic and voice level. “I mean, I don’t think I could see myself in the future without you.”

“Probably?” Coriolanus squinted his eyes at you. “You mean you will, right?”

You roll your eyes at the question, “Yes, Coryo. I will still love you. We’ll be fine.”

He playfully pinched your hip, earning a small squeal from you. “What made you think about the future, beautiful?”

Your smile faltered at the question, looking toward the gravel and dirt instead. Coriolanus frowned at your reaction, pulling you closer to him.

“My father,” You quietly say, reaching up to grab your necklace. “He… I don’t know. He keeps asking me to pick someone else to be with instead of you and stop hanging out with Tigris. I mean, I like being with Clemensia and Livia, but I love spending time with you and Tigris. I can’t just break up with you and get with some stupid prick.”

“Hey,” Coriolanus stops you from walking any further. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. If your father hates me, what’s he going to do about it? I love you. So much. I’m secure with you, and I know whatever happens between us will be okay in the future. I love you, and nothing will ever change that. Even if you do marry a stupid prick.”

Your eyes welled with tears, burying your head in his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too, beautiful.” He put a hand on the back of your head, kissing the top. “Thank you for telling me.”

Coriolanus already knew the mess Sejanus got himself into when he told him what those in District Twelve were planning to do, so it was no shock that both Billy Taupe and Mayfair Lipp, the Mayor’s daughter, were shot and killed the night Lucy Gray performed a song about Snow.

Coriolanus had already told Spruce to get rid of the guns used to shoot Billy and Mayfair, but Sejanus’ crying and sputtering were enough to make him yell at the Plinth.

“For once, shut up!” Coriolanus directed his anger toward Sejanus, his dog tags clanging on your necklace. “All of this is your fault! It’s only gonna get worse if you don’t pull yourself together. If you breathe a word now, both of us, we’re finished. So we go back there and act like nothing is wrong.”

“I don’t know…” Sejanus choked out a sob, eyes glassy as he shook his head.

“Hey.” Coriolanus took long steps to Sejanus, grabbing the back of his neck and face. “Hey, look at me. You have to pull yourself together. You have to pull it together. You came here for me, right? We’re brothers?”

“Brothers,” Sejanus whispered out, taking deep breaths.

“So whatever you’ve done, I swear I will keep you safe. Those guns were the only loose end beside the four of us. So we’re gonna be okay. Okay? Not a word.” Coriolanus patted him, blatantly spewing more lies to him. “Okay?”

He nodded, mumbling out a response. Coriolanus patted him again, guiding him outside toward the open area of the Hob.

Eventually, the peacekeepers had to turn in for the night, but Coriolanus could tell Sejanus was struggling internally with what happened earlier. He just shook his head as he undressed from the issued uniform, tucking your necklace underneath his white shirt.

“Three years… I fought for the Capitol during the war. I’ve been angry. But this was the first time I felt ashamed. Get the other up here!” Commander Hoff pointed toward the crowd.

Murmurs went around as Coriolanus looked toward his right, hoping that Sejanus wasn’t the one being brought. He took deep breaths as the crowd parted, revealing Sejanus Plinth being pulled toward the hanging tree. Coriolanus’ cover faltered at how battered Sejanus was, his eyes widening at the boy.

“Coryo.” Sejanus watched him, tripping over his own feet. “Coryo—“

“The Capitol has received word via jabber jay that these two men conspired to break into our base’s jail and flee north to release this terrorist from captivity.” Commander Hoff pointed toward Sejanus this time, other peacekeepers putting the noose around his neck. “I’d expect this of a rebel but not from one of our own. This is treason, plain and simple. Play the recording!”

Coriolanus bit down on his tongue as the recording played, shifting his hold on his gun. He did what he had to survive, and if it meant losing Sejanus Plinth, then so be it.

“No, Coryo. Coryo, help!” Sejanus screamed from his ‘friend,’ wriggling in his constraints.

The hatch slammed down, executing all three people, including Sejanus. Coriolanus flinched at the noise, looking up at the jabber jays that were repeating Sejanus’ last words.

Everyone watched the bodies hang, slowly leaving with the thought of remorse for the young boy. As soon as the crowd cleared, Hoff dismissed his peacekeepers which allowed Coriolanus to take a breather.

He slammed down his protective gear on his thin mattress, drawing shapes on his wrist. He needed to calm down, but how could he? He just lost another person in his life, and it was all his fault. He wiped a singular tear before sighing, moving over to look through Sejanus’ belongings.

Coriolanus’ eyes immediately went to the photo card above a stack of letters. He flipped it over, realizing it was the photo taken seconds before the Tenth Annual Hunger Games began. He held back a sob at the two people in his life that have been there for him, both gone, but one truly lost.

Taking a deep breath, he took the letters from underneath and inspected them. It all came from one person. Coriolanus assumed it was Sejanus’ mother until he recognized the seal on the letter.

The Lovett seal.

Immediately, Coriolanus opened the first letter on the top, scanning the cursive words you had written. The sudden guilt and repentance Coriolanus felt for Sejanus was gone as he read further down the letter. How come he received letters? How come you sent letters to Sejanus?

He felt the weight of your necklace as he read the last few sentences. What the fuck?

Coriolanus shoved the letters back into Sejanus’ belongings, along with the photo. He was leaving for District Two tomorrow and didn’t need the distraction of both you and Sejanus when you weren’t even here.

For the next 24 hours, all Coriolanus could think about was leaving the hell hole called District Twelve. When he was training in the early mornings? He wanted to pack and leave. When sorting out the mess of jabber jays? He wanted to get on the train to Two. It was early the next morning when Coriolanus realized he could leave the mess he made behind.

After fulfilling his final tasks as a peacekeeper in Twelve, he filled his baggage with his personal items that he brought with him, along with Sejanus’ certificate of graduation and the tin box containing small shots of liquid Dean Highbottom would consume and the many letters you sent to Sejanus.

He wanted to burn them, he really did, but he had better plans for everything Sejanus owned.

“Sir.” Coriolanus saluted Commander Hoff, body itching to get on the train and leave.

“There’s been a change of plan, Private Snow.”

“Congratulations, Mister Snow.” Coriolanus heard Dr. Gaul as he approached her, holding onto his peacekeeper hat. “I’ve asked President Ravinstill to grant you a full pardon, effective immediately. I also told him that you are too promising to waste in the military. So you’ll be studying under me now at the Capitol University.”

He watched her as she fed meat to whatever was swimming in the pool in front of him, not wanting to meet her eyes. “I can’t afford University.”

“A certain Mr. Strabo Plinth has offered to pay for everything you need while you’re there. All for being such a good friend to his Sejanus. He doesn’t know quite how good a friend you were, of course. I never mentioned your little recording.”

Coriolanus held his breath and stood up straight, Dr. Gaul earned his full attention.

Dr. Gaul tossed another piece of meat into the pool, “Quite impressive, how you sent your only friend to the noose just to get my attention.”

“That’s not what I did.” Coriolanus denied.

“Are you sure? Because I think that won you the Plinth Prize, after all.” He loosened his shoulders, slightly tilting his head at her words. “The President has agreed to another year of the Games. People watched. And I have you to thank for that.”

She placed the tongs onto the metal tray beside her, clasping her hands in front of herself. “Not to mention your dear flower. She obviously played an important role, so thank her for that.”

Coriolanus clenched his jaw but said nothing.

“But before I take you under my wing, after everything you’ve seen out there in the real world, let me ask you one final time.” Dr. Gaul watched his gaze shift toward the eels. “What are the Hunger Games for?”

“I used to think that the Hunger Games were punishment for the districts. Then I thought they served as a warning to us here in the Capitol about the threat the districts posed.” He let out a sharp breath, remembering all that he’s done and what you’ve said. “Now I know the whole world is an arena. And we need the Hunger Games. Every year. To remind us all who we truly are.”

“And who are you, do you determine?” She grinned wickedly.

Coriolanus chuckled, the necklace worn underneath rustling. “The victor.”

“Welcome home, Mister Snow.”

“I’m going on a run.” Coriolanus knocked on Tigris’ door frame, watching her stick up a thumb.

He shook his head at her and left. It was hard to break a habit he was already used to, so his daily runs in the morning would have to be done until University starts again in September. Coriolanus meant to come by your manor multiple times because your birthday was coming up, but somehow, all forces were against him, pulling him away from it with other jobs Dr. Gaul, his family, or the Plinths presented him. He wasn’t planning on visiting you today, but the world seemed to hate him.

Stopping at the cafe, he ordered a hot coffee for himself and tea for Tigris and Grandma’am. He wasn’t going to come back home empty-handed of course. The barista took his order and went to make it, letting Coriolanus breathe for a while.

It wasn’t until he saw you dressed in a black dress, assuming you were mourning over the loss of Sejanus, did he lose his breath again. You were sipping on your hot chocolate with a planner and book in front, not realizing that a certain blond was to your far left.

“Snow.” The barista called out in the shop, causing both you and Coriolanus to snap your heads up.

He caught your gaze, eyes slowly flitting down to your left hand which adorned a precious rock.

So it was true. Coriolanus thought back to your many letters to Sejanus, watching as you tucked away your left hand and focused back on your work.

Y/N Lovett was engaged.

taglist 1: @peterparkerluvvbot @nathaslosthershit @springholland @psychicpuppyarcade @whodis-26 @coconut-dreamz @cowgirllharry @slytherinholland @lacysversion @perks-of-being-jojo @itzmeme @noodlesketchbook @upsidedownjill @mizuki80 @unclecrunkle @tiaamberxx @bxtchopolis @starrynightstory @namelesslosers @lugiastark @dangelnleif @aemondsb1tch @witchsbitchestime @ace-spades-1 @ordinarylokix @kookie29 @secretsicanthideanymore @angelscrime @ms-longbeach @rosieleej @alpha-mommy69 @loklaufeysonssgodess @aoi-targaryen @imaginebeingmentallystable @sighsophiia @innercreationflower @cascadingbliss @edb954 @castellandiangelo @nowitsmissing @lookclosernow @bambi-horror @httpfandxms @goobitagoobre @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @captainbabybear @becauseseaotters @mvdhvtterxx @moonisu @boredperson120 (comment to be added)

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dotieeee · 2 months

Text

The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 10

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

Overall Warnings:

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

Masterlist

Level 10 Warnings:

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

Replay Level 9

Ready? Level 10 Start:

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

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

But the voice doesn’t seem to hear it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let him go, Audrey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You recognise those bright, pretty eyes anywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The console flashes a warning:

SHUTDOWN command rejected.

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

First-level administration credentials required to override.

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

Credentials confirmed.

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

Press ⬅️ to Resume. Press Enter to Continue.

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

SHUTDOWN OVERRIDE confirmed.

Changing Game Status to: TERMINATED.

Program shutting down...

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

Game Status: TERMINATED.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why is she here? What is this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She has to be bluffing, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your uncle would be ashamed of you.

“Call the beetles off…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No...nonono...

“It’s in my desk drawer!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A virus.”

“Who sent it?!” She barks.

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

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

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

You exhale sharply in relief.

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

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

Dr Gaul sighs cheerily as she addresses you both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey now – ”

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

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

“No, let me go – !”

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

Even if that means facing the inevitable repercussions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nellie. Please.”

He almost sounds like he’s begging.

“Nellie, say something.”

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

“I don't know you, Coriolanus Snow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t ever want to see you again.”

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

“You’re not getting away from me.”

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

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

It’s her. Who else can it be?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dr Gaul, I may need your help.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s what the Games are for.

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

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

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

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

Acacius E. Innis.

Enter Level 11

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!

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

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