#it was hard enough keeping this chapter a secret

[gxtfictx]

are you in?

summary: compilation of short blurbs of your's and Emily's relationship before the team knew. Some based on actual chapters. it's just basically how you managed to keep it a secret TW: I fucked up the show's timeline so try to forget all you know about it, "only one bed" but reverse (it may be shit lol), suggestive content, i think that's it A/N: Writing this one has been a pain in the ass because every time i edited it i'd loose the changes so there are parts that i don't actually like at all but here it is nonetheless. As always: English isn't my first language. Reviews are appreciated. Like and reblog <3

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ new blouse?

A near death experience really deserves some kind of celebration

and you suppose a near-job loss experience does too

a week had passed after Emily and Hotch had rejoined the team on that case on Milwaukee, and Emily's head injury was almost just another scar, so when Morgan had asked you if you wanted to go out for drinks, you had looked at your girlfriend and said:"yeah, wny not"

and there you were, sitting at a table right next to Penelope, waiting for your girlfriend to bring all your drinks, and overhearing a conversation she was having with Hayley and Hotch, who seemed very relieved to have the night for themselves. You were supposed to be a part of that conversation, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to listen.

All your focus was deposited on your girlfriend, she had her arms rested on the counter trying to get the waiter's attention, a pair of dark jeans accentuated her figure, and all you could think about was getting home and ripping that blouse off of her.

You would have to settle for just staring, for now. Emily turns around to take a look at your table and catches you starring, you blush instantly, but she just smiles and gives you a wink, which makes you smile too, and suddenly your taken out of the trance by a voice.

"y/n are you listening to me?" Penelope says trying to grab your attention

"sorry, yes, what is it?" she looks at you suspiciously, as if with just her eyes she could decipher what was going on inside your head. She can't go on because Emily comes back with all your drinks, leaving them on the table and sitting next to you , maybe just a little bit too close but you could not complain.

She simply joins the conversation like it was nothing, meanwhile you sip on your drink hopeful that the alcohol will help you take your girlfriend away from your mind. However, Emily has different plans for you, as she rests her hand on you thigh behind the table so no one can see, dangerously high, she can't be bothered at all, she just keeps talking to Hotch as if nothing was going on, but all you can think about is her.

Morgan, who had spent a good hour on the dance floor, collecting girl's phone numbers, comes around, he grabs Penelope's hand to take her to the dance floor with him.

She shoots from her sit, swinging her hips to the rhythm of the music, Morgan guides her, a huge smile on his face as he pulls her to dance with him.

To everyone’s surprise Hotch pulls Hayley to dance with him as well, and just like that, in a matter of seconds, Emily and you are left alone.

When you turn your head to look at her, she places her face closer to yours, dangerously close, you’d say, but you can’t bring yourself to separate.

“Are you having fun baby?” She asks, a soft smile on her lips “yes, but it’s getting hard not to touch you” she smiles, her face closer now you can almost feel her lips brushing against yours. Her hand, which was still on your leg, starts caressing your thigh, setting progressively higher. You’re starting to lean into the contact when you suddenly remember where you are. Anyone who looked at you right now could see the whole scene.

“Em, stop” you say, drawing her hand away from your leg and separating your face form hers “they’re gonna see”

“Ok, yeah, sorry” she says, fake regret on her face as she takes another sip of her drink

“So, I caught you staring at me before, what was it that was so interesting?” She says like it’s the most innocent question ever, but you just know she wants to bother you a bit more. You would never admit how much you love it.

You check no one is looking at you. Both Hayley and Hotch are in their own little world, and Morgan and Penelope are too focused on each other to care. So you lean into her to whisper in her ear

“I was thinking how hot my girlfriend looks and how much I want to rip that blouse off of her” she chuckles and you go for another sip

“Thank you, it’s new” she says louder, like you just asked her the most simple question about her clothes

She leans into your ear this time, with the softest, sexiest voice she just whispers, the feeling of her breath on your ear is suffocating now

“I would love to let you take it off however you want. Do you want to go?” She asks, you eagerly nod your head, begging her with your eyes to take you home right now.

“C’mon, I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well and I’m driving you home” she smiles at you and winks, you follow her to the back of the bar where JJ and Spence are, to let them know you’re leaving.

For your surprise, JJ walks up to you too.

“We have a case” she just says, and you look at each other with disappointment.

Looks like Emily’s blouse was staying on for now.

𖨆♡𖨆 3x03 scared to death

It had been a weird morning.

You woke up with a headache. After your last case you had arrived at Emily’s apartment, and parked your car outside so you could get to work on different cars the next day.

You were thinking about having a calm night. A bottle of wine, a movie, Chinese takeout, falling asleep early enough so you wouldn’t be so tired the next day, all that.

Little did you know Emily had some things in mind for you.

The first glass of wine was alright, you were barely feeling it, but after that one another 3 followed, you came up with this stupid game of drinking every time the movie had a cringe scene, and lucky for you the movie was really bad. You would sometimes forget that particular wine affected your girlfriend to a certain level, so one thing leading to another you had fallen asleep at more or less 4am.

Next day you wake up to a very loud phone call. You turn around confused by the phone ringing, but you’re not sure where exactly it’s coming from. It had flown away yesterday night along with your clothes and had landed on the bedroom floor.

Emily's arm was wrapped around your waist, your leg on top of hers, you were both just a mess of sheets and naked bodies. You get out of bed, waking your girlfriend up, who lets out an angry groan.

You finally find the phone behind Emily's pants, JJ's name appearing on the screen. "Hello?" you answer "Hey, we have a case, I can't reach Emily, and you're both late, do you know where she could be?" she asks. You check the time

8:15am

Shit

shitshitshitshitfuckfuckfuck

"yeah, I'm sorry, ugh... i don't know where Emily is, i had a problem with my....kitchen sink...but i'll be there as son as i can ok? bye JJ" you don't even wait for her to answer, you just hang up the phone and run to wake Emily up.

"Em! Baby wake up its 8am we're late!" she finally opens her eyes, her somnolent face tries to decipher what you just said. Her body starts moving first, siting upright.

"JJ just called, we have a case, you have to call her back, tell her there's traffic or something, I'll leave first ok?" you run around, trying to find something wearable. You already had your own drawer at her place for times like this.

You fly around the apartment checking you have everything with you, car keys, purse, phone... You walk up to Emily, still getting dressed, only a pair of pants on and her bra, she’s looking around for something to wear with the pants.

You grab her waist, pulling her in for a kiss “I’ll see you there ok?” You tell her. She smiles at you, then grins, still half a sleep, and you leave.

You weren’t exactly sure if it had been the wine, or the 4 hours of sleep, but you were hoping the meds you had taken with your breakfast (a coffee) would start acting quickly, because your headache was starting to get unbearable.

Sitting on the round table, you revise the file with the case, when Emily arrives, excusing for being late, but Hotch hasn’t even arrived yet and we hadn’t started, so she’s technically still on time.

As soon as you look up to catch a glimpse of her, your headache magically disappears. You regret it immediately because now she’s all you can think about.

It’s ridiculous, you spent hours last night with each other, hell, you spent all day with her! You should’ve had enough of her by now! But how could you when she was wearing that red tank top?

You stare at every movement she makes, taking her jacket off, uncovering her slightly muscular arms, you cannot physically take your eyes off of her, following her every move. Red was definitely her color, there was no argument about that. You could not focus on the case anymore.

After the usual “wheels up in 30” they all leave the room, but you grab your girlfriends arm last second, trying to keep her from leaving. “Em wait a second” You’re both left alone, looking to see if there’s anyone left in the room, everyone has left and far from you two.

"What is it?" she asks

You feel the need to whisper although there's no one in the room anymore "You look so good in this I'm genuinely considering going down on you now" you say tugging the red fabric between your fingers. She smiles widely, getting closer to your face.

You aren't sure where this renewed confidence is coming from, it's just that Emily made you feel like that sometimes.

"was yesterday not enough?" she says in a teasing voice, but you can tell she's feeling just like you. Her face mere inches from yours, you are almost begging her for some action.

"we still have 30 minutes" she twirls her head as if asking you, and you nod, unable to form any words

"ok you go first, I'll meet you down" you're already crossing the door when you turn around, check for anyone who could see you, but there's no one even close to your vicinity.

You rush back, giving Emily a peck on her lips, and separating to go run downstairs.

˚☽˚｡⋆ Can I join?

It's almost time. You can even taste it.

A free night. It's been some time since you got one of those.

You could even see it. A wine glass, your big ass bathtub, a dozen candles, some exotic scented bath products and your wonderful girlfriend.

You look across the room for her, she's working on some files still. You could say she literally feels your eyes on her, because she turns around and catches you staring at her, smiling warmly at you and winking, which makes you instantly blush.

"Any plans for the night, Prentiss?" Morgan asks her coming by her desk, you're already walking up to them so you don't miss a thing from their conversation.

"yes. I got a date" she just says like it was nothing.

A weird sensation runs through your body, a mix between jealousy and excitement. You obviously knew you were the date, but the jealousy came mostly from the fact that she could not mention it was in fact you.

"really? who's the lucky one?" Morgan asks rising his eyebrows

"hot tub" she answers like nothing, just playing it cool, but the grin on her face suggests she has been picturing your night just like you had.

"oh, that sounds like a party" he teases, but she doesn't lose a single second on it "you're so not invited"

"am i?" you come from nowhere, you are right behind Emily, who turns around, holding back a smile, she gives in the game, after all, this is the perfect way to make them not suspect a thing.

"now you, i could consider it" she answers, and you lower your head, smiling to the floor so no one sees it.

"Now that sounds like a better party" he mutters.

.•°•.•. .•.•°•.

The soft bathrobe hugs your body keeping it warm, a wine glass in your hand, resting your back against the sink, you wait as your girlfriend finishes the bath.

The whole scene is idyllic, candles lit all around, low warm light illuminating the stance, Emily's black hair falling on her shoulders, her robe barely closed, she lights the last two candles, and checks the water temperature before walking up to you

"ready?" she asks sweetly, untying the knot in your robe, she takes off hers and gets in first, giving you a hand to help you get in, yourself.

You lay back, resting your back against her, relaxing immediately into her touch. White bubbles around both your bodies. She kisses your neck from the back. Breathing out, you groan at the feeling, she caresses the skin of your ams with her fingertips, gently.

"do you think Morgan can even begin to imagine this?" you ask her, she stops her ministrations to answer you

"i really hope he doesn't, but teasing him is fun" you chuckle

"well, imagine how we'll blow out his mind when we tell him" you begin wondering. She kisses the sensitive skin on the curve of your neck, nipping at the skin, you close you eyes leaning on the contact.

"are you thinking about it?" she stops to ask

"Morgan? hell no" she chuckles

"i mean about telling Morgan" you turn around to look at her, making a bit of water overflowing the tub

"well, yeah, I mean, I think about telling all of them" she twists her head trying to understand

"not now though! Not yet... at all" you can see her relaxing instantly, a smile begining to form on her lips

"Em, this past months have been...amazing, and i want to keep that for ourselves just a little bit more... also the sneaking around is very fun" you both laugh in agreement "but?" she asks waiting for you to add something more

"but, that doesn't mean I'm not excited for our friends to know, you know? I mean, going out together and actually kissing, dancing together, to be able to say we are, well, together tonight... basically just doing it all together" her big brown eyes linger on to you, she's full smiling now, you know she feels the same, but she just wouldn't be the one to tell you.

"i love you" she mutters, you smile, holding to her shoulders for support, warm drops of water running down your arms, you kiss her gently in approval.

"well, i say let's enjoy the meantime then" her hands fly to your waist to hold you, and you kiss her deeply again.

𓇢𓆸 Care to share?

Hotch had decided to call it a day, it was too late, and you all knew how difficult it could be to function when you don't get enough sleep.

You had't had time to check in earlier at the hotel, so when you got there and saw it, you knew that wood creaked like shit.

You had expected nothing less, being in a cold state, the hotel reception had a big fireplace which kept the ambience cozy and warm, the wooden planks creaked behind your feet even behind the thick carpet.

Hotch turns to us, with the room keys in his hands "I'm sorry but this is a small village, this was the only place that still had spare rooms, and they're all packed up this week so some of us will have to share" he says.

"how many?" Morgan asks concerned "two double, three single rooms" Hotch says

"well I'm not sharing with pretty boy here" he complains

"Dave and i can share one" he says "Well, y/n and I also don't mind sharing" Emily rushes to say. You walk up to her "right?" she asks as if she needed to make sure "yeah of course, no problem" you say, smiling at her. Her quick willfulness to share with you and you eager reaction winning you a suspicious look from JJ, but you couldn't bring yourself to care, because tonight none of you would have to sneak out, waiting till it's late enough for the rest to have fallen asleep, you wouldn't have to wake up early to get back to your room, you had your place tonight.

"alright, thank you" you think it's funny, you should be the one thanking Hotch, not the other way around. You grab your key and Emily follows you upstaris.

.•°•.•. .•.•°•.

You can tell the place is old just by the keys, it's an inn more than a hotel. You turn the key in the lock, opening the door partially, when you feel Emily's hands on your waist, grabbing it, you close your eyes as soon as you feel her lips on yours, and she kisses you deeply, possessively.

You surround her body with your arms for support, leaning into the kiss, closing the door behind you with your foot. Tugging your hands on her hair, you surrender to the connection and just give in, not caring who could've caught you mere seconds ago on the hallway.

She pushes you agains the door, her hands finding the way behind your shirt, touching you everywhere, she moves to kiss the corner of your lips, your cheek, the skin behind your ear, leaving a trail of wet warm kisses, finding your pulse point you let out a needy whimper in approval.

"you think JJ knows?" you ask breathlessly "she suspects something, but she can't technically prove it" her lips brushing your neck with every word, her soft breath warm on your skin.

"Well, she should start paying more attenti-" your mouth falls open. It was the first time you had tken a good look at the room since you entered "Em, look" you say trying to stop her ministrations much to your distaste to make her look around.

Emily turns around and takes a look at the room. You should've guessed this would've happened. Hotch would never slept in the same bed as Rossi, and you shouldn't have to do that ether, right?

"Two beds?" she says, in awe. "what do you suggest?" she asks

"should we join them?" you try "we'll end up falling through the middle" she says "ok, then. You chose"

Next day you wake up completely wrapped around Emily, your nose buried in her neck, inhaling her scent, you were almost thankful for the small size of that bed.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

A/N: this one took me a long ass time to finish so i hope its not shit. Like & reblog, any feedback is greatly appreciated. Also I'm open to requests because I'm almost out of ideas

#criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss lesbian #emily prentiss x reader #lesbian #lesbian pride #wlw #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #sapphic #criminal minds #criminal minds one #criminal minds oneshot #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss fanfiction

[theflyingfeeling]

fanfic rambling in the tags, nothing interesting really, just me talking to myself lol, okay to ignore or read as you please ✨

#so i've found the perfect prompt list for an olli/allu fic advent calendar sorta thing #but i'm too intimidated by my own expectations and ridiculously high standards to even start writing any of them 😭 #honestly these prompts are so insanely cute and fit olli/allu PERFECTLY #like. i'm actually having trouble deciding which ones to use because i want to write them all 🥺💞 #but i'm so so scared that i'll just end up writing the same (boring) story over again for 24 times 😔 #i wish i could just write without thinking and trying so hard to write a literary masterpiece #when i KNOW it's alright if it's just a silly little story about my blorbos #that's perfectly enough and i know this but my brain's just not having it 😩 #also if i were to write 24 independent fics i'd have to keep them short and simple but. that's not how i do fics. unfortunately (for me) #to overcome this i guess one option would be to write just one longer piece with 24 chapters #and somehow try to include the prompt of the day in each chapter 🤔 #but i don't want to make this even more complicated to myself lol especially because i'm planning to write AUs for a couple of the prompts #i REALLY want to do prompts (of any kind!!) but i'm just so scared of stressing myself out to another months-long writer's block 😭 #fair enough the last time that happened (last winter/spring) i was in a shitty place mentally anyway #and so far i've been happy to be writing on random bursts of inspiration. that's how it's the easiest for me. the words just...flow out #i'm so insanely jealous of anyone who can just create stuff when given any prompt 😭 #y'all are super humans to me how do you do it pls spill your secrets #and anyone tempted to comfort me by saying i shouldn't stress myself over this and that i don't have to write anything i don't wanna write: #i knoooooowwww and i appreactiate the sentiment but the thing is i actually DO want to write these prompts 😭 #in theory at least. because they really are cute as fuck wth 🥺 #the problem is that i can't /force/ myself to write something at the snap of my fingers without a clear idea besides the prompt #and also because i know it can take me days to finish even one story let alone 24 💀 #so to even START on this project is a little intimidating 🫣 #i just fear i won't have the patience :( #and when i realise i won't be able to finish the project i'll become frustrated with myself #if only i knew how to write shorter one-scenes in order to not tire myself out #but often i find those kind of fics somehow...unsatisfying :( #i'm just a sucker for crafting the context/background for stories. a little flesh around the bones if you will 🤧 #okay that's all now i'm gonna go stare at a wall while doing nothing useful for the rest of the weekend byeeee #if you read this far i hope you're having a nice saturday

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 1. a fresh start

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: After you settle into your tiny, dingy apartment safely in the middle of nowhere, you go on the hunt for a job to help make ends meet. There, you meet someone who forces back memories you would rather forget.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, PTSD-type symptoms

WC: 6K

Series Masterlist

Anybody else who walked into the small, one bedroom apartment you were currently standing in would most likely be revolted. The kitchen faucet dripped incessantly, the toilet was stained, the carpet looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a decade, and the entire place smelled like garlic from the pizza place downstairs. But when you looked at it, you smiled. You could work with this. Rummaging around the dollar store bags you left on the kitchen counter, you pulled out all of the cleaning supplies you picked up and got to work.

The landlord - who also happened to be the owner of the pizza place - seemed surprised you wanted to rent it. He said the place had been vacant for close to a year, and considering the state, he knocked off quite a bit on the price. But you could see the potential beyond the grime, and you never shied away from a little hard work, so you jumped at the opportunity. It took you almost the whole day, but you managed to get the place smelling halfway decent. The bathroom and kitchen both looked sparkling new - well, relatively. The only thing you couldn't figure out was the faucet, but that concerned you the least since your landlord said that utilities were included.

Aside from the low rent, the next best thing about the place was it came partially furnished. It had a queen bed, a beat up sofa, and a rickety dining room table, but that was all you needed. At this point, you were just happy to not be staying in another dirty motel. You were ready to find a home, plant down some roots, and start fresh. And Fredericksburg, Texas was just as good a town as any.

You were surprised by how cute the town was when you first drove down Main Street. It was quiet and quaint, and very much had a small town atmosphere. When you were at the dollar store, you had overheard the cashier making conversation with every single customer as if she had known them all her life. By the time it was your turn to cash out, she examined you quizzically, most likely trying to place you, but fortunately she let it go and didn't pry. You weren't in the mood to make up more lies. You were exhausted from being on the road so much the past few weeks, and you just wanted to collapse into bed in a somewhat clean room.

And that is exactly what you did, after you stocked the small fridge with some essentials from the grocery store at the corner of the street so you would at least have coffee and something to eat in the morning.

As you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling fan swirling above, you silently thanked your grandmother all those years ago who told you since you were old enough to understand when you meet a man, keep your own bank account. At the time, you laughed, wondering why on earth anyone would purposely keep secrets from their partner. That it seemed like such a betrayal to even suggest it. But luckily for you, when you met Patrick, you already had your own bank account. You let it lie dormant for a while, almost forgetting you had it. Eventually, you told yourself you should close the account. But that required going down to the branch in person, and you never seemed to find the time to do it. Or maybe some part of you always knew there was something ugly about him, and maybe your grandmother's words had more of an effect on you than you realized.

Whatever it was, it's the reason you were able to find a shitty little apartment in the middle of nowhere without anybody being able to track you down. And for the first time in a long time, you closed your eyes and felt safe.

The next morning, after you drank your surprisingly palatable off brand coffee and ate a borderline stale blueberry muffin, you headed down the steps of your apartment to the sidewalk lining Main Street. You took a deep breath and looked around, a small smile playing on your lips. The town was just waking up, businesses just opening their doors, cars rolling lazily down the street. You had your own car - it was an old Honda Civic that you weren't entirely sure had many years left - but you wouldn't need it today. Picking an apartment on the main drag in town afforded you the option to walk almost anywhere. So you chose a direction and started walking, glancing in the windows of the shops, looking for any help wanted signs.

You tried a small clothing boutique and a coffee shop before entering the pharmacy. There wasn't a help wanted sign out front, but you needed to pick up a few things, anyway. Things the dollar store didn't have, or things you didn't exactly trust to buy there.

You grabbed a basket by the door and smiled at the teenager behind the counter who greeted you before heading down the first aisle. You snagged some generic pain reliever and a box of tampons before you made your way to the hair products. Flipping open the caps, you took a hesitant sniff and put them back before deciding on a cheaper bottle that smelled like strawberries and didn't make you gag. Dropping the bottles in your basket, you wandered past the makeup, looking at it longingly but knowing you wouldn't waste the money on it. Instead, you stopped in front of an end-cap where a display of chapstick caught your eye.

"Sarah?" you heard a deep voice call from behind. You ignored it and kept looking at the display, landing on a vanilla scent as the man walked past. You didn't see his face, but you smelled his cologne, and you instantly recoiled. Your heart began to slam in your chest and your throat felt tight. You squeezed your eyes shut as you focused on taking deep breaths. It's not him, it's not him, it's not him.

"Excuse me, can I grab one of those?" a girl's voice said softly behind you. Taking a shaky step back, you nodded and forced a weak smile.

"Sorry, of course," you told her. She had beautiful, dark brown eyes and thick hair with tight curls framing her face. She looked like she was in her early teens, and based on the backpack over her shoulders, you were probably right.

"Sarah?" you heard the voice call again, and you saw her eyes flick up. You realized the man with the cologne was probably related to her, and you weren't sure you would be able to handle smelling it again, so you quickly took off down the next aisle to hide, waiting until their voices carried them to the cash registers and out the front door before taking a few steadying breaths and forcing yourself to move.

Minor setback aside, you had a pretty good morning. You found you had some luck at the diner a few blocks over. The owner took a liking to you right away and interviewed you on the spot.

"You came at the perfect time, darlin'," he said, taking a seat across from you. "Just missed the breakfast rush, so I got the time to talk right now. Name's Tommy," he said, extending his hand. You smiled and shook it, introducing yourself, then quickly brought your hand back to your lap to nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt.

"You ever work in a restaurant before?"

"Uh, yeah, it's been a few years. But I think it's like riding a bike. I have really good time management skills, I have experience handling cash, I'm friendly, I'm great at anticipating customer's needs-"

Tommy laughed and patted his hand on the table.

"Sounds like you got more skills than half the waitstaff I already got. Some of the older ladies ain't exactly friendly, but they've been here so long, no one seems to mind," he explained quietly with a wink. You chuckled and glanced down at your hands.

"You from around here? I don't think I recognize you," he asked, his eyebrows pinching together. You shook your head.

"Nope, just moved here." You briefly wondered if you should lie - you were so used to lying at this point, it came as second nature - but you couldn't see what it would hurt to tell him the truth. "I'm from Pennsylvania. Just got in last night, actually."

"Long way from home, what brought you here?" he asked, leaning back to study you. You just shrugged.

"Looking for a fresh start," you said honestly. If you were really looking to start over, the lying needed to stop, too.

Tommy nodded and glanced behind you before meeting your gaze again.

"Well, you're hired. If you want the job, that is," he said. You grinned, not expecting that.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. When can you start?"

"Uh, tomorrow?" you offered, your mind racing. You weren't sure if you would need new clothes so you wanted to give yourself the rest of the day, at least, to prepare.

"Works for me. Maria," Tommy called over your shoulder. You turned around and saw a beautiful woman with long, dark braids walking over. He introduced her as his wife, who also happened to be the hostess. You stood to shake her hand, exchanging warm smiles as Tommy told her your name.

"Why don't you come by tomorrow 'round 9 and Maria can show you the ropes? I work the kitchen, she's got the floor," he explained, and you nodded along excitedly.

"I'll be here," you confirmed, the grin still plastered on your face. Tommy left to head back to the kitchen as Maria told you what you needed to bring the next day. You took out your new phone and began jotting down everything she mentioned.

On the way back home, you stopped to pick up a pair of nonslip sneakers from a shoe store. Maria had given you a couple plain black skirts and black t-shirts with the diner's logo that all of the waitresses wore as their uniform before you left. To celebrate, you got a pizza from the pizza place below your apartment and watched old reruns on the ancient TV in your living room.

Things were finally starting to come together.

"Refills are free. Cream and sugar is down here, along with any extra condiments. Coffee should be made every hour but you'll go through the pot long before that," Maria said to you, pointing as she walked behind the counter. "Here's some extra notepads and pens. The computer system is kind of old but pretty easy to use. Tommy'll ring the bell when food is up, we try to move it as quick as possible before it gets cold, even if it's not your table," she said, turning around to face you. "It might take some time to learn the table numbers but we have a little cheat sheet next to all the registers. And if you're ever not sure, don't hesitate to ask."

"I think I got it," you said confidently, tapping your pen against your notepad.

"You can shadow with Betty today, she's been here for decades, long before Tommy and me ever bought the place. She knows her shit forwards and backwards," Maria said, leading you back to the kitchen where you saw an older, round woman struggling with a cardboard box.

"Here, let me help," you told her, rushing over to take the box from her.

"Thanks, sweetie," she said with a smile. "Can you take it up front for me?"

"Of course," you said, following her through the kitchen.

Maria introduced you to Betty as you helped her stock the ketchup bottles underneath the front counter. You heard Tommy's voice call for Maria through the kitchen window and she excused herself, leaving the two of you to tend to the only two customers in the place.

The morning went by quickly. Betty was nicer than you expected. In your experience, when a newcomer joins a seasoned team, it sometimes takes time for the veterans to warm up, but she seemed very eager to show you the ropes, and she had the patience of a saint. All of the customers seemed to know her name and history, some occasionally asking about her husband or her children. As it inched closer to noon, the diner started getting busier again, so you began to branch out a bit on your own, taking a few simple orders and delivering food or refills whenever you could. Betty was deep in conversation with a regular when she waved you over.

"D'you mind takin' care of him?" she asked, nodding over to the man who just sat down. "That's Joel, Tommy's brother. Don't charge him for nothin', he comes in all the time."

You nodded and pulled your pen and notepad out of your apron as you headed over to greet him. When you finally lifted your gaze, you noticed he was wearing a worn, brown suit with a striped tie and as you got closer, you saw the little gold star pinned to his belt and the bulge of a handgun under his blazer.

Your breath got caught in your throat when you made the realization he's a cop.

It's fine, it's fine, it's fine you kept repeating to yourself, forcing your feet to move. You thought you were okay by the time you stood in front of him, but then his cologne invaded your senses, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck.

Fortunately, his head was bent down looking at the menu and didn't see your reaction, which afforded you a few precious seconds to collect yourself. It's not him.

"Hey Betty, I'll have-" he glanced up and realized you were not, in fact, Betty. His warm brown eyes trailed over your face for a moment too long, making you shift your weight nervously.

"Sorry, didn't uh - have we met?" he asked, his eyes unblinking as he continued to stare, and you felt the heat creeping up your neck. It's fine, you're fine.

"No," you finally managed to squeak out, shaking your head and introducing yourself right as his eyes drifted to your name tag. "What can I get for you?"

You needed to walk away. You weren't sure how much longer you could stand there smelling that fucking cologne and staring at that badge. But for some reason, he didn't answer you. Maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in your own issues, you would have recognized the look in his eye. The look that clearly expressed interest beyond you taking his food order. And maybe, if you weren't so messed up, you would have realized he was insanely handsome. Maybe, if you could have seen past the cologne and the gold star on his waist, you would have noticed how plush his lips looked, or how big and strong his hands were. You had no idea how you could possibly miss how broad his shoulders were or how thick and soft the messy, dark curls were on top of his head.

But you did miss all of those things the first time you saw him, because he just kept staring and the scent was making your stomach turn and the fluorescent light was shining too brightly off that damn star, so you repeated yourself with a little more edge to your voice than you usually had.

He finally snapped out of it and glanced down at the menu, quickly telling you his order. You wrote it down and held your breath, only letting it go once you were around the corner and far enough away. He comes in all the time, Betty's words replayed in your mind. You were either going to need to find a way to deal with your issues, or find a new job.

"Hiya, Joel. New girl take care of you?" Betty asked as she ambled over to refill his coffee. His eyes flicked around the diner, following your form as you smiled and chatted warmly with other customers.

"Yeah, when did she start?" he asked, trying to sound noncommittal, but Betty saw right through it.

"Today," she told him with a smirk. "Real smart. Pretty, too, don'tcha think?"

"Uh," Joel stammered before clearing his throat. "Yeah, suppose so."

"I think she's single," Betty told him, leaning up against the counter.

"When are you gonna quit tryin' to set me up with every woman in this town?" Joel asked her with a grin.

"Whenever you decide to finally settle down," she shot right back. "You need a woman in your life, Joel."

"Do you do this to all your customers, Betty? Grill 'em 'bout their love lives and tell 'em what they need, like you know best?"

"I do know best, Joel," she said with a wink. "And you know it."

"Yeah, well. I got my hands full with Sarah and work down at the station. Don't got time for all that," he said, taking a sip of his black coffee.

"Sarah's 'bout to be goin' off to college before you know it, and there ain't nearly enough crime in this town to keep you that busy," she said with a shake of her head.

Joel mumbled something under his breath before taking another sip of coffee and glancing around the dining room.

"What was that?" Betty asked, leaning in and cupping her ear. Joel sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Don't think she likes me much, anyway," he said, clearer now.

"Oh, well I can find out for you, sugar. All you gotta do is ask." Betty gave Joel the biggest shit eating grin she could muster. He took a deep breath before asking what he knew would be a huge mistake, but he suddenly needed to know the answer.

"Can you..." he trailed off, chewing the inside of his cheek and staring down at the closed menu.

"Can I what?"

Joel groaned and dragged his eyes back up to Betty.

"Can you find out if she'd be interested?" he finally spit out, and Betty clapped her hands.

"Of course I will, Joel! I would absolutely love to," she gushed, and he rolled his eyes again. Just then, he saw you come around the corner and go behind the counter, completely ignoring the two of you before reaching up to the kitchen window and grabbing his lunch. You turned around and gave him what looked to be a forced smile and carefully set the plate down in front of him with a bottle of ketchup. Betty took a step back and watched with a glimmer in her eye as Joel's neck began to flush.

"Can I get you anything else?" you asked. Your voice sounded sweet and you were smiling, but your smile didn't reach your eyes. Maybe he was reading too much into it.

"Nope, all set, thank you," he said, giving you a warm smile in return, but before he even had a chance to say anything else, to try to make a connection and learn more about you, you scurried away. He glanced over at Betty and raised his eyebrows.

"See?"

She waved him off and picked up a rag to wipe down the counter.

"She's just nervous, is all."

The embarrassment still sat with you by the time you arrived back to your apartment that evening. When Betty caught you off guard and asked what you thought of Joel, you couldn't turn down the idea fast enough. You must have looked and sounded crazy based on her reaction. Your only saving grace was Joel had already left the diner and didn't hear you vehemently tell her you wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn't his fault, you weren't interested in hurting his feelings, but you were far too vulnerable still. The wounds were too fresh and the memories were too strong.

Besides, even if you weren't in the unfortunate position you were in, you wouldn't feel right dragging even more people down with you. You dug this grave, so you had to dig yourself out. And you were on the right track, too. As far as you knew, nobody knew where you were. You were incredibly careful, you kept a low profile, and you didn't contact a single person back home. You had no idea who you could even trust anymore, so the safest bet was to just cut all ties and start over.

You weren't going to risk everything by getting involved with some guy. Okay, he was more like a man. But still. Your situation was far too complicated to get involved with anybody. Technically, you shouldn't get involved with anybody.

No, it was a very bad idea.

So why couldn't you stop thinking about him?

"Stop it," you muttered out loud to yourself as you paced around your little apartment. With a huff, you picked up the small potted plant you bought on clearance and gave it a little bit of water from the dripping kitchen sink before putting it back on the windowsill.

Remember what he smelled like? Remember he's a cop?

That did the trick. Those two simple reminders erased all prior thoughts about the handsome sheriff who visited the diner earlier that day.

And as you tucked yourself into bed that night, you convinced yourself the only reason who were momentarily intrigued by the man's interest was flattery. You were simply flattered someone looked at you in that way. It's been a long time since anybody had, and it just made you feel good.

Yep, that's all it was.

When Joel sat down at the counter the next day and was greeted by Betty instead of you, he was surprised to find he was disappointed. He had just met you, he knew nothing about you, he barely even spoke to you. Why should he care if you were waiting on him today or not?

"She ain't here," Betty said when she caught Joel glancing around the dining room. He tried not to look deflated.

"Who?"

Betty laughed heartily at that and had to pause to catch her breath so she wouldn't spill his coffee.

"Listen, Joel," she said, setting the coffee pot down and leaning on the counter. "Remember what I said yesterday? 'Bout how I always know what's best?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, eyeing her up and bracing for what was coming next.

"Well, turns out I might have been wrong. There's a first time for everythin', right?" she said, forcing a laugh that he didn't reciprocate.

"What'dya mean?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I don't think she's interested in datin' anyone right now," was all she said, and he felt the disappointment instantly flood his veins. He didn't even realize how much he had been hoping his instinct was wrong, that maybe he misread you, but of course he was right. He was a cop, after all. He was good at reading people, it's what he was trained to do.

"That's it?"

"I don't know, Joel. Maybe she's not into men, I didn't ask any more questions," she said. "Besides, I was thinkin'. Margaret's daughter is back in town. You remember Nikki?"

Joel shrugged and turned back to his coffee. He remembered Nikki. He wasn't interested in Nikki. She was a nice girl, but he didn't feel anything when he looked at her. Not like the way he felt when he looked at you.

"Now I know for a fact that Nikki's had a crush on you since you were in high school. I could talk to Margaret at church this weekend..."

"No thanks," Joel said immediately, then glanced at his watch before standing up and tossing a tip down on the table. "Gotta get back to work, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

He turned on his heel and left before Betty had a chance to reply.

What a stupid idea. What did he expect would actually happen? That you would fall in love with him after he spoke barely three sentences to you? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Hey, Joel," he heard the owner of the hardware shop call out to him in greeting as he walked by.

"Hey, Lee. How's it goin'?" Joel stopped outside the open door to the shop, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Lee sweep the floor.

"Can't complain. 'Cept, you get any leads on those vandals? Someone's been drawin' obscene things on the street signs over on Willow." Lee lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder before adding "someone even drew a phallic image on a deer crossin' sign."

Joel had to stifle a chuckle because he knew the old man was completely serious.

"I'm on it, Lee. Promise, I'll get to the bottom of it," he said with a nod.

A clatter deep within the store pulled both of their attention toward the noise.

"You alright back there, miss?" Lee called, peering down the aisle. Joel's breath caught in his throat when he heard your voice.

"Yeah, sorry! Just dropped something," you replied, emerging from the aisle looking a little flustered and holding an array of tools in your hands. You stiffened before you even laid eyes on him, like you could sense him before even seeing he was there. Joel couldn't help but take it a little personally. Why were you so sweet and friendly to Lee and other customers at the diner, but so cold to him?

You glanced his way nervously and he tried to give you a reassuring smile, maybe even a quick hello, but you immediately turned to address Lee, asking him questions on how to fix a kitchen faucet. Joel watched as Lee picked out the right tool for you and explained how to fix it, but it was clear as day you were having a hard time following. Lee must have noticed as well.

"You ever fix anythin' 'round a house, sweetheart?" Lee asked, and a little pink dusted your cheeks, making Joel's heart flutter in his chest.

"Is it that obvious?" you asked him with a sweet smile. Why wouldn't you look at him like that?

Lee laughed good-naturedly before turning to Joel.

"Joel, would you mind helpin' her out? Her place's on the way back to the station."

Your smile fell and you instantly shook your head, eyes widening as you clutched the tool in your hand.

"N-no, that's okay, I can manage," you said, first to Lee, then braved a glance in his direction before dropping your eyes to the floor.

A big part of Joel told himself to just give up, just let you be and ignore whatever it was that made you dislike him so much. But he just couldn't do it.

"Not a problem, it should just take a second," Joel finally said, tilting his head to look at you. "Where d'you live?"

He could tell you were incredibly uncomfortable now, and he wondered if he should stop pushing it. It looked like you could hardly breathe as you stared at the floor and considered your options.

"Just a few blocks that way," you said meekly, pointing north up Main Street. Joel pushed himself off the doorframe and stood aside so you could squeeze through without getting too close to him, and for that you seemed grateful. He nodded to Lee before following you down the sidewalk, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he tried to think of something to say.

"You likin' it here so far?"

"Uh huh," you replied, your gaze trained straight ahead. The pair of you walked in an awkward silence for another minute before he tried again.

"You got a place right on Main?"

"Above the pizza parlor," you said, and before he could follow up with another question, you suddenly stopped walking. He turned around when he realized and gave you a confused look.

"I really appreciate the offer, but I think I can figure out the sink for myself," you told him, forcing yourself to look into his eyes this time when you spoke.

"It's no trouble. It's what we all do 'round here, we help each other out," he replied. You fidgeted with the strap of your purse and averted your gaze. He waited for you to weigh your options, not wanting to pressure you but also not ready to give up, either. Finally, you spoke.

"You said it'll be quick?"

He grinned and nodded.

"Less than ten minutes."

You sighed and forced yourself to continue walking.

"Okay, if you're sure you don't mind..."

"I'm sure."

You walked in silence the rest of the way to your apartment. Joel seemed nice enough, and you could probably even get over the fact he was a cop, but you just couldn't get past the fucking cologne. It permeated every molecule of air whenever he was near, and you couldn't stop the horrible memories that came flooding back. You knew you would end up regretting allowing him into your apartment because you would end up spending the rest of the day trying to rid your little sanctuary of that scent. But you were weak. You never were very good at saying no. And this time was no exception.

You unlocked the front door and Joel held it open while you led him up the creaky stairs, then unlocked the second door at the top that led directly into your small apartment. He closed the door behind him and glanced around, taking in your space for the first time.

"Cozy," he finally said, and you let out a soft chuckle.

"You could say that," you replied. The room wasn't very big, but he noticed the moment you both entered, you put as much space between the two of you as you could. Your eyes were flicking around the room anxiously, your back against the only window and your fingers clutching the tool to your chest, toying with it nervously. He took a couple steps towards you and your fidgeting stopped. You dragged your gaze up to his as he studied your curious behavior. If it wasn't obvious before, it was crystal clear now: he made you incredibly uncomfortable.

Rather than make things worse, he stopped halfway across the room and just held out his hand. You stared at it, unmoving and barely breathing before he cleared his throat.

"Wrench?"

"Oh," you said softly, letting out a shaky breath before taking a step forward and handing him the tool you had just bought. He took it and gave you one more look before turning back towards the small kitchen. He shrugged off his blazer and draped it over the back of a chair, and your throat went dry when you clocked the gun on his waist.

You watched him warily as he flicked on the overhead light and fiddled with the lever of the sink before opening the cabinets underneath and peering inside at the plumbing. You hardly moved a muscle as you watched him. You wished you could light the scented candle on your table to help minimize the cologne, but you were too nervous he would find that suggestive. The silence became deafening as he worked, and you felt compelled to say something.

"Can I get you some water?"

He stopped what he was doing and gave you a small smirk.

"As long as it ain't from the tap," he said, tilting his head towards the faucet he currently had taken apart. You smiled and walked quickly over to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of water. He noticed your fingers shaking slightly when you handed him the water, and he frowned.

"You alright?"

"Me?" you squeaked, as if there were anyone else in the room he could be addressing. He nodded slowly and unscrewed the cap, still staring at you.

"I'm fine," you assured him, but still took a few paces back to stand next to your window again. Far away from him. He looked you up and down as he took a sip of his water before setting the bottle down on the counter.

"I can tell you got some issue with me," he began, and you stilled, watching him carefully from across the room, clutching the water bottle tightly against your chest. You shook your head quickly, but he held out a hand to stop you.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable at the diner," he said.

"W-what do you mean?" you stammered.

"Betty," he added, raising his eyebrows. "She's got a tendency to stick her nose where it don't belong, and I know she said somethin' to you 'bout me. I just wanted to apologize if that put you in tough spot."

"Oh, that's alright," you told him, quickly waving him off. He chewed the corner of his mouth as he studied your surprisingly relaxed response. So Betty's prying wasn't the problem.

"You gotta give me somethin' here," he said after a moment, and you dropped your gaze to your feet. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything," you said softly, your eyes still pinned to the floor.

"Then why can't you stand lookin' at me for more than five seconds?" he asked, desperate now to know the answer.

"Does it matter?" you whispered.

"I wish it didn't," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. You finally looked up at him now, taking in his hurt expression, and you felt your resolve crumbling. What happened to you wasn't this man's fault.

"What does that mean?" you asked him, and it was his turn to look away.

"Nothin'," he finally mumbled, his heart slamming against his chest.

"It's your cologne," you blurted out, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He wasn't expecting that.

"My... cologne?"

"It's nothing personal, I'm just sensitive to smells." He knew you were lying. Your entire apartment smelled like garlic and marinara sauce from the pizza place downstairs. But he decided not to push it.

"My daughter - Sarah - she got it for me for Father's Day. Truth be told, I don't like it much, either," he told you, and much to his relief, he saw the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly. He just shrugged and turned back to the sink.

"Nothin' for you to be sorry 'bout. Thought I offended you or somethin', is all," he told you as he worked on putting the faucet back together.

You took a few tentative steps closer to peer over his shoulder.

"Can you show me what you did to fix it?" you asked. He straightened up to look at you and twirled the wrench in his hand, deciding to be bold.

"If I do that, then I won't have an excuse to come see you when it breaks again."

You bit your lip to hide your smile as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He grinned and turned back to the sink. Maybe he still had a chance. He was nearly finished, but he showed mercy on you and explained what he did, anyway.

Once he was done, you walked him down to the first floor, thanking him profusely along the way.

"Don't mention it," he said, shoving his arms through his blazer as he walked, but turned back before you closed the door.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you gazed up at him. Now that you were back outside and the scent wasn't so strong, you allowed yourself to acknowledge that Joel was a good looking man. A really good looking man. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you cursed Patrick for ruining so many things for you, but you were afraid the worst thing he might have actually ruined for you was Joel.

You slowly nodded, then he grinned and tilted his head to the side.

"You have yourself a good rest of the day, sweetheart."

You felt yourself blush at the term of endearment, but luckily he had already turned away.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @merz-8 @sarap-77

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller series #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #sheriff!joel #waitress reader #STR fic

[milswrites]

The Trials of Aphrodite Part One

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Series summary: Hopelessly in love with Elain, Azriel enlists your help in order to win her over. The only problem? You have been in love with Azriel for as long as you have known him.

Chapter summary: With his pitiful attempts of expressing his attraction to Elain leading him nowhere, Azriel decides he needs some help. Who better to ask than his closest friend?

Warnings: Light angst (pining), Azriel’s childhood is mentioned but doesn’t go into detail.

It was no secret that Azriel has always been a lover.

Once the shackles of his tortured childhood had fallen and Azriel was able to taste the sweet release of freedom, his found family had spent years teaching the male what it meant to dream.

They had shown him the sweet blessings that come with loving freely and dreaming wildly. Reassuring the male that his life was his own, promising Azriel that family was made by choices, not by blood. Encouraging him to make his own decisions, build his own friendships, untethered by the control of his merciless relatives.

That's how he had met you. The male having sought to make a connection that wasn't forged for him by the likes of his family. Azriel's selfish desire to have someone all to himself was what drove him to Velaris that day you had met. Confident that despite his past which had been spent in solitude, he would be able to meet an equal-minded person.

It was fate that brought the two of you together. A chance encounter as you collided in the bustling streets of the lively city and Azriel had spent every century since thanking the gods for allowing that meeting to occur - for bringing him you.

The shadowsinger had been drawn to you from the very moment you had stumbled into his unexpecting arms. His shadows flocking to your glowing aura like moths to a flame. You were everything Azriel wasn't. A bright soul, who had grown up in Velaris nurtured by your loving family. Untouched by the darkness which plagued the male.

Yet it was this difference which set you apart from Azriel's family. This difference which had him craving your presence when his own light had grown a little too dim, needing your warmth and security to encourage the spark to grow in his festering darkness.

You were the perfect antithesis of each other. The sun and moon. Life and death. So it was no wonder that it was all to easy for the shadowsinger to love you. To welcome you into his tarnished life, allowing your gentle hands and honeyed voice to soothe over the the jagged scars of his past.

Azriel allowed all his free time to be consumed by you. The days passing by quickly in each other's contented company. And that is why after centuries of knowing one another it was no surprise that Azriel knew everything about you and you him. How you were both fortunate enough to have been blessed with the gift of reading each other without a single word needing to be spoken.

How it was all too easy for you to notice the way Azriel's longing eyes which had one settled on Mor had now turned their attention to Elain.

All the while yours remained on him.

Azriel may have been a lover, but he was blind to your centuries-old affection for him. His heart and mind always having been stolen by another. First Mor and now Elain. You didn't allow his incessant pining to deter you from your friendship with him. Just like you were Azriel's salvation, he was yours. The deep bond of your friendship had already been tied and you would not allow one silly little crush to sever the tether that tied the two of you together.

It was only one centuries-old crush which you couldn't stamp out no matter how hard you tried.

You were fortunate enough, at least, that Azriel's pining was mainly done in silence. That his hours spent with you weren't marred by him expressing his undying affection for the ladies who captured his attention. It was pure luck, that the man who owned your heart chose to keep his love for another to himself, sparing you from the unbearable pain of hearing about it. Watching his yearning eyes never fail to leave Elain's delicate features whenever the two were in the same room was agony enough.

And so you were content. Resigned to the fact that his unrequited love for you was something you would have to live with if it meant being in Azriel's life. Accepting that you were immeasurably in love with a man who would never feel the same way about you.

It was all too easy then, once you had come to terms with this realization, to fall into your regular routine with the male. To ignore the ceaseless twang of your heartstrings whenever you witnessed his uncontrollable pining for Elain. To pretend that the dreamer inside of you didn't stir up pictures of a day where Azriel would finally notice what's been in front of him the whole time.

Being Azriel's friend was too much of a reward to ruin.

And so when he turned up at your door, face sullen and eyes watering, Elain's name upon his lips, it was impossible to deny him of your comfort. Standing aside to allow your distressed friend to walk inside, Azriel making his way to your sofa before flopping onto the plush cushions, flattening his wings as he laid in misery.

A gruff cry of frustration tore from his throat as you moved to sit in the chair opposite him.

"That bad huh?" you ask meekly, tentative voice failing to represent the tempestuous emotions which were swirling inside your chest at the reason for his visit.

Azriel shot you a flat look, his serious eyes meeting your own anxious ones before he flung his head back in exasperation.

"I actually think I'm destined to remain single forever!" he cried as you uncomfortably shifted in your seat at his statement. You often wondered in his shadows could sense your hidden affection for the male, convinced that they must have some knowledge of your crush on their master as a few of the smoky tendrils made their way over to where you were sat. The dark shadows curling around your legs in comfort, not dissimilar to the way a cat would brush against you.

Azriel, oblivious to his shadows wanderings, continued to vent, "I don't understand how I've been cursed with the inability to speak to females."

"You speak to me alright" you interjected lowly, keeping your eyes locked on the swirling movements of the shadows by your feet out of fear of them betraying your true emotions in relation to the words Azriel had spoken.

"Yes, but you're you" he countered as if it was obvious, shrugging casually as he did so, "But every time I go to speak to Elain it's like the Mother herself is holding my tongue. She's bound to think there's something wrong with me."

"I'm sure she doesn't Az" you reason, doing your best to fill your words with reassurance and comfort. Hoping that if you soothe the male's turbulent thoughts of the woman he may stop speaking about her sooner.

"And then there's Lucien. Why is Lucien always there?" he asked in annoyance, spitting venom upon the mention of the red-haired male's name. You sunk even further into your seat, clearly your well of luck had run dry.

"Why don't you just ask her on a date?" you quietly asked, forcing the dreaded words to spill from your mouth, "She likes you, I'm sure she'll say yes."

His slumped head snapped straight at your words, hazel eyes boring into your own as he began to eagerly question you, "She likes me? You're sure?"

"I mean. . . I guess? I can't say I pay much attention to the women you pine after."

A lie. Having jealously spent numerous hours observing Elain to see if she also feels the same way as your friend does for her. But this was something you'd never mention to Azriel.

"Cassian said I need a wingman," he scoffed at the notion, clearly finding the idea of Cassian trying to do anything romantic unimaginable, "Can you imagine the mess he'd put me in then? He'd probably scare her away. . ."

Azriel trailed off, his hazel eyes clouded over as the male was deep in thought, lightly tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth as he did so. "Your sister," he slowly started to speak, as if afraid that you would judge him, "Is she still with that guy you set her up with?"

"Castor? Yeah she's still with him, why?" you ask, heart beating frantically in your chest as you can already see where this conversation is leading. Dreading the shadowsinger's proposition which was already hovering ominously in the air. Fearing the unwelcome appearance of your inability to say no to the male.

"Well you wouldn't mind helping me would you?" he pondered, the thundering echo of your heart now flooding into your ears, "I trust you more than Cassian, I know you'd be able to do this for me."

It was a cruel fate the cauldron had handed you. And cruller still, was the hold that Azriel had over you. The way he had managed to worm his way into your heart and dictate what you do and how you feel.

It was impossible to tear your eyes from his begging hazel ones, unable to ignore the hopeful anticipation which filled them. Hating the uplifting way your heart twinged with pleasure at the trace of a smile lining his soft lips. A smile reserved only for you.

Your mind screamed at you to say no, listing all the reasons why this was a terrible idea, creating numerous scenarios as to how this could all go horribly wrong. Yet it was too late, your traitorous heart had already spoken for you, pouring the words from your lips before your mind could even register that you were the one to have spoken them, "Alright Az, I'll do it. I’ll help you with Elain."

And it was all too easy to pay no mind to the river of dread which coursed through your body. The pain of your fracturing heart failing to be heard due to the numbness which had found it's home in your body and soul. The warming comfort which came along with Azriel's beaming smile was almost strong enough to make you believe that he loved you. Allowing you to confuse his thankful eyes for affectionate ones.

His grateful expression was hypnotic, his gods blessed power was enough to hold your anxieties at bay. Able to convince you that you made the right choice.

That all you needed to be content was to make sure that Azriel was happy with somebody else.

Someone who wasn't you.

Part two

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Taglist (let me know if you want to be added):

@a-cup-of-nightshade @yearninglustfully @illyrianbitch @ninaduchess @sarawritestories @annaaaaa88 @antiquecultist @madelyncullen @erencvlt @chaytea06 @dxjaaaa @saltedcoffeescotch @spark1epuffba11s @thestartitaness @amysangel @historygeekqueen @thelov3lybookworm @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @willowpains @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @dreamlandreader @sidthedollface2

(Some of you I was unable to tag! If you check your settings you may find you don’t have your permissions on for people tagging you in their posts! If it’s not that and just my bad spelling please let me know 🫠)

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel #azriel series #azriel oneshot #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter six ⭐︎ Secrets I have held in my heart

Warnings: weed consumption, mentions of death, mentions of sex, allusions to smut. this is mostly written from reader's pov, Steve's pov is only at the ending

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You step into a new territory and test the waters that Steve had already been dragged into.

Word count: 5k

Author's note: @hellfire--cult I know you're sick of me constantly saying this BUT thanks for working on this series with me hehe

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next chapter

♡

The lights that hang above the shelves in the living room illuminate the darkened room, casting a soft yellow glow on everything. The TV screen lights up brightly as the killer in the movie shows up dramatically again. The sound is low and no one is paying attention to the horror movie that you have all seen multiple times already. The rain paddles against the windows and the lightning crashes through the sky every few seconds or so, though no thunder has rumbled yet, making you feel relieved. The room smells like takeout and weed, dirty plates litter the coffee table but no one cares about that yet. 

A big cloud of smoke lingers in the room as Eddie and Robin pass the joint back and forth, the latter talking his ear off about the date she had gone on with Vickie the night before, while your eyes are stuck on Michael Myers on the screen, taking the joint from Eddie when he offers it to you, you place it between your lips, squinting your eyes as you take a drag and inhale it deeply. 

You can feel his eyes on you, you can feel them everywhere, on your face, on your upper body, on your bare legs, they’re burning into your skin and you’re now not as blind as you were days back when you thought that you were imagining things, that every slightest glance and touch from his were feeding you lies – that his touches were accidental and his glances meant nothing. But you were wrong, so very wrong. 

For days, your mind has been plaguing you with thoughts about him, and it’s nothing new, really, but it was different than usual. Because before the dinner at Joyce’s and Hopper’s place, he had never given you anything to overthink about, to make yourself feel delusional over. Steve had never touched you before, at least not like that. He had never placed his hand on your waist, he had never brushed his knuckles against yours, he had never looked at you the way he did that night and he certainly never commented on the clothes you wear. 

It drove you crazy, and it made you believe that he somehow figured you out, that he found out about your feelings and decided to torture you by teasing you with touches that he knew you wished had a deeper meaning. But he wouldn’t do that, especially not after your conversation weeks ago, not when he was doing everything to keep the peace. He wouldn’t do that – maybe King Steve would’ve done something like this, but not this Steve – not even when he still holds hatred for you. 

Steve teased you, not accidentally, not unintended. He did it openly, because he wanted to for whatever reason and you only realized it today, when you walked through his front door behind Eddie who held the bags of takeout, you were met with the same teasing look in Steve’s eyes you saw that night. He licked his lips and let his eyes run up and down your body so shamelessly that it almost threw you off because where was this all coming from? 

When did he go from hating your guts, from arguing every chance he got to whatever this is. 

Not only did he look at you like he was ready to flirt, he also placed his hand on your lower back when he led you into the living room earlier – and as though that wasn’t enough to make you crumble, he also leaned in to whisper ‘cute skirt, Blondie.’ 

Cute skirt!? His husky voice and those words kept repeating themselves like a broken record ever since they fell from his lips, they made you think so hard that you dissociated while eating the fries that you’ve been craving all day, missing the conversation between your friends and half of the movie that you watched before Eddie put on Halloween. Only the touch of Steve’s hand pulled you back into reality, you almost jumped from your seat when you felt his hand on your knee when he very obviously pretended to reach over you to grab the bottle of ketchup with a smirk on his face. That was evidence enough for you to realize that all his touches were intended and he did want to tease you, but not for the reason you thought. 

Why? You still don’t know. 

You’re pretty sure that he isn’t attracted to you, at least not in the way you are to him. 

But if he wants to play this game, then you certainly won’t pass up on the opportunity to tease him back a little, though testing the waters first – because you absolutely won’t make a fool of yourself in front of him. 

You have to take it slow until you’re completely sure that he is doing what you think he’s doing. 

You glance at Eddie, his eyes are rimmed with redness, a lazy smile plays on his lips, his eyes are stuck on the screen but he is so far gone in his mind, he is not paying attention to anything anymore, not Robin’s rambling, not the movie and certainly not to you and Steve. 

Robin’s hair is sprawled across the pillow, she looks up at the ceiling, the joint now back between her lips but she’s still rambling. 

They won’t notice anything. 

You take a sip of your drink, eying Steve from the side, and he is already looking at you, he is looking at you in a way that would drive your teenage self up the wall – you’d be a blushing and giddy mess thinking about it for the rest of the day, daydreaming about things that would never even happen. But you’re not a teenager anymore, his glances and touches still make you blush – but you’re not stupid and you certainly don’t daydream about things that aren’t even there. 

You still don’t know why is he looking at you that way but the little sweet voice in your head is telling you that he might have harbored a tiny little crush after seeing you in a stupid dress while the other voice is telling you that Steve Harrington wants to fuck you. These voices might belong to the ghosts of Chrissy and Billy because in no way would you ever think that Steve could ever feel anything more than hatred for you. 

How will he react if you tease him back a little? 

You don’t even have to make it obvious, you can play it off, you can play anything off. 

“Do you guys want something sweet?” Steve asks, “I got ice cream in the freezer.” 

“What else do you have?” Eddie slurs, something that makes Robin giggle.

“Uh, M&M’s, Reese’s, Sour gummies,” Steve mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he looks up, thinking of what else he got in his cabinet, “I got some chips too.”

Eddie looks at Steve, pointing at him with his ringed finger, “I want it all.” 

Steve snorts at him and at the dazed look on his face, “alright. I’m just gonna clean this up first,” he points to the mess on the table. 

Perfect.

“I’ll help.” 

His eyes meet yours, a slight smirk tugs at his lips, “you sure you wanna get your hands dirty, Blondie?” 

“Oh, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty,” you smirk and break eye contact, rising up from the seat and swallowing down the nervousness. 

The space between the coffee table and the couch isn’t exactly big, and it gives you the perfect opportunity to make the first little step. With an innocent look on your face, you glance at him one more time, before you turn your back to him, bending over in front of him to pick up the dirty plates. Your heart is pounding and your cheeks are already burning but you pay no mind to that. 

Steve sucks in a sharp breath, you can hear it.

Should you even be surprised? His eyes almost bulged out of his skull when your skirt rode up after you just sat down earlier, his eyes were glued on your bare thighs the whole goddamn time and you saw it and yet your heart skips a beat at his reaction just now. 

You’re aware of how short your skirt is and that all it takes is for you to bend down a slight bit more for him to see more than just your thighs, a little further down and he will be able to see your ass and your panties. 

You bite back the smirk as you stack up the dirty plates, taking your sweet time with it. You can feel his eyes on your body and it takes everything in you not to turn around to look at his face but your little plan backfires when you suddenly feel his hands on your hips and his breath on your shoulder. You freeze. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your ear, “it’s so tight in here.”

Blood rushes to your face and your stomach fills with butterflies. His touch and his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

This is bad. This is so very bad. 

You heard the mischief in his voice and his touch still lingers, he doesn’t need to take that long to squeeze past you. 

You don’t know what’s gotten into him or you, it might be the weed in your system or just the spur of the moment but as you pick up all the plates, you take a step back and press yourself against him, only for a one… or two seconds but long enough for you to feel the warmth of his body against yours, long enough to feel his hand squeezing your hip for a single second, long enough to hear him sucking in another sharp breath. 

And then, you step away from him like nothing happened, with innocence in your eyes, you look over your shoulder, “you’re right, it is really tight.” 

You see the way his lips part a little, the way his eyes darken and the way he clenches his jaw. He is angry that you are not falling for his teasing, that you are doing the same to him that he does to you. 

You walk into the kitchen and carrying the dishes over to the sink, you put them down and place your hands on the counter, taking a deep breath as you close your eyes, only now noticing how fast your heart is beating and how clammy your hands are, you give yourself a moment to calm down before you reach for the dish soap and the sponge after you turn on the water.

Flirting is nothing new to you and you’re certainly not shy about it, not anymore. 

Billy was your best friend, and if there’s something he was good at, then it was flirting and taking home girls. He taught you how to be more confident, how to embrace your sensuality and he taught you how to flirt. 

Losing your best friend took a toll on you and you couldn’t stand to be in Hawkins when every place you had gone to, reminded you of him, so you left for a little while. You spent two months in Indianapolis and stayed with your sister. You started going out, parties your sister had dragged you to, clubs and downtown bars and you had fun. For the first time in your life, you were approached by men, they flirted with you and that felt… good. You let your guard down when you were with them, you didn’t feel the need to hide yourself from them, they wouldn’t stay in your life for longer than a night, you didn’t have to fear them leaving or hurting you, there was no attachment, no connection or anything deeper between you than lust, you could be yourself in those few hours you spend with them. 

They made you feel something other than grief, sadness and heartbreak. They were nothing but strangers to you but you felt something in those nights you spent in their beds, their touches brought you back to life… even if only temporarily. 

You are used to flirting, you are used to teasing, it’s an easy game to you… with strangers. But Steve Harrington? He makes you nervous, he makes your heart race like crazy, he burns you with only his glances, and his touches make you feel like you have been kissed by something out of this world. He is different, he is no meaningless man in your life, he is not someone you would kick out of your bed after taking from him what you wanted, he is not someone you could easily leave behind and never look back to again. No, Steve holds your heart in the palm of his hand, he left a tear in your soul, he is the someone you would do anything for and that changes everything. You can’t treat him like you treated them because he is special, every little interaction with him, sets your heart on fire. 

“Jesus, Blondie!” Steve’s voice sounds through the kitchen, making you flinch in surprise, “use less dish soap, one drop is enough!” 

With furrowed brows you look down at all the foam in the sink. It’s not even bad. 

You turn around, glaring at the man and the tone in his voice. 

He shakes his head at you, crossing his arms over his chest as he walks towards you. 

“Are you washing the dishes or me!?” You growl at him, ignoring the tension that still lingers between the two of you. 

Steve chuckles as he stops beside you, raising his hands up in surrender, “you didn’t have to do it, don’t blame it on me.”

You turn back to the plate you were washing, scraping the sponge against it harshly as you try not to look at him, which turns out to be just another challenge – he inches closer to you, breathing down your neck and staring at you. You throw the sponge down and reach for the lever, not noticing the way his eyes widen a little or how he reaches his hand out. 

“Wait careful with t–” he gets cut off by the water that starts streaming from the broken lever. 

“Fuck!” You curse loudly, followed by a gasp when the cold water sprinkles all over your neck and your chest, you throw the plate into the sink and reach for the lever again but Steve grabs your hand, not letting you turn it off the way you want to, he is trying to move to it into a different direction, it only confuses you even more and his touch doesn’t help either.

“Hold still!” Steve snaps at you. 

Your whole chest is already wet from all the water you have been hit with and his angry voice irritates you. 

“Why don’t you get drenched huh!?” 

With a loud sigh, he lets go and you almost start raging. You lean forward, grabbing the lever with both hands when you suddenly feel him behind you, his chest against your back, his whole body pressed against yours as he reaches his arms around you, placing his both hands on top of yours, the water now getting all over the both of you as his now wet fingers handle the broken lever. 

You hear his groan as the water hits him in the face when he leans over your shoulder and he grips your hand tighter. 

And then, the water stops sprinkling and the only sound that continues to fill the room is the rain that still rolls down the windows and your heavy breathing. 

Your chest is rising up and down heavily and so is his, you can feel it against your back, and you can feel his breath on your neck and your shoulder, and you now feel it all by tenfold, thanks to your wet skin, it sends chills all over. You can still feel his hands on top of yours, his much bigger hands that cover yours fully. Your eyes are glued on them and the way their fingers trace your own for a very short moment. 

Your heart is beating so wildly in your chest that you fear that he might hear it. 

You can feel the water dripping down your shoulder, not the one from your hair but the water from his face. 

Despite the nervousness in your chest, you slowly pull your hands away and turn around to face him, only for a gasp threatening to fall from your lips when you notice how close he actually is, how close he had never been before, not even in Joyce’s kitchen, last week. Your chest is almost pressed against his, his face only inches away, lips so close that you can feel his breath on yours. You’re surprised when he doesn’t move his hands away, letting them fall on the counter and your sides. 

His hazel eyes stare into yours so intensely that it almost knocks the breath out of you, the look in them making you feel hot all over your body that you don’t even feel the cold water seeping through your white shirt any longer. 

Strands of his hair hang in front of his eyes, water dripping from them and rolling down his cheek, your eyes follow the drops that lead to his lips, making you gulp when you catch yourself wondering what it would feel like to kiss him or even just to touch his lips with your fingers – you dig your nails into your wet palms.

You don’t even notice how Steve grips the edges of the counter so tightly to the point that his knuckles turn white, but you notice the way his eyes move down to your chest and to your now see-through shirt, the lacy black bra being on full display now… almost. 

You are both breathing heavily, still, whether it’s because of the shock or something else now – you feel the tension, it’s so heavy, heavier than before and it’s making your insides churn in a way that weakens you. 

Neither of you say anything, you are too busy staring at each other, you are too busy wanting him more and more. 

This is not enough. 

How could this ever be enough? 

You have always wanted this, to be this close, to feel his touch, to find out what it’s like to kiss him, to feel him. 

This isn’t fair… This isn’t fair to you. Because this is only making things so much harder for you.

You know you have to snap out of it, even when he makes no move to pull away, to stop staring, to let go of the counter and step away from your body. 

You have to snap out of it or else you will do something that you will regret for the rest of your life. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, you ignore the beating of your heart, you ignore the shakiness in your hands and you blink as you tilt your head up, looking back into his eyes again.

“Lego head,” you whisper shakily, “the water stopped.”

He snaps out of his stupor, blinking and clearing his throat as he averts his gaze. 

He steps away and you make a move to escape this, to escape him but neither of you have noticed just how messy the situation has actually gotten – the water didn’t just sprinkle all over the both of you, it soaked the ground beneath your feet, making the tiles slippery enough for you to lose control and almost take the fall. Almost. 

A gasp tears from your lips when Steve’s hand grabs at your waist and the other reaches for the counter behind you again. Out of instinct, you lift your hand and grab his arm to hold onto him, steadying him as well as he slipped too. He lets go of your waist, gripping the counter with both hands just like he did seconds ago, caging you in completely. He isn’t only close anymore, he is pressed against you completely – his chest flush against yours, his nose bumping into yours causing you to let out another soft gasp. 

And then, you both freeze again. 

You blink. He blinks. Neither of you make a move. 

He looks down at your lips, causing your heart to skip so strongly that you feel it in your whole chest and even your throat. 

“Shit, Blondie.” 

His voice is so low and deep that it makes you shudder, your blood rushing to more than just your face now. 

“I didn’t know you were such a clutz,” he murmurs, shakily as his eyes get stuck on your chest again. 

He is nervous, just like you are, you can tell by the sound of his voice. 

You stare at him, struggling to find your words.

How can you when he looks at you that way? 

As you stand there, caged in by his strong arms, staring up at the man that is much taller and bigger than you, something that makes him all the more attractive, you feel yourself not only longing for his heart but also his body… on top of yours. His much bigger hands on your bare body, his lips on your skin, him inside of you… You are fucked. You are so utterly and completely fucked. 

Steve Harrington could do anything with you, and he is not even aware of the powers he holds over you. 

Footsteps echo through the hallway, causing yours and his eyes to widen and he quickly pulls away from you, careful not to slip again. You pull your hands back, now holding onto the counter yourself. 

Eddie and Robin come rushing into the room just as Steve steps far enough away from you. 

They both halt in their tracks, gasping at the sight of the two of you all soaked from the water. They stare with wide eyes before they turn to look at each other, holding back only for two seconds before they burst into laughter. 

You’re not sure if the sight is really that funny or if they’re just high enough to laugh about anything. 

Eddie bends over, holding his stomach as he continues laughing while pointing between the two of you, Robin holding onto his shoulder as her giggles sound through the kitchen. 

You press your lips together and clench your jaw as you look over at Steve, who nods at the both of them with an annoyed look on his face. 

“What the hell happened!?” Eddie asks through his laughter. 

His voice snaps you out from the daze you were just in… and thank god. 

With a glare, you keep your eyes on Steve, “this fucker didn’t tell me that his sink was jammed and that a little bit of a force can break the lever.”

Steve groans, though not looking at you, he wipes his face as he steps away, “right, blame it on me for your sudden force.” 

He walks out of the kitchen, brushing past Eddie and Robin who stop laughing when he gives them a deadly glare, the one you’re throwing at his back as he leaves to go upstairs, probably to get changed while you stand there with your soaked shirt. 

You carefully step away from the puddle of water in front of you, making your way over to the kitchen island to grab some of the napkins. You dry your face off first, not even bothering with your shirt. 

Despite their amused faces, your friends walk over to you, wanting to help. 

“Damn,” Eddie mumbles as he grabs a napkin, he gives you a smirk, “who got you this wet, Sweetheart?” 

You raise your head up, glaring at your best friend who starts chuckling again. 

“This is porn material right there,” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at you as he points at your white shirt, but he is not even looking, even though your bra is very visible through the material now – what a gentleman. 

Robin chuckles, “should’ve kept the bra off, babe.” 

Your jaw drops as you stare at them with a stunned expression on your face, “pervs!” 

Robin keeps on chuckling as she walks over the cabinets, searching for clean kitchen towels. Eddie steps closer to you, patting your face dry with the napkins, which only makes you giggle when his brows knit together in concentration. 

Eddie’s eyes flash with amusement as he keeps pressing the napkin against your cheek, shaking his head at your laughter. 

“What’s so funny, smiley?” 

You snort at the nickname, and open your mouth to reply when Steve walks back into the room, his face now dry, hair still wet but no longer dripping. He’s wearing a different shirt now and he holds towels and a sweater in his hands, halting in his tracks, he looks between you and Eddie – his eyes flash with something that you can’t read, his face hardens and he clenches his jaw, you don’t know why but the expression causes your laughter to die down.

“Here,” Steve mumbles, tearing his gaze away from the both of you, he looks at the ground as he makes his way over to you, “those napkins won’t do much.” 

He hands you the towels and then his sweater. 

“And take your shirt off, Blondie,” he orders, “you can wear my sweater.” 

Your chest warms at his words and your heart flutters, and it only makes you feel irritated – this means nothing, this isn’t special, you aren’t special. He’d give his sweater to anyone under these circumstances. 

“Thanks,” you mumble as you put the sweater on the counter, using the soft white towel to dry yourself off first. 

Eddie steps away from you, throwing the napkin into the trash before he makes his way over to Steve’s snack drawer, completely ignoring the puddle of water. 

“Dude, you could clean this up,” Robin mumbles, pointing at the mess on the floor. 

Eddie scrunches his nose up, “why don’t you clean it up?” 

Steve rolls his eyes at them, “I got this, I’ll clean it up.” 

Eddie starts rummaging through the drawer, picking out snacks as Robin turns around to look at you, and at Steve who stares at you with his hands on his hips. 

The shirt sticks to your body uncomfortably, goosebumps litter your skin from the cold water that seeps through the thin material, you want it off immediately. 

You take the sweater, still holding the towel close against your chest, you look up at Steve, “I’m gonna go change…” 

He nods, “yeah, you can uh… use the bathroom downstairs or mine, whatever you want.” 

You ignore the burning in your cheeks, the pounding in your heart as you brush past him and leave the kitchen, making your way into the bathroom. Your friend’s chatter fades away as you close the door behind you, locking it, a shaky sigh falls from your lips as you press your back against it. You close your eyes, giving yourself a moment to just breathe. 

What the hell just happened? 

With shaky legs, you walk towards the sink, dropping the towel and the sweater on the counter before you finally take a look in the mirror, only to gasp when you see just how much you can actually see through your shirt. You grow flustered knowing that Steve could see you like this. 

You groan in embarrassment, reaching for the hem of your shirt, you peel it off your body, replacing it with his sweater – something that fills you with warmth the moment the soft material touches your skin, your heart skips a beat when you look back at your reflection, taking in the sight of his sweater on your body.

You swallow the lump in your throat, distracting yourself by fixing your hair – you won’t let your mind go there, you won’t let yourself think too deeply about anything. This is just a sweater. And yet, your heart won’t stop racing and you can’t deny how such a small thing can make you feel so… comforted. 

When you return into the kitchen, you find it empty, the water puddle on the floor already gone but the dirty plates are still in the sink – you surely won’t risk getting wet again. You turn around and make your way over into the living room, where Eddie and Robin are back in their previous positions, snacking on Doritos. 

Steve is lying on the couch with his arm behind his back, the remote in his hand as he flips through the channels. 

You tug at the sleeves of his sweater, suddenly feeling shy as you walk into the room, wearing something of his. 

You don’t look at him as you walk past him, you also don’t look at him as you sit down on the couch, all that you’re focused on is the pounding in your heart and the nervousness that you still feel after everything that happened minutes ago.

You don’t notice the way he freezes when he takes a look at you, the way he stops flipping through the channels, the way his cheeks flush red when he looks at the sweater on your body – he knows that the only thing underneath the blue sweater of his, is a black, lacy bra and it makes him feel… flustered.

He sees the way you tug at the hem of his sweater when it rides up, pulling your short skirt along, he sees the way you bite down on your lip, he sees the way you glance at him nervously and suddenly Steve feels his blood rushing south. 

He swore to himself that he would never do what he did last week, and he really tried to resist you.

But how can he? 

How can he resist when you so clearly are doing it too now? 

Or is he reading the signs wrong? 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore

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

[propertyofwicked]

SECRETS part 5 - LN

content warnings: FULL SMUT, cute sex, oral (fem receiving), unprotected - MDNI !!

this is lowkey a filler chapter, so you can skip it and read part 6 if you dont want to read smut :) - i have kept the same taglist so if you have been tagged but dont wish to read this part please do skip <3

part 1 -> part 2 -> part 3 -> part 4 -> part 5 -> part 6 -> part 7!

“morning,” lando’s rough morning voice travelled through the hotel room as he saw y/n’s eyes open below him. during the night, y/n found herself wrapped around him, her leg slung over his whilst her head rested on his chest, her arm stretching over him, pulling him in closer.

lando had been awake for a while. he’d decided that today, they would drive down to max’s and try and talk some sense into him. he’d woken up to a text from P, telling him to come to the house and talk to max in person - she was equally as fed up with his foul mood and angry outbursts.

“how d’you sleep?”

“shush,” she hushed him, “still sleeping.”

“i was thinking we should go see max and talk to him in person. today,” he said, earning a groan from the half-asleep woman who rolled off him to lay on her back and stare at the ceiling.

“and i was thinking i could just change my name, cut all contact with everyone i know and live the rest of my life in the woods.”

“i don’t think that will work,” he said, laughing softly at her remark.

“yeah? i dont think your plan will work either so at least were both coming up with stupid ideas today,” she said, as he rolled onto his side to face her.

“you always look pretty in the morning,” lando announced, ignoring her insult.

“you always lie in the morning,” she replied. once again, he ignored her insults, moving to press a quick kiss to her lips. well, he intended for it to be quick, but before he knew it, she was straining her neck up to join their lips together again.

“i could get used to this,” he said, grinning against her mouth.

“not if max has anything to say about it.”

“y/n,” he groaned, still hovering above her, “im trying to be romantic and you’re talking about your brother, fuck him.”

“and fuck you instead?” she quipped.

“well, if you say so,” he hummed, taking the opportunity to kiss her again and shift his bodyweight so he was hovering fully over her, using his arms to hold himself up. she deepens the kiss, tracing her tongue over his bottom lip while burying her fingers in his curls to pull his face closer. his head drops to her neck, pressing small kisses along her skin.

“if you don’t want max to rip your balls off, i recommend you not leave marks on my neck, lan,” she said breathlessly, his breathe tickling her skin as he laughs.

“i’m going to fuck you so hard you forget all about your stupid brother and the things he said about you,” he grunted in her ear, lowering his hips to roll over hers. and for the first time that week, she couldn’t think straight enough to respond with anything other than a quiet moan.

lando slides down the bed, pulling at the waist band of her shorts as he goes, but looking up at her. she nods at him, and he pulls her shorts down her legs, discarding them off the side of the bed. her fingers lace through his curls, her eyes focused on his head tilting to the side to press kisses to the inside of her thigh. he nips down on the skin, sucking slightly, leaving bruises in his wake. at least max wont see those, she thought to herself.

with no warning, his face dived into her folds, her hips arching up, pulling him in closer. he parts his lips, dragging his tongue up to circle her clit.

“taste so good,” he muttered, “wanted this for years.” another moan fell from her lips, spurring him on. one arm came to wrap around her waist, holding her hips down. the other arm reached up, pushing her top up, his hand kneading at her breast.

“fuck, lan, keep going.”

her view is something she wish she could take a picture of and tattoo on her arm. lando’s veiny arm pinning her hips down, his jaw muscles peaking out as his tongue moves in a steady rhythm, his curls falling over his forehead, as his eyes glance up to see her facial expressions. the arm on her breasts drops down to her heat, parting her folds and his fingers pushing gently into her. her hips struggle against his arm, desperate for more.

within a matter of seconds, two of his fingers are twisting into her, hitting that spot that has her almost purring for him repeatedly. before she knows it, she cums around his fingers with no warning, legs shaking, loud moans filling the room. lando crawls back up her body, grabbing her jaw with one hand, opening her mouth and pushing his fingers slowly into her mouth. her tongue moving to lick up the length of them, tasting herself on his calloused fingers. the moment he retracts his hand, her hand is pulling his head down to hers, kissing him hastily as his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss.

he used one arm to balance himself, the other moving down between them to tug at his own shorts. he grabbed himself, rubbing his hand up and down and few times before sliding his cock through her fold, eliciting small whimpers from her as he hit her sensitive spot.

“you sure you want this? there’s no going back after this, he mumbled in her ear.

“i never want anyone else for as long as i live.”

slowly, he entered her, pushing into her slowly. her face screwed up slightly from the stretch.

“you’re ok, you’re ok,” he reassured her, stroking the side of her cheek softly, waiting a moment before he retracted and pushed back in.

“you’re doing so well f’me.”

his began to build up his pace, the headboard moving with each thrust. y/n moaned out beneath him, grabbing his arm to stabilise herself. her noises encouraging him more, he grabbed her thigh, pulling her leg up to wrap around his back, hitting new angles that brought out obscene noises from the two of them. y/n’s hands wrapped around the back of his head, pulling lightly at the hair at the top of his neck, his own hand moving down again to play with her clit. he could feel her walls tightening around him, pulling him closer and closer to his own finish.

“fuck, lan. don’t stop,” she cried out, her head rolling back on the pillow.

“wouldn’t dream of it,” he remarked, his thrusts getting faster and faster with each pant.

“i’m gonna c-”

“i know baby, come for me, come with me,” he said, wrapping himself around her to bring them closer together as they both reached their orgasms.

he waited a few moments, before pulling out of her, flopping down on the bed beside her, both of their chests heaving with heavy breaths.

“stay there,” he said, kissing the top of her head before rolling out of the bed, and walking to the bathroom. he returned with a damp cloth and a glass of water, handing her the drink he then crawled back to clean her up.

when he did return to lay next to her, his arms instinctively moved to pull her in closer.

“so… when should we go and break the news to your brother?” he asked, grinning.

“id so nearly forgotten about him,” she groaned in annoyance.

“clearly, i need to try again,” he said, still smirking at her.

★ ☆ ✦ ✧ ✩ ✶

tag list: @harrysdimple05 @scopeiguess @hiireadstuff @landosgirlxoxo @natt9598 @phantomxoxo @val-writes @secretgal66 @ririyulife @littlehoneyfreak @leclercdream @mehrmonga @eviethetheatrefreak @thatoneembarrasingmoment @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @formula1mount @lottef1 @rayna-s @5starl1ght @cthgee @thesiduation @urfavsgf @littlehoneyfreak

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked #maxfewtrell #fewtrell!sister

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret ☆

A MANDALORIAN SERIES MASTERLIST

[ COMPLETED ]

✩ a bodyguard!din x princess!reader fic ✩

series summary :

Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.

18+ mdni

do you like kitschy, campy romance novels? if you're reading this, I hope so.

behind the scenes & chapter notes + other extras (spoilers) :

chapters 1-5

chapter 6-15

spotify playlists

Lysa & Elaine information

the bks screen adaption

bks q&a

bks what if's

reader is generally not described past being picked up a few times, and having hair long enough to be put up

✩ chapters containing smut!

chapter one : honeymoon (6.7k words)

[ Absurd.

That is the only word that comes to mind as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “His favorite color is blue.” ]

chapter two : silent treatment (7.4k words)

[ Something is wrong. You bolt up from the pile of blankets that you call a bed and your eyes dart around the closet as you furrow your brow trying to discern why you feel so much different. ]

✩ chapter three : the smitten paladin (4.6k words)

[ You’re starting to think the planet isn’t the reason you’re so hot all the time.

You had woken up this morning feeling a bit better than you thought you’d be, your stomach is full of butterflies but you're still standing and considering the night you had you’re gonna take that as a win. ]

chapter four : sarad'ika (6.8k words)

[ Sarad'ika. 

You won’t forget it this time, you can’t. So you write it in your book, just under Mando’s favorite color you write the two little words that have been keeping you up at night. ]

✩ chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (5.0k words)

[ Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. ]

✩ chapter six : torment (5.1k words)

[ Okay, maybe you didn’t think this through. 

You didn’t think he’d actually come in and now suddenly the door is shut and you’re alone with him. ]

✩ chapter seven : just friends (3.1k words)

[ Maker it feels like it’s been an hour and you’re both just laying here. He was just inside of you; it shouldn't be so hard to find something to talk about at this point. ]

chapter eight : solar markets (5.3k words)

[ It’s nice to wake up excited again. 

You wish you could say that it happened more often but hopefully it will from now on. It’s going to be your first time leaving the castle grounds since you got here. ]

✩ chapter nine : shuk'la rules (5.6k words)

[ You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. ]

✩ chapter ten : lunar interlude : briikase gote'tuur (4.1k words)

[ He’s grateful for the break from you, even if brief. 

That’s not to say that he doesn’t enjoy every moment he gets to be in your presence but the more time he spends with you the harder it gets to remember that this isn’t real. ]

chapter eleven : he loves me not (4.6k words)

[ Something is wrong. 

All day it’s been wrong. 

He’s different. Distant. ]

chapter twelve : pretend (4.4k words )

[ Two days.

That’s what you’re willing to give yourself. Two days to get over it. One to get it all out of your system and one to pull yourself together. ]

chapter thirteen : lunar interlude : vercopa (3.5k words)

[ He did it.

He did exactly what he knew he needed to do.

So why does he feel worse than ever? ]

chapter fourteen : condemned (4.9k words)

[ You’re having trouble sleeping. 

You have no problem falling asleep, it’s mostly staying asleep. There’s a million different things that consume your thoughts and everytime you drift into unconsciousness you find yourself jolting awake, barely able to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time. ]

chapter fifteen : two tea parties (5.4k words)

[ “What did you do to her?”

Her voice breaks through his sleepy haze as he sits up properly. 

“Excuse me?” ]

chapter sixteen : absolution (4.6k words)

[ There’s a visceral sense of dread when you wake up, for several reasons. 

The glaring obvious culprit of your discomfort would be the fact that today’s your husband's birthday. ]

chapter seventeen : the apostate’s cabin (3.5k words)

[ Just Din. 

It’s sinking in as you walk in silence, holding his hand tightly as he pulls you towards his home. ]

chapter eighteen : portrait of a man (5.4k words)

[ It’s deliciously warm when you wake. You can feel his heartbeat and you can feel the soft traces of sunlight dancing along your back. You stretch in his arms slightly but freeze up as you feel him nuzzle his chin into your hair, planting a kiss against your hairline. ]

✩ chapter nineteen : reverence (7.3k words)

[ You really want to. 

You couldn’t possibly want to more than you currently do. 

It’s actually a bit mean. That he’s left you here in this state. ]

✩ chapter twenty : like real people do (8.4k words)

[ Mando and Din. 

All you can think about right now is how there must be two of them. 

You’re playing with his curls. ]

✩ chapter twenty one : te mirci't (9.0k words)

[ “It means I love you.” 

You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor. ]

✩ chapter twenty two : it’s you that i lie with (11.3k words)

[ Naboo has several trading ports. 

You could get him on a cargo ship. That would be the most inconspicuous form of transport. It would help if he was willing to ditch his armor. ]

✩ chapter twenty three : lunar markets (15.0k words)

[ Sneaking out of the castle gets easier every time you do it. 

It only takes a few minutes and you’re walking outside towards the forest trail, Din’s hand in yours, still giddy. ]

✩ chapter twenty four : lunar interlude : riduur (7.8k words)

[ He doesn’t deserve this.

How could he possibly be deserving of you? Yet somehow you make him feel as if he is. With your soft touch and the way your eyes get just a little bigger when you see him. ]

✩ chapter twenty five : wedding bells (11.7k words)

[ Four days of Leo. 

You were upset that Din was leaving you but you got over it rather quickly with the promise of his hasty return. ]

chapter twenty six : crucifixion (12.7k words)

[ “My room is too big.” 

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” ]

chapter twenty seven : the apostate (6.0k words)

[ Silence.

That’s all there is in his brain. 

It’s hard enough as is for him to hear. It doesn’t help when he’s been beaten half to death. ]

✩ chapter twenty eight : a place for us (8.4k words)

[ You’d spent the better half of the day trying to get on top of him. 

Every time you managed to get close he’d simply set you down on the nearest surface with a kiss on the cheek and go back to doing whatever he was working on. ]

chapter twenty nine : the best kept secret (epilogue) (6.1k words)

[ The morning sun is warm against your face, you bask in it, unmoving and only half awake until you feel a tiny hand slapping your cheek. The illusion of tranquility is immediately shattered as you softly laugh. ]

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #the mandaloria/reader #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #slowish burn #forced proximity

[matrixbearer2024]

Vox x Reader Headcanons: Fiancé Edition

Fiancé!Vox x gn!Reader

A/N: MY BRAINROT IS BRAINROTTING OKAY I JUST NEEDED TO DUMP THIS STUFF SOMEWHERE AFTER SEEING ALL THE WIFEY ALASTOR AND LUCIFER STUFF- LIKE I LOVE THOSE TWO BUT LEMME YEET IN MY BELOVED SAMSUNG TV NOW YALL- THIS COULD MOST LIKELY BE OOC COMPARED TO CANON BUT LIKE- LET ME DREAM I WANT THIS FLATSCREEN SO BAD P L E A A A S E-

A/N: This little thingy would have both an SFW and NSFW portion, mostly because I'm a depraved little shit and I am downbad for a 7ft bipedal television with issues-

SFW HEADCANONS:

Now first off, y'all probably would've been dating a long long while before this mans would pop the question.

I feel like he'd know that he wants to marry you, but he's so unsure of it plus he's concerned about how that would affect you in all of it.

Like, oh great if this gets out suddenly you've got one of the biggest targets on your back because you're the technology overlord's fiance and soon to be wife/husband.

As if you hadn't already when you both started dating-

Vox is a perfectionist so I'd imagine he would try so so hard to get everything completely flawless for his proposal.

But nothing goes his way that day, none, nada, zilch-

That's just his luck, totally not because it got screwed over by a certain radio demon for shits and giggles.

But he ends up asking you anyway, though a bit indirectly because it slips during his irritated rant.

"I can't believe they managed to spill wine all over me back there! All over one of my best suits as well!"

"Hun, we could always send your suit to the professional cleaners. It's okay! We can always just go someplace else next time too-"

"No! That- ugh! I had all these plans today and they were just ruined! I wanted everything to be absolutely perfect for when I was going to propose to you-"

"You were gonna what-"

Vox immediately shut up once he realized his screwup then.

So much for keeping it a surprise!

That's kind of how you ended up with a diamond ring on your finger that night.

And that's how Vox ended that really stressful day with an extremely satisfying night.

He ditched work the next day and just spent it being all over you.

Yes he admires the ring on your hand from time to time, this man just stares.

You can betcho ass that ring is expensive as fuck too.

Like as if this man didn't kiss your hands enough, that new accessory marking a new chapter of your afterlives just makes him do it more.

He's actually kinda housewife material if you squint-

This man can cook and clean, and as a bonus he's filthy stinkin RICH.

Bro I need me one of these holy shit-

If he wasn't clingy enough before, oh boy get ready for this.

He will always have an appendage on you at all times, a hand on your lower back, your hip, in your hand-

Or he'd just have you in his lap while he worked on stuff in his office.

Also, Vox being possessive as all hell if someone so much as just stared at you too long-

Please that goes straight up to 1000% when you agreed to wear that ring.

You guys planning to get hitched doesn't stay secret for too long though.

With Valentino and Velvette sticking their noses in Vox's business as a daily pastime anyhow-

Hence why a lot of sinners started shipping you two.

And oh goodness the ship wars.

Sometimes Vox wishes the internet wasn't really connected to his brain-

The magazines went wild with that one too-

Cuz imagine, the richest and the pride ring's probably most esteemed bachelor-

Aside from Lucifer probably, Vox's marketing and PR team are insanely good at their jobs-

Was now off the market and due to get hitched with you.

I'd imagine even if Vox doesn't post anything on social media, you or Vel would-

Literally like those married couples on TikTok or something with a whole bunch of cute shit.

You can best believe the most cracked out shit happens while you're both engaged though.

"Oh this is Vox, he's my ex-boyfriend."

"... You have got to stop saying that. I'm their fiancé."

You did not stop saying that.

Actually you wouldn't stop saying that even when his title upgraded to husband.

Not that Vox cares, your shenanigans were what caused him to gravitate towards you in the first place.

And until now they're what keep your relationship fun and interesting.

"Hey hubby, ooooh~ you're looking like the hottest thing in all of the pride ring despite having just rolled out of bed."

"Hahaha, good morning to you too doll."

It doesn't register what you called him at first until he's had his coffee and then it clicks.

You play it off attempting to be coy until he replays the video of you greeting and calling him that on his face.

His. Face.

Sneaky little shit that's what-

He doesn't really respond to any other petname now, you've dug your grave.

"Vox."

"Vox."

"Vooooooxxxx-"

"What? What?? What do you want???"

"Can you peel this orange for me?"

"Really? That's it? Why don't you peel it yourself?"

"Because it tastes better when you do it?"

He does it eventually, hell if he's in a particularly good mood he'll even feed you.

That's always kind of how it goes when you ask him for things.

If it's something you want/can buy though?

You're already in possession of his credit card, just get whatever tf you want HAHAHAHA-

He's still a busy bastard though so it's not really much different from how it's like when you guys were dating-

But he genuinely tries to balance his work a little better to spend more time with you.

This man is such a workaholic though you end up having to drag his ass out of his office to rest anyway.

Again, nothing new from when you were just dating.

You guys jokingly throw around your soon to be marital titles in private.

Vox kind of feels like a kid in a candy store when you do, just giddy and excited for what's to come.

Not to mention he now has a partner in crime when he riffs on Alastor!

He'd be over the MOON if you just joined his chaos.

The radio demon probably wouldn't give a shit, he's just built different like that-

You both get so comfortable that you almost forget that you have a wedding to plan and set a date for.

Until Velvette asks about it and you're both just: "Oh. Right."

Your fiancé's schedule is so fucking packed though it was nearly impossible to.

This guy was going to work himself to death before you could tie the knot lmao-

But eventually you both got a date and venue settled, so that was one step closer.

NSFW HEADCANONS:

Okay so like, I know sinners can't actually copulate unless you're Lucifer but that's besides the point-

And Vox isn't really a family man at all-

But boy oh boy if he didn't have it before-

This man would have an insane breeding kink after you both got engaged.

This man wants to see you stuffed.

Literally doesn't matter if you're riding him or he's just impaling you on his cock-

This guy just wants to fill you up so bad.

I'd also think that you guys would be screwing around a lot more often after he popped the question-

Something about emotions constantly running high and dopamine being one hell of a drug.

I think Vox is a switch, so I'd also imagine he'd be more inclined to let you dom him every now and then.

Or when he just wants to be a bratty little shit please go ahead and tame him, he likes it.

You can kind of get away with more stuff when you're both engaged.

Like tease him a whole ton and he just bites hook, line and sinker.

It's already gotten to the point where the power in the tower would die often enough that Velvette herself has gone through some crazy lengths to cockblock her colleague.

Speaking of, Vox would probably use you as a stress reliever after work if you let him-

Like he will just fuck you stupid until all you say is his name because this guy is addicted to hearing it.

Or he'd let you fuck him stupid until he's so far into sub space he forgets about his shitty day.

Cuz if it's rough, it's rough with you two.

But on the gentler side-

It's just as addicting and if not probably a little worse.

Though you would probably be the one taking initiative/domming whenever you both have gentle rounds.

I'm all for Vox being able to switch some of his parts cuz he wanted to/can.

So y'all have fucking choices when it comes to wrecking this idiot.

Like a multiple choice exam, literally shotgun the fuck outta those answers like you deteriorate his mental.

And consequently the entire city's power grid.

"GODDAMNIT! VOX! (Y/N)! NOT AGAIN!!"

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox headcanons

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Eleven-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Sexual Aggression, Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Slytherin!Boys, Weaponizing!EnzoBerkshire.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Friday morning arrived, but you found yourself ensnared by an unwelcome visitor: illness. Your usual vibrant energy was replaced by a lethargic heaviness, your throat scratchy, and your head pounding with each heartbeat. Emily's concerned eyes followed your every move at the breakfast table, her worried whispers barely audible above the hum of the Great Hall.

Thursday had been a disaster. Despite the guild meeting's anticipation, you couldn't summon an ounce of excitement. The prospect of seeing Tom, once a source of thrill and exciting opportunities, now felt like a daunting challenge. As you walked past him, you avoided his gaze, keeping your eyes fixed on the floor and not daring to converse with him outside of a few small shared words during the meeting. Ignoring him was a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the whirlwind of conflicting emotions that threatened to consume you.

Every fiber of your being wanted to be excited, but the illness, accompanied by the haunting words from Mattheo, had drained you of joy and left only a hollow emptiness. The guild meeting, once a highlight of your week, felt like a distant obligation. Your world had shifted, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainty and discomfort, the very essence of your existence shaken by the turmoil within.

"Are you okay?" Emily's voice sliced through the quiet, laced with concern. "You look like you're about to faint."

"I'm just not feeling well," you replied, your voice barely audible above the buzz of the Great Hall.

The words that left your lips were somewhat true, but they were a mask over your real problems. A torrent of conflicting emotions churned within you, the chaos of Mattheo's unpredictable behavior warring with the complexities of your situation with Tom. Each thought pulled you in a different direction, leaving you in a state of internal turmoil that threatened to consume you whole. Despite your efforts to hide it, the storm inside your mind was evident in your eyes, a silent plea for understanding that you were desperate to keep hidden.

Emily's concerned expression softened into one of understanding, her eyes reflecting the depth of her friendship with you. She didn't press further, sensing the boundaries you had set. Instead, she offered you a gentle, reassuring smile.

"You've been working so hard," she said, softly. "You should cancel your tutoring tonight. You need a bloody night off--you're working yourself sick."

Internally, your turmoil grew. If only Emily knew the real reason behind your illness, the tangled web of secrets and emotions that threatened to suffocate you. The rule-breaking involvement with Mattheo weighed heavily on your conscience, a constant reminder of the dangerous path you were treading, one that was bound to explode at some point, one that was certain to bring your entire world crashing down with it when it did.

Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to confide in Emily, to burden her with the knowledge of your own reckless choices. The fear of judgment and the complexities of your feelings kept you silent, trapped in a cycle of self-imposed secrecy.

"I appreciate your concern, Emily," you replied, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "I honestly think I might just do that...I'm going to tell him now."

Emily's face fell, her eyes widening with a mix of worry and disbelief. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but the words died on her lips. Before she could voice her concerns or attempt to hold you back, you were already rising from your seat, your determination etched on your face like a battle flag. With every step toward the Slytherin table, your gaze bored into Mattheo's disheveled appearance like a laser, an unspoken challenge burning in your eyes.

Your feet carried you forward with purpose, each step echoing your heartbeat which relentlessly thundered in your ears, drowning out the ambient sounds of the bustling Great Hall. The world around you blurred, the faces of your fellow students becoming mere smudges of colour as you zeroed in on Mattheo. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, urging you forward even as doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind.

As you drew closer, you realized the gravity of your decision, the precariousness of the situation you were about to confront, but in that moment, you knew you were already in too deep, you knew that there was no turning back.

"Riddle."

You uttered, your voice slicing through the air like a dagger. However, it was as if your words were swallowed by an invisible void; no one at the table even remotely acknowledging your presence.

"Riddle."

You repeated, your tone sharper this time. This caught Draco Malfoy's attention, his sharp, silver eyes locking onto yours with predatory amusement. His smirk, a cruel curve etched on his lips, seemed to mock your efforts. You shot him an eye roll, dismissing his silent taunts, but it only fueled his amusement, his head tilting slightly in enjoyment. Frustration simmered beneath your skin, a restless energy seeking an outlet. Exasperation surged through you, a tempest of emotions threatening to burst from within.

"Mattheo!"

You finally exclaimed, the name carrying the weight of your frustration and determination. The word hung in the air like a thunderclap, freezing everyone at the Slytherin table in their tracks. The effect was immediate and profound. It was as if you had tossed a live wire onto the table, sending shockwaves through the once-buzzing atmosphere.

A sudden, eerie silence descended upon the Slytherin table. The lively chatter ceased abruptly, and every single pair of eyes turned toward you with an intensity that bordered on disbelief. Berkshire, Zabini, Nott, Black, Malfoy, and Riddle, as well as a few unfamiliar faces, locked their gazes onto yours, each expression mirroring a different shade of astonishment--ranging in various raised eyebrows to widened, shocked eyes.

Before you had a chance to compose yourself, Berkshire, seated directly in front of you, sported a wide, contemptuous grin, his eyes gleaming with disdain.

"Well, well, look who's decided to grace us with her presence," Enzo sneered, his tone dripping with condescension. "Did you finally tire of your precious textbooks, sweetheart? Or are you just here to make a fool of yourself?"

Mattheo's eyes widened in mild astonishment, his usual mask of indifference momentarily slipping as he watched the scene unfold. His lips twitched, almost forming a smirk, but he remained silent, keenly observing the confrontation.

You straightened your back, your gaze unwavering as you met Enzo's sneer head-on. "I'm not here to entertain you, Enzo," you replied, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "But if you have nothing else to do besides insult people, maybe you should consider finding a hobby that doesn't involve being an insufferable prat."

The table fell into a stunned silence, the previous atmosphere of mockery dissipating like smoke in the wind. Enzo's sneer faltered, his expression contorting into a mixture of surprise and indignation.

Zabini raised an eyebrow in mild amusement. "Looks like this raven has some fuckin' claws...watch out boys..."

Nott stifled a laugh behind his hand, clearly entertained by the unexpected turn of events. Black shot you an approving nod, wordlessly acknowledging your verbal victory, and even Malfoy, though still aloof, seemed intrigued by your bold response.

Mattheo's eyes, however, bore into yours with an unreadable intensity, a hint of something flickering beneath the surface--mixture of surprise, pride, and a touch of something more complicated. Enzo's face flushed with anger, his eyes narrowing into slits as he prepared a retort. However, before he could unleash his reply, Mattheo's voice sliced through the tension like a dagger.

"What do you want, Raven?" His tone was calm, collected, almost entirely unfazed.

Inhaling deeply, you mustered your courage and looked directly into Mattheo's eyes. "I won't be able to make it for potions tonight," you stated firmly, your voice unwavering despite the charged atmosphere. "Feeling a bit under the weather."

Mattheo's lips curled into a subtle smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Under the weather, huh?" he said, his tone laced with feigned concern. "Such a shame. I suppose I'll have to find another way to occupy my evening."

There was a playful challenge in his words, hinting at an unspoken understanding between the two of you. Around the table, the boys exchanged raised eyebrow glances, their expressions laced with sadistic curiosity. Their eyes flicked between you and Mattheo, absorbing the interaction with keen interest, as if trying to unravel the depth of the connection between the two of you. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, each of them leaning in slightly, eager to catch any nuances in your conversation, their curiosity piqued by the intriguing dynamic at play.

"I suppose you will," you said, your voice laced with venom. "Enjoy your evening, Riddle."

Just as you attempted to leave, a cold, harsh grip closed around your wrist, making you gasp in surprise. Glancing down, you found Berkshire's twisted face leering up at you, a sadistic smirk playing on his lips.

"If you ever need help getting that stick out of your uptight ass, I'd consider lending a hand," his eyes glinted with malicious intent as he taunted, "of course, for the right price...I'm not as generous as Mattheo."

Your eyes narrowed, fury burning in your veins like wildfire. "Mattheo, generous?" you scoffed, disbelief lacing your words. "That's the last word I'd associate him with."

Berkshire's lips twisted into a cruel smile, his eyes glinting with sadistic satisfaction. "Oh, trust me, little bird," he sneered, leaning in closer, "generosity might not be his best feature--but sometimes, when you're dealing with snakes, it's better to know which one bites less."

His grip tightened briefly before he released you, leaving you seething with anger and frustration. Mattheo's jaw clenched visibly, his fingers curling into fists at Berkshire's audacious words. His eyes narrowed, a storm of anger brewing beneath the surface, but he maintained his composure.

"Watch your tongue, Berkshire." With a chilling calmness, he spoke, his voice laced with a warning tone. "And what did I tell you about fucking touching her?"

His words hung heavy in the air, a subtle threat underlying the calm facade. The atmosphere grew tenser, and even Berkshire seemed to falter slightly under the weight of Mattheo's gaze. The unspoken tension between the two boys crackled, leaving an electric charge in the room.

But then, Berkshire's lips curled into a sinister smile, as if he'd just come to some sudden realization, his eyes glinting with malicious amusement.

"My apologies, Riddle," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, glancing around at all of the other boys at the table. "I didn't realize she was off-limits...but, I have to say, it's quite intriguing, isn't it? The way you guard her so fiercely. Makes one wonder just how close you two really are."

Your irritation swelled, the annoyance becoming almost tangible. How had you thought Mattheo's snark was bad? This guy was in an entire fucking league of his own.

"What truly intrigues me is how someone as insufferable as you manages to function on a daily basis," you hissed, each word dripping with venom, spat out through gritted teeth. "I didn't think it was possible to be more arrogant than Mattheo, but I suppose congratulations are in order. At least you win at something, unlike Quiddit-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Berkshire erupted from his seat, his face contorted with rage, poised to confront you, stalling your lungs in your chest. The rest of the boys swiftly intervened, seizing him and forcefully yanking him back down into his seat, averting a potential escalation of yet another confrontation, each of them exchanging uneasy glances.

Mattheo's demeanor was a storm of barely restrained fury, his eyes dark and blazing with intensity. Despite his efforts to remain composed, the anger seeping from him was palpable, casting a shadow over the entire table.

You shot a scathing look at Berkshire, his gaze avoiding yours as he muttered bitter words under his breath, unwilling to engage in anymore direct confrontation.

Despite the tension, your voice dripped with disdain as you whispered, "bloody pathetic."

The words hung in the air, heavy with disgust, lingering like a ghostly mist--and before anyone had a chance to say anything else, you turned on your heel and left the hall. Each step echoed the frustration and anger that churned within you, the atmosphere thick with the lingering tension of the encounter. As you stormed down the corridor, your footsteps reverberating off the stone walls, you couldn't shake off the seething anger that clung to you like a second skin.

The distant echoes of the Great Hall's chaos faded into the background as you retreated into the quiet corridor, seeking solace from the storm you had unleashed. Just as you began to regain a semblance of composure, Mattheo's voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, his frustration palpable in the way he growled your name. You turned to face him, meeting his intense gaze, where anger and concern danced in his eyes like a tempest.

"The hell was that, Raven? What were you fucking thinking?" he demanded, his footsteps closing in with purposeful strides. His voice, though edged with annoyance, held an undercurrent of worry. "Starting a fight with Berkshire in the middle of the Great Hall? Are you trying to draw unnecessary attention to us?"

"You think I fucking started that?" Your eyes flashed with defiance, refusing to back down despite the intensity of Mattheo's gaze.

"I won't stand there and let him disrespect me, Mattheo," you retorted, your voice cutting through the silence with sharp precision. The weight of his annoyance only fueled your determination. "I'm already your doormat, I won't be his too."

There was a challenging edge to your words, a fire that refused to be extinguished, even in the face of Mattheo's frustration. It was a declaration of your unwillingness to be treated as less than you were worth, a resolve that echoed in the defiant set of your shoulders and the unwavering determination in your eyes. Mattheo's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing with a menacing intensity. He closed the distance between you in a few more swift strides, his presence overwhelming.

"You're not my doormat, Raven," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "But if you keep pushing...if you keep running your mouth like that, you might just find out what it feels like to be truly under someone's heel...I can't keep defending you without drawing suspicion."

"Oh, look at you...big tough guy, huh?" Your defiance blazed in your eyes, undeterred by Mattheo's threats. You stepped forward, kinking your neck back to catch his eyes. "What are you going to do about it, hm? Get out the belt again? We both know I can handle more than that, Riddle..."

"You're playing with fire, princess..." Mattheo warned, his tone dripping with dark amusement as it dropped to a low whisper. "And we both know how that usually ends, don't we?"

His smirk, etched with wicked allure, deepened into a predatory grin. His eyes, like shards of obsidian, glittered with a potent mixture of dominance and danger. Leaning in, he invaded your personal space, his head tilting slightly as his gaze flickered to your lips, an unspoken challenge lingering in the air. Your pulse quickened, each beat echoing the intensity of the moment. Despite the adrenaline surging through your veins, you met his eyes with unwavering courage, a silent declaration that you would not be easily swayed by his aura of power and intrigue.

"Seems like that's all I do these days," you whispered back, allowing your defiance to blow away with the wind as you remembered why you even ventured to his table in the first place. "I can't do this anymore, Mattheo...I can't keep doing this...whatever the fuck this even is in the first place..."

Mattheo's eyes softened, his usual facade cracking for a moment as he reached out, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your jaw.

"Raven," he murmured, his voice filled with a complexity of emotions, "we're in too deep now...you and I both know there's no turning back..."

The dim light of the corridor cast deep shadows across Mattheo's features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. His eyes, normally ablaze with confidence, were now clouded with uncertainty, a storm of conflicting emotions. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, adding to the enigmatic aura that surrounded him. As he leaned in, the scent of his cologne wrapped around you, intoxicating and alluring.

"No, Mattheo..." you breathed, turning your head to avoid his lips. "You said no strings but there seems to be a lot of fucking strings...it’s all too much…”

Your inner turmoil churned like a tempest within, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions tearing at the very core of your existence. There was an ache nestled deep in your chest, a painful acknowledgment that you were bound to Mattheo in ways that defied logic and reason. The desire for something genuine, something profound and real, clashed violently with the brutal truth that it could never be.

It was a cruel paradox: Mattheo's possessiveness, his insistence on claiming you, even in the shadowy realms of secrecy, left you feeling both wanted and yet painfully isolated. The longing for an authentic connection battled relentlessly with the reality that this clandestine affair could never transform into something meaningful. You found yourself ensnared in a complex web, a moth irresistibly drawn to a flame, unable to resist its allure despite the inevitable burn.

His games and possessive gestures were merely agonizing reminders of the insurmountable boundaries. Yet, the magnetic pull of his presence, the way he ignited a fire within you, kept you entangled in this perilous dance. Your feelings for him were perplexing, a tumultuous mix of intense desire and seething resentment. He made you experience emotions you had never felt before, confusing you with the sheer intensity of your reactions.

You hated him, despised the way he treated you, yet he had an inexplicable power over you, making you feel both alive and trapped simultaneously. The dichotomy between the pleasure he brought and the pain he inflicted left you utterly confounded, adrift in a sea of emotions, desperately searching for an anchor that seemed forever out of reach.

Mattheo's eyes softened even further as he blinked, catching the flicker of turmoil in your gaze. He stepped back, the intensity of the moment breaking as he ran a hand through his tousled hair, a gesture of frustration and resignation.

"You're just not feeling well..." he said, his voice void of emotion, as though your turmoil was inconsequential, as though your current health state somehow made any fucking difference. "Get some rest, Raven. See you Wednesday."

His words hung in the air like a bitter aftertaste, a reminder of the futility of your situation. With a final, detached glance, he turned away and spun down the dimly lit hall, his figure gradually fading into the shadows. The weight of his indifference settled on your shoulders, a heavy burden that mirrored the ache in your heart. As he disappeared from view, you stood there, alone in the corridor, feeling both abandoned and entangled, like a moth caught in a web of its own making.

—————-

Chapter twelve->

#smut #harry potter #mattheosmut #marcus lopez imagine #marcus lopez smut #marcuslopez #mattheo #draco malfoy smut #draco lucius malfoy #mattheoxreader #mattheo x you #mattheoriddle #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheoriddlesmut #theoriddlesmut #theodorenottsmut #theodore smut #theo riddle #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott smut #theodore nott smut #theo riddle smut #tomriddle smut #tomriddlesmut #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle smut #tom riddle

[ystrike1]

I hate doing this but there's drama in the horror webtoon community and I have to vent.

Do NOT support Hanza_art

If you don't want to be spoiled/involve yourself in a toxic situation do not read further.

My Deepest Secret was infamous for its overly miserable plot twist ending. The main character turned out to be "crazy" and "delusional". Somehow that protagonist was capable of living a normal life and being a serial killer at the same time. This character never got real professional help, and they were left to suffer in their delusions.

The horror community is often wary of authors that portray mentally ill people as unsalvagable or monstrous. Personally, I was horrified.

The backlash was horrible because the plot twist made no sense in general. In addition the story was marketed as a romance and by the end nobody had paired off. I felt my time was wasted, and I was disgusted by the way the "true villain" was discarded for the crime of being mentally ill.

When Hanza returned with a more level-headed protagonist and a more violent psychopathic villain....some readers gave the author another chance.

I don't blame them. Paranoid characters like Rozy are very interesting! Especially as main characters!

Hawa, the secondary female lead, grows out of her "naive victim" stereotype as well. It's very satisfying to watch. It was tied together nicely by the handsome villain, Adam.

Adam is extremely evil and irredeemable. When the story begins he is a serial killer who targets "innocent, sweet" girls like Hawa.

Rozy is overprotective and she doesn't trust men. In fact she's a known man hater. The characters are all adults, so their character traits and desires aren't just quirks. They are all deeply flawed people.

It was a very promising start.

Plus, it wasn't marketed as a romance so I was sure it would be written better! The weakest part of My Deepest Secret was the romance (by the end I mean) so yay!

Or not...

I do not keep up with TGU on a regular basis. The plot slowed down considerably and I noticed a worrying trend. Frankly, I'm not shocked by this immature behavior in the slightest.

Every single male character in TGU is a sexist abuser who harbors violent thoughts about women.

Hanza is very good at writing scary, irredeemable, sexist pigs that belong in jail...but it was a worrying trend all the same.

Adam was a smart, handsome serial killer who liked to hide in plain sight. By about chapter fifty he was alot dumber, and I cannot stress this enough.

Every male character that associates with Rozy or Hana turns out to be a stalker or harasser. The kind that would get charged in real life.

That kind of hatred towards "all men" is worrying in a thriller comic, and it was very annoying.

I wanted Rozy to outsmart Adam.

I don't want to watch her and Hana be abused by multiple men (mostly former friends!).

I came for the girl boss mystery, and I got alot of sexism instead. What a slap in the face.

Past a certain point I was only checking in to see how bad the story had gotten....and...yup....the male police officer helping Rozy is also a weird guy.

............first of all that's boring.

Second of all it's insulting.

Hanza hates toxic romance, and it shows, and that's perfectly ok. It's not for everyone, but Hanza has built their entire career on top of sexy murder men...so their attitude is extremely hypocritical and annoying as heck to watch.

"I hate toxic romance but I'm also going to sell suit merch of Elios and Adam."

Like, what did you expect?

Hanza is an adult creator, and they do know who they're catering to.

At this point they are absolutely insulting the fans that pay their bills, and that's unacceptable.

Authors are public figures now. They have been since the Facebook Era. Random internet trolls should not influence how you speak to your fan base. I understand that working for Webtoon is brutally hard, but Hanza is a popular artist despite their fumbled first story.

It's like watching somebody blow their nose on a golden ticket.

TGU was their second chance. A very generous second chance, that got great reviews in the beginning.

I'm astonished that Hanza somehow managed to concoct another dud plot twist. Their rude attitude has to be the nail in their coffin. They should not get a third generously funded chance.

Don't interact with their posts.

Don't review bomb the webtoon.

Don't give them any more attention.

They've made more than enough money off of fans they clearly don't respect.

Every creator worth their salt knows trolls and super perverts are only 0.05% of any given Fandom.

If Hanza wants to spit on the 99.95% fine.

Just don't give them any more money or support. That's the only punishment fans have the right to inflict.

Why am I so upset?

Well, as you can see Hanza posted spoilers. They spoiler bombed Twitter because they don't want to finish TGU.

That's right. On top of insulting everybody who paid for this comic they also don't want to finish. Despite the fact that the story reached its climax recently. The girlboss alliance is finally forming against Adam but...too bad I don't wanna write it (suckers).

The sibling plot twist is just abysmal as well.

Shame on you Hanza.

You damn well know that this sibling plot twist is completely out of left field and unexpected. (and boring. I am convinced you are trolling your fans.)

The shipper trolls and the edgy Rozy/Adam fans had no idea it was coming before you randomly spoiled it.

For the record I don't ship anything in this lackluster comic, because I know better. Again, My Deepest Secret was marketed as a Romantic Thriller and then there was zero payoff. Sure, this one isn't a romance, but I don't think anyone signed up for every guy on the block being evil. Just the guy upstairs. Since the story isn't even about love I never imagined so much drama would come out. It feels very pointless and petty. Every time I hear about this artist it's a drama issue and I can't help but think they're part of the problem. Their recent behavior on social media hasn't left me with any other options.

Hanza, you are being manipulative and childish on purpose because you don't want to finish what you started.

You pandered to horror and toxic romance fans on purpose just to get money.

You spoiled a story millions of people have been reading regularly just to satisfy your childish need to bully your own fans.

You took their money.

You signed your contract.

Nobody made you do it.

If you really are super conservative and you think romance must be pure LEAVE US ALONE, and go write pure romance.

Nobody is stopping you, but you wanted to milk more money out of people you don't respect.

It's sickening, and I'm happy that TGU will never get a physical release.

You don't deserve a dime of that money.

Shame. On. You.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #webtoon #do not read any works by hanza #my deepest secret #the guy upstairs #anti-rec I guess

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Part 2: Secret Glances and Wandering Hands✨ dbf! Joel

Chapter Summer: After having the best night of your life with Joel Miller, will you be able to control yourself around him when he comes around your family? Or will you be a hot mess that can’t keep your hands off him?

Part 1

Word Count: 8.1k

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: cream pie, fingering, oral, unprotected p in v, no outbreak! Joel, porn with plot, dbf! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The next two days pass in a blur. You can’t stop thinking about Joel, can’t stop talking to him. The two of you haven’t stopped texting since you left his house, not able to stay away from each other. He never really was a texter, always saying how he hates it and doesn’t respond to nearly half the texts he gets, but he always texts you back. Never leaves you hanging. And you know then that you’re special to him. And that makes you that much more crazy for him and his tempting brown eyes.

He’s like a festering disease in your mind that keeps growing and growing until it takes total control of you. Winding around all your brain cells, twisting and bending them until you can think of nothing but him and only him. He’s all you can think about, all you want to think about. But then that one thought always enters your mind. That one inconvenient, pessimistic thought. He’s your fucking father’s best friend.

It eats at you, stirs trouble up in your mind. But you don’t care. Not enough to let your feelings for Joel go. You’re too involved now. Too tied up with him. If you let him go then you’ll surely lose yourself because no other man is like Joel. He’s one of a kind. The only one that can spark a fire in you. The only burning ember that can set you ablaze when nobody else can. He’s a dangerous wildfire, but you want to get burned by him. It’s your new favorite fixation. Your addiction.

You know you’re in trouble. If you’re already this wrapped up in him then how will you hide your feelings when Joel comes around your father and you’re around? What the fuck are you supposed to do then? Hide how you feel? Yeah, right. As if you can do that. It’s not possible. Not after he’d been inside you. Not after his fingers had made you cum so hard that you were shaking against him and seeing stars. Not after his hot breath had skimmed down your neck, his hands sliding up and down your inner thighs, teasing and working you up so much that you were drenched before he even reached your throbbing center. And definitely not after his soft lips had devoured yours, leaving you begging for more of his inviting, delicious tongue. Wanting to feel it slide up and down your folds until they reach the most sensitive spot as you grab his tousled curls and ride out your paralyzing orgasm as you beg him to make you cum again and again, until you give him every part of you, all of you.

You snap out of your wet daydream as you realize you’re squeezing your legs together and still sitting at your laptop, a full list of apartments on the page that you’re supposed to be looking at. But instead you’re thinking of intense brown eyes and strong hands.

Get yourself together. You need to find an apartment if you ever want to get out of this house and have your own space again. Why did your old apartment have to burn down and why was it taking so fucking long to find a new one?

You close the laptop hard, completely flustered at your lack of attention to what’s important on your agenda. You glance at the clock and realize you’re running late. You need to get to class before you miss lecture hall. You grab your pink backpack and stuff your laptop in it hurriedly and leave your bedroom, running down the narrow stairs in a rush.

Class. Focus on getting to school, not Joel.

Before you can descend the stairs, your mom comes out from the kitchen and stops you before you can leave the house.

“Oh, honey. Before you go I was wondering if you’ll be home for dinner?” she asks as her bouncy, dark curls frame her face, her blue eyes shining up at you as she gives you a soft smile.

“Yeah, I should be. Why?” you ask, your eyebrows raising as if she is about to say something out of the ordinary.

“Oh, good. Your father just invited Joel for dinner, so he’ll be here too.”

You freeze on the stairs as your hand goes tight around the railing, your heart stopping for just the tiniest second. Joel was coming for dinner? Fuck. She notices your wide eyes and your death grip on the rail as you stand still on the stairs.

“Everything okay? You look like you just saw a ghost,” she replies with a concerned look on her face.

You grab your hand from the rail and make your way down, fishing out your car keys as you zip up your bag. “I’m fine. Just realized I forgot I had an assignment due today is all,” you lie, biting your tongue as you turn the front door knob and open the door, welcoming the cool breeze in.

“Oh, I see. Okay, well have fun at school, honey. I’ll see you for dinner.”

You wave goodbye and walk out the door into the chilly breeze of fall. When you unlock your shiny black Nissan Rogue and open the car door, you throw your backpack in the passenger side and plop down into the driver’s seat. You slam the door shut and rest your head on the cold steering wheel, trying to sort your racing thoughts out.

Breathe. It’s only dinner. You can do this. You can fake it. You can pretend that you weren’t just fucked by Joel fucking Miller. Right?

You’ll have to pretend that thick cloud of tension isn’t in the room tonight, but it’s always there. Hanging like a low rain cloud that’s just waiting to spill its rain and thunder all over you while it takes you under and drowns you, suffocates you. That’s what he is. A slow turning thunderstorm that wants to strike you down and light you on fire as he consumes all of you and takes you for himself to destroy in a wave full of passion and pleasure.

You start the car up and just as you’re about to put it in reverse, you hear your phone vibrate in your backpack pocket. You pick it up and find a text from Joel waiting for you to open. You quickly unlock your phone and read the text.

Joel: Guess who got invited to dinner at your place tonight?

You quickly respond with a smile plastered all over your face. So I just heard. Looks like I’ll see you tonight, brown eyes. You put a winking emoji at the end and push send.

Okay, now you really are late. You put your phone back in the side pocket of your backpack and quickly pull out of the driveway. You put it into drive and speed to campus. You hear your phone buzz again, but you can’t look at it till you get to class. You’re too late.

When you finally make it to school and walk into class, the professor has already started the lecture. You sneak in the back and take a seat in the auditorium sized room, hoping he doesn’t notice you barging in ten minutes late. When you take a seat, you secretly pull out your phone and look at the missed text from Joel.

Joel: Brown eyes, huh? I like the sound of that. That my new nickname or something?

You giggle at the text and immediately respond. That’s what I’m going to start calling you, brown eyes. I just can’t stop thinking about them or you. You end it with a smiley emoji and push send. Joel texts back about a minute later.

Joel: You’re fuckin adorable, baby. Can’t wait to see you later. You gorgeous girl.

Your heart skips a beat at the last text and the smile on your face is so big that you’re sure the entire class can see the crimson blush all over you. You aren’t paying attention, so when the professor clears his throat and calls out your name you’re immediately drawn out of your lovesick texting game. You put your phone in your bag and quickly apologize and ask him to repeat his question.

“I said no phones in class. Don’t let it happen again,” he warns with a glare in his eyes.

“Yes, professor. Sorry. Just got distracted,” you apologize. He gives you one more nasty glare and goes back to his lecture on the practices of law. You sigh and get your head focused back on the lecture, trying to push Joel out of your mind. But he’s stuck like glue, no way to push him out.

Joel Miller is going to be the death of you.

When you get home from school, you run upstairs and get busy getting ready. You have to look hot tonight but not so much that your parents notice something is up. You dig through your closet hurriedly and start picking apart outfits. You hold up a short jean mini skirt and look in the mirror. Nah, too short. You flick through your outfits and try again with a pair of distressed black jeans. As you hold them up to your waist in the mirror, you automatically shake your head no. Too boring. You rip apart your closet and get so worked up and frustrated that you end up on the floor, cursing under your breath.

Why the fuck is this so hard to pick an outfit and why the fuck can you not get Joel Miller out of your head? You audibly groan into your hands and slouch over as you’re about to give up. When you look back up into the closet, a dress that had gotten caught behind some sweatshirts peeks out at you. Your eyes go wide as you stare at the perfect dress for dinner. Jackpot.

You push yourself off the cream colored carpet and reach for the hidden dress. You pull it out of the closet and rip your jeans and sweatshirt off, quickly sliding on the floral material over your figure. When you turn around to look in the full length mirror, you gasp as you take in the gorgeous dress. You glide your hand over the soft polyester fabric and take in the vibrant colors. It’s a short mini dress that’s light blue in color and has dark violet flowers all over. The thin straps hang over each side and tie together softly on your shoulders. It shows off just enough cleavage but not too much. The dress hovers a few inches from your knees as it grazes along your sides, the perfect combination of sexy and not too much. This will definitely catch Joel’s attention. And you plan to tease him as much as possible tonight.

You slide on some slip on white Converse shoes and call it good. Heels would be too much, your parents would definitely question your choice of wardrobe. You take a seat at your lit up vanity and smooth out your spiral curls with your bristled brush. After fixing your hair, you apply some shiny lip gloss to your smooth lips and highlight your eyes with some shimmery champagne colored eyeshadow. After inspecting yourself in the mirror, you smile and head downstairs. Joel will be here any minute, and you’re already freaking out.

When you step into the open kitchen, you notice your mom taking out some chicken breasts from the oven and your dad sitting on the couch with a newspaper in his hands with a football game muted on the tv. The wafts of chicken pull at your appetite and your mouth starts watering, but it’s also watering for something else. And that something is Joel Miller’s cock. You lick your lips in anticipation of having him again. That hot, salty taste sliding down your throat, coating your insides…

You jump when your mom pulls you out of your wet daydream as she compliments your dress. “That’s a pretty dress. Haven’t seen that one before. Is it new?” she asks as she mixes up a side of creamy mashed potatoes in a teal mixing bowl.

“Oh, yeah. Just got it at the mall a few weeks ago. You like it?” you ask as you smooth the material down on your thighs.

“Love it,” she says as she flashes you a smile and gets back to fixing dinner.

“That’s a little short on you, isn’t it?” your dad asks as he lowers his wide lense reading glasses and sets his newspaper down on his lap, giving you a disapproving look as he glances the dress over.

“No, I don’t think so,” you say nervously as you pull at the ends of the dress.

“George, she’s fine,” she says as she rolls her eyes at him. “It’s a lovely dress, sweetheart. Now will you be a dear and go set the table? Joel will be here any minute.”

“Sure, on it,” you nod as you grab up the glass plates and a handful of shiny silverware.

When you set up the last spot at the table, you smooth out the cream colored tablecloth and nod in approval. You look around the room and inspect the large dining area. Crimson curtains hang over the large, cascading window, a tall rustic grandfather clock sits next to the stairs, all six wooden chairs are pushed into the table, and the pictures of you and your family from summer vacation hang around the open dining room. You hear a jarring knock at the door and jump at the sudden noise.

“Honey, can you let Joel in? My hands are full, and your father is in the middle of a call,” your mom yells from the kitchen.

“Yeah, I got it,” you call back. Every step towards the front door has your heart hammering against your chest, and your palms feel sweaty. All you can think about is how much you want to put your hands all over him, how much you want to tangle your fingers in his unruly, tousled curls as you scream his name in white, hot bliss.

When you open the solid frost colored door, you freeze in place and have to practically pick your jaw off the floor from how ridiculously handsome he is. Joel is leaned up against the edge of the door, casually comfortable as he smiles down at you. The dimples encase his handsome features and send butterflies tumbling through your stomach. He’s wearing a deep red button-up plaid shirt and dark washed out jeans that fit perfectly against his formed legs. His hair is slicked back with gel and his lower arms flex at his sides, sending thick veins spiraling against his tan skin.

God, he looks good.

“Hi, sweetheart,” his voice drawls like sweet syrup that sticks to your insides. His crooked smile pulls at your heartstrings as you nearly sink into a puddle on the frayed welcome mat.

“Hi,” you say back shyly as you tug a loose curl behind your ear.

His doe eyes skate up and down your body, slowly taking in every inch of you that he can. His eyes seem to glow an amber color as a radiant glow casts over his face. “You’re so gorgeous,” he hums as he cups your chin and slowly grazes the pad of his calloused thumb against your jawline. You seem to get lost in his hypnotizing gaze as the tip of his thumb brushes against your lower lip. You almost lean in, wanting so badly to pull his head down to yours so you can graze your lips over his, but your father interrupts as he comes around the corner. You and Joel jump apart before he notices anything.

“Hey, Joel! Come on in. Claire is just finishing setting the food up on the table, so make yourself at home.”

“Thanks, George. Don’t mind if I do,” Joel smiles as he steps through the threshold of the door and closes it tight behind him. When your dad disappears behind the corner of the dining room, Joel trails his hand against the small of your back and drops it down to his side, but not without grazing against the back of your thigh. You gasp as goosebumps appear over the patch of skin he just touched, the back of your neck already sweating from having his hands on you. You don’t stop to look behind you. You just keep moving into the lit up dining room, away from the tempting hands of Joel.

You pull out a chair as it sounds like chalk to a rusty board and sit as you pull the chair up so your legs are underneath the delicate tablecloth. Joel takes the seat next to yours and slides the chair over just a tad, just enough to where if he wanted to he could reach out and graze your knee. The thought of it has you giggling on the inside.

Your mom brings in the main dish, cooked Parmesan chicken breasts and sets the porcelain dish in the middle of the crowded table amongst all the other various dishes. “Joel! So nice to see you. How was work?” she asks with a big smile on her face.

“Oh, you know, the usual. We were pretty busy today. Got a lot of new workers on the job, so thankfully I didn’t have to stay late today.”

“Well, I’m so glad you got to come tonight. Should be a pretty good meal,” she says as she takes a seat on the opposite side of the table, across from Joel.

“Wouldn’t miss one of your dinners,” he says with a grin on his face.

“Well, go on. You guys dig in. Get what you want. There’s plenty more and dessert is cooling off, so help yourself.” Joel happily obliges and grabs up his plate, scooping out some mashed potatoes and chicken onto it. You go to grab the salad tongs, and his hand comes down on yours as you two reach for the same item at once. You feel a spark of electricity zap through your fingers as you quickly pull your hand back hurriedly.

“Sorry, go ahead,” you blush as you put your electrified hand in your lap, playing with the hem at the end of the flowery dress.

“Ladies first,” he offers as he holds his hand out and waits for you. You nod your head at him and take the end of the tongs, wishing his rough hand was still on yours. You fill your plate up and take a bite of the warm, seasoned chicken. It slides down your throat as the savoury flavor sticks to your tastebuds.

“Mom, this chicken is excellent!” you say excitedly as you take another bite, this time getting Parmesan in the mix.

“Glad you like it,” she smiles as she stabs at the salad in front of her and takes a small bite.

As you continue eating, your mom and dad make small conversation with Joel, but then they ask you a glaring question. “How’s the apartment hunting coming, sweetie? Finding anything you like?” your dad asks as he looks over at you, his Texas State University jersey hanging loosely over his athletic figure.

“Oh, you know. The same. I’ve been applying to a few I found, but I haven’t heard anything. Seems like it’s almost impossible to find anything right now. They’re all waitlisted or unavailable,” you groan under your breath. You take another small bite of chicken and chew, the taste of disappointment setting in as you grow stale from apartment hunting.

“Sorry to hear that, baby,” he says soothingly. “Joel, you don’t think you could help my little girl out do you? You’ve got the hookups with this sort of thing. Mind helping her find a place?” he asks nicely.

Joel turns his head toward you and flicks his eyes over you carefully. “Sure, I can help. Anything for my best friend’s daughter,” he smiles. There’s something hidden underneath that smile, the curl of a smirk as his eyes turn a hint darker as he rolls those last three words out. Best friend’s daughter. He means to say best friend’s daughter that he fucked on top of his couch in the silhouette of night in his house.

“Thanks, Joel,” you smile as you tap the edge of your knee against his, silently thanking him with more than words. He curls his lips up as he turns back to his plate, jabbing a piece of chicken onto his metal fork.

The two of you continue brushing the side of your legs against one another as your parents continue the small talk with you and Joel. The denim material feels cool and slightly rough against your bare skin. You can practically feel the heat that comes off his thigh as your leg digs into his, can practically taste it as it simmers off his tan skin.

A low rumble starts aching in your belly, but you aren’t hungry for food. You’re hungry for Joel. It’s so very tempting to reach your hand out and trail your fingers up his inner thigh, so easy to discreetly palm him through his jeans as you make the blood rush, pulling at his hardening cock as you get him all worked up under the table. So very tempting…

Your better judgement leaves the room as you throw all your dignity and self control out the window, watch it fly away like your heart did the first time you saw Joel standing in your living room. You can’t control yourself. He’s too hot, too tempting, too damn charming, his hands too experienced, his mouth too lush and inviting. Ah fuck it, it’s fine.

“How’s Sarah doing? She like being in high school now?” your dad asks as he stuffs some mashed potatoes in his mouth, looking over at Joel.

“She’s getting used to it. It’s a lot bigger than middle school, but overall I’d say she’s doing well,” he answers as he takes another bite of the flavored chicken. Your mom jumps in on the conversation and asks a question directed at Joel. Now’s your chance.

You sneakily reach your right arm out and set your hand down on the edge of his knee gently. He jumps a little but continues on with the conversation.

“And she’s making lots of friends I presume? She’s a social butterfly that one,” your mom laughs as she takes a sip of tea from the tall glass in front of her.

You trail your hand up higher, sliding up the crease of his jeans, going over his inner thigh slowly. Your nails trace delicate patterns over the inner seam. You’re almost there, almost.

“Oh yeah, she has a ton of friends. Sometimes I can’t even keep her at home. She…” His sentence cuts off as he chokes on his words, thrown off by your impulsive behavior. You grab his cock through the tight denim around his shaft, slowly working your hand up and down his length as you feel his cock harden, getting thicker by the moment.

“Joel, are you alright? You’re not choking are you?” your mom gasped out, almost standing up from her seat.

“No-no, I’m f…fine,” he says with gritted teeth, his jaw clenched from the buzzing arousal you ignite on him. “Just swallowed too much at once,” he gnashes out, a slight groan getting stuck deep in his chest.

“Oh, good. Thought I was gonna have to call an ambulance,” your dad laughs, joking to himself as he swallows some green beans.

Joel isn’t amused at all. He covers his mouth and turns to you, whispering harsh words as he puts a hand over yours to try to stop you from jerking him off under the table. “Quit that,” he glares. He gives you a warning glare, but you can see he’s turned on. The way the large veins in his neck strain against him tell you quite enough.

You give him your best sultry eyes and smirk up at him, mouthing “Make me” to him. His glare relaxes as he clenches his jaw, his eyes growing darker as he gazes at you, a hint of a smirk rising on the corner of his mouth. Oh boy, you’re in trouble.

He grabs your wrist sharply and pushes your hand away from his erection that’s planted firmly against his zipper. He places his rough hand on your thigh, slowly sliding it up your inner thigh as butterflies start to form in the pit of your stomach. You grab your glass of sweet tea and take a drink, letting the sugary liquid rinse down your throat as you push down the growing arousal that’s building in the base of your spine. You hear your parents asking Joel about fixing your dad’s truck. He’s always been good at that. Fixing things. Houses, cars, floors, your growing orgasms…

Before you know what’s happening, he slides his calloused fingers inside the lacy material and finds your folds as he rubs up and down, spreading the already built up slick all over you. Your eyes go wide and you spit out your tea, coughing up the liquid you choked on as you grab the crimson napkin and cover your mouth.

“Honey! Are you alright?” your mother asks alarmed, her arm reaching across the table as if she can help you. She can’t help you though. Nobody can except Joel, especially since he’s finger fucking you in front of the parents, under the table in private. He slides his middle finger inside you and you squeeze your legs together, trying not to moan at the dinner table.

“I’m fine, just went down the wrong tube. Think I took too large of a drink,” you gasp out, dabbing your mouth as you fist the soft cloth in your hand. Pretending like you’re completely fine and not building up an orgasm right at the dinner table.

“Oh, thank God. Just be careful next time you take a drink. George, tell Joel about what you heard today at work,” she says as she turns to your dad. He starts rambling about some office promotion at work, but you tune him out. The only thing you’re focused on is holding back your moans as Joel elicits an orgasm out of you.

Your left hand wraps around Joel’s wrist as he works you nice and slow, two fingers stretching your walls as they work up and down, up and down. His thumb finds your clit as he presses down firmly, drawing pressurized circles meticulously around your throbbing bundle of nerves. You dig your fingers into him and bite down on the cloth with your other hand, holding in a moan as you fight for your life.

Your skin is flushed, your eyes wide in fucked out bliss, and your throat is completely dry. The orgasm is building in the base of your spine, slowly lowering down your body as your walls start fluttering around his fingers. You’re right there, so fucking close. Another wave of slick runs down your center, right on his thick fingers. You were going to spill right there in the chair, completely ruin your lace and Joel’s fingers.

As your dad says something to your mom, Joel leans over and whispers dirty words into your ear. “Atta girl. That’s a good fucking girl. Cum for me, make daddy proud,” he growls into your ear. And that was it. That was all the motivation you needed.

Joel speeds up his fingers, pumping in and out harder, the circles around your clit growing deeper and deeper until you can’t take anymore. You feel your walls clench around his fingers, feel the white hot sensation take place, and then you cum, hard. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself drip hot liquid all over his fingers as he continues to pump a few more times into you, making sure he collects all the slick on himself. You bite down hard on the cloth and choke out a moan. Your face is hot and flushed, and you can barely see anything in front of you as you come down from your oragasmic high. You can see Joel smirking from the corner of your eye, so proud of himself for making you cum just like that.

What a fucking tease.

“Sweetheart, are you feeling alright? What’s wrong?” your mom asks as she pulls concerned blue eyes your way. Your dad follows the same, eyeing you carefully with furrowed brows.

“I’m…I’m okay. I just think I ate too quickly. My stomach…feeling a little queasy…I guess,” you gasp out, trying to collect yourself as you feel Joel’s fingers retract from you, fixing your underwear over your cunt again as he slides the material smoothly over your center, feeling just how drenched and uncomfortable it is now.

“Oh, alright. Just take your time next time. Maybe hold off on anymore bites for a few minutes?” she asks with worried features.

“Mhm,” you nod, still too fucked out to focus on anything but the ringing in your ears.

“Joel, dear. I do hope you’re enjoying the Parmesan chicken. It’s George’s new favorite,” she beams at your dad as he smiles back.

“Oh, it’s perfect. Absolutely delicious.” He draws the last two words out slowly as he takes the two fingers that were inside you and pulls them in his mouth, sucking slowly as he stares at you with smoldering eyes. Your jaw drops at the provocative words and action.

Joel Miller is a fucking menace.

You take a couple of minutes to catch your breath, come back down to earth where your breathing wasn’t so ragged and your body wasn’t strung out from the fucked out bliss. Whenever you pull yourself back together, you hear Joel’s chair push back against the hardwood floor. You look up and he’s walking out of the dining room, his plaid shirt clinging to his broad back, pulling excessively as he flexes his muscles around it.

“If you’ll excuse me, gonna run to the restroom.”

You turn back to your plate and push the fork around the chicken, stabbing at a piece as the thought of food makes you nauseous. You hear Joel quietly clearing his voice in the other room and when you look up he’s staring at you, trying to get your attention. His dark eyes smolder at you as he smirks, and then you’re back on edge again as your throat runs dry. He curls his index toward him, coaxing you to follow him as he stands at the edge of the staircase waiting for you to join him.

“Ummm, I’m also gonna go. My stomach is feeling pretty queasy, I might be sick,” you say hurriedly as you practically trip out of the chair and stumble across the room. Before you can leave the room, your mom calls after you.

“Let me know if you need anything, honey. Feel better,” she says as you exit the room, stopping right in front of Joel. He licks his tongue slowly over his teeth, and it makes you weak at the knees. He quickly grabs your wrist and pulls you up the staircase. You follow with no objections, wanting to feel his soft lips on your skin, wanting him to burn you with his scorching flames that lick at his tanned skin.

He pulls you into your room and closes the door swiftly behind him, locking it as he turns to you, glaring at you with burning eyes. “You couldn’t fucking wait to put your hands on me until we were alone?” he asks with a clenched jaw and tight lips.

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t control myself. You were too tempting,” you apologize sweetly, batting your eyelashes up at him in a flirtatious manner.

“Mhm. I noticed,” he says as his lip twitches, his stance guarded against the door.

“Well, it’s not like you could either. I mean you’re the one that made me cum at the dinner table, in front of my parents,” you bite back, your eyebrows raised in defense.

“You’re the one that started it,” he huffs, taking a step toward you.

“But you’re the one that finished it,” you smirk back, looking at him under the hood of your eyelids as your gaze pulls him forward.

“You’re walkin’ on mighty thin ice, darlin’,” he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he takes another step forward, getting closer to you.

“And what are you gonna do about it, huh? You gonna teach me a lesson?” You bite your bottom lip seductively, and Joel watches with his pupils expanding. You can see his cock hardening under the tight jeans, begging to be set free. He takes another step forward and another, ending up right in front of you as he drags his hand through his salt and pepper scruff slowly.

He takes his hand and pulls at the edge of your dress, grazing his fingers against your thigh as heat builds in the pit of your stomach. “Oh, yes. Gonna show you what happens to bad girls who don’t behave. Got a real good lesson to teach ya.”

He wastes no time and pulls you to his chest, crushing his mouth down on yours as he kisses you like he’d been touch starved for days. You part your lips like the red sea and invite him in, opening wider as he clashes his tongue against yours and tastes you. His coffee scent is all over you, seeping into your bones, consuming you whole as his taste intoxicates you, submerges you into deep depths as it pulls you under.

He guides you over to the bed as his hands dig into your hips, letting one drop to your ass as he squeezes and teases you. “You look so pretty in this dress darlin’, but I think it’d look even better off.” He pulls the flowery dress over your head and tosses it on the floor, flicking his eyes over you as he takes in the shape of you standing in nothing but lacy underwear.

“Goddamn, baby. So fuckin’ gorgeous. I could just lick you from head to toe,” he groans as his eyes smolder over you.

“Please do,” you beg, your hands fisting his shirt as he sits you on the edge of the bed carefully, right on top of the pink neon blanket.

“Gotta be quick, sweetheart. Don’t want your parents finding us up here. Gotta be quiet. Can you do that for me?” he asks with raised brows as he runs a calloused finger down the edge of your neck, making you sick with want.

“Mhm,” you hum, your fingers still attached to the plaid material.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises. He drags his tongue up the side of your neck and sinks down on your collarbone, making you groan with desire. His hands knead your breasts together as he slides his mouth down, sucking each one into his mouth as he swirls around your breasts, making your nipples pebble underneath his hot mouth.

“Feels so good,” you groan, digging your fingers into the tangled sheets beneath you.

“Yeah? ‘Bout to make ya feel real good somewhere else,” he smirks.

He pushes your thighs apart wide and slides in between your legs, trailing slow kisses up your inner thighs as he teases you, building up that hot slick as it drips against your lace. He drags his thumb over your center and you hiss in response to the sensitive area.

“Goddamn, darlin’. You’re so wet for me,” he growls as he brings his mouth down and stops at your center. He looks up at you with a dark smolder in his eyes as he takes his tongue and licks slowly over your clothed cunt.

“Fuck,” you gasp as the weight of his tongue brings down more slick. He’s fucking drowning you right now, and he’s about to pull you over the edge.

“This what you want? Want me to feast on that pretty pussy of yours?”

“Yes, fuck. Please,” you beg, eyes wide as you watch him drag down the ruined lace and toss it on the floor. He slowly licks his lips as he stares at your bare cunt, just like a tiger looks at a fresh piece of meat. Ready to come in for the kill.

“Look at how gorgeous you are, baby. Fuck. Never seen a prettier pussy than that. Now, let’s see how good you taste.” He drops down and licks a full stripe from your your entryway, all the way up your soft folds. He takes his time, savouring your flavor on his tongue as he basks in the glory. Drinking you all in. You dig into the sheets as you hold in a moan.

“Goddamn, you do taste good. So fuckin’ good. Christ.” He dives back into you, licking his tongue up and down your folds, slowly spreading them as he comes in for the kill. He ends at your clit and draws circles on your aching bundle of nerves as he swirls and swirls, pushing a finger inside you as he continues working at your clit. He puts a second finger in you, curling up his fingers to hit that sweet spongy spot that makes you see stars. He pulls at your clit, sucking it into his mouth as it makes all your nerve endings explode. You’re so close, so fucking close.

“Joelll,” you moan, digging your fingers into his untamed curls as he looks up at you through a cloud of fog and desire. His pupils are full blown and black now, the look of seduction written in his eyes.

“That’s right, baby. Tell me who makes ya feel good,” he demands as his fingers curl up and up, hitting your g-spot perfectly every time.

“You, you, Joel… I’m gonna… I’m so close. Please, my clit. My clit… fuck,” you moan as he pulls slowly at your throbbing clit, pulling back the bundle of nerves as he stretches you out, feeling like you’re about to tap out at any second now.

He releases you from his mouth as the bundle of nerves slap back into place, all throbbing and aching as you clench around his fingers, feeling yourself about to lose it all over him.

“That’s it, there ya go. Come on, baby. Give it to me. Want you to cum on my fingers. Wanna taste you,” he growls. He speeds up his fingers as they push harder and faster into your spongy spot, his tongue flicking meticulous circles over your aching clit. You feel your walls clench around him as they flutter back and forth, so close to releasing. He takes your throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks hard, and that’s what takes you over the edge.

You feel the white hot sensation pull through you as you cover your mouth and moan loudly, watching him lick up all the cum that seeps out of you. You can barely see him, barely hear him through the fog. Your moans are muffled by your hand. Your ears ring and your vision is spotty as your head becomes lightheaded. He laps you all up, pulling his fingers free from inside you as he sticks them in his mouth and sucks them clean, not leaving a single drop to spare.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, baby. Did so perfect for me,” he praises as he scoots you back on the bed, crawling on top of you as he snakes his leather belt out of his jean loops. He unzips his zipper and unbuttons his pants, pushing them and his black briefs down just enough to set his hard, thick cock free. It plants firmly against his stomach, a bead of precum gliding down his shaft as he crowds your body, pushing you back against your fluffy pillow as your lilac colored walls surround you.

“Gonna fuck you, sweetheart. It’s gotta be quick, so just hold on. Gonna fuck you fast and hard,” he growls as he lifts your legs over his shoulders, caging his arms around you tightly. He moves the tip of his leaking cock to your entrance, slowly entering you as he pushes in. You can feel the stretch as he plunges into you, your walls sucking him in as he pushes further. He’s almost too big, too thick for you, but it feels so good.

“Joel, please,” you whine out before he starts moving again.

“What do ya want, baby?” He groans out as he feels how tight you’re squeezing him.

“Fuck me,” you beg, your hands grabbing on to the back of his shirt as your nails dig into the cotton material, trying to sink down into his skin.

He growls and his pupils expand into black pits. “Such a needy girl. Fuckin’ filthy, sweetheart. Don’t worry. Gonna take real good care of that pussy. Keep those pretty eyes on me, darlin’.” He sinks into you, starting slow and builds his speed as he fucks you faster and harder, his cock bottoming out in you over and over again, making you claws your nails down his back and making you moan into the shell of his ear.

He lifts your hips higher, angling you to where he’s thrusting into you further. You can feel every detail of him. Feel his throbbing, thick cock as it plunges in and out of you over and over. Feel his heavy weight as he hovers over you. Feel his hot breath as he pants out against the side of your face. Feel his rough hands as one skims the edge of your hip, grasping tightly to fuck up into you. You moan out against his lips, just ghosting over them as they linger over your swollen lips, desperate for his mouth to drop down on yours.

“That’s a good girl. Takin’ me so good,” he praises. You drag your hand through his tousled curls, and he groans at the feeling. He picks up the pace, cock thrusting into you hard as you fight to keep your eyes open. You can feel that heat building, feel your walls fluttering against him as your mind starts to go numb. You’re right there on the edge, about to come undone. All you can hear is his muffled moans and the sound of wet, slick skin. The sound of his cock driving in and out of you. A sound you love to hear. It only makes you more aroused.

“Joel…” you moan into his ear, licking the edge of it as he groans in response.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me,” he purrs as he ruts his hips into you, taking his calloused fingers and rubbing your throbbing clit as the orgasm starts to take over. Your eyes flutter closed, and Joel has to remind you to keep them open.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me, darlin’. Let me see you.” You peel your eyes back open as you’re on the verge of tears. It feels so good, so fucking good. He rubs his fingers faster over your pulsing clit, and then you’re done. You feel hot heat take over as it rolls down your spine, right through your cunt as you spill all over him, saturating him with white, hot liquid.

“Oh, that’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises. You start to moan his name, not able to hold it in and then he covers your mouth with his own, drowning out your moans inside his mouth as he tangles his tongue with yours. He speeds up his pace, his jaw clenching and his ragged moans hot against your mouth. He pulls away from your lips and rests his sweaty forehead on yours as dripping pieces of curls stick to your skin.

“Right there, right there. Yes, fuckin’ perfect, baby. Feels so good I’m gonna-” He cuts off as his face goes slack and his eyes flame with lust. One last thrust and he’s spilling his seed inside you, deep. You feel the warm liquid slosh inside you, and you moan at the feeling of it. It feels like hot ecstasy that buries deep in your skin. It feels like Joel, it is Joel.

He falls flat beside you on the bed as you both breathe heavy, both too fucked out to move as the bliss takes over. God, you love this. Love to be fucked and talked dirty to by Joel Miller. It’s your new favorite hobby, your addiction. And something about sneaking around makes it even hotter.

He places his softening cock into his briefs and pulls up the jeans around his hips as he zips them up, looping the belt back in as he fastens it around him. He grabs a towel from your bathroom and gently wipes off the sticky mess from your legs, carefully going over your center as you hiss from the now over sensitive area.

He caresses your cheek slowly and skims the pad of his calloused thumb down your jawline, looking at you with full admiration in his chocolate eyes. “Get dressed and come back down after five minutes. I’m gonna head back down. Alright?”

“Okay,” you nod, still breathing heavily from your intense orgasm.

He smiles down at you, a slight dimple showing on the edge of his mouth. You can’t help but smile and admire him. “Did so good for me, pretty girl. So good,” he whispers, praising you as he gets lost in your eyes. “You’re really special, you know that?” he asks in a gentle lull.

You lay there in a daze, having trouble finding your words as you look at him as if he was the sun in the sky. Gorgeous and so radiant, blinding you with how bright he was shining now as his smile beams down at you. “You make me feel special,” you reply out, in a daze like stare.

He chuckles out a deep laugh as he gently kisses your forehead. “I’ll see you down there, baby,” he says as he grabs your hand, dragging his fingers away from you as he lets go slowly and steps toward the door. He opens it quietly, takes one more longing glance at you and then closes the door behind him. You hear his steps echo through the hallway, slowly fading away as he makes his way back to the kitchen.

You cover your face and groan into it. God, you like him so much. So fucking much. He’s perfect, absolutely perfect. You wait a couple of minutes before you crawl your way out of the bed, pulling on a clean pair of underwear and sliding your dress back over your head. You smooth it out in the full sized mirror and fix your fucked out hair, pulling the brush through it until it looks like you didnt just have sex. But you can smell it in the room. The stench of thick clouds of arousal, sweat, and Joel.

Fuck.

You spray a drop of vanilla sugar perfume on to try to cover it up, and that seems to do the trick. But you still smell him, still feel him all over you. He marked his scent on you, claiming you, asserting his hold on you. But you loved it, loved every bit of it.

After a few minutes of finally working up the nerve, you leave your room and head back down the stairs, entering the dining room again as you take your place next to Joel and sit down, pretending like you just didn’t have amazing sex.

“Feel better, honey?” your mom asks as she looks you over, not suspecting anything suspicious.

“Much better,” you confirm as you take a sip of your tea and set the glass down in front of you.

“Good, glad to hear it,” she smiles.

Joel puts his hand on your knee, rubbing slow circles with the pad of his thumb as he soothes you. It’s affectionate and caring, one of your favorite things that he likes to do for you. He always shows you he cares. Always so gentle after sex, always wanting to wrap you up in his arms as he holds you after a hot session of cardio. He’s got a lot of soft spots for being so manly and tough. And you love to see it, that sweet, soft side of him. It’s your most favorite thing about him.

“Joel, you ready for some dessert? Claire made her famous cherry pie, and it’s to die for,” your dad says eagerly.

“Cherry pie huh? My favorite,” Joel groans out, his eyes shifting to you as a small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. He winks at you, and your cheeks go crimson as you get what he’s saying. He’s saying it’s his favorite because he’s referring to your pussy. That’s the cherry pie he’s really talking about. You shake your head at him and smile.

Joel Miller. The fucking menace that took over your life.

Tags: @untamedheart81 @roostersforevergirl @dugiioh @blueseastorm @laurrrra @tuquoquebrute @joelalorian @pedritosgfreal @callmecath1 @ladamari68 @amyispxnk @cinnamongorll

Part 3

#joel miller #joel x female reader #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #dbf joel miller #dbf!joel #no outbreak!joel miller #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal

[unholyhelbig]

I just want to say I'm already hooked on the beast you made me. I can't wait for the next chapter!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 5151

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, animal bones, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Thank you all for the overwelming support on the first chapter! I truly didn't expect that much reception. I'm going to be traveling for the next week so the next chapter might be delayed a bit]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

1917, Rural Pennsylvania

A sweeping river cut through the patch of sweetgrass on the south side of the farm. It emitted a gurgling sound that often soothed your nerves. There was a rocky clearing sandwiched between the tree line and the plain of grass that had become a perfect spot for you to settle in and read the hard-covered books you’d gotten from the corner store.

Your father would bring back any book you requested from the city during his travels. You devoured them faster than he could provide them and had read ‘Eight Cousins’ ,Lousia May Alcott’s foray into the adventures thirteen-year-old Rose, enough to nearly tear the pages from the binding.

The book itself held the clean honeyed scent of the earth, of the secluded spot that you called your own. Your muscles would thrum from loading the bales of hay into your fathers ford. Your fingers were calloused, and dirt caked around your ankle in a dark ring. All of that vanished when you cracked open the book about a girl that was so much like yourself.

It was easy to lose yourself in the paragraphs, the hum of the river sometimes lulling you to sleep. Your mother would pack you a sandwich on warm, hand-kneaded bread, usually some salted meat and mayonnaise. She’d pack sweet tea and send you on your way, knowing that you wouldn’t return to the house until you saw a flicker of a firefly.

Today, you’d fallen asleep under the sun. The book was discarded, and your forearm draped across your eyes. It was easy to drift, and easier still to dream about leaving the small dairy farm for something bigger- the very city that your father would return from with new literature and arts, and spices that made your mouth buzz with flavor.

You were in a haze when the ear-piercing scream cut through the air as if it were a natural solid. Your ears pinched at the sound, heels digging into the coarse sandy shore. Maybe it was a dream. It could have been an animal that had sunk its pointed teeth into the artery of another.

So, you waited, panting with your heart in your chest and the corner of the book barely lapped by the muddied water. And there was this sound. It was no fox caught in a trap or bovine tangled up in the barbed wire fence around the property- no, this was familiar. This was your sister.

Helena was quiet, often described as demure and borderline submissive. Despite being younger than yourself she carried a certain poise about her. Mother would often boast about how she would have no trouble finding a husband, how the boys already fawned over the child of hers that was not feral and unkempt.

Her cry was the loudest you had ever heard her and it had you on your feet, scrambling up the bank. Once past your small world of wonder, you were greeted with an endless sea of sweetgrass that was waist high in some areas.

A warm breeze created waves against the landscape, the farmhouse a small speck among the expanse of land. Your head was spinning, it was hard to track exactly where it had come from. It took another cracking screech to set you North.

Your legs pumped until you were consumed in a blind speed. You’d been renowned for your quickness, for your dedication to get from point A to point B. The kids in your town often joked that you were steadier than a steed. Not only were you the fastest in the class, but the fastest in the county according to some. Still- only a child of fifteen, and no man would want to wed someone with speed. It wasn’t a practical skill.

There was a pit deep in your stomach whirled, instinct knowing precisely where Helena was yowling from.

Jorge had gotten there at the same time you did; his brow was leaking with sweat and he panted against the hot air that surrounded you both. Your older brother was tall and lanky, serpent-like with beady black eyes and pitch hair to match your father’s. His shirt hung low against his midsection, his skin pale despite his hours in the sun working the fields.

“Stay back, y/n.” He demanded sharply.

The old well was a mere foot in front of you both but neither made the effort to move forward. The aged wooden plank that covered the stone shaft had been splintered through the middle, worn from age and weather.

Helena’s soft cries echoed up. When your father had first acquired the property, the previous owners explained that it had been boarded up after of the bulls had fallen down and snapped it’s neck. It was too large to pull out and they left it to starve and then rot.

Your father never let any of his children peer down into the well. You wondered if something had pulled Helena here, or if she had simply forgotten of it’s existence. Jorge dropped down to his knees and did a cautious crawl as if his own two feet couldn’t’ hold him anymore.

You saw the exact moment his skin became waxier, almost a gray porcelain paleness that had a green tint. He was swallowing too much, his white shirt coated in the red clay dirt.

“What?” You asked, voice breaking “What is it?”

“Go get Mama.”

It would have been easy to listen to your brother. He was the man of the house when your father wasn’t there but with him pleading for your mother, for an adult, you got a rancid taste in your mouth.

Against your better judgement you edged close enough to the abandoned well. The sun was setting in a fire-filled orange haze with enough color and angle to get a good view of the bottom; a slosh of fallen grass and rainwater, and muck, and yes; the bones of a beast once left to decay and rot in its own silence.

Your sister was wedged within the ribcage of the befallen bull, almost as if she replaced the beating heart that stopped pulsing long ago. Her hands gripped at the sun-bleached bone, knuckles nearly the same color.

It took you a moment to make out the slick, and the red that stemmed from the center of her stomach. The head of the bull had shattered under her weight, all expect the stretching length of it’s curved horn. That was wedged through her abdomen, surrounded in a vibrant rose red that puddled and had already coated her hands.

Prints from her struggle were against the limestone edges of the well. Her eyes pleaded up at you; your kind and caring, and animal-loving sister was trapped inside the remains of one. You fought back the urge to vomit, the rash thought that if the bone ripping through her flesh didn’t kill her, then infection would.

“Y/n get mama!” Jorge hissed again, and this time you didn’t hesitate. You nearly tripped over your own boots with the fever it took to back away from the scene, the metallic scent of blood mixing deliciously with the turn of rotted soil.

You had never run so fast in your life.

Wanda Maximoff had never felt the cold that wormed its way to her bones before. It was the type of cold that almost wasn’t, a stinging, horrible feeling that had her startled from the folded metal chair. It collapsed within itself as the blinked the wine-dark color from her eyes.

She stumbled backward, only to be brought back to the starkness of the room by a soft grip on her elbow. Wanda allowed herself to be held, if not for stability but for comfort. Steve Rodgers had a welcoming hand on the small of her back, the other steadying her.

He was a solid force, and her reaction stirred him.

“Fuck,” the expletive fell from her lips, “Jesus Christ.”

There was quietness to the room in the aftershock of the fallen chair. It was nicer than a standard holding cell. The walls were cream colored, triple enforced to keep people like you inside. There was a bed bolted to the wall, a bunk that was almost like a summer camp endeavor.

A charged glass wall was blocking you from the rest of the world. It was seemingly unbreakable, and in this moment, so were you. Wanda didn’t want to test the glass, nor did she know how to make sense of the memories- your memories- that had flooded every inch of her body.

You were asleep, chest rising and falling at a normal pace, as if none of what Wanda had just seen was flitting around your mind. Soft snores pushed past your lips, one arm hanging over the side of the bed while the other followed the flow of your breathing as it rested on your chest.

Wanda didn’t understand the secrecy and the precaution that surrounded you. The Avengers compound was a constant ebb and flow of different heroes, Inhumans and mutants. What made you so different? What made you an 0-8-4?

It was a term that Natasha had used only once that was usually attached to objects, not a person. It was an object of unknown origin and in that case, it was a power-filled object from space. Space. She’d been through different dimensions, but that, for some reason, struck her as terrifying.

0-8-4’s were never brought here, but then again, they’d never been alive either. Steve had told her that your energy signal was off the charts, and that they wanted her to dig around your head. Something that she denied doing at first. It was an invasion of privacy.

But, there was a certain pleading within Captain America’s eyes that scared Wanda more than the personal rules she set for herself when it came to her power. What she had seen, what she had felt was barely scraping the surface of what your mind contained. She wasn’t keen on pushing past that barrier for the conclusion of that story. Was it even yours?

“What? Wanda, what is it?”

“I… I don’t” She shook her head, eyes hardening as she stared into Steve’s “Where did you find her?”

He hesitated to answer, his eyebrows furrowing before he looked away from the witches’ prying eyes. She’d been part of this team for years now and they were still reluctant with what they were willing to share. Wanda clenched her jaw, then unclenched it before her stare flashed back to your resting form.

There was a small frown that creased your features. You looked so… harmless. You had shifted, folded into yourself as if you were scratching the surface of what flashed before her. Your arm was folded under your head, knees flush to your chest. A small, beautiful whimper escaped you.

“She’s in distress, Steve.”

“Discomfort, more like. It’s better for all of us that she stays in there for right now. The last thing we want to do is harm anyone but if that requires some temporary-“

“Imprisonment?”

“Containment.” He said firmly, eyes hard. Wanda crossed her arms over her chest but stayed silent, letting him continue. She was sure she wouldn’t have been asked if not for her ability to worm her way into minds, to rearrange things. “What did you see?”

“A memory, one that can’t possibly be hers. The timeline doesn’t fit, this is a woman in her mid-twenties and who I saw was barely a teenager on a farmstead. To experience that much tragedy, that much fear and heartache.”

She started to pace, trying to not only work through her own thoughts, but yours as well. It could have been a story, and she was convinced of the fact save for the vividness. There was the feeling of grass tickling her arms and the sharp, undeniable stench of blood.

“Her younger sister died, fell through some rotted wood and fell to her death.” Wanda’s fingers pressed against the edge of her hairline. “She could have lived, but I have my doubts.”

He lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at her. His expression betrayed his compassion towards you, his stance uncomfortable with the topic. While the revelation was heartbreaking it hardly made you extraordinary. They’d all lost people, none had stirred Wanda as you did.

Wanda’s stare found his after darting to you once more, “Steve, I have the sinking feeling that what I saw was only scratching the surface. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of memories that were pressing in on all sides.”

The sensation of being observed is what pulled you from your fitful sleep. Exhaustion had washed over you like a tidal wave, all at once and leaving your mouth dry like a spoonful of salt. There was a stiffness that rivaled that of the grave you’d crawled out of, and you hoped that it was all a dream.

You were in your bed, in your apartment, after having one too many drinks. It was a horrible stretching nightmare that had plunged you into one sea of darkness from another. But even you weren’t that naïve.

Just as you felt a stranger’s eyes on you now, you had felt the dirt under your nails, the cold sodium-filled takeout as you attempted to chew it. More than anything, you remembered the burning feeling of the Black Widow pressed fully against your back, bending you over Jenn’s kitchen counter.  

“I would prefer if you kept the feeling of my wife’s body against yours out of your mind.”

You shot up with a dizzying amount of quickness, heart suddenly in your chest. There was an imbalance to the bed that you were laying on. It was smaller than your own and unfamiliar. The room was stark white. It hurt your eyes and you had to blink the color away. You pressed the heels of your palms close to your eyes.

It felt as if you were locked in a glass shower with an audience and stage lights. The more you looked, the more you realized it was a room, something with no personal effects but a bed and a dimmer switch that you itched to utilize.

A pitcher of water was on an end table. It wasn’t color exactly, but it was more than the rest of your surroundings. Possibly with the worst manners you’d ever exhibited, you drank straight from the pitcher, not remembering the last time you had a drink. Suddenly, you were parched enough to soak your collar.

Despite your audience, you continued until you felt your stomach protest. You used the back of your hand to wipe away the moisture, black dirt was smeared across your skin. It was then, and only then, that you forced yourself to look past the walls of your prison, your enclosure.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” The woman said, walking close to the glass. You could see her clearly now, there was an heir of recognition about her, in the same way that there had been with the Black Widow.

“You were in my head.”

“For a while. It’s my job. But your thoughts are also deafening.”

“Sorry,”

This woman was intoxicating. Alluring and beautiful in her presence. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt hugging her form. You weren’t positive what time it was- what day it was- but it could be late into the night. She looked like she was roused from sleep, and a part of you felt guilty for the fact.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie.” Her voice was much more tender than it had been a few moments ago. “You can’t control being brought back from the dead. A lot of trauma comes with that.”

You stood shakily and walked closer to the glass. They’d taken your shoes and the tile under your feet was frigid. You crossed your arms over your chest and shivered into yourself. You didn’t want to think about the fact that they had undressed you, probably taken your clothes for testing. Instead they left you in a blue set of scrubs.

You averted your stare from your own reflection, not willing or ready to look too hard. You’d much rather look at this stranger, your heart not slowing, your head pounding. Nothing but a simple pane of glass separated you.

“And I was brought back from the dead, wasn’t I? That wasn’t a fucked-up dream where I got hit by a car and then poof God, if there is one, decided that me of all people was worth bringing back.”

She lilted her head, quirked an amusing brow at you. A chill flushed down your spine and seemed to fizzle out at your toes. This woman was gorgeous and terrifying and made you want to squirm. But if this was prison, you had to assert dominance. Right? That’s what Wentworth taught you.

This cell didn’t look or feel like Wentworth, and this Warden had an amused smile tacked to her lips like she had heard your every thought. And she had. At least you assumed that she did. She’d mentioned her wife earlier, and the woman’s body against your own was plaguing you like a runaway freight train.

When she didn’t say anything, you clawed to fill the silence “I want to talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce? Honey, he’s off world.”

“Off… world.” You laughed, softly at first but then almost manically, tears forming in your eyes that you wiped away with your cold fingers. “No, no, that’s really cool. I worked a 9-5 and now I can’t talk to Bruce because he’s in Outer Space.”

“Maybe not outer space, maybe another dimension.”

You leveled her with a humorless glare. She had both of her hands up as if she wanted to comfort you, or the caged animal you had become. You had to give her credit, she seemed just as horrified as you were. She offered up a dim, faltering smile.

There wasn’t a way for you to process this in a gentle manner, there was no one to guide you through it other than Jenn. She’d done this before, lived a whole life that was flipped upside-down and she’d come out on the other side. It was the uncertainty that scared the hell out of you.

“You were in my head earlier,” You stopped suddenly, pressing your fingers against the glass. The woman didn’t flinch. Your frantic breath fogged with each exhalation. “Do you know why I came back?”

She shook her head, “No. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

“No.” A weak chuckle, you let your hands drop. “At least we’re on the same page.”

The nurse they allowed to enter through the side of the containment unit took cautious steps towards you that made your chest ache. All your life, people had said how welcoming and kind you were; how they were never afraid to come to you with their worries. It had bothered you before the incident, before your death, but now you missed seeing the stare of those who didn’t harbor any fear.

She was small, a mouse of a thing that had pale blonde hair and startling blue eyes. Her name tag read Julia. Your mind rushed with the paths she’d taken to this place. She must be interning here, much too young to hold a classification herself.

Your finger twitched on your knee, palm sweaty. It’s heat radiated through the thin blue fabric of the pants they’d provided you with. You hated needles, always had. But, you struggled to stay still and the effect that had on poor nurse Julia was making you fidget more.

There was a scent about her. It was under the layers of hairspray, nail polish, and shea butter. It was a sweet metal that made your stomach swirl. Was it her sweat? You’d never smelt anything past walking by the bomb that was the boys locker room, and it certainly had never been this tantalizing before.

Your eyes met hers, crystal blue and uncertain. “You’ll just feel a little pinch”

This is when you pulled your gaze back and instead focused on the cream colored walls. There was no problem with needles, you’d dutifully sit for your flu shots, but something about the sharp edge pushing through a layer of skin and fat before hitting your vein made you nauseous.

“We just need enough to run a few tests.” Julia soothed.

She was a normal nurse in that one, small way. Your mind was itching, blood seeming to congeal. It refused to cooperate and her burning touch was all but dominant against your skin. You both waited for the small tube to fill with black liquid. 

Finally, you felt her press the gauze against the crook of your arm and withdraw the needle. Another small pinch and then a massive relief. Her smell hung around you and filled the room. There was an undeniable urge to sink your teeth into her. To taste her.

You’d stopped the elevator just hours before to assess your penchant for brain consumption, but this wasn’t that. This was an intoxicating pull. This was animalistic, the same rush of emotion that had flooded you without prompting during your earlier conversation.

Julia squeezed your shoulder calmly, not entirely over her own reservations, but on the penance that she was a nurse and this was her job. You kept yourself rooted to the bed, fingers digging into the wood. She left the room and you could hear the compressed lock reseal you inside, breathing a sigh of relief.

That sweet odor lingered, and your reaction to it scared you more than anything. The wood beneath your fingertips splintered, and suddenly that anger, that fear, rolled away to shock. That wasn’t… normal. None of this was normal, but you weren’t exactly picked first in sports either.

You were a middle kid, a I guess I wouldn’t mind having you on my team kid. Suddenly your fingers were cutting through wood like it was butter. You let out an indignant squeak and shifted the blanket until the slashes were covered.

“Is everything alright?”

Wanda, you had learned that her name was Wanda, occupied her usual spot in front of the window. A slick sweat covered your forehead. She was holding a small tray that had a steaming bowl of soup and a delicious hunk of French bread.

“I figured you were hungry,” She lifted her chin towards the panel next to your door. “May I?”

“I’m at your mercy.”

And you were, truly. You hadn’t seen anyone but her since you’d woken up. There were shadows of others, people that made the pit in the center of your stomach grow three sizes. You knew exactly what they were doing, you watched enough true crime with Jennifer to know.

Here was this beautiful and powerful woman offering you food and words of comfort, and you allowed yourself to fall for all of it. Listlessly. Because what did you have to lose? You’d already died, and the thought of putting your family through the heartache of resurrection and then possibly enough committal to the ground was too much.

So, let her Stockholm syndrome you. The food smelled divine.

Wanda didn’t hold the same fear that Julia had. In fact, once the compression of air signified that it was okay for her to enter, she did so without hesitation. She set the food down on the equally dull side table and lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, making herself at home.

She’d changed into a pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt that had the outline of SHIELD on its sleeve. You frowned, for a company that does everything in its power to keep itself hidden, they sure loved that stupid bird so much.

“Go on, sweetie. You can eat.”

Wanda had a command about her that made you fold and listen despite any reservations. You took up a spot on the far end of the bed and shoveled the first spoonful into your mouth. An explosion of heady flavors coated your tongue, coaxing a low moan from your lips.

Blush rushed to your cheeks at the spark in the set of stormy eyes that watched you like a hawk. You rushed to break the tension. “So, what’s the plan here? Run a bunch of tests and keep me locked up?”

“Somewhat.” She paused, carefully thinking of her next words. “Y/n, I have the ability to get inside the psyche. Not only can I read every thought, every action, but I can control them too. It’s not something I like to do, nor something I want to. Not without permission.”

You frowned again. You certainly hadn’t given her permission to enter your mind before, and she tensed at the realization. But, you took another bite of soup and swallowed down the spiced broth. What’s done was done. You didn’t expect her to ask, much less admit to her wrongdoing.

“I prefer to ask. Can you tell me what you do for work?”

“Paralegal, the bar seemed like too much stress. But I’m good at my job. I was good at my job before a car turned me into sidewalk art.”

“Right, and your family, what about them?”

There was no desire to think of them and their perfect lives that you’d shattered with your death. Your mother used to sit in the tepid air on the porch swing, downing a glass of wine before she turned to you with tears in her eyes. She’d urge you to be careful working in the city. She’d plead for you to come home. More than anything, she’d utter the phrase a mother should never outlive her daughter.

“My mother is a seventh grade biology teacher and my father runs a painting business that’s been operating my whole life. They’re not very exciting people. They must be worried sick about me.”

Wanda nodded, “Any siblings?”

“Not anymore.”

She stilled at your words and didn’t pry. You were well aware of the fact that she could push through your deflections and learn the information that she wanted to know. But, you respected that she didn’t. Instead, she stared at you, and you stared right back, suddenly not hungry.

Wanda was someone that you felt the need to open-up to. Unlike the brief encounter you had had with her wife. Not that you let that word stick with you, not in the same way that her touch did. Again, you had to push the thoughts to the back of your mind, even if Wanda wasn’t prying.

Instead, she placed a warm hand on your thigh, sending a wave of shivers through your body. You suppressed a whimper at the sudden contact.

“I had a brother named Pietro. He was fast, unnaturally so. Neither of us ever wanted to be heroes, we didn’t think about the future like that. So, when the Avengers, these so-called saviors of the world, recruited us, we knew about the dangers. But it still shocked me when he died. He was my brother. He wasn’t supposed to be fragile like that.”

You stared at her with an amount of tenderness in your eyes that she wasn’t used to from the others. They cared, sure, but in the way that a co-worker would care enough to purchase cut flowers and a ‘sorry for your loss’ card. You were different.

“They’re our protectors.” You swallowed hard, mouth dry “when something drastic happens, it doesn’t seem real.”

“It still doesn’t.”

There was a lapse of silence that pushed memories in your direction. The burning cold weather on the day your own brother had died. You remember the scream that died in your throat and the way you’d knelt in the cracked snow until you couldn’t’ feel your legs or your fingers. It took an EMT with a heated blanket and a horror story about hypothermia to pull you to your feet.

“Jonathan.” You whispered.

She let out a questioning hum, pulling her feet from the floor and making herself more comfortable on the less-than-comfortable bed. “Your brother?”

“My older brother. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he never complained. He was a hockey player and a damn good one too. He’d use the lake behind our house in Jersey to practice and one winter the ice broke underneath him. He drowned, and I was too weak to save him.”

Wanda let out a shuddered breath. You couldn’t read her facial expression. It was a mix of confusion, or sadness, but not pity and that was something you appreciated. You’d had enough pity, just as your family had enough grief without you adding to it.

She opened her mouth to reply, but both of you were startled when three quick knocks shattered the silence. The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, stood on the other side. She showed no interest in breeching the containment unit. Instead, she leveled her wife with a dark stare and held up a folded piece of paper.

“Excuse me,” Wanda whispered, giving your leg a settling squeeze.

She left the plate and exited the holding cell. Her words were muffled, but those unripe green eyes that Natasha possessed kept flicking to you nervously. She too, didn’t’ show pity. It was interest and if you were being honest, you thought you saw the smallest spark of fear.

Wanda took the paper from her wife, squinted at something you couldn’t’ see. You felt like you were at a parent teacher conference, just out of bounds of hearing but you could see their body language; the way that Natasha itched to move closer to Wanda, the fingers that the taller woman pressed to her lips, thumb creasing the paper.

Finally, Wanda turned back towards the glass. Natasha met your stare without issue, hitting the intercom on the other side of the cell. It was her who spoke, her raspy voice falling from the speaker.

“In the spirit of transparency, we want to be honest with you about your blood results.”

You stood from the bed, moving to one side of the barrier. They were intimidating like that, standing shoulder to shoulder with a natural beauty. It made you want to shrink. If not for the paper in their hands you would have curled into yourself at the sight.

“Don’t tell me I’m dying.”

“No, honey.” Wanda shook her head, “Quite the opposite, you’re getting stronger.”

“I don’t understand.”

Natasha lifted an eyebrow and pressed the paper against the glass so you could read it. None of it made sense, it was lines of DNA that looked like musical notes. You shook your head, giving her a confused look.

Natasha scoffed, peeling the paper from the surface of glass. Wanda bit her thumbnail nervously. “According to these…You’re Asgardian, Kitten.”

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[risingoftime]

AGAINST ALL ODDS | CORIOLANUS SNOW X PLINTH!READER | CHAPTER TWO

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The air in the vehicle was thick with tension, and Noll had yet to round the corner away from the industrial side of Panem, where the Academy resided. You knew it was coming before Coriolanus opened his mouth to speak.

“Do you have feelings for Romulus?” He asked.

His breath was steady as he waited for your response. Coriolanus was meticulous when displaying his emotions, and he wouldn't expose his hand if not necessary. You sighed exasperated, “I like him, as any friend would.” Choosing your words carefully, although there were no lingering ears, Coriolanus would hold onto any admission you gave him.

“Well then, I advise you to reconsider the company you keep.” Was that a threat? Coriolanus wouldn't bring him harm for being your friend, would he? Unsure if you should challenge his abilities to do so. Sejanus once told you of Coriolanus's proficiency in influence in a letter, and you were conscious of your lack thereof. He was not a person that you wished to have as a rival. Although Coriolanus and you were not yet enemies, you weren't friends either.

"He's my only friend, Coriolanus. Do you truly wish for me to be a recluse? I don't want to be seen as a lone wolf, too.” Your voice was docile enough, a silent plea for him to let this one go. And he did, for now, at least.

Of course, it would be great to have more friends, but as of late, it was hard to decipher who truly wanted to know you for you or as “Snow's fiancee and Sejanus’ sister.” The students of the Academy are captivated by secrets and use them as currency to push their agendas. Your association with Coriolanus Snow made yours even more expensive. Especially now that he had made quite the name for himself as the young apprentice learning underneath the infamous Dr. Volumnia Gaul. Coriolanus was one of the few mentors who survived the 10th Hunger Games, and District 12 as a Peacekeeper at eighteen was not an easy feat.

The vehicle halted to a stop in front of the building that you called home. Before Coriolanus exited, he turned to you and said, “If Romulus touches you, even once, he may as well be as good as dead.” You jumped at the impact of the door slamming as you watched Coriolanus retreat to the penthouse. He hadn't bothered to turn to see your reaction. When the day was all said and done, Coriolanus didn’t care to maintain the illusion of being in love if no one could witness it.

Coriolanus didn’t enjoy the thought of another having access to what he deemed rightfully his, and that is you. As a child, you thought Coriolanus to be self-indulgent. He’d never bothered to keep others close to him unless they proved themselves beneficial somehow. When you learned that the Snow family was practically penniless, you assumed that Coriolanus was being protective over Tigris and Grandma’am. But it was now revealed that he is egotistic and maybe jealous.

Noll offered you a half-smile while ushering you inside the penthouse. He had most likely heard what was said in the vehicle. Noll hadn’t been your assigned driver for long. Looking closer, you could see the signs of his aging. His curly ginger hair now had more gray hairs, and his brown eyes revealed crow's feet when he smiled. He’d come from District Four, leaving behind his wife and daughter, and that was all you knew about him, given his limited communication ability.

“Ma, I’m home!” you yelled out.

The luxurious condo smelled of baked goods. Ma came around the corner and walked to the grand mahogany oak and gold dining table with sugar cookies and pie in hand.

“I missed you! You’ve been gone for so long.”

She set the dishes down and wiped her hands on her apron before cradling your face. “No need to worry, Ma. I was just at the Academy.” She pulled you in closer for a hug and took a deep breath, grounding herself. “I know, it’s just– after… everything. I’m glad you’re home.” Ma choked on her words. Ma was one of the main reasons you went along with the marriage. She became like this often, holding on to a thread, hoping it won’t snap.

“Did you make these for me?” Desperate to lighten the mood and give a distraction to your mother.

“Yeah, thought you ought to have a snack while you do your homework. Don’t touch the pie, though!” Ma readjusted her apron, which she wore when you were a child in the Districts. The kitchen had always been her safe space, and Pa hadn’t bothered to argue when she packed her culinary decor from our childhood home.

“Why? Does it still need to settle?” you asked.

“The Snows are coming for dinner tonight. Didn’t your father tell you? I told him to.”

Ma was summoned by the chirp of her alarm in the kitchen, signalling her to base and tend to the turkey. Leaving you to begin your work in the dining room. Pondering on the essay assignment by Professor Satyria, “How is all of Panem complicit in the Games?” You began writing:

A sickening hierarchy is ingrained within Panem’s complicity—compliance, driven by a control system, infiltrating every corner of our nation. Dismally, as long as we remain compliant with the spectacle of the Games, we come to be complicit, in varying degrees, in the horrors that unfold. The Capitolites, the privileged few who reside in the opulent heart of Panem, are the profiteers of this labyrinthine system. They revel in the grotesque mockery made of the district Deaths, reaping the benefits of this cadaverous entertainment.

The pen moved swiftly across your notebook as your thoughts moved faster than you could write. The essay could’ve been completed in one night if given more time. The dinner with the Snow family would take up the rest of the evening, and with everyone in attendance, it must be due to something of importance.

𓇢𓆸

The dress that you chose was tighter than you had remembered. It’s been a while since you’ve had to get ready to socialize due to the Academy requiring their students to wear uniforms, and your father was invited to fewer gatherings than before. Knowing the Snow family, they would come wearing their Sunday best, especially with Tigris’ promotion as one of Fabricia‘s stylists at her storefront. She had access to a plethora of fabrics and textures.

Walking down the grand staircase in heels posed a threat to your safety, given the fact that the dress felt snug around the knees. You have been so focused on your feet that you hadn’t noticed Coriolanus lounging in the living room. He held your schoolbook in his hand, deep in thought as he read.

“Hasn’t your mother taught you that it’s impolite to search through other people's things?” you cleared your throat and raised your eyebrows as he continued to finish the last sentence.

“You left it open on the dining table. I would hardly call that searching,” Coriolanus scoffed. Turning around to look down the hall, you could see that your school supplies had been moved as the Avox housekeeper set the dining table for dinner.

“Where is Grandma’am and Tigris?” Ma remained upstairs, still composing herself for the evening, and Pa was surely in his study. Yet, Coriolanus had made himself at home on the couch.

“You don’t see yourself as a part of the Capitol? You confuse those from the Districts as Martyrs,” answering your question with his own.

“I’m not from the Capitol. Isn’t that the point of our matrimony? For the Plinths— my father, to successfully assimilate into your world. I’m not confused. The districts are martyrs, in my eyes; their only crime was rebelling against the Capitol during the dark days.” Your voice was slightly raised and laced with conviction. The anger you had swallowed earlier in the day had arisen again and was harder to conceal.

“Careful, you’re beginning to sound like Sejanus.” Confirming the mistake you had made to disclose that to Coriolanus.

“I am his sister after all.” Consequently, you should’ve known better, but it felt good. Your eyes challenged him to speak, to say anything indecent about Sejanus. Coriolanus did not grieve your brother in the way that you had, and maybe it’s juvenile, but you would’ve wished for your brother’s best friend to be more distraught.

Cogs turned Coriolanus’s mind to how to settle the dispute without escalating further. His gaze roamed over your stature, only now taking in the way the garment hugged your figure, not leaving much to the imagination, unlike the uniform he's used to seeing you in. Pfft, typical.

Strabo Plinth entered the living room from his study. “Ah, Coriolanus, you’ve found her.” He said this as if he had gone searching for you. Your father only sought you out if he needed something. The relationship was purely transactional. 

“Yes, I was telling your daughter the good news.” The lie came easily to him. 

“Marvellous! Let me fetch my wife, please, both of you make your way to the table. I’m sure Tigris will be here any minute with your grandmother.” Your father offered a tight-lip smile before retreating to the main bedroom. 

“Good news?” You asked. 

“Dr. Gaul would like me to be a game maker in the 11th Hunger Games, and she’s tasked me with the opportunity to implement new reforms.” Coriolanus smiled wide, flashing his white teeth. He was beaming with pride from the decision. He would be one of the youngest ever to do so. Your stomach turned at the vision of Coriolanus subjecting another generation of tributes to his advanced military strategies. 

 𓇢𓆸

The sound of scraping utensils and chewing was all that you could hear as you all silently ate the feast that Ma had prepared for supper. The table was filled with food; knowing Ma, she would have the Snow’s leave with plenty of leftovers. Ma and Pa sat at the head of the table while Coriolanus sat beside you, with Tigris and Grandma’am sitting across. Grandma’am had not said much throughout the evening. The woman was in her private world and often muttered incoherently under her breath. Tigris remained polite and entertained Ma’s attempts to make small talk. 

“Oh, Tigris, I had forgotten to ask! Would you be willing to help me with some of the decor for the wedding shower?” Ma exclaimed. You stopped chewing your food and found it difficult to swallow. This dinner was about the wedding. You and Tigris met eyes briefly. The two of you hadn’t many conversations, but she was the closest you’ll ever have to a sister. 

“Why is the maid talking?” Grandma’am said. 

You looked at the older woman, unsure if you were to pity Grandma’am or set her straight once and for all. The sickness of old age overtook her mind, but she never forgot to turn up her nose at anyone she presumed to be beneath her. 

Tigris cleared her throat and corrected her, “Grandma’am, that’s Mrs. Plinth, remember? Coriolanus is getting married to her daughter.”

“Coriolanus is getting married! It should happen on top of the penthouse that overlooks the city of Panem, with my rose garden surrounding it. Beautiful, isn’t it?” she exclaimed. 

“I think that would be a lovely idea, Mrs. Snow.” Stabo’s facial expression was rigid, his voice void of emotion. He’d only talk like that when he was displeased. Sejanus was usually on the receiving end of this, and it was bittersweet that for once, he wasn’t. 

Ma’s face was slightly tinged pink from embarrassment, but she hid it well, unlike Coriolanus, who looked agitated by Grandma’am’s condition. There was no trace of empathy on his face. 

“When will the wedding shower be?” you asked. 

“In two weeks, your eighteenth birthday will be a grand celebration.”

“My birthday! Out of all dates, Pa, please.” 

“We’ve already sent out the invitations; don’t be crass. Three events within the next month are overkill, and your mother has already booked the venue.” Your father took another sip of his white liquor, dismissing you. 

Tigris tried to lift your spirits, “I’ve been daydreaming of the most breathtaking dress that would be perfect. It’ll be the talk of Panem.” You offered her a small smile. 

“If anyone could turn rags to riches, it’s Tigris,” Coriolanus added.  

Tigris's eyes narrowed at the comment, but Coriolanus hadn’t noticed, taking more food on his plate. It didn’t matter how much he’d eaten. There was always an insatiable hunger for more. He ate as if any meal could be his last. And like that, the dinner commenced as it had before.

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#⟢CREATION OF TIME #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x sejanus #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x plinth!reader #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fic #tbosbas #the hunger games #hunger games #mockingjay #catching fire #tigris snow #grandma'am #strabo plinth #ma plinth #panem #ao3

[ichorai]

stitch ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; and he clearly wasn’t thinking straight, because his feet didn’t bring him back to his own filthy, dirty, rat-infested home. he brought himself to your winged estate, gardened and manicured and polished to perfection.

words ; 8.7k

themes ; angst, action, mild fluff

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury/death/drug misuse, foul language, lucky being lucky, a lot of kisses, coryo's paranoia, he's much more toxic this chapter someone pls save reader (aka doomed by the narrative), i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; thank you for all the support on this series so far! if i've planned this out right, there will be two more parts coming after this one!

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Considering you survived numerous explosions and a metal-pipe lodged in your abdomen, you weren’t looking all that bad. Though you were still badly aching, the injuries you had sustained during the bombings strayed away from your face, save for a few small cuts and bruises that would heal in no time. It made it easy for you to pretend like everything was okay as you donned a crisp, ironed, academy uniform. A new one, that wasn’t stained with your blood and the arena’s dust.

All the doctors had advised you to stay at the hospital to rest and recover. But with the games starting in mere hours… you couldn’t leave Wovey alone. You made a promise, and you intended to keep it.

After surprisingly little begging, your mother caved and signed the release forms for you, on the condition that you’d stay on a wheelchair for the entire duration of the games—or until you were fully healed. Whichever came first. 

Coriolanus came early that morning, looking more tired than the last time you saw him, and promised your mother that he’d take care of you with a charming smile. He kissed your cheek, thumb brushing just beneath your jaw, before wheeling you off to the academy. The warm, fresh wind was refreshing against your face, billowing your hair to and fro.

“I gave her rat poison,” Coriolanus said as he pushed you along. 

The suddenness of his words startled you into a flabbergasted silence. You stared straight ahead for a few moments, lips screwing to the side, trying your best to remain calm. Then, you gritted out, “What in Panem made you think that was a good idea? If Highbottom finds out… it’ll be over for you, Coryo. That’ll be grounds for worse than expulsion.”

“Lucy Gray has to win. She can’t—on her own. I had to give her something.” Coriolanus’ hands flexed on the handles of the wheelchair. 

“I can’t cover for you forever, Coryo,” you whispered, words almost lost to the wind. But he heard.

He narrowed his pale eyes at the back of your head. “You won’t tell, will you?” There was a biting edge to his tone.

“You’re an idiot if you think I would.” You pressed a hand over your bandaged abdomen, obscured by the vibrant red fabric. “Besides—if you go down, I’d go down with you. With enough secrets of yours I bite down on… that makes me an accomplice, too.”

Lucky Flickerman’s eyes were wide as saucers when you showed up to the academy in a wheelchair. He fluttered over to you with a reporter following close behind him, shoving a camera into your face. You loved him, truly, but it was hard to tell apart the Lucky that appeared in front of cameras and the real Lucky your mother was best friends with. A myriad of questions fell from the mustached man’s mouth, and you only managed to answer one and a half of them before Sejanus appeared, and Lucky turned to him to ask him questions about his missing tribute.

With a roll of his eyes, Coriolanus pushed you down a ramp (one that hadn’t been there until just a few hours ago, when they heard news of you coming in a wheelchair), and settled you in front of a monitor with your name on it, in the middle of the rows of seats. His was by the very edge, much to both of your dismay.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he told you, enveloping one of your hands in both of his. He kneeled down in front of you so he’d be at eye-level.

You nodded, but pursed your lips. “Why did you tell me? About the…” You trailed off, worried someone would overhear. But he knew what you were talking about—the rat poison.

He tried his best to give you a genuine smile, nudging his knuckles beneath your chin. They felt cold against your skin—a stark contrast to what the wind outside had felt like. “It’s like you said, isn’t it? Enough secrets of mine you hoard, the more you’re tethered to me.”

You couldn’t quite tell if he was joking. Your lips parted, but no words left your tongue.

Dipping forward, he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Let’s hope this is over quickly.”

Let’s hope they all die quick, he might as well have said.

“Mmh,” you told him, sparing something akin to a smile. Though, it might’ve looked more like a grimace. Coriolanus’ head was far too preoccupied to notice. You felt sick, and glanced around at all the other students who were taking their seats. Lucky was making his way to the front to get some final touch-ups, flashing you an encouraging wink.

A minute later, he waved away the makeup artists and brandished a microphone from thin air. You almost rolled your eyes—his amateur magic tricks were certainly getting better and better.

“Okay, everyone, places! We’re about to go live! Just because we’re not hosting doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Help me out here, alright? Don’t get lost behind your screens. No yawning, no gum-chewing—keep your chins down, heads up, shoulders back, people! And—do remember to smile. It’s why we have teeth.”

Lucky began grinning from ear-to-ear as a demonstration. 

His teeth are far too white for his face, Coriolanus thought as he settled into his seat. A shade brighter and I’d surely go blind.

With a hand raised, Lucky began counting down with his fingers. He announced himself with his usual charming flair—and when the music started thrumming, low and ominous, he began wishing everyone a happy Hunger Games, before rushing off to stand behind all the students. 

The large screen in the center of the theater lit up with a shot of the tributes walking into the arena. Several dozens of smaller screens surrounding it gave the students a wide plethora of different angles. 

Your throat went dry upon seeing Wovey and Lucy Gray emerge from the entrance tunnel holding hands. They smiled at each other—one of the smaller cameras managed to catch it just perfectly—all soft and encouraging. Peacekeepers pushed the two onward with the barrels of their guns and they were forced to separate. 

“Stand on your marks or you will be shot,” the announcement system buzzed.

Some of the tributes sobbed. Some of them hardened with determination.

The cameras panned around—until one of them landed on a hanging body, strung up by bloody ropes. Your eyes widened when you recognized him as Sejanus’ tribute.

Was he dead?

His chest gave a hunkering breath, though shallow and wheezy, and you dreaded to think about how much pain he must’ve been in. 

“Guess we can all sleep better now knowing he’s off the streets,” Lucky said into the microphone. The audience of students behind you burst into sporadic cheers and bouts of laughter.

This must’ve been the last straw for Sejanus, as he got up from his desk and just about chucked the entire monitor across the theater. It fell against the stage with several clutters and thunks. Many of the students nearby flinched. 

“YOU’RE MONSTERS!” he screamed, face wrought with anguish. “ALL OF YOU!”

With that, he stormed out. Perhaps if you weren’t confined to your wheelchair or in a great amount of pain you would’ve followed him, you thought. But maybe you were just making excuses for yourself.

Sejanus was a brave man with a rash head. You were neither brave nor rash.

Lucky began to count down again. And just as he reached one, a loud, buzzer-like sound rang through the arena. Echoed into the theater from the monitors.

The tributes began running every which way. You had your eyes fixed on Wovey. At first, she seemed to jaggedly step towards the center, where a selection of weapons were laid out. But she thought better of it once she saw all the commotion and scuttled back to the rows of seats as fast as she could. She climbed and climbed, and your chest was heavy with the idea of her falling, or of someone following her. Nobody did, thankfully.

There you go, sweetheart. Hide.

The last you saw of Wovey was the top of her small head before she disappeared behind the dusty seats. Good.

Then, you turned your attention to Lucy Gray, running around and screaming for Jessup. You briefly glanced back at Coriolanus, who was looking incredibly tense. His entire face seemed to be set into a deep frown.

What is she doing? he mouthed, mostly to himself. Run!

Immediately, buzzes rang out through the theater as tributes were slowly eliminated and disappointed students got up from their seats. You tried your best to avert your eyes from all the blood and gore. The screams, however, you couldn’t escape. A girl three seats away from you puked all over the floor, much to Lucky’s irritation.

To your relief, Lucy Gray managed to find Jessup amidst the chaos, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the hole in the ground—into the tunnels. A few angry tributes were following after them at a worryingly quick pace. Lucky made a rather smug comment about the gamemakers being prepared enough to have security cameras installed in every nook and cranny, even after the bombing “disruption”. 

You let out a large breath you didn’t realize you were holding in when Lucy Gray managed to crawl into a room through a flap in the door, Jessup hot on her heels. The tributes cursed and yelled, but no one dared follow in after the two in fear of getting hurt while trying to get in.

“Thirteen tributes remain,” announced Lucky. He looked to you and gave you a wink. “Reaper still looming large on top of the charts while Coral and her pack try to make a play. Little Wovey has done an excellent job of scaling the broken columns and hiding beneath what’s left of the seats. Let’s hope we see her soon.”

You glanced at your monitor. There were options to send her food or water if need be. But not yet. You had to be resourceful with the donations you had.

“Six tributes gone in minutes. If they keep it up at this pace… we’re going to be out of here in no time.”

Many hours passed. It was incredibly quiet for a long time—save for Lucky moving off to the side to do some reporting of the weather. Some students even fell asleep by their monitors. 

You were growing tired too, lids heavy with exhaustion and head bobbing up and down a few times. You tried to keep yourself awake, paranoid that something could happen to Wovey if you were to accidentally doze off. To your relief, you snapped awake when a hand rested on your shoulder and Coriolanus kneeled down beside you, offering a bottle of water. It felt wrong to be drinking at your leisure when the tributes were probably parched right now. 

You took the bottle with a grateful mutter of thanks and took a hefty swig.

“How are you feeling? Your wounds okay?” His hand moved up to gently smooth over the back of your head.

“I think so,” you replied, before grimacing. “I don’t like watching this, Coryo. I never have.”

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “I can take you back, if you want. To the hospital.”

“No. I have to stay,” you protested. He seemed relieved at this, not keen on leaving any time soon. 

With a curt nod, he gestured back to his own seat. “Just—let me know if you need anything.”

“You should focus on your tribute, Coriolanus,” you told him, brushing the back of your fingers along his jaw.

“My tribute didn’t have a metal pipe sticking out of her a day ago,” he whispered. “You’re priority number one. You always will be.”

“Well, I’m fine. Lucy Gray, however, is much more at risk,” you replied airily. “If my Wovey can’t win… I’d really rather see her alive.”

Those pale eyes of his searched yours.

“I love you,” he said. It was abrupt and sounded as if someone was strangling it out of him.

“I love you, too. Get back to your seat before Highbottom finds a way to get mad at you,” you told him. With a pointed jerk back to his seat, you heavily emphasized, “Again.”

With a squeeze of your shoulder (you tried your best not to grimace, since he pressed right against a large bruise on your collarbone), he rose back to full height and headed back to his monitor. 

The arena was still silent, even an hour later. Just as you were beginning to seriously consider taking a nap, there came a rustling from the rubble. Lamina, the other district two tribute, rose from behind a large stone slab, and approached the hanging Marcus.

His blood from all the exposed wounds he’d acquired had slowly dripped down his body and formed a frighteningly sizable, semi-dried puddle down below. It was a wonder how he hadn’t already succumbed to his wounds. 

Lamina climbed up the broken stone columns to make her way to him. There were several dried tear tracks on her face, and her nose was very red. Lamina stroked Marcus’ head, and he seemed to jerk alive with her touch. His chest rose and fell in a broken, staggering motion. 

“Please…” he croaked. “Please…” 

He dissolved into gentle sobs.

When Lamina raised her hatchet, you tore your eyes away and looked downward. There came a sick squelch as she struck him and the audience gasped. Lamina cut at his bonds and watched his body crumple down to the ground. Donations for Lamina began to steadily climb higher.

Pup Harrington, Lamina’s mentor, decided to take it upon himself to be the first one to send his tribute a drone with water. Dread settled the pit of your stomach when the drone buzzed in through the broken rooftop of the arena—but it didn’t seem to slow down. No, it only accelerated faster and faster the closer it got. Lamina gave a little shriek and ducked just in time—the drone crashed into the stone column and exploded into a thousand metal parts. The glass water bottle fell down below and shattered by Marcus’ now-dead body.

How were you supposed to send Wovey water now? Perhaps you’d send her food instead—that way, it wouldn’t shatter and go to waste if it hit anything. You scrolled through the options on your monitor. Apples would be a good choice. Plenty of water in them. But you held back—Wovey might’ve been asleep underneath those seats.

A few more hours passed by, slipping well into nightfall. You took a vial of prescribed morphling from your bag and downed it in one go. You could feel it buzzing through your system almost immediately, numbing the sting of your still-healing wounds. It just so happened that Highbottom swept down the steps then, eyeing you behind those spectacles of his. You shuddered and leaned your head down onto the table. The drugs were making you incredibly sleepy.

Highbottom stopped just behind Coriolanus. “You can’t save her by watching,” he murmured to his most loathsome student. “What do you want from that girl?”

“Nothing,” the blonde gritted out. “I want her to live.”

“Mmh. And the Plinth Prize would be a happy coincidence, I suppose.”

Coriolanus’ eyes squinted at nothing in particular. “I believe I’d be entitled to it.”

“Of course you do,” Highbottom retorted, tone heavy with condescension. “And who do you think makes the final decision for the prize you so covet, Mr. Snow? Wake up. Even if Lucy Gray Baird somehow wins it all, I will do everything in my power to make sure that you don’t see a single dime. So… ask yourself this: how much do you care if she lives now?”

Coriolanus was gripping his hands into fists so tight that they turned a ghostly-white.

“And I know… if the young and talented Y/N wins that prize… it’ll go straight to you. Isn’t that right?” Highbottom’s lips twitched in amusement when Coriolanus stiffened. “So it seems that neither of you will be seeing that prize, Mr. Snow.”

His jaw twitched, and he snapped his head to the scowling dean. “You can’t punish them because of me. That’s not fair. Y/N doesn’t deserve that.”

Highbottom let out a gruff laugh, quiet enough for nobody to notice. Mostly everyone had gone home or was asleep, anyway. “It’s not like Y/N would have won anyway—not with that quiet little runt. Kid was doomed from the very start. Take a good look in front of you, boy. Take a look at those tributes—and then you come and tell me what’s fair.”

The very last word was practically spat at him. The dean turned on his heel and marched off. 

Still, hours passed by silently. Lucky was clearly growing agitated with the fact that things were moving so slowly. He’d already had to cancel two dinner appointments.

When Volumnia Gaul stepped into the academy, a dark cloak draped over her shoulders, you were already half-awake. She stood beside you menacingly, and you startled into full alert with a small noise of surprise, the bright blue of one of her eyes boring right into you. She said your name then, all low and elongated. You could barely suppress the shiver that ran down your spine. Still groggy, your blurry peripheral vision told you that practically every one had retired for the night. Save for a few straggler students and, of course, Coryo. You noticed, with muted interest, that every single screen was frozen on an image of the Panem crest, rather than the security camera footage inside the arena.

“I can smell the morphling on you,” she muttered, brows raised. “You should go home. Get some rest. Change those bandages of yours.”

You glanced down at your abdomen—a grimace made its way onto your face when you noticed that your uniform (new, mind you), was stained with a fresh bout of blood. You’d bled through your bandages. With a frown, you uneasily swallowed. It didn’t seem like Dr. Gaul was going to accept no for an answer.

“I, uh—” She noticed the way you began to angle yourself to Coriolanus. He’d fallen asleep by his monitor, in a similar fashion to you.

Her mouth pursed in mock-sympathy. “Coriolanus wants to stay. Watch over his songbird. I suggest you find someone else to wheel you back home.”

Your lips parted in surprise. A part of you wanted to protest, but you were far too tired to argue. “I can get myself home,” you told her. “Good night, Dr. Gaul.”

A creaky, amused titter fell from her throat. “Your little one is good at hiding. A shame she’s not going to make it.”

A wave of nausea rolled over you. You determinedly fixed your gaze on the ground and began to push yourself out of the academy. Volumnia watched you go with narrowed eyes. Once she was sure you were gone, she made her way to Coriolanus. 

The boy had a job to do.

Bobbin’s blood was still all over his hands. Dried, now. Dark with time. Dr. Gaul stitched up the gash on his left shoulder blade—he wondered if you had been in this much pain when you woke up in the hospital. But it was different, because he was slashed by a little boy, and you fell onto a metal pipe. Coriolanus wasn’t sure which one was better. 

Not that it was a competition. It was all Sejanus’ fault anyway, he concluded.

He had wanted to sprinkle bread crumbs on his dead tribute’s body. What a waste.

Once Dr. Gaul had sent him off back home with his wound tightly bound, he staggered out with a heavy chest and tear-stained cheeks.

And he clearly wasn’t thinking straight, because his feet didn’t bring him back to his own filthy, dirty, rat-infested home. He brought himself to your winged estate, gardened and manicured and polished to perfection. 

This should be mine, he thought. I should have this. I deserve this.

And then, another irrational thought crossed his mind as he rang the doorbell. 

It will be mine.

The doors swung open—which mildly surprised him, considering it was very late at night—and your mother peeked her head out. She eyed him with part confusion, part surprise. Then, she caught sight of the blood on his hands. The door widened to let him through. 

Almost immediately when he stepped in, your mother roped him into a warm embrace. He inhaled and choked on air. And then, he dissolved into a fit of wracking sobs. She crooned and stroked her hand along the back of his head.

“What’s this, Coriolanus? Whose blood is this?”

He hiccuped and drew in a staggered breath. “It’s… mine. I got into a fight with a classmate about the Games. It got violent and bloody—Dr. Gaul fixed me up.” He emphasized a wince and gestured to the wound on his shoulder. He let your mother fuss over him, demanding to take a look at the gash. Reluctant, he unbuttoned his uniform again to let her see.

It seemed the commotion was enough to wake you up, because you had limped to the top of the grand staircase with sleepy eyes and messy hair. 

Once your mother caught sight of you out of bed, she pulled away from Coriolanus to chastise you, but her words fell on deaf ears. You mumbled out your boyfriend’s name in confusion, before leaning heavily against the bannister to slowly step down, wincing with the movement. 

Coriolanus was quick to move upstairs, meeting you near the top, as you had only managed to descend a handful while he jogged to you. He cupped your face first, smoothing his thumbs over your jaw the way he always did. And when you spread your arms, he just about fell into you, his nose dropping down to the junction between your neck and your shoulder. His entire form trembled with his cries, muffled into your skin. 

It was as if he’d been reduced to a child all over again. Eating paste, salty with his tears of hunger. 

“Coryo,” you whispered, gripping at his waist. “Coryo, please tell me what’s going on. You’re worrying me.”

He hesitantly withdrew his damp face away from your neck. “Can we… talk privately?”

With pursed lips, you looked down to your mother at the bottom of the staircase.

She cleared her throat tiredly. “I’ll leave you two be. But no funny business, understand? Y/N needs to recover.”

With a serious stare in Coriolanus’ direction, she turned and marched off to the Northern wing.

“Come on,” you told him. “Let’s go to my room.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, rubbing the space between his brows. His arm wrapped over your waist to help you up the few steps. “It’s so late, and I just barged in and interrupted your sleep—”

“Coryo, you’re covered in blood. Sleep is the last thing on my mind.”

Once in your room, you shut the door and leaned against it. Coriolanus made his way to your bed and sat on it, face buried into his hands.

“Does this have something to do with Dr. Gaul?” you asked, watching him with keen eyes. 

His head snapped up and he regarded you curiously. “How’d you know?” 

“She told me to leave. And all the screens were… frozen.” With slow steps, you limped across your room to sit right beside him. “Whose blood is that?”

Coriolanus was silent for a long while. So long that you wondered if he even heard your question at all.

“Don’t—don’t hate me. I need you.”

“I won’t hate you. I love you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Stop it, Coryo. You don’t get to decide whether I l—”

“It was Bobbin.” He effectively cut you off, rendering you speechless. “I killed him.”

You stared at him as if he’d grown another head. “The… the district eight boy?” With each passing second, your eyes grew larger and—wetter. Coriolanus had to turn away. “You were in the arena? Dr. Gaul made you… oh, Coryo.”

“Sejanus went in to see his friend.” The last word was sneered out in a rather demeaning manner. “The tributes started attacking us. I… I hit Bobbin with a rock.”

He left out the gorey details. How he kept bashing Bobbin’s head in even after his body stopped twitching. How it felt… powerful. 

“It was self defense, then,” you murmured, drawing closer to brush your lips against his shoulder, just above his sutures.

It was, at first. And then it… wasn’t. Coriolanus pursed his lips. 

“Bobbin… he was Wovey’s friend, I think.” Your voice wavered, and you blinked away the tears that welled up in your eyes. “I hope she’s okay.”

Coriolanus said nothing as he frowned. He didn’t like how much you cared for her, no matter how much of a hypocrite that made him. It was like Highbottom said… the kid was doomed from the very beginning.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, voice as soft as silk.

“I don’t…”

“It’s okay if you’re not. I’ll be here for you.”

“You’re too good,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re always just so… good. How do you do it?”

There was a considerable silence before you reached over to take his chin between your fingers and force him to look at you. “I’m just trying my best. And you are, too. Don’t discredit yourself, Coriolanus. You’re good for me. You always will be.”

His pale eyes flickered. Then, he kissed you. Slow and soft, begging for more but—you pulled away with a hum before he could press further against you. 

A distinct coldness fell over his expression. “You can’t tell anyone what I told you. About Bobbin.”

You studied him for a few seconds. Watched the way he folded into himself with such caution. Compartmentalize and shield the most ugly parts of himself away from you. It was a defense mechanism of sorts. You knew it all too well, and narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why do you always think that I’ll go about and tell the world everything you say to me? Do you not trust me?”

He sucked in a shuddering breath. “I do. I do, of course I do. You just—you know everything there is to know. You can destroy me completely, and it’ll be my fault because I let you in—because I let myself fall in love with you.”

Your features twisted into one of shock. “Is that what you think? That I’m seeking to destroy you? Bring you down? What—Coriolanus, why would I do that? Do you hear yourself? How many times do I have to say that I love you until you realize that I mean it?” 

“You can love me and still betray me. They’re not mutually exclusive.” There was a terse silence that stretched thick between the two of you like taffy. His brows furrowed together and he stared angrily down at the ground as he frustratedly worked his jaw. “I’m not saying you will betray me. I’m saying you could. And that… that terrifies me.”

“I won’t. You said it yourself, remember? I’m tethered to you. I’m an accomplice—I know too much,” you said, exasperated. “But there is nothing I want to take from you. I gain nothing from stabbing you in the back. I just—I want for us to be a normal fucking couple!”

Coriolanus hung his head. With another sharp breath, he nodded several times, as if he was snapping himself out of his own thoughts. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I trust you. I’m sorry.”

When your countenance softened inexplicably, Coriolanus let himself slowly tear his walls of paranoia back down. His hands returned to you then, far more hesitantly cradling your face, gripping your hips, squeezing your thighs as he kissed you. It was familiar and comforting, yet simultaneously all too much.

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” you panted into the kiss, trying to break away as your lungs screamed for air. “I miss you. It’s been so long since we just… existed alone together.”

He nodded—because how could he say no to you?—and helped you settle back onto the bed. Let you hold onto him, let you trace mindless shapes into his arm. Watched as your eyes fluttered shut and you fell back into what looked like a restful sleep. Envy curled within the confines of his chest. Sleep graced you so easily. Why did everything come to you so easily?

Nonetheless, he dipped forward to brush his lips against your temple, before gingerly pulling away. You stirred with the jostling, but stayed deep asleep. With that, Coriolanus made his way out of your room, clicking the door shut as softly as he could, and descended down the stairs. He left your house with a heavy chest and a throbbing shoulder.

Early the next morning, your mother came to the academy with you to watch the end of the Hunger Games—and to be there for moral support, she’d told you. She wheeled you in with a bright smile, greeting all the staring students with a friendly confidence. Once she brought you in front of the very same monitor as yesterday, she kissed the top of your head before flitting away to speak with Lucky, who was all smiles and charm. You overheard him saying that he was confident the games would come to a close soon. Your mother said something in reply, but their voices were drowned out by the swell of students entering the theater.

Coriolanus walked in only a few minutes after you, Tigris on his arm. The two of them made their way to you—Coryo was stone-faced, looking more tired than ever. Tigris appeared more worried than anything, but she was just about glowing in her new pink dress, all sharp angles and pristine fabric.

“You look beautiful,” you told her genuinely once she drew closer to you and took both your hands in hers. “I love your outfit. The color suits you.”

“Thank you,” she replied, flushing a pleased rouge hue. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been impaled by a metal pipe,” you told her with a slight grimace. “But, you know… no better way to fix that than to watch children kill themselves through a screen.”

The two cousins laughed dryly at your sarcasm. Tigris then enthusiastically told you that the dress she was making for you was ready—and you grinned and told her you were incredibly excited to come see it. With that, she nodded and left to take her seat amongst the stands, wishing the two of you good luck. 

Once she was gone, Coriolanus reached out to grasp your shoulder. Your talk with him last night plagued him for hours and hours when he should’ve been asleep. 

“Did you sleep well?” you asked him, leaning into his touch when he brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “You look tired, Coryo.”

A wry smile. “Slept like a baby.”

It was a lie, and you knew it. You frown-smiled at him nonetheless.

He bent at the waist, tilted your face up to meet his, and kissed you square on the lips. Some of the students in the stand wolf-whistled, and it felt distinctly like Coriolanus was putting on a show for them, and for the cameras. And you were, well—you were an unwilling actor.

When he pulled away, he smiled at you and gestured to his seat in the corner. “Whatever happens, I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” you murmured. “Likewise.”

Coriolanus found himself wondering if you were hiding something from him. Why did it feel like you were drawing yourself away? Were you planning on sabotaging him?

Before he could dwell on it anymore, you gently nudged him off, as Lucky was beginning his opening remarks once again. He talked about the mystery behind Bobbin’s death (sending a cold tremor up Coriolanus’ spine), but moved on rather quickly to the stats board. 

The few remaining mentors settled down and the rest of the students in the stands quieted to watch the games continue. 

Not fifteen minutes later, commotion started brewing between Jessup and Lucy Gray. It was hisses and twitches from the boy at first, but then grew into explosive anger and panicked aggressiveness. Frightened, Lucy Gray began to doggedly run away from her friend, crawling out of the rubble-strewn tunnels and back into the main arena. 

“Something’s wrong,” Lysistrata, Jesssup’s mentor, said. “He wouldn’t turn on her like this.”

You narrowed your eyes at the hazy screen. There seemed to be foam collecting at the corners of Jessup’s mouth as he chased after Lucy Gray, demanding to know what she’s done to him. The hazy memory of Lucy Gray at the zoo mentioning a bat bite resurfaced into your mind.

“It’s rabies,” you told the two. “The foam in his mouth. He’s got rabies—the bat bite in the train, remember?”

Coriolanus and Lysistrata’s eyes both widened. 

“The same district folding in on itself!” Lucky announced into the microphone, and began rattling off some more unnecessary commentary.

“Send him water!” Coryo demanded Lyssie. 

“What?” she asked, watching in horror as her tribute tried to make a grab for Lucy Gray, but she ducked away just in time.

Impatient, Coriolanus stood up and leaned over her desk with gritted teeth. “Remember the posters in the war? Rabies—it makes you afraid of water. Send him a drone!”

Lyssie’s mouth opened and closed. “That’ll scare him!”

“Yes,” he said, tapping on her monitor. “It’ll get him away from her. Jessup is done. And you’re the only one that can get it right to him.”

With a tight frown, Lysistrata reached forward to order a water drone. Lucky was preening with all the action.

“Thank you,” Coriolanus breathed out once her order processed through. 

“Nothing to be proud of,” she said, scowling at the screen.

Lucy Gray was begging for her friend to snap out of it as she climbed up a fallen stone pillar, and screamed when a water drone came whizzing right past her ear, crashing into Jessup. Glass went flying every which way. The water had done its job scaring him—Jessup yelled and tittered with the sudden force. He fell backward and toppled right off the pillar. His body made a sickening crack as it came in contact with the ground. The audience exploded into cheers. 

Horrified, Lucy Gray slid down the pillar after her barely-alive friend, hands shaking. A terrible sense of guilt washed over you.

“Jessup?” she asked, shaking his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere. Okay? You watched over me, now I’m watching over you. Sleep now, Jessup. Sleep.”

Jessup’s death was slow and painful. Lyssie sent a bitter glance towards Coriolanus, before storming off. 

But the horrors weren’t yet over for Lucy Gray—Coral and her pack appeared from behind a large pile of rubble, cornering her like coyotes would a lamb. They sneered and jeered at her.

You turned to look at Coriolanus, seeing his face crumple with desperation. His eyes flickered to you for a brief moment.

“Use your donations!” you called over. “She won’t fight, Coryo. You know that!”

With a frantic nod, Coriolanus snapped his gaze back to his monitor, and hurriedly pressed down on eight drones of water for his tribute. 

“Mentors allying together in such troubling times!” Lucky exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. “Will it be enough to save the songbird?”

The little machines whirred into the arena at alarming high speeds, and crashed into the unassuming tributes surrounding Lucy Gray. She ducked and covered her head with shaking hands as water and glass and metal parts flew every which way. 

“Hey!” one of the mentors exclaimed. “You can’t attack the tributes!”

“I’m just sending water,” Coriolanus retorted back, looking extremely relieved. Then, he looked back at you, and mouthed, thank you.

Taking advantage of the knocked down tributes, Lucy Gray rushed forward, grabbed a glass of water that remained miraculously unshattered, and ran off to hide behind another fallen pillar. You remembered that Coriolanus had given her rat poison—a part of you wanted her to use it to survive, and the other part of you hoped she wouldn’t ever touch it in fear of people finding out about Coriolanus cheating. That would spell the end of him.

Coral and her pack roused with groans and aches. They moaned about losing Lucy Gray, before setting their sights on Lamina and pursuing after her. It was a shame to watch her go, you thought, remembering the kindness she did for Marcus. She was stabbed in the abdomen (reminding you of your own bound bandages), and fell into a crumpled heap beside her district-mate.

While they were all busy going after her, one of the smaller screens caught Lucy Gray appearing back from behind the rubble, placing the full water bottle back on the ground. She hurriedly reached over to dump water out of any of the other bottles that hadn’t broken. 

Lucy Gray managed to escape Coral just as she began to notice what she was doing, darting up some broken stairs and into a duct, latching it shut so they wouldn’t be able to follow her in. Lucky made a sullen comment about how there were no cameras set up inside there.

Coral and the pack retreated back down to survey all the water Lucy Gray had dumped out, save for the one single bottle. You wondered if said bottle was filled with rat poison, by any chance. 

Since you had your gaze focused on one of the smaller screens, you hadn’t even noticed little Wovey emerging from a row of seats not too far away from where Lucy Gray was hiding inside the duct. 

Your eyes frantically turned to the main screen when one of the pack members exclaimed, “It’s Wovey!”

“No, no…” you muttered, leaning forward in your wheelchair, ignoring the painful sting in your side. Wovey was quick to disappear back under the seats, scampering between rows and small gaps under fallen rocks so that they couldn’t follow after her. Twisted relief clawed at your chest and you heaved for breath when they muttered defeat and decided to go back down to the ground. The group began to dissolve into an argument, which thankfully kept them otherwise occupied from going back to hunt after other tributes. To none of your surprise, Coral ended up stabbing Mizzen right in the chest. 

“And who do we have here?” said Lucky when the main screen changed to show a coughing girl emerging from her hiding place. “Ah! It’s Ill Dill. Tuberculosis on legs.”

Dill staggered towards the water bottle. Uncapped it and drank a few small mouthfuls. She coughed and wheezed. Lied down slowly, chest still rattling with coughs. It had to be poisoned, you concluded. To die right after taking that drink… it was far too much of a coincidence. Lucy Gray must have used the poison. You didn’t dare chance a glance back at Coriolanus, afraid you’d see cruel victory in his eyes.

Reaper ran out a minute later, calling out for Dill as he rushed to her. “Dill? Hey, what happened? Dill! Dill, wake up!” 

And when he realized his district-mate was dead… Reaper let out a guttural scream. It echoed and ricocheted around the arena for everyone to hear. You frowned and tucked your arms closer to your sides.

To your surprise, Reaper began to move the dead tributes’ bodies to where Marcus and Lamina were. He laid each of them carefully beside one another. Fixed their positions and brushed the dirt away from their face. Dill first, then Mizzen. Then Bobbin by the entrance—to which none of the other mentors knew who killed except Coriolanus and… you. 

Reaper tore down the long Panem flag hanging from the arena’s wall. The students burst into boos and derogatory yells. He dragged it over to the makeshift morgue and draped the dusty fabric over the corpses. 

There was a lump in your throat as you watched him stand over the bodies he had so meticulously arranged. He gave the tributes one last shred of dignity when the Capitol—you included—had so monstrously stripped every bit of it away. You twisted in your chair to look at your mother in the stands. She had a hand over her mouth as she watched on, looking every bit as choked up as you.

Reaper gazed straight into one of the cameras and spread his arms. “Are you gonna punish me now?” he asked. “ARE YOU GOING TO PUNISH ME N—”

His yells were suddenly cut off by a breaking news announcement. They still echoed about the theater, and you still could hear Reaper’s strong voice in your head. 

Volumnia Gaul sat stiff and menacing on the large screen, her single, beady blue eye seemingly ablaze with a cold fury.

“Capitol citizens, I’m afraid I must interrupt our Games to announce a tragic loss. One that affects us all. Felix Ravinstill, son of our beloved president, has this morning succumbed to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing.” The screen changed to display a horrifyingly graphic image of Felix’s dead body covered in bruises and unhealed gashes. This was met with gasps and cries from the crowd. “Out there in the districts… they will be celebrating this young boy’s death as a triumph. I will not allow my Games to give our enemy such victory. I swear to you, here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there’s to be no victor in these Games!”

Scandalized murmurs spread throughout the theater. 

Your lips parted with shock. What was the point in having the Hunger Games without a victor? You turned to look at Coriolanus, who was looking every bit as distraught as you. 

A rainbow of destruction, Gaul had said. He knew exactly what that meant. With a tight expression, he sat up and ran out of the theater. You watched him go with utter confusion, calling out his name, but your voice was drowned out over the sea of upset students.

Where was he going? To plea his case with Dr. Gaul or Highbottom? Or… no, he’d told you about the snake muttations Gaul had in her lab—while you were drowsy and delirious with pain, but you could remember it faintly—how they were rainbow in color, fast as lightning as they struck down Clemmie. Did that mean those snakes were going to be set loose in the arena? 

Your heart skipped a beat. Wovey could hide from the other tributes, sure, but small, fast, and most likely deadly snakes? She wouldn’t stand a chance. 

And what of Lucy Gray? What was Coriolanus planning on doing for her?

Fifteen minutes later, Coriolanus came running back in, sweaty and breathless. Just in time, because Coral and her pack were beginning to close in on Lucy Gray, stabbing spears through the vent flap. One of the boys down below the ducts began to cough and sputter, not in an unsimilar fashion to Dill, before collapsing down to the ground with a shudder, blood pouring out of his nose. 

Rat poison. You were sure of it. 

They stabbed at the duct some more until it buckled and broke under her weight, and she came crashing down. Hurriedly, Lucy Gray stumbled up to her feet, climbed over the dead body, and ran as fast as she could away from Coral. They were hot on her tail. Everyone watched with bated breath.

And then—the loud whirring of a carrier came descending down the center of the arena. A large, blackened cylindrical tank was being lowered into the center through the broken rooftop. You let out a shaky breath of petrification. Inside must’ve been the snake muttations Coriolanus told you about. 

The few remaining tributes stared at the tank with wide eyes, too stunned to move. 

“I’d wager that that is going to be no good.” Lucky smiled as he stared at the screen. “But wouldn’t it be fun if it was candy?”

Both the arena and the theater lapsed into utter silence. 

Until—until little Wovey peered her head up from the seats. She’s so frail, was your first thought. Slowly, she began to climb out of the rows and hopped down broken pieces of stone to get back to the ground. 

“Wovey—” you found yourself saying aloud. Many eyes drew to you. “No, no, no…”

You watched as the little girl walked towards the large black tank with wide eyes. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her grimy hand. Reaper was warning Wovey to keep away, but the little girl was still moving closer.

“Is it over?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Can we go home? Please…”

“Fuck! Fu—shit, fuck! No, Wovey!” you frantically yelled as if she could hear you. Desperate to get her to stop going towards the tank, you looked down at your monitor.

Not many donations… 

But enough to send a drone.

Maybe if you sent food—it’d distract her. Keep her away.

And so you began placing an order for a food drone, much to Lucky’s commentary delight. With shaking hands, you pressed confirm.

But there was one thing you hadn’t considered. 

You hadn’t considered the drone coming in from directly in front of Wovey—with the tank right in its way. A whizz, a blur of silver metal, and murmurs of shock from the crowd. The machine drove itself against the glass tank and broke apart into a thousand pieces. Small red apples went flying every which way. Wovey stopped in her tracks for a moment. 

It was a temporary relief.

A crack formed in the tank. And then—another splinter within the glass. And another, and another, and another. They formed a terrible sort of spider web. 

“No,” you whispered, lips quivering. It was all your fault. “Oh, no.”

With that, the glass gave way to its fractures, and burst apart in a cascade of glittering shards. The snakes came tumbling out just as Dr. Gaul had said: a rainbow of destruction. They took down Wovey first as she screamed, slithering over her small body until you saw no part of her left. You had fallen silent, but your entire body ached as you violently shut your eyes, eliciting a hot tear to streak down your cheek. 

“Not candy! Down goes Wovey!” Lucky announced, though he winced with an apologetic glance in your direction. “Sorry, Y/N.” 

The rest of the snakes were quick to pick off Coral’s pack, and then Coral herself, who cried out that all those lives she took… they couldn’t have been for nothing.

They slithered around Reaper, who sat strongly by the pile of bodies he had arranged. He died alongside them as the serpents closed around his throat.

And that just left Lucy Gray.

“All colors lead to Gray!” Lucky announced, overly pleased with his wording.

Coriolanus smiled, victorious. “She’s—she’s won. It’s over. She’s won! Let her out!”

“Afraid that’s not your call to make, Mr. Snow,” said Lucky. He pointed over to Dr. Gaul, who was watching from the theater’s stands with crossed arms. 

The students all murmured and gasped. Coriolanus looked around helplessly.

“Dr. Gaul, she’s won!” he asserted. “It’s over, let her out!”

Volumnia stared at the blonde boy with narrowed eyes, but said nothing.

And then… Lucy Gray began to sing as the snakes slithered their way to her. They coiled over her ankles and into the ruffles of her dress. Over her arms and around her stomach. Along her back and draped on her shoulders. She sang and sang, her voice strong despite the itchy dryness in her throat.

“Why aren’t they attacking her?” Festus Creed demanded. 

Coriolanus set his jaw. “Must be the singing. It’s calming them.”

“She can’t sing forever,” he replied with an upturned nose.

Everyone in the audience watched, enraptured, as Lucy Gray sang her heart out, wrapped in iridescent snakes. You let out a shaky exhale, and another tear slipped down your face. Watching Wovey go was one thing—you didn’t want to watch Lucy Gray die, as well.

Anger rose in your throat. 

You turned your wheelchair away from the screen—away from your damned monitor. It was your fault Wovey was dead. You wouldn’t watch Lucy Gray die, too.

“LET HER OUT!” you screamed at Dr. Gaul. Coriolanus flinched and stared at you with wonder, along with the rest of the student body. You bared your teeth in a pained snarl, and you let the tears freely fall. They were scalding against your skin, along with the multiple cameras that had turned right to you. “She won. Who’s going to donate to your Games next year if they know you’ll just kill their victor off? Let her out, Gaul!”

“Dr. Gaul, please,” Coriolanus pleaded, nodding at your words. “Let her out.”

“Get her out!” Tigris chimed along. Your mother voiced the same sentiment a second later, her face shining at you with pride. 

One by one, students began yelling at Dr. Gaul to get Lucy Gray out of the arena until practically everyone was chanting along.

“Nobody’s going to watch your Games without a victor!” Snow told her over the swell of voices. 

With a sharp scowl, she raised her hand. Almost immediately, the crowd fell into silence. 

“Get her out,” she quietly grumbled to one of her assistants.

Lucky clapped and announced excitedly, “She’s won! Lucy Gray has won! Coriolanus Snow is the winner of the 10th annual Hunger Games!”

Victory music began playing throughout the theater—trumpets and drums and bells echoing into his ears as the students rushed down from their seats to congratulate him. Shaking his hand, slapping at his back, ruffling his hair. Tigris was at the front of it all, smiling at him so wide it was a wonder her face didn’t split into two. She wrapped him into a warm hug and he held her tight, laughing into her shoulder as the weight of realization fell against him.

He’d won.

Once he pulled away from his cousin, he pushed through the packed crowd to get to you. You were on your feet already, though your weight was leaning heavily against one of the handles of your wheelchair. You were positively overwhelmed by all the commotion around you. 

He held your face with both his hands and kissed you in front of everyone. The cheers grew louder and louder, and Snow pulled away smiling wider than he ever remembered smiling before.

But when he looked at you again—truly looked at you—there were still tears spilling from your eyes. They didn’t look quite like tears of joy, either.

“She was thirteen,” you sobbed, curling against him. “Coryo, she was thirteen. It was my fault. My fault.”

Caught up in his own victory, he’d very nearly forgotten who you were talking about. It took him another second to realize that you were crying over Wovey. Irritation clawed at his chest and he frowned at you. You should’ve been congratulating him—not thinking about your silly dead tribute. What were you expecting? Hadn’t you known this was coming?

Nonetheless, he held you to his chest with empty words of comfort murmured into your ears, rubbing a palm up and down your back in a placating manner. He kissed your forehead and the crowd swooned with the romance of it all. 

You jerked away from Coriolanus when you felt a distinct pain shoot up your stomach. You looked down, noting the darker red blotch in your uniform. 

It seemed like you’d bled through your bandages again.

taglist: @nicksolemnlyswears, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @marjorieisreading, @emlovesya, @dallaav, @sillyskeletonpatrolghost, @sunshine-stars-12, @intoomanyfandom-s, @eclipixels, @unclecrunkle, @wotcherpeak, @dangelnleif, @freyafriggafrey, @scaraslover, @tiaamberxx, @dracuno, @c-losur3, @ashy-kit, @innercreationflower, @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @mymadokamagica, @24kmar, @cowboylikerhian, @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo, @curled-hair-red-lips, @har-rison-s, @aoi-targaryen

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[thetriumphantpanda]

Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (Saturday)

Summary | Back together as a family, but with a secret confession burning in your pocket. How is Tommy going to take the fact that you love his brother more than you probably should?

Word Count | 4.8K

Chapter Warnings | Our family back together. Mentions of consumption of alcohol & food. Explicit sex. Unprotecting PiV, breeding kink, (double)creampie (I said what I said👀), cum play, a sprinkling of anal/ass play, threesome dynamics (MMF), dirty talk, Tommy back to being our favourite cuck in the room kinda, Joel back to being our favourite breeding stud.

Authors Note | I.... actually think I hate this lmao. It's the first time I've felt meh about a chapter of this story, but the longer I look at it, the more I know I'll hate it, so I'm sharing it anyway. It's refreshing to have our trio back together though, they're as filthy as ever so I hope you all enjoy it! Two more chapters to go until we wrap up with these three and I am so emotional. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting, reblogging or coming into my ask box to scream with me. And, as always, If you want to support me, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that I no longer use taglists - to keep up with my writing, please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to keep up to date.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Joel wakes the next morning to you wriggling about in his arms. He cracks an eye open just enough to see you clambering to straddle his lap, palms resting on his biceps to steady yourself as you lower your pussy onto him, already hard, to drag him through your folds, already soaked for him, or maybe still soaked from him from last night. 

“Mornin’ trouble,” He speaks, voice still heavy with sleep, “What are you up to?” 

His hands shift to your hips so you don’t stop those slow glides of your silken folds across him, watching as you shift your face from watching between you, to his own face. You bite at your bottom lip, bashful like a child who has been caught doing something they shouldn’t be. 

“We could have fucked all day yesterday,” You drawl out, gasping as the head of his cock brushes against your clit, “I’m just trying to make up for lost time before we have a houseful of people.” 

He drags your hips back and forth over him, watching as you toss your head back and gasp with every pass of him over your clit. He’s trying not to think about the fact that in a few short hours, you’re not going to be his anymore, you’ll go back to being his brother’s, a façade kept up for the sake of the rest of your family. He pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind, sitting up so he can wrap his arms around your back and kiss you. 

“You gonna ride me, pretty girl?” He murmurs against your lips, “Gonna sit on my cock and make yourself feel good?” 

You pull back, look right into his eyes, hips still grinding against his, “Fuck yeah,” You breathe, “Can I?” 

“Such a good girl,” He growls into the skin of your neck, “Askin’ all pretty and polite like that,” He settles himself back on the bed, head on the pillows, “Go on, pretty girl, take whatever you need from me.” 

You use your hands that are back on his chest to push yourself up a little, reaching one hand down between you to grip the base of his cock, lining it up to your soaked core, before you sink down onto him in one go, burying him inside you to the hilt. He groans, and you cry out, feeling that twinge of pain along with the pleasure that has been so prevalent over those past few days. 

You lift yourself up, almost all the way off him, sinking back down, finding your rhythm, which Joel quickly adheres to, thrusting himself up into you on your downward strokes so his cock is brushing against your cervix almost every time. His hands favour your tits this morning, cupping the weight of them in his palms as his fingers roll your nipples into peaks, squeezing perfectly every once in a while, to add to the mix of pleasure you get from him spearing his cock into you. 

You lean back, motions moving to more of a grind on his cock as you cup his balls in your hand, rolling them gently in your hand, as Joel’s own fingers slip down your body and find your swollen clit, thumb rubbing circles across it as you continue to grind on him. 

“You gonna come on my cock, pretty girl?” He asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer. 

Heat is licking at the base of your spine, threatening to topple you over at any moment, and you can tell from the way his hips are stuttering up into you, that Joel is close as well. You’ve had each other too many times this week for this to last very long. 

“Fuck- keep going,” You groan, feeling that tight knot threatening to come undone in your tummy, “I’m – holy shit – I’m gonna come.” 

“Go on, pretty girl,” Joel coaxes, thumb staying exactly where it is, doing exactly what it needs to do, “Come for me.” 

And you do. Pussy clenching around his cock as you fall forward. Joel’s arms wrapped around you, keeping you pressed to his chest as he takes control, thrusting up into you as you moan into the skin of his neck. He chases your high with his own, spilling into you just seconds after your own climax hits, his fingers digging into the skin of your back as he holds you tightly to his body. 

As you both lie there, catching your breath, he wants to say something. Wants to push the hair from your face, kiss the tip of your nose and tell you that he wishes this didn’t have to end. Wishes that he didn’t have to wait a month to find out if he was successful in giving you another baby. Joel selfishly wishes he hasn’t, just so he doesn’t have to go back to waiting for that one night a year. He remembers though, his words from last night, that he’s trusting you to fix this, to come up with some solution that means he can have you differently going forward, so he keeps his mouth shut, only opening it once he’s pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“I love you.” 

Breakfast is a cobbled together affair of fruit and coffee considering most of the groceries you’d bought together have been eaten. You sent Tommy a list of things for him to pick up on his way to you. He’d set off yesterday, stopping halfway to spend the night somewhere, not convinced that Joshua would cope with doing the whole journey at once, and it shouldn’t be long until they’re here, Sarah too. 

“Excited, baby?” Joel asks, pressing you against the counter to dip and kiss you once you’ve both finished the washing up. 

“I am going to give my baby the biggest squeeze known to man,” You smile against his mouth, “As much as he exhausts me sometimes, I’ve missed him.” 

“We talking about Joshua or Tommy?” Joel teases, hands wrapping around you to grip the globes of your ass through your jeans. 

You laugh, feeling light again. This man is the Joel you know, the Joel you love. The man who loves his brother just as much as you do, probably even more, and who takes his duties as Uncle incredibly seriously. You peer over his shoulder, looking at the clock on the wall, there’s enough time for a quickie, is what you think. You start trailing your hand down his chest, resting it on the front of his jeans, palming him through the material. You’re about to start dragging down the zipper when the front door opens. 

“Dad?!” 

Joel pulls back from you like you’re on fire, putting enough distance between you so as to not look suspicious as he calls out to Sarah. 

“In here, kiddo!” 

He gives you a look that tells you he’s sorry, that he wants nothing more than to have that one final moment with you on your own. You shake your head, heat flushing across your face at almost being caught, motioning for him to go to his daughter. Sarah finds the kitchen first, embracing her dad as he kisses the crown of her head. 

“Hello brainbox,” You greet her when Joel lets her go, pulling her into a hug of your own, “You look good!” You say when you finally let her go, keeping her at an arm’s length to really look at her. 

“Thanks,” She smiles, looking around for a second, “Where’s Uncle Tommy?” 

You look at Joel over her head, because right. The story he concocted for her meant that he’s been here all week with Joshua and the two of them are nowhere to be seen, and neither is his truck. 

“Uhhhhh…” You glare at Joel’s response, quickly trying to come up with something in your mind. 

“He’s out grocery shopping,” You say quickly, Joel nodding in acceptance, “Ran out of stuff this morning so he’s taken Joshua into town to stock up.” 

She nods, accepting your answer, moving back to give her dad another hug, “Which room is mine?” She asks, “I’ll go and drop my bag.” 

“First door on the left.” Joel speaks, pointing down the hallway across from the kitchen. 

“Alright, I might get changed too,” Sarah nods her head outside, “It’s a nice day, maybe we can take Joshua swimming?” 

“Of course,” You smile, “Take your time, bug, there’s no rush.” 

Once she’s started off down the hall, you fish your phone from your back pocket, punching in a text to Tommy, as Joel shifts back closer to you, not being able to bear being away from you too long. 

Sarah arrived. Covered for your absence. Message me when you’re on your way from town and I’ll meet you outside. 

You lean up into Joel’s face, letting him kiss you as you put your phone on the side. You push up into his mouth, opening your lips against him to taste his tongue when your phone vibrates on the side. 

Just leaving town now sugar, great timing. See you soon. 

You put a hand on Joel’s chest, leaning up to give him one last peck on the lips, “Tommy’s almost here,” You say against his mouth, okay, now this is the last kiss as you press them back to his, “I’ll wait outside for them.”  He smiles but his eyes are sad. You’ve spent long enough staring into them to know that look. You press one final kiss to his mouth now, “Remember I love you,” You insist, “And I’m gonna make this right.” 

“I believe you,” He relents, squeezing your hand as you move around him to head to the front door, “And I love you too.” 

“Mama!” 

“Oh, my baby boy!” You exclaim, pulling Joshua out of his car seat and into your arms, holding him tight to your chest as his small arms try and wrap around your neck, “I missed you so much baby.” 

As much as this trip had given you the opportunity to be a woman again, not just a mother, the way your son fits into your arms, the way he smells when you take a breath of his hair into your lungs and the way he nuzzles into your face make motherhood all worth it. You have never loved something as much as this boy in your arms. Not your husband, and not his brother, and that’s something you never thought would be true. Something you’d never thought you’d ever understand.

Tommy is rounding the front of the truck, slipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans as you lean your face up, kissing him, “Missed you too, handsome,” You smile, pulling your attention back to Joshua, giving his cheek a kiss, “Have you and daddy had fun this week?” 

“Yeah!” Joshua exclaims, wriggling about in your arms, he’s almost too big for you to hold like this anymore, “We played lots!” 

“That sounds like fun,” You smile, turning back to Tommy, “We told Sarah you’d gone to town for supplies, so that,” You motion to his and Joshua’s overnight bags, “Will have to stay hidden until we can sneak them in.” 

Joshua wriggles a bit more in your arms, “Uncle Joel!” 

You turn slightly towards the lodge, where Joel is coming down the steps. He reaches out and claps his brother on the back in their usual greeting, before he reaches over and pinches Joshua’s cheek gently between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Hey bud,” He greets, “You’re getting so big!” 

Joshua unwraps his arms from your neck and reaches out to Joel, flexing his fingers in the way he does when he wants something. Joel laughs, “Let me help your dad get everythin’ outta the car bud,” He smiles, “Then we’ll have a cuddle, okay?” 

You smile at Tommy as Joel rounds to the back of the truck, opening the back door to reach in and grab some of the grocery bags, “Help your brother,” You smile at Tommy, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “I’ll take this little monster inside.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Tommy speaks, a little two-finger salute added for effect. 

It’s been a wonderful day. The sun has started to dip behind the trees, a cool breeze opening up a little. Sarah and Joel are still playing in the water with Joshua, their laughs mixed with his as they splash each other in the water. You’re sat on a towel by the shore, head leant against Tommy’s damp shoulder, his hand resting on your knee. 

You’ve been in and out of the water all day, floating around with Sarah and Joshua, watching as Sarah plays with him on her own, sitting off to the side as Joel and Tommy sip beers and catch up. You smile the whole day, laugh for most of it too, but there’s always that fear that threatens to spill over when you think about what you have to do.

There are nerves bubbling in your tummy. You have to tell him. You have to speak to him. Looking out at the water, to where Joshua is perched on Joel’s shoulders and Sarah is splashing water at her dad, you know you have to tell him, but you’re still not quite sure how he’s going to react. You’ve run through this conversation so many times in your head over the last twenty-four hours, switching your opening sentence, developing your defence, but none of that comes out now, what comes out surprises even you. 

“I love him.” Easiest to tear the band-aid straight off, you think. 

Tommy barks a laugh next to you which surprises you. You lift your head off his shoulder and look at him, he’s smiling, “I know you do.” 

“But I love you too.” You quickly add. 

“I know that too,” He’s looking back at you now, clearly understanding the confusion on your face, “Why do you think I had no problem lettin’ you come here with him, huh?” He asks, squeezing the hand he’s got resting on your knee, “Or the way I’ve never complained about letting you go with him for his birthday?” 

“Are you not mad?” You ask, biting at your bottom lip. 

“No sugar, I’m not mad,” He leans down, kissing your cheek, “I love that man more than you will ever understand, he’s always had my back, always bailed me outta the shitty situations I’ve got myself into, never once thought about himself since that little girl was born,” He nods his head towards Sarah, “You make each other so happy, I ain’t ever seen Joel so happy since he started helpin’ us out, and I want nothing more than to keep makin’ him happy.” 

“I don’t want to leave you,” You insist, your own hand resting on his thigh. 

“I know you don’t, I don’t want you to leave either,” You can feel your eyes start to well with tears, “I’ve been sharin’ you for years baby, and I ain’t gonna stop because you two have finally admitted you love each other.” 

“Finally?” You ask, using your free hand to wipe at your eyes, “What do you mean?” 

“Baby, I’ve been watchin’ you fuck him for months, I know I’m slow sometimes, but I’d have to be fuckin’ blind not to see what you mean to each other.” 

You maneuver yourself so you’re practically sat in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you cry into his shoulder a little. You wonder in this moment what it was that you did to deserve him, to deserve them both. Two men who love you unconditionally, who just want you to be the happiest you can be, and two brothers who just want to see the other happy too. 

You pull back, clutching Tommy’s face in your hands, “So you don’t mind if I want to see him more often?” You ask timidly.

“Not at all, sugar,” He leans forward, kissing your lips, "That man has never once thought about himself, put himself first, not since Sarah came along, and it's about time he did something for himself, we've just gotta help him right?" He asks, to which you nod in response, “We’re lucky men to have you.” 

“And I’m a lucky girl to have you both.” 

Things had seemed so normal over dinner. Tommy had grilled an insane amount of meat that’d you’d all devoured. You’d drank beers together, Joshua had sat on Joel’s lap for most of the night, favouring his uncle over anyone else. It felt like it always did when you were all together as a family, Sarah feeding small bits of food to Joshua, Tommy’s hand on your knee under the table as you all talk about different things – how Sarah is getting on at college, how this time next year Joshua will have started school. You know they’re different now though, although Joel doesn’t. You wonder if he’d seen you speaking with Tommy earlier, if he did then he must know that things are okay, right? That there wasn’t an argument so it must be okay. You want to tell him, want to take his face in your hands and kiss him at the table so he knows everything is okay. 

You’re propped up against the pillows of your bed now – those so familiar to you now after this week. Reading the book you’d been trying so hard to focus on this whole week and still finding you can’t quite concentrate on it. Tommy had put Joshua to bed a few hours ago, Sarah had gone to bed at the same time as you, leaving the brothers on their own to clean up and catch up. You wonder now what they might be talking about. 

It's not long before you find out exactly what they’ve been talking about. There’s a soft knock at the door before it opens, revealing Tommy, who steps into the dimly lit room, closely followed by Joel, who closes the door behind him gently. 

“Hello.” You greet, looking up from your book. 

“Joel’s been tellin’ me what a good girl you’ve been for him all week,” Tommy speaks, “He’s given you a glowing report, sugar.” 

Oh. So that’s what they’ve been talking about. You wonder if Tommy told him? Wonder whether he’s given his brother the permission he needed to have you like he wants. You close your book and set it on the nightstand, turning back to them. 

“We’ve been trying really hard baby,” You speak, voice sweet, “Haven’t we Joel?” You look into that familiar face, “I’ve been so full all week trying real hard for this baby.” 

Tommy walks slowly to your side of the bed, gripping your chin to tilt your face up to look at him whilst Joel watches on. 

“You gonna show me what you’ve been gettin’ up to?” He asks softly, “Gonna let me fuck you?” 

Tommy pulls back the duvet, letting his fingers gently trace down between the valley of your breasts, covered by your nightdress. He trails further down to the hem, letting his hand sneak under the material. You spread your legs for him slightly, keeping your eyes on his as his fingers slip between your folds finding you already wet for them both. 

“Looks like the answer is yes,” He chuckles, dipping down to kiss you as he drags his slick fingers up to your clit to circle gently, “How about you give Joel your pretty mouth, baby?” He asks, “I’ve missed this pussy, I gotta be inside you.” 

He takes his hand away from you, letting you shift so you’re on your hands and knees, nightdress pushed up to the small of your back, so you’re spread and on display for Tommy. You reach out a hand and motion with a finger for Joel to come to you, which he does, hands already moving to unzip his jeans. Joel lets them pool on the floor before he gets onto the bed in front of you, fist around the base of his already hard cock, guiding it to your mouth at the exact same time as Tommy nudges himself inside you, sliding in slowly until you’re full of him, Joel doing the exact same to your mouth, letting his cock slip across the length of your tongue until he hits the back of your throat. 

He feels absolutely delicious inside of you, like he always has done for all these years, angling just perfectly inside you to brush against that spot that's been so stimulated this past week. Your moans are muffled, vibrating around Joel's cock as you take him down into your throat, saliva pooling around the edges of your mouth. 

This, you think, is what you were made for. To have two men, two of the most beautiful men in the world, taking their pleasure from you, but giving you twice that in return. 

Joel's hand grips your chin as he starts shallow thrusts into your mouth, you look up at him, your own eyes rimmed with tears, his blown out and dark from lust as he fucks your mouth, groaning in pleasure when you do. 

"You're a lucky girl, ain't ya sugar?" Tommy husks from behind you, his skin slapping against yours, "Two men here to adore ya," He leans over and kisses at the skin covering your spine, "Always were meant to be the centre of attention."

Joel lets his cock slip from your mouth, looking down at you with one eyebrow cock, his hand around your jaw to get you to look at him, “He’s right, ain’t he, pretty girl?” He asks, running a thumb over you spit soaked bottom lip, “Love bein’ the centre of attention, don’t ya?” You nod, totally overwhelmed by the feeling of Tommy’s pace behind you, but Joel taps your cheek, “Words, pretty girl,” He chastises, “Use your big girl words.”

Tommy’s hands grip your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrusts into you, making you cry out, “Yes!” You gasp, realising you have to try and keep quiet, Sarah’s only just down the hall. 

“Yes what?” 

“I love it,” You whimper, looking up at him, “Love being the centre of attention.” 

“Course ya do,” Tommy quips from behind you, “We love you bein’ the centre of attention too.” 

Joel uses his fist to guide his cock back into the warmth of your mouth, resuming his short thrusts into your mouth as Tommy pounds into you from behind. The sounds in the room are obscene – there’s the sound of Tommy’s skin hitting your own, the sound of you almost gagging on Joel’s cock, and the mixture of grunts and groans that are pulled from their mouths as they use your body to make themselves feel good. You almost wish you could see yourself right now, speared at both ends of your body by these two men. 

Joel trails his fingers as far down your arm as he can, and you think he’s asking for you to put your hand on his balls as you take him in your mouth, so you do, but he’s swatting it away, gripping your wrist as you look up at him again, tears falling down your face. 

“Put it on your pussy,” He instructs, “Make yourself come for us.” 

You snake your hand down, fingers circling your clit, slick as always. You start working in fast movements just as you feel Tommy’s thumb start to tease the tight ring of muscle of your ass. You whimper again around Joel’s cock as his hands gather your hair, using it to drag your mouth up and down him.

“You want it, sugar?” Tommy asks, pulling his thumb away before you hear him spit, the warmth spreading down your ass as his thumb works the wet into your skin there. 

Joel, once again, pulls his cock from the wet heat of your mouth, motioning for you to talk, “Go on, pretty girl,” He coaxes, “Tell him you want it, we know you love it.” 

“Please,” You breathe out a beg, pushing back lightly into his finger, “Please, Tommy.” 

“Always sound so fucking pretty when you beg for it baby,” He chuckles behind you, “I’ll give it to ya, don’t worry.” 

When his thumb pushes inside of you, as the same time as Joel feeds you his cock once more, it’s almost immediate, the way your orgasm slams into you. Stuffed full in every possible way, as Tommy’s thumb presses gently into your ass, as Joel’s cock hits the back of your throat over and over again and the way Tommy is pounding into that delicious spot inside you as always. The knot of pleasure snaps, Joel’s cock muffling your cries as your pussy clenches around Tommy, walls fluttering as you work your clit through the aftershocks, body convulsing almost violently. 

“God damn it sugar,” Tommy groans behind you, “Gonna – fuck – m’gonna come baby, where?” 

“Inside,” You moan, pulling off Joel’s cock, “Please, inside me baby.” 

He gives you exactly what you want just seconds later, stilling behind you, with his cock buried as deep as he’ll go. He lets out that sound that you love, a high-pitched whine that’s similar to some of the sounds he and his brother draw from you as you feel him fill you up. He’s not giving you much time to recover, groaning lightly as he pulls out, stopping briefly to watch as his cum drips from your spent pussy. 

You roll onto your back, fingers drifting down and inside of you, slowly pumping in and out as Joel comes into view. He stands at the side of your bed, pulls at your legs so the backs of your thighs are pressed against his chest, ankles by his face. He pulls your hand away from your pussy, pushing your fingers into your mouth as you clean Tommy’s cum off them. 

“Go on brother,” Tommy encourages, settling himself on the bed behind you, “You’ve still got a job to do.” 

“Ain’t no way she’s not full of my baby,” Joel growls as he sinks his cock into your pussy, your slick and the cum his brother’s just filled you with making it so easy for him to slide in all the way, “Is there, pretty girl?” 

His hands are splayed over your stomach now as he pounds his cock into you, the squelch of your pussy filling the room, “Filled me up so good, Joel,” You moan, hands palming at your tits as your head turns to look at Tommy, “Been full of him all week baby.” You say in his direction. 

The attention you’ve been giving Joel with your mouth means he’s already on the edge, “Sucked me so good, pretty girl,” He mumbles, “Gonna come for you.” 

You’re gripping the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer to you as he ruts himself as hard and fast into you as he can manage, “Please Joel,” You sob, feeling the head of his cock bruising at your cervix, “Give it to me, please.” 

“Quit your crying,” He spits, “You know I’m gonna give it to you.” 

And like clockwork he does. He groans out, low and loud as always, as you feel the hot spurts of his cum filling you up, mixing with what Tommy gave you just minutes ago. He slips out of you, watching as his cum mixed with his brother’s drips from your used cunt. He runs his fingers down the folds of your pussy, scooping up what’s left you, pushing it back in, because he’s got to be sure, got to be sure that he’s given you every drop of himself. 

You expect the aftermath to be a little strange as you pull the hem of your nightdress back down. Tommy’s already half asleep on the bed, clothes haphazardly thrown back on as he shuffles himself under the sheets. You follow suit, watching as Joel puts him underwear back on. 

Tommy has already wrapped an arm around your waist, dragging you to his body, light breath fanning against the skin of your neck. You’re watching Joel as he straightens up. 

“Hey,” You speak softly, grabbing his attention, you reach out a hand which he takes, “Stay.” You say simply, tapping the empty side of the bed, the side of the bed that had been his all week. 

He smiles, squeezing your hand, and you think he might refuse, opting to take the final bedroom, but he doesn’t. He climbs onto the bed, far enough away that your bodies don’t touch, respecting the claim Tommy has staked by holding your body close to his, but keeps his hand in yours, as physical reminder that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere. He leans forward, soft kiss pressed to your lips, before his other hand pushes your hair back from your face. 

“Sleep, pretty girl,” He insists softly, “Tomorrow is a new day.” 

And sleep you do – one Miller brother strong against your back, arm draped over your waist, other Miller brother led facing you, chocolate brown eyes watching you as you drift off to sleep, your hand clutched in his to anchor you to him just as much as you’re anchored to his brother. As your eyes close and you drift off, you realise you’re exactly where you want to be, held by both the men you love, and that’s absolutely enough for you right now. 

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller fluff #Joel Miller angst #joel miller fanfic #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Tommy Miller #Tommy Miller smut #Tommy Miller angst #Tommy Miller fluff #Tommy Miller fic #Tommy Miller fanfic #Tommy Miller fanfiction #Tommy Miller x you #Tommy Miller x reader #Tommy Miller x female reader #Tommy Miller x f!reader #The Last Of Us #The Last Of Us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou smut #the last of us smut #the last of us fic #tlou fic #joel miller smut

[bonefall]

Clear Sky Killed Bumble; Gray Wing's Desperate Defense

The "analysis" I've seen out there is beyond bananas. We are out there on state-of-the-art exploratory vessels, sailing the 7 seas into brand new lands, discovering new kinds of fruits to compare to the absolute lack of sanity people are displaying.

Clear Sky definitively killed Bumble. Gray Wing does not want to believe reality.

While some try to argue this death down to "negligent homicide," that Clear Sky essentially beat her unconscious and left her in an unsafe area where she got killed, that's so unlikely I'm confident in saying it's wrong. The evidence shows that Clear Sky tormented her to death with a ferocious, sadistic beating which caused her to bleed out, which is second degree murder, and used the smell of a fox and Gray Wing's blind adoration to lie his way out of consequences.

There's not a lot of ambiguity in the evidence that is presented. There is fox scent but no fox bites, and the preceding chapter provides a comparison between the wounds on Misty vs the wounds on Bumble. Clear Sky's story is so convoluted that not a single part of it makes any sense. Quite frankly it's only been topped recently by the "I can confirm this woman is evil because she snored her evil plans in their sleep" fib of ASC.

In either case, Gray Wing believes neither. He does not believe this is Clear Sky's kill in any way.

This moment is an excellent example of how Gray Wing continuously prevents anyone from taking any action against his dear brother's violence until it is too late. By convincing the moor cats to all calm down when they're rightfully furious, and treating the lives and perspectives of native cats as lesser, Gray Wing becomes complicit in some of the harm this tyrant manages to carry out.

To shield a person from the consequences of their own actions is enabling, regardless of if it's direct or indirect, wittingly or unwittingly.

We are going to go over the whole of the 26th chapter of DOTC Book 2: Thunder Rising, from Bumble's death scene to Gray Wing's downplay of it. A meticulous, step-by-step analysis.

Leading-up context

The Scene

The Immediate Response

Incredible suggestions that have been made that I had to read with my own eyes

Leading-up Context

Let's start from square one by introducing the cast, with the assumption you have not read DOTC or are just vaguely aware of it due to its reputation.

Bumble is a kittypet who regularly visits the woods without issue. She is a small supporting character in the first book, The Sun Trail, whose purpose is mostly to be a friend to Turtle Tail, who is the future wife of the main POV character, Gray Wing.

As the two girls become closer friends, Gray Wing becomes more controlling of Turtle Tail and more hostile towards Bumble. This culminates in Turtle Tail leaving "The Settlers" to live with her friend over the winter. All is idyllic until the humans adopt a third cat, known to the fandom as Tom the Wifebeater because of what happens next in Book 2; Thunder Rising.

Turtle Tail becomes pregnant, but notices that her roommates are keeping some kind of secret. She begs Bumble until she reveals that humans tend to take kittens away when they're old enough to be weaned. Turtle Tail leaves to return to the wild, and Tom the Wifebeater begins methodically torturing Bumble over the next month as punishment, leaving scratches, bruises, and "dried blood" all over her when the humans are not looking.

When Bumble tries to seek help from the moor cats, Gray Wing is frustrated that the battered woman has interrupted his walk with his new wife. It is stressed that Gray Wing hates her for taking his love interest away, and he believes she is too fat and clumsy to live in the wild. The leader of the moor cat settlers, Tall Shadow, has a hard time throwing Bumble out, until two outsiders, Wind and Gorse, who are trying to get accepted into this group themselves, take the initiative and drag Bumble back to her domestic abuser.

Gray Wing is biased against Bumble. This is a fact. He explicitly does not like her.

Shortly afterwards, the forest cat settlers, led by Gray Wing's brother Clear Sky, experience a fire and begin to expand their borders. They are already known as a violent group, their leader is a manipulative liar, and Gray Wing himself was once viciously mauled as Clear Sky sat by and watched.

Yes, Gray Wing is aware that Clear Sky sat there and watched, too. He called out to him and Clear Sky did nothing as Fox, a man who knew full well that this cat was his leader's brother, was shredding him.

Gray Wing doesn't want to believe his brother is a bad person. This is also a fact. He explicitly feels guilty when he has thoughts otherwise.

On-screen, through the POV of Gray Wing's nephew Thunder, we see a native woman named Misty slaughtered by Clear Sky for her land. Her children are taken, and her body lays unburied and rotting for two days before Wind Runner and Gorse Fur (sporting new names at the request of the moor cats) find her.

They describe the wounds they found on the corpse in detail and make an accusation,

Now, before this point, Wind Runner and Gorse Fur have been doing everything in their power to endear themselves to this group. Gray Wing himself trusted them, because they've taught him methods for living here, caught and shared food, and even saved the life of his other brother, Jagged Peak, when a burrow collapsed on him.

But now his xenophobia towards them is coming back-- because they're calling for action against his brother. He's only ever uneasy about them when they seem to have an ounce of influence over his group.

Turtle Tail's conclusion is completely sound, and if it hadn't been for someone else, would be correct. Clear Sky DID move to kill the children-- he was stopped by his underling, Petal. Turts was able to understand what Clear Sky was going to do without seeing it firsthand.

The crowd is shocked and furious, for logical reason. They ARE in danger. Clear Sky IS escalating his violence and expanding his territory. It's starting with the native population, and the moor cats are able to understand and predict what will happen next.

Except Gray Wing.

The Scene

While investigating ONE confirmed murder, as there is no reason to doubt Wind Runner and Gorse Fur except for conveniently xenophobic ones, and TWO suspected murders of children, the patrol hears the sudden shriek of a cat in pain.

Bumble is found bleeding to death on a previously unclaimed patch of land, at the very center of a circle of trampled grass. There is the reeking smell of fox, and under that, there is the scent of Clear Sky.

Her wounds are described in great detail,

Completely consistent with the way that the wounds were described on Misty. Nearly word-for-word.

The only evidence of fox is the smell. No one heard it bark, there is no note of it bounding off, there are no bites or wounds consistent with those of a canid. They were described exactly the same as Misty's.

Slits are cat claw wounds. Not fox bite wounds. She was not being bitten, she was cut all over her body, prominently down her belly and sides.

Unless this fox shapeshifted into a cat and then meticulously created wounds consistent with the ones left on Misty, Clear Sky did this.

Where did the fox go? Probably came to investigate, maybe licked at the bloody cuts expecting a meal, and then was scared off by Bumble suddenly waking up and screaming. It's possible, but unlikely that the patrol's clamor scared it off, considering they didn't see or hear any fox noises.

There are also signs of a struggle-- and Bumble was not able to fight in the condition she is currently in. It's most likely it was the struggle from when she was being tormented and trying to get away, unless there was a fight with a fox while Bumble was still unconscious and she was dragged to the middle of it, for some reason.

However, a fight with a fox is still unlikely, as the patrol was able to hear the whimpering of a cat in pain as they approached but not the furious sounds of a battle with a large predator. If there was this whole epic brawl with a fox that trampled the grass around Bumble, why was there only a single shriek?

Gray Wing, expert on the smell of Clear Sky's armpit, confirms it's his brother. His whole world spins when he realizes his Dear Brother is involved in this, feeling horror and disbelief.

(Also note that Gray Wing implies Clear Sky's involvement is the prophetic bad thing his adopted son mentioned in the previous chapter, not the shredded woman dying in front of him lol)

The rest of the group is able to acknowledge reality, coming to the obvious conclusion. Clear Sky is expanding his territory, including the very patch they're standing on. He has been violent in the past, even against other settlers. Misty was slaughtered in a way consistent with the victim dying in front of them, so he is killing cats who stand in his way. Gray Wing's immediate, literally DESPERATE response is first to jump to Clear Sky's defense.

Gray Wing asks Bumble directly if it was a fox, and she is too weak to answer... until she finds the strength, as a domestic abuse victim, to blame herself for the way a cat beat her bloody. She thinks it's her fault for hunting here, because she was hungry, not thinking straight, and stupid.

I have seen this described as Bumble "making a defense of Clear Sky." I will leave it up to you, the reader, to determine if this sounds like Bumble is trying to say he's not guilty of hurting her or if it's the sort of infamous self-blame that domestic violence victims lapse into after a furious thrashing.

When Clear Sky returns to the scene of the crime, he cuts her off while admitting he did assault Bumble, then glares at everyone to challenge a fight.

Gray Wing swoons over him like he always does.

I have heard it said, without examples, that this is normal because this happens all the time in Warrior Cats. That it's a normal thing to be standing next to a domestic abuse victim who is bleeding out and watch her murderer daring all of your friends to do something about it, and admire how brave he is. That, again, without any examples, this is just something that every character does when the Villain of the Week exists in front of them, so it's not even special that it was Gray Wing's first response.

If you believe that, I have a bridge in London to sell you.

Desperation is under all of Gray Wing's feelings which immediately follow. His voice "cracks" when he has to ask if his darling brother did this. He wants to scream when he takes his sweet time answering. He shrinks under Clear Sky's gaze, because he reads that he's "accusing him of betrayal."

But somehow, that FIRST response for him to fawn over his brother is not part of that, because in unquoted books of other arcs a hero has admired a villain?? Context doesn't exist because in some other book the same emotion was described maybe. Incredible.

No mention of how casually he brushes off this sight that makes his eyes show "guilt and horror," either. No talk of how he made a little ""joke"" about how no one greeted him nicely at a tortured woman's deathbed. Almost like he was caught red-handed and the wounds don't actually unsettle him as much as the crowd's reaction.

Even the glare-- Clear Sky is trying to get Gray Wing to do his bidding. He wants him to protect him, be his flying monkey, and control his furious people.

So at the next opportunity, Gray Wing jumps to his defense again. Second time in this exchange.

FIRST he was described as "desperate." Now he takes a deep breath and BRAVELY licks that boot.

Turtle Tail steps forward and posits the obvious truth. Clear Sky is going mad with power, doesn't care who he hurts, and is completely capable of doing something like this to Bumble. This was already done to Misty, and even earlier, Clear Sky stood by and watched as one of his minions savaged Gray Wing in a similar way.

The whoooole crowd can see this. It is Gray Wing, and Gray Wing alone, who prevents there from being any consequences for Clear Sky's actions.

He hypocritically believes that attacking Clear Sky for the murder of Bumble would make them all "no better than he is" when he had no qualms about coming to blows over the exile of Jagged Peak much earlier. "Attacking Clear Sky for Murder" is morally equivalent to "Actually Doing Murder."

This is only for Bumble though, a "foreign" woman he does not like. He did not believe this for Jagged Peak, and he will not believe it later when he watches Clear Sky strangle Rainswept Flower to death. They are worth physical consequences.

He even physically shields him.

"he stepped between Clear Sky and his own cats, not sure which of them he was trying to protect." It's Clear Sky. Bumble's life means nothing to Gray Wing, so he is trying to protect Clear Sky from the fury of the angry mob he has earned by killing her and Misty.

He CANNOT let there be any doubt. Not even from himself. His brother must be protected at all costs. To that end, he is trying to make some kind of opportunity for Clear Sky to escape accountability.

If you are "neutral" in the conflict between victims and their abuser, you have taken the side of the abuser. If you provide opportunities for a perpetrator to escape accountability, you are an enabler. If you allow a suspect to escape the scene of a crime, since every cat in these books seems to be a lawyer the minute anyone wants to react to violence, you could be charged with accessory fleeing and eluding-- a felony.

Before you try to say this is all in the noble pursuit of peace, let's not be dense.

DOTC is not committed to non-violence for any other tyrannical leader. Especially not One Eye, even believing that an underhanded ambush that breaks the terms of a duel Clear Sky set is the good and righteous thing to do. Killing him was the correct action, as it was with Slash in Riverstar's Home. Outside of DOTC this logic is casually applied to Brokenstar, Tigerstar, Scourge, Hawkfrost, Darktail, and Ashfur-- with only Leopardstar and Blackstar being "exempt" for following an evil ringleader.

Gray Wing himself has no moral dilemma about One Eye or Slash, either. Nonviolence is not his goal.

It is Clear Sky, and Clear Sky alone, who the narrative of DOTC will conclude "deserved" a million second chances. That torturing Bumble to death, slaughtering Misty for her land, and countless offscreen cases of attacking natives didn't push him past the "fundamentally evil" threshold into an irredeemable monster, as is the case with Slash and One Eye later in this arc.

The difference between Clear Sky and DOTC's other two tyrants, to me, is obvious. Clear Sky is the POV's brother and a member of the in-group of The Settlers. The lives of his victims, as mostly "foreigners" and entirely women, are worth very little to the notoriously xenophobic and misogynist writing team.

If the moor cats had shredded Clear Sky right here and now, dozens of lives would have been saved. The First Battle wouldn't have happened. Justice would have been served for Bumble, regardless of if the cause of death was 2nd degree murder or negligent homicide. He wouldn't have smacked and beaten any of his other victims.

Gray Wing prevents this, giving Clear Sky an opportunity to tell a lie.

(He even whines about the idea of Wind Runner challenging Clear Sky about boundaries, the whole thing that started this incident in the first place. This is the perfect time to start arguing about boundaries, actually, when he's in the middle of establishing new ones.)

In the past, I'd been too charitable to this exchange. This lie is obscene and anyone who believes it is ignorant. No frills, no bells, you either can't think critically or just didn't want to so Clear Sky can be innocent or Gray Wing can seem "reasonable."

Clear Sky's visibly eager to start his story, "glad of the chance" now that he's had time to concoct a story. He could have explained earlier but didn't, sizing the group up and glaring at his brother to crack a whip, asking if they believed he was capable of it, so he could gauge what he can get away with.

"New part of my territory" = Freshly annexed land he has violently conquered, confirming the patrol's fears of expansion.

"I wanted to give her a warning, just a little cuff" = No one leaves his territory gently. Confirmation he thrashed her, downplay of how severe.

"How was I to know she would faint?" = Bumble is visibly emaciated, and he's blaming her for not being able to stay conscious through the whole beating.

"I could see her paws twitching, and I knew she would come around" = He would not care, Misty's body was unburied for two days.

"So I left" = Leaving Count: 1

Pauses, wincing, because this is another act. Every time he's putting on a little show for other cats, he takes dramatic pauses and plays up his pain and regret. Seen earlier in this book.

"But heard a fox bark" = no barking was heard by the patrol, only a cat's shriek.

"And ran back" = Was apparently so close that he could hear barking the patrol didn't, but so far away that a fox had time to cut her to ribbons, AND this was so long ago the patrol wasn't close enough to hear the fight? Returning Count: 2

"But I was too late" = Wounds inconsistent with fox attack. Leaving Count: 2

"I was going to get help" = There is no medic in proto-SkyClan. When Jagged Peak broke his leg, they had to borrow Dappled Pelt. What help? Who?? Even as he says this, Frost's wound is going completely untreated. If Clear Sky was going to get help, why wasn't he telling Cloud Spots to do something when he got back?

"But then I heard you all arrive" = He left to get help but was still close enough to hear running? Just abandoning his noble quest to get that "help" he apparently has? Returning Count: 3

Not a single part of his story adds up. EVERY aspect of it has a problem, in that it's either deceptively worded to downplay his abuse, doesn't line up with who he is, or just doesn't make logistical sense.

It's not JUST a lie, it's a BAD one.

Even worse, Clear Sky is a known liar at this point. He does this when the truth would not benefit him, like earlier in this book when he fibbed to Thunder about why he abandoned him right in front of Gray Wing's face. The story doesn't make sense and there's not even any reason to give him benefit of the doubt, because he is known to be dishonest.

He's offended when Turtle Tail calls him on being full of baloney, and once again shoots a sharp look over to his flying monkey, expecting Gray Wing to dance on command and defend his honor like always.

But Gray Wing seems to be perfectly capable of being "wise" when it would directly benefit Clear Sky.

I have seen the question begged, "if he's such a bootlicker then why he no verbally bootlick a third time in a single exchange?" and I would tell that person to read the text because it says why. Right there. Here, I've underlined it. So you don't miss it again.

If Gray Wing licks that boot again, THIRD TIME, in front of an angry mob who wants to skin Clear Sky alive, they will lose patience and make the clearing look like Bruce's Eating Dome. So he shuts the fuck up and gives his ungrateful brother the chance to indignantly slip away, even though he desperately wants to cry out and tell him how shiny and lickable those boots are.

"What can I say?" Nothing. "I'll only make things worse" Correct. "If I don't let him leave now there will be a fight" im literally just quoting the text verbatim

He is NOT doing this because he does not believe him, NOR because he doesn't want to defend him. It's because this the best way to protect his brother from consequence.

And then Bumble uses her dying breath to apologize for ever hurting her friend, showing Bumble is still just blaming herself for everything, with Turtle Tail still repeating the same malicious excuses that were used to deny her asylum from domestic abuse.

"I wish you could have found happiness, even though I was unwilling to help you. It sucked to learn that our shared wifebeater started wifebeating you, but we didn't want you in our camp so really this was unavoidable."

I've voiced my ire before, gone on long rants about how angry this exchange makes me and even campaigned for more recognition of the misogyny in this subplot. The fact that the last words Bumble hears are just more excuses from a person who could have done something disgust me, and I think I'm right to feel that it's vile that this sits unexamined in a book for young readers. But it doesn't change what happened.

She senselessly died in intense pain and despair, for the crime of existing. All that's left to say is that I wish Bumble could have found a better friend.

But ultimately, Turtle Tail is another woman in the notoriously misogynistic arc of DOTC. She's just a supporting character for Gray Wing's conflict, and he's got some opinions about what, exactly, is making this so sad.

He doesn't give a fuck that this woman he hates has been murdered after slowly starving to death, for months, since he watched her be dragged back to a domestic abuser. She "stole" his romantic interest for a few months, after all.

It's stressed he "never especially liked Bumble" at her deathbed. It's not JUST "the death of a kittypet," a group of people he is bigoted against. It's about his piece of shit brother.

It's about how HIS REPUTATION HAS BEEN TARNISHED.

"It changes the way my cats think of Clear Sky," THAT HE IS NOW A KNOWN MURDERER, "and that changes everything" IT'S GOING TO BE A LOT HARDER TO DEFEND HIM NOW

This is completely consistent with Gray Wing's behavior into the rest of the chapter, and even the books beyond.

The Immediate Response

Gray Wing explains what happened to the other moor cats. He has to hide his actual belief that Clear Sky didn't actually do anything wrong so that the moor cats don't dismiss him for the biased, brother-obsessed little minion he is. He admits how he really feels about Bumble's death to Turtle Tail at the very end of the chapter-- so what he says here is a lie.

Not a delusion. A lie. He withheld the full truth of his bias when questioned. If he's honest about his conflict of interest, this group will trust his judgement less. He has a goal; to prevent his cats from retaliating.

Wind Runner is, again, the one who is rallying the other cats into action. She's seeing that Clear Sky is murdering innocent cats, possibly even her friend considering how much she knew about Misty, and that this will only escalate. Gray Wing doesn't like that.

So when Tall Shadow starts suggesting the things he agrees with, like how Bumble's life was less valuable anyway so this is no reason to start a fight with his Dear Sweet Brother, and they should all just sit on their butts until no one's angry anymore, he decides she "deserves" his support.

It's a political move.

"After all, she was only a kittypet... omg why are you so mad?? I didnt mean it like that, all im saying is that we should just calm down ugh dont be so sensitive" -Tall Shadow, channeling your racist aunt

If Gray Wing can get the other cats to waste their time on useless half-measures, like more patrols or perhaps writing a strongly-worded letter, he can make them feel like they're doing something when they're actually doing jack shit. Wittingly or unwittingly, this is a measure to stall the inevitable, making them miss their chance to strike while the iron is hot.

He's either an idiot or he's subconsciously acting from a place of loyalty to his brother. Bias resembles the former but is born of the latter, and either way the result is the same.

After this, there's a brief conversation where Tall Shadow makes it clear that there is absolutely no reason to be mistrusting Wind Runner. They both agree "when this is all over" she's a good cat to have around-- they just don't seem want to listen to her now, when she wants something done about the sadistic lunatic next door.

Gray Wing's talk of "working together" is laughable. His idea of "working together" includes the cat who just slaughtered two people for existing on his newly annexed land, who long ago stopped listening to reason. Tall Shadow herself starts preening and announces that her response to all this is that Clear Sky must absolutely be stopped by some cat.......................... so she'll think abt it.

tomorrow maybe. we'll put a pin in it. set a little reminder on her phone or something.

(the genius plan she comes up with in the end is a nonsequitor babble about how rocks don't exist to be sat on, so clear sky should just stop conquering all the land or something. he listens intently and then throws her into a tank of piranhas.)

But anyway, it's time to smooth things over with Turtle Tail, who had been struggling with that uncomfortable truth that the moor cats, and Gray Wing specifically, were also culpable in some way for the slow, painful death of Bumble.

He'll fix that with a big display of affection.

"Don't be mad at me it's nobody's fault :) She wouldn't have been able to cope so it's inevitable she wound up dead :) I'm sorry you're hurting bc i like you, not that i give a damn that your friend was shoved into a blender and shredded alive after starving for months :) Thanks to you I am now ready to lead this clan directly off the side of a cliff." -very endearing conversation i assure you

It works because Turtle Tail is not allowed to maintain her own opinions as a girl in DOTC. Obviously. Her husband licks her ears and tells her that he likes her and that's the end of any examination that they have any responsibility here. god forbid she re-examine her feelings towards the writers' favorite in light of how much of an ass he made of himself at her friend's deathbed.

Just in case it slipped your mind though, once again it is made clear that Gray Wing is reacting with leisure because he does not believe (or care) that Clear Sky killed Bumble. No, not even in the negligent homicide sense, that Clear Sky's actions allowed Bumble to die through beating her unconscious and leaving her alone in an unsafe location. He does not think this was something to blame Clear Sky for.

He believes that the fox did it-- he was lying earlier when he said he "didn't know what to believe." He does. He didn't reveal his bias when he was being questioned, because he wants to prevent the moor cats from fighting Clear Sky over Bumble's death.

Also note the sneaky little turn of language Gray Wing makes there. In denial of Turt's claim that "innocent cats are being slaughtered," Gray's counter is Bumble alone before the pivot. The patrol was originally about Misty's murder and her missing kittens as Clear Sky expanded his borders-- but Misty's apparently not an "innocent cat" who's been slaughtered. She's absent from that category, implied to be part of Clear Sky's hypothetical "good reason" for expansion that Gray Wing needs to get to the bottom of.

Bumble's murder is denied. Misty's is implied to just be collateral damage for the unknown plan. He's unbothered about the death of either one.

Gray Wing: "No one else can get to the bottom of this! theres only ME! I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN STOP CLEAR SKY"

Also Gray Wing: (leaps in front of an angry crowd to defend his brother. cries that he doesn't believe hes capable of such terrible violence. actively prevents anyone else from doing anything about him)

Anyone with a vague awareness of DOTC knows how this ends. Gray Wing is going to lead them astray with his bad judgement, so purposefully delusional about his brother that they will have to dig a mass grave at Fourtrees. Gray Wing thinks he's a *~special boy~* who is the only one who can truly get through to his brother, and maybe he is, but not before dozens of people have to suffer and die for it.

This is enabling. To enable is to directly or indirectly support another's harmful actions, such as addiction or abuse. He did it here, both during and after Bumble's death, giving Clear Sky the cover to escape consequences for his actions and halting any attempts to do anything concrete. Because of him, Clear Sky never pays for what he did to her.

In the book 3, Clear Sky denies all wrongdoing, and in Bumble's last mention in book 4, her torture is described in passive voice. A terrible "happening" which seemingly couldn't have been avoided. No one is held accountable. Not the moor cats for turning her away, not Clear Sky for her killing, and even Tom the Wifebeater is redeemed after being given a chance to live in a clan for not being "soft" like his female victim.

All so sweet, beloved little Gray Wing never has to confront that he let a killer get off scot-free because the uncomplicated childhood memory of his brother as a lovely good boy was wrong. That he was so consumed by spite that he smugly watched Bumble get dragged away from the only people who could have helped her. That he was complicit twice.

Incredible suggestions that I have had to read with my own eyes

fucking ✨Bonus Round✨

"If clear sky fought bumble, why bumble leave no scratches?" I'll let you sit there and think about why the DOMESTIC ABUSE VICTIM did not fight back against a large, violent man who was beating her. I'll give you a minute. I'll play some jeopardy music.

"he's quote 'horrified and guilty' at the wounds which means he didn't make them himself" Clear Sky has a repeated habit of "blacking out" when he butchers women (Rainswept Flower, Willow Tail). He's also a liar and an actor, even according to his own account he'd seen these same wounds before when he came back a second time. Most importantly, what fucking part of "horrified and guilty" implies he didn't make those himself, does a toddler not look "horrified and guilty" when it spills chocolate milk on a couch and its parent sees it? Does that mean the toddler didn't do it? If you wouldn't accept this logic for a toddler why the fuck will you accept it for a suspected murderer?

"Maybe Clear Sky fought the fox off?" He doesn't actually say that, it's just implied during his lie when he says he showed up too late, but it's hypothetically possible. Even if he did fight this fox off, he must have still mauled Bumble because she is covered in claw wounds, even if he doesn't remember it because he "blacked out." There's also still the problems of Bumble being in the middle of the trampled grass, the patrol not hearing the sound of battle, his framing that he just tapped her and she passed out, and him apparently running to get help he does not have. Occam's Razor still suggests the solution is that this fox was scared off when Bumble screamed, with Clear Sky just using the convenient smell to lie his way out of consequences

"How'd Clear Sky get fox scent on him?" Probably from showing up to the crime scene that absolutely reeks and prowling around like an axe murderer, which we saw him do. Bumble had no fox bites and no one heard a fight. did you know that if you stand in a sewer you smell like shit

"Gray Wing just doesn't want to think his dear sweet brother could ever do such a thing :("

"What if the Erins are just so incompetent that they created a crime scene completely inconsistent with the very true and real story that Clear Sky told, it just happens to look like a lie on accident, they unwittingly made him a liar earlier in this book because they forgot the events they previously wrote, and don't know anything about a type of predator that appears in nearly every entry of warrior cats and happens to be one of the most popular animals of all time" what if i tripped and fell and a shawarma with extra tahini sauce fell into my mouth, followed by an apple slice, and 3 litres of water. should i continue my fast or has Allah fed me.

All of this is why I am adamant on saying that Clear Sky killed Bumble by beating her to death. In order for this to have been the cause of a fox, you'd have to take a liar at face value and ignore every other detail. That's what Gray Wing does, described on the page as "desperate to believe in his brother's innocence."

Unfortunately, this will also not be the only time that Gray Wing's obsession with his brother and shockingly horrific judgement will put other cats in danger or get them killed. It's just the most deliberate example, and thus imo the most upsetting.

#warrior cats analysis #Bumble #Bumble wc #Dotc analysis #dawn of the clans #dotc hate #clear sky #skystar #gray wing #dotc #Justice for Bumble #Bumble dotc #Gray Wing The Wise