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alltheirdamn · 1 month

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Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 1 : Your Name

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut) Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.

Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway.

The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion.

Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes.

You’d never love again.

“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.

By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road.

You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays.

Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life.

Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love.

Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake.

“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded.

“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.

“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”

You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.

“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”

Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.

“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”

“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”

“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved.

The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough.

Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil.

It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better.

Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long?

You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again.

You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement.

“Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.

“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.

“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.

Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks.

“Really, Maria. You do.”

“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.

Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.

“Is that her dad?” You asked.

He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone.

“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”

“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.

Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.

“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”

“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.

You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled. And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance.

And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest.

“What was that?” Maria chirped.

You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you.

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”

“It looked like something.”

You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you.

Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles.

“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”

You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.

“Miss Smith!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself.

With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes.

“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked.

“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally.

“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.

“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement.

“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”

His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.

“Joel,” he insisted.

You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?

Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home.

The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.

The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit.

You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.

“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”

“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.

“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.

Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.

“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.

“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”

“It’s my fault. I can fix it.”

You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true.

“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”

He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before.

“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.

“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours.

“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”

“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”

“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”

There was a lot of harm in it.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly.

“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.

You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?”

“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there.

“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.

Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous.

“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”

“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”

His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in.

“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.

“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.

“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”

That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.

“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch.

“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”

Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.

It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget.

The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.

“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk.

“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated.

“Maria, I’m 27,” you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”

She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents.

“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.

You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out.

The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see.

Joel Miller.

He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here.

“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing.

“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”

She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip.

“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”

“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”

“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.

You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.

Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.

You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—

“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.

“Mr. Miller,” you said.

“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased.

“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”

Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body.

“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips.

“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”

“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned.

“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer.

“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?”

Was he… flirting with you?

You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care.

“What other flavors do you like?”

He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.

“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.

Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered.

“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered.

“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered.

Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency.

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality.

“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”

Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away.

“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.

“How do you know? Were you watching me?”

“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?”

He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends.

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach.

“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked.

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.

You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.

“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.

Joel peered around you and huffed loudly.

“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”

“He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.

Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.

“Wait!” Joel called out.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”

You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built.

You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot.

“Fuck,” you groaned.

As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.

“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained.

“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you.

The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer.

“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”

Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins.

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud.

Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.

“No,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door.

“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder.

The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car.

“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear.

“I’m—.”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”

He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner.

“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck.

“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”

You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior.

“Get in.”

His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar.

You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness.

Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile.

“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light.

You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”

“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”

A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably.

“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”

You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction.

“This is me,” you sniffled.

“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”

“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.

“It’s all formalities.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”

Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.

“Can I just know one thing?” He asked.

You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“What’s your name?”

Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.

#joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x teacher!f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pre outbreak!joel

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xan-izme · 11 months

Text

Crybaby (Sully fam X daughter!reader)

Summary: Reader has always been a crybaby. Sensitive and had a soft spot for all living life. Jake disliked how sensitive you always were, he sent you out on your own for a month and came back a cold-blooded killer.

Warnings: Death, gore, mentions of death, mentally unstable reader, violence, Trauma

You were kind, sweet. Always looked on the bright side, you were on the same path as Kiri, training to become Tsahik. But it was clear you weren't as good as Kiri, which you were quick to admit.

That lead to Jake placing you with your brothers, training to become warriors. He wanted to tough you up, Jake loves how much you cherished love, he loved seeing the world through your optimistic eyes.

But ever since the sky people came back, he just needed his eldest daughter to be strong. Be there just in case he would leave this world a little too early.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Y/n, I need you to keep your balance! keep tripping like that you'll get killed." Jake's words hurt you, but you remember how upset he was the last time you nearly cried.

You inhaled sharply "Yes father." You stood up from the ground and faced your twin, Neteyam. He gave you a knowing look that wanted to know if they should stop, you shook your head lightly, not wanting to seem more of a wimp to your father then you already are.

You were an average hunter, your skills in fighting weren't that bad either.

But that wasn't enough for Jake. He needed to know that you were as skilled as Neteyam, as skilled as your mother was. So, it was always.

"Be faster"

"Hit stronger"

"Not good enough, try again!"

You would push your limit. Till you couldn't keep your eyes open. Your father would say words of gratitude here and there. Like small nods and a "Good work"

Your brothers sometimes feel like that's not enough for how much he makes you do. But just the smallest amount of approval from Jake made you feel like you were on cloud nine, causing you to do more, work harder.

Then one day, you were having a hard week, you were getting frustrated at the simplest things. Even your fathers nagging was annoying you.

When it came to training, you slipped up and made multiple mistakes that Jake just could not take it.

"Y/n, come now." Jake spoke calmly. You and your twin glanced at each other. You stood up with the help of Neteyam and followed your father.

The two of you walked through the woods.

"Baby, you know why I push you and your siblings so much, right?"

You nod your head, feeling a little nervous even if Jake was using his usual soft tone. "Then you understand--" Jake held you by your shoulders "--That this family, this clan is our fortress. And protecting this family is everything"

His words were deep to you, it was clear this was important to him. "And I need you to be strong. And training here hasn't been helping. So, Im sending you off. Away from here, so you can improve more on your own" Jake saw how your expression dropped "don't worry! It'll only be for a month. Ill check in every few weeks." He tried to reassure you. It didn't really calm your nerves down, but seeing how desperate he was to make sure you and the family was safe?

there was no way you could say no.

So, you left, you were on your own. The first few days were hard. And there were multiple times when you got seriously hurt and cried. God, you cried so much. All that crying made you hate yourself.

Hate every flaw you had. You even hated the soft part of you. Scolding yourself, knowing that kindness and your crying will not protect the clan, your family.

Jake did try to visit you. But you never stayed in one place. The two of you talked a little over the inner coms when you two would be miles apart. But those convocations didn't last.

You were training harder than ever. Perfecting every little thing down to the bone. In all honesty, you did go a little off from the safe zone, where you ran into a few sky people. You made it our alive, as for those sky people?

Well, you only let one live, still having that small kindness and mercy in you. Which was a big mistake.

You received a message from Norm and Max when they wanted to check on you, that a sky person bombed up a small part of the safe zone close to the high camp. No one was killed, but a lot were majorly injured.

Gaining all the details of the incident, you realize that it was the sky person you let live.

Cursing yourself and beating yourself for being so foolish, so naive for thinking nothing of what that sky demon after setting it free. So, you vowed to not give your enemy's any type of mercy, to kill all those evil demons, to protect you clan, your family.

Because this family was your fortress. And you were determined to be theirs.

Your month was over, and you were just so excited to go home. To hug and smother your siblings with kisses. To show your dear parents how strong and skilled you've become. To make your father proud of you. To officially be seen as enough to help protect everyone.

Norm gave you an inner com that was connected to your family, being told that your parents and dear twin brother were on patrol at the moment.

You decided to fly your Ikran to where you were told you parents and twin would be at. But when you were a few clicks away from them, you heard Lo'ak's voice. Saying he has gained sight of intruders. Ones who were carrying guns.

Dreamwalkers

You spoke into your inner coms.

"I'm closest to their location. I'll engage."

"Y/n-- wait, no! Y/n you better not!" Jake shouted.

"Y/n te i'tri Mo'ata Sully. Stay down! that's an--"

You turned your intercoms off. The safety of your baby siblings was the only thing you had in mind. It was almost eclipse, and telling by how the winds picks up and the clouds, it was to rain soon.

Your Ikran felt the panic and determination you were feeling and speed up to get to the location faster.

You made it before your parents and twin could. You killed off every single dreamwalker. And that demon who took your mother's home away, who took Kiri's mother away.

The demon who caused so much harm to your clan.

"Any last words Demon?" you say, tilting your head as you held the sharp dagger to Quritche's throat. The Demon growled and spat in your face.

You weren't very pleased with that; you turned your head towards your siblings who were huddled against a tree.

"Spider"

The small human boy flinched by the way your voice sounded.

"Close your eyes." You said with a small fond smile. But it felt nothing like that. Kiri quickly brought Spider close to her and covered his eyes.

You looked back at Quaritche. The moment you slit his throat and began to detach his head from his body, was the moment Jake and Neytiri entered the scene.

Neytiri was quick to go by her younger children's side. Your ears perk and notice Jake. Once you laid eyes on him. Your face lit up.

"Father!" Youran to him and hugged him. Jake was in utter shock at the scene in front of him. He slowly hugged you tight. You pulled away, smiling, unphased by the amount of blood that was on you.

"I did it. I saved them. Look!" you pulled Jake to where Quaritche's dead body was and grabbed the head of the demon.

"I have killed him. I did it!"

Neteyam slowly entered and looked over what you had done.

"Mommy!" Tuk whined and was quickly embraced by Neytiri.

You were smiling, happy that you've finally rid your father of the nightmare that had burdened your family.

But when you began to see the look Jake had. You started to notice that was not the look of approval you hoped for.

"Y/n . . .What have you done?"

Your smile dropped, being replaced with confution

"Wha-. . .what? what's wrong? what did I do wrong!?" You didn't understand. Did you not put them down fast enough? Should you have taken out the leader before the others? What was it that was wrong??

"Y/n, baby. This--" He was pointing out to the bloody battle around them "--Is wrong. You tampered with their body's. Some of them are still bleeding out!"

"N-no! it's okay you see! I made it for them to not move at all and suffer their punishment." You tried to defend yourself. Tried to make your dear father know that it was okay. And that you did a good job.

Neytiri hurried the children to exit this part of the forest fast, including Spider. Neytiri didn't like Spider, but the boy didn't deserve to see all of this. None of her children did.

"That is not our way!" Jake yelled. Frustrated, worried and scared for his daughter in front of them.

Your ears pinned back. Feelings of sadness, betrayal and anger infecting your heart.

"Well, your way didn't work for me. You said so yourself! Why can't you just be happy!?" Your nose scrunched up in anger.

"I did this for the clan, for our family-- For you!" You were getting upset. All you wanted was the feeling of being called a Sully, worthy of the tittle as Toruk Makto's daughter.

"You can't do this. Your way will bring unbalance to the clan. And if you can't do that. . . then I'll have to strip your tittle as a warrior of this clan." Jake's words caused everyone to stop.

"Ma jake." Neytiri spoke, her eyes glancing between her mate and child.

You felt your bottom lip quivering. But your eyes refused to release the tears. You slowly backed away from Jake, nodding your head a little. Your eyes found its way to Spider who kept tripping, his legs still shaking from what he witnessed.

"Spider." You spoke up. The boy forced himself to look at you.

"Keep tripping like that. . . . . and you'll get killed."

#jake sully #neytiri #neteyam #lo'ak x sister!reader #jake sully x daughter reader #kiri avatar #spider #tuktirey #na'vi x reader #death mention tw #animal death

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yearning-for-autumn · 3 months

Text

Would That I -- Part 11

A/N: God this took me aaages to get to a point where I liked it. But here we goooo, finally some interaction between reader and Eris! Thank you so much for your support on Part 1, there will be one more part after this. I hope you enjoy! Based on an amazing ask from @fandomsmultiverse who has the best ideas.

Pairing: Eris x Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, masturbation (male), oral sex

Word count: 5k

Part 1 Part 3

Were you jealous?

You could have thrown the letter into the fire. There was no need for a signature for you to know exactly who it was from, and you seethed. After he had kissed her neck, Eris had proposed to Nesta. Proposed. And yet here he was, writing letters, crawling back to you. Imagining him on his hands and knees, grovelling, soothed the hurt somewhat.

You re-read the letter again and again, losing yourself in ever worsening fantasies of Eris begging at your feet.

How dare he.

It stung all the more knowing your answer, deep down, was yes. Knowing that when you had locked eyes with your mate—your mate—all you could feel was the cold sting of envy. He was yours. You hated him. You needed him. You wanted him dead.

You crumpled the letter, then unfurled it and put it in a box, kicking it under your bed.

Cauldron damn and burn him.

The next week you received another letter.

Your silence tells me everything, little fox. And here I was thinking that you hated me. Send my regards to Lucien, I hear he has taken to sheltering in your dingy court.

You huffed an angry breath. But you read it over and over, searching for something. Something to be truly mad about. You came up short. Lucien was spending more and more time at the house of wind these days. Avoiding Elain. You had found a firm friendship trying to help him settle more in Velaris. Cauldron knows your brothers weren’t doing enough to help.

You found him in the living room, reading.

“Your brother sends his regards.” You said, watching intently for his reaction. His metal eye whirred as he looked up from his book.

“Hello to you too.” He said after a pause. “Which brother?”

“Eris.”

“Ah.”

You waited for him to say something more, but it never came. You sat down next to him biting your fingernail, debating whether to let him see the letter.

“Read this. Please.” You said, thrusting it into his hands. He read it, looked up at you, then back down at the letter. His lips curled into a grin.

“Oh, he’s practically begging for you.” He said, still grinning. You scoffed and grabbed the letter from his hands.

“He hates me. And I hate him.” You said decidedly. Lucien stifled a laugh with the back of his hand.

“Ok. So he’s writing you letters for you to...burn, I presume? Just to get you all riled up?” He bit his lip when he saw your murderous expression. “My brother wouldn’t be writing to you if he wasn’t interested in you. Rhysand told me about the ball, about how you were staring.”

“He proposed to Nesta that night, not me.” You said.

“Ah, so you are jealous.” Lucien teased. You growled.

“You are not helping.”

“Sorry.” He apologised, though he didn’t look remorseful, “I don’t know what you want me to say. My brother ruined my life, forced me to watch my love be killed and now he’s mated to someone who hates him. Seems like fair retribution. Send him my love of course.”

He was joking, but you saw through his mask of indifference. His unharmed eye revealed much more than you suspected he knew. He was pleading to speak to his brother. Despite your better judgement, you resolved to write Eris back, if only for Lucien’s sake. Excusing yourself to your room, you picked up your pen and paper.

Lucien sends his love in return. In future, if you wish to speak with your brother I suggest you contact him directly.

It disappeared into the ether and you stared at your desk. Another letter landed in front of you before you could get up. You blinked in surprise. You had spent so long hating this male that you had never spoken directly, reports of his cruelty coming second hand, and yet here he was, his handwriting so hurried you could have sworn he was excited you had written back.

Unlike you, Lucien would burn his letters. I will let myself believe Lucien sent his love sincerely, please let him know I wish to see him. I also wish to invite you to dine with me.

Why in all the realms would I dine with you?

You are my mate, are you not? It has snapped for you also. I saw how you stared at the ball. Nesta is a beautiful female, but you should know I am not the unfaithful type.

You have no one to be faithful to.

You wrote back, cruelty flowing onto the paper. It felt good for a moment, before the bond soured it. You stared at the letters piling up with increasing disdain. Who did he think he was, acting as if you were already his. His reply popped onto your desk moments later.

There you are, unfortunately, most correct, little fox.

---

Eris spent the next few days in agony. He had never expected you to write back, but after seeing the hunger in your eyes that night… If there was any chance you had changed your mind about him, he would be in the Night Court in a heartbeat. Rhysand had been keeping all diplomatic matters at arms length, not allowing any visitation into Velaris. Eris was no stranger to the territorial behaviour of a male with a pregnant wife.

On that note, he was supposed to be shopping to find a gift for his nephew today. He whistled for Cheddar, who brought along Lulu, his youngest. Eris rolled his eyes.

“Ok, Lulu can come too if she must. But both of you will have to be on a short lead.” He said, mostly to himself, but Cheddar cocked her head in an inquisitive gesture that made Eris grin, rubbing her head with both hands.

He was in a small toy shop, full of handmade stuffed bears and wooden doll houses, when the letter appeared unceremoniously in his hands. Excusing himself outside, he slunk into a nearby alleyway to read it.

Lucien has agreed to see you.

Was all it read. His heart leapt into his throat. He scribbled a response on a scrap of spare paper in his pocket and it vanished from his hands before he had time to regret it. The response was immediate.

Rhysand will allow you in Velaris for two hours under strict supervision from Lucien. Tomorrow at noon.

Eris tried to catch his breath, not wanting to admit to himself how overjoyed he was that his baby brother wanted to see him. Not only that, but he was granted permission to enter the Night Court, Velaris for that matter, where you would surely be. He pet Lulu gently, grounding himself. Now to think of an excuse as to why he would be absent from Court tomorrow. In the shop, he picked out a soft brown bear with a doe eyed expression, letting himself believe it was because his nephew loved bears, and not because its glossy eyes reminded him of you.

Beron took the lie surprisingly well; any dealings with the Night Court were beneficial to Autumn, which was dangerously close to having few allies in Prythian. Beron liked Kier, and whilst he looked down on them, appreciated the brutality of the Illyrian armies. Night would be a strong ally indeed. If only he knew exactly where their loyalties lay.

Eris laid in bed, the window ajar, unable to sleep, thinking of you. His mind straying to that night in the Hewn City, how you looked in your silken gown, back deliciously low to show off your magnificent wings. You had been downright sinful, and he had had to remind himself to keep his eyes on Nesta, who, whilst stunning, held no candle to you that night. Not to him. He ran a hand down his chest as his cock stirred.

Memories consumed him. The heat of the ballroom. Trailing his eyes all the way up the slit in your dress, dragging his gaze to the top of your thigh, no panty line visible. His hand grasped his cock through his slacks as he imagined peeling the fabric back to reveal your unclothed cunt, and he squeezed hard as he saw himself drop to his knees.

“No panties?” His voice was husky. You gave a coy smile,

“Wanted you to have me, Eris.” You breathed. “Wanted you to taste how much I need you.”

Unbuttoning his slacks and freeing his cock, Eris hissed as he pumped his already dripping length. Your pussy would make a delectable mess of your thighs, drooling just for him. He licked his lips and fucked his hand harder as he fantasised. Your moans would be music to his ears as he messily ate you out, tongue laving across your swollen clit, sucking and nibbling as your thighs shook with pleasure.

Debauched sounds filled the room, the wet shlick of his cock becoming the squelching wetness of your pussy as he finally sunk his fingers deep inside of you. He wanted your hands in his hair. He wanted to guide you down onto the floor so that he could feast on you properly, drink you down, consume you. You would cry out, just the thought of it had him squeezing the base of his cock to keep from cumming too soon. His hips bucked into his fist at a punishing pace, his eyes screwed shut and head thrown back in pleasure.

The bond was thrumming like drums in his chest, heightening every feeling as his thick member pulsed, spurting precum into his hand. It didn’t take long until he growled, his whole body tensing and his cock painting his stomach white with his seed. When he groaned out in pained pleasure, it was your name on his lips.

---

You stood by Lucien’s side, the redhead almost vibrating with nervousness.

“Remind me why I let you talk me into this?” He asked. You smiled gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Because you want to see him. I could tell the moment I gave you that letter. You’re happy he still thinks of you.”

“It’s complicated.” He groused, “We haven’t spoken properly in decades. What if—what if he’s not the male I remember?” You felt your heart break at Lucien’s words, cursing yourself for meddling in his relationships. You just wanted to see him. Once more. To confirm that your hatred was justified. But you pushed that aside, feeling terrible for dragging Lucien into your little game.

“Lucien, he’s your brother. I know you haven’t been feeling so settled here lately, I think seeing him will do you some good.” It was the best you could do, unable to tell him for certain that the Eris you knew was the same doting brother he had told you about. You squeezed his arm and were relieved to feel him relax.

“Will you stay with me, just for a bit?” He asked. You wanted to say no, but you couldn’t, not to Lucien. You smiled at him gently.

“Of course I will. Just don’t expect me to have anything nice to say.” He laughed, but his bright smile faded as he spotted Eris walking up the path, escorted by a deadly looking Azriel. Your breath caught in your chest when you saw your mate, impeccably dressed and ruggedly handsome. Your eyes lingered for a moment too long. Azriel shot you a warning glare, then winnowed away. Eris, finally free of his chaperone, looked at Lucien and you felt nervousness wash down the bond. He dug in his bag and pulled out two small boxes.

“Lucien.” He said.

“Eris.”

“Mother baked apple cinnamon biscuits. They are—were your favourite.” He handed one of the boxes to Lucien, who took it with so much care it could have contained something much more valuable.

Eris turned to you, “I also brought you something.”

Surprised, you were handed a little box of your own. You peeked inside and heat rushed to your cheeks. A small dagger, with jewel encrusted hilt lay on a bed of luxurious velvet. A courting gift. You looked at him incredulously. He was here to see his brother, he hated the very thought of you, why in all the realms was he bringing you courting gifts.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” You frowned, looking down at the dagger as if it had offended you.

“Usually they’re used for stabbing people.” Eris said, with a mask of cool calm betrayed by a tightness in your chest that didn’t belong to you, “But I suppose it would make a pretty kitchen accessory, should you wish.” He quipped. You rolled your eyes.

“I am not a housewife.” You sneered.

“No. That’s not what—” Lucien cleared his throat and saved you from whatever Eris was about to say next.

“Let me show you around Velaris.” He said, diffusing the tension. “It’s not often outsiders are allowed to just waltz in.”

“Of course,” Eris said, “Will you be joining us?” He asked. You shook your head.

“I will spare you the agony, Vanserra.” You turned to leave, but looked back at Lucien, “Do not let him out of your sight. Rhys will have my head if he does anything stupid.”

As soon as you were a few feet away you felt you could breathe easily again. The bond had been simmering, thrilled at your proximity to your mate. It was a constant buzzing and humming in your chest. You were relieved you could no longer feel it, and made sure to send that feeling loud and clear down the connection between you and your mate.

---

In the following three days you received: A small wheel of cheese, a bouquet of marigolds and a pair of amber earrings. Lucien couldn’t stop laughing when he presented you with the cheese, but it had been amazing with some salt and pepper crackers that evening.

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt when Lucien came the next day with another box. He was grinning wildly, barely stifling his laughter.

“I think this might be the worst one yet.” He said, thrusting the box into your hands, “Please open it.”

Eris had been sending the gifts through Lucien, and, like the letters, you had been hiding them from the rest of your family. It felt bad, going behind your brothers backs. But they could never find out that Eris was attempting to court you, for his sake and theirs. Lucien and Eris had managed to start talking again, over the constant gifts and letters. As annoying as it was, you were glad some good had come of it. Though he hadn’t been allowed in the Night Court again.

Lucien was practically rocking on his heels. Inside the box was a knitted headband. It was poorly made, full of holes and oddly misshapen. You frowned.

“What is this?” You looked to Lucien for an explanation but he was doubled over. He took a ragged breath.

“I told him not to send it. I told him it was a shit gift.” He managed before he was wheezing with laughter again. You inspected the headband.

“Did...did Eris make this?” Lucien simply nodded through his tears. You blinked.

“I don’t want these gifts. Please tell him to stop wasting his time.” It felt cruel. But your mind flashed to his lips on Nesta’s neck, his emotionless eyes during the battle with Hybern, your cousin's agonising cries when she had returned in Azriel’s arms that fateful night. You balled the cursed thing in your hand and chucked it back in the box. Lucien bit his lip, not finding it quite as funny anymore.

“It’s tradition in the Autumn Court to send things that are useful, as well as just objects of beauty.” He explained. It was clear which one the headband was meant to be.

“I’m Illyrian. Does he really think a bit of cold is going to hurt me? I don’t want any courting gifts, Lucien, regardless of their use.”

“You ate the cheese.” He murmured.

“We all ate the cheese, Lucien.” Was your quick reply.

He had no retort, and you decided that it was for the best. When you returned to your room, you pushed the box under your bed with the rest of the letters and gifts. The marigolds were wilted and dead for lack of sunlight, the earrings never touched. You could feel the mating bond screaming, begging to be heard, but you pushed it back further. This male would not have any part of you. None at all. You would never be his. No matter how much the thought pained you.

---

You were not reciprocating. Eris had spent all night fumbling around with those stupid needles trying to make something you might actually care for, and your response was silence. He thought back to that night. He knew he had not imagined the hunger in your eyes that almost knocked him dead. Yet how had he repaid you? By kissing Nesta. By proposing to Nesta.

He had fucked up. As if, after everything you already thought about him, you might have given him a chance.

Yet the bond raged so fiercely, he could barely stand to ignore it for even a day before his chest burned so badly he thought he might drown. It would be a fitting way to go, he thought. To be hated so much it killed him. He had done enough to deserve such a fate.

Weeks passed, then months. Rhysand had been kind enough to let him visit Lucien twice more, once ending in a painfully awkward run in with Cassian that had him leaving earlier than intended. Those overgrown bats hovered around him as if he might try stealing you away the longer he spent in the Night Court. He never managed to catch even a glimpse of you. Not with Azriel or Rhys silently staring, or Cassian barging in every few minutes pretending to need something from the room. He was allowed nowhere without Lucien as his chaperone, he could say nothing without it being overheard. So much for bats, they were more like hawks.

He had stopped sending courting gifts. And he had stopped sending letters.

Cheddar lay her head on his lap, and he stroked her soft head gently.

“Am I just a fool, Cheddar?” He asked, knowing she could do nothing more than side-eye him as he spoke. “What good is it, pursuing your mate who hates you and whose brothers want you dead? Should I let this go?”

Cheddar whined, and thumped her tail. Checking the clock Eris found it was almost time for her walk. Eris glanced at the paper laid on his desk, gathering dust for weeks. He sighed. Once more. Once more he would grovel for your attention, to soothe the pain in his chest, the ache in his heart. Then he would let it go.

Let you go.

Forever.

Join me for a walk. I wish to talk. Eris.

He signed his name, the first time he had ever bothered to. Before he had time to overthink it, it vanished from his desk. His hands shook. Seconds passed, minutes turned to half an hour. Then it came. Popping onto the desk unceremoniously. Your response.

Fine. Where should I meet you?

He replied quickly, Cheddar beginning to get restless.

On the border, there is a doorway from Night to Autumn, I will walk you past the wards.

I will be there.

It was now well past when he would have usually taken the dogs out, but they would be walked, this time with his mate in tow. He stood with a shaky breath, and took the leads off the wall. Winnowing with his dogs to the edge of the Court, he steeled himself. He was ready to face you, to face his one chance to change your mind.

---

You stood at the edge of the Autumn Court. You had told no one where you were. Nor had you told anyone who you were with. Rhys would have a fit if he ever found out, Azriel would never speak to you again. Cassian might have allowed you to go, but not without following you and glaring holes through Eris the entire time.

It was safer for Eris on your own.

You heard his dogs first, then his voice calling after them to slow down. A brindle smokehound bounded up to you, its tongue lolling and tail wagging frantically. They were a beautiful breed, and rare, you couldn’t help the warm smile you gave it. It stopped just short of smacking into your legs and you giggled, holding your hand out for it to sniff. It was a few beats ahead of its owner, who was walking slowly with four more dogs waltzing around him, one calmly at his side. You watched as they ran circles around you and Eris as he came to a stop before you. He gave a short whistle and they stopped dead in their tracks, then retreated to his side. You couldn’t help the short burst of arousal you sent down the bond. Eris gave a cocky smile.

“You came.” He said, his smooth voice giving away no emotion, the bond closed off to you.

“I did.” You answered, unable to block your side of the bond quite as effectively.

“Did you receive my gifts?”

“I did.” You repeated. He cleared his throat and shifted on his feet.

“Well, the dogs will be off leash, I hope that’s alright. They’re usually good, but this one might try and go for the squirrels.” He said, pointing to a gorgeous black dog who pressed it’s long nose into Eris’ hand. You gave the pup a small smile.

You walked in silence for a while, both of you unsure of where to start, what to say to mend the fraying thread that connected you. Golden and ruby leaves crunched underfoot, the dogs panting breaths fogged little clouds in the crisp air. It was truly beautiful. You had always felt a sense of calm when Autumn fell over Velaris, but it could not compare to the serenity of the Autumn Court. It felt as though the whole Court was holding its breath, the season of change, never-changing, unending. Eris let you soak it in, watching as you beheld the forest in all its magnificence, not bothering you with conversation.

“You kissed her.” You said finally, breaking the peaceful silence. Eris fiddled with the leash in his hand.

“I had to.”

“Why?” You asked, the question sounding childish as soon as it escaped your lips.

“There were expectations on me that night I don’t expect you to understand.” The bond was still sealed tight from you, he spoke with the emotionless tone of a well-trained courtier.

“Try me.” You pressed.

“I don’t want to.” And perhaps it was the truth, but frustration built the further you walked, the silence dragging out between you uncomfortably. He had invited you here to talk. So talk he would.

You scoffed. The bond buzzing incessantly at your closeness to your mate, finally right where it wanted to be. But all you could focus on were his eyes, his heated gaze, as he had brushed his lips across Nesta’s bare neck.

“No.” You snapped. “You knew I was watching when you claimed my sister. When you proposed to marry her. You have given me no reason to believe you care for me. Never once apologised for what you did to my cousin. How could I ever trust you? That is what you want, is it not?”

He was staring at you now, no longer averting his gaze, amber eyes cold and calculating.

“I had a duty to my father to propose marriage to Nesta, I have no feelings for her, only for you.” Eris said, carefully ignoring any mention of Morrigan.

“You don’t know me. You know nothing about me. Only that we share this bond.” You argued. One of his dogs trotted up to your side and you pet her head to calm yourself. The action grounded you, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Eris, who felt it deep in his chest.

“I know that you seem to care an awful lot about what I did with your sister, yet claim to detest me” He said, dropping the walls he had carefully placed around the bond.

Nerves. Anger. Disappointment.

“I have waited centuries for a mating bond, and will not let your unfortunate Court affiliations bar me from trying, especially not when you show me so clearly your true desires.”

You rounded on him with anger glinting in your eyes.

“You could never be serious, professing my ‘true desires’, if you knew how much I loathed you, Eris Vanserra.”

Hurt. Pain. Despair.

“You are a power hungry brute who as far as I know has a secret thing for Illyrians.”

There was a pregnant pause. Eris stared straight at you with an expression you could not decipher. He was bathed in dappled golden light. He looked ethereal. You couldn’t help the guilt that washed over you, and you knew he felt it too.

Hope.

Something clicked, his expression shifted and he moved towards you with a darkness in his eyes that sent heat rushing to your core. You stepped back until you hit a tree, your back pressed up against it, and you were trapped. He crowded you, so close you could almost taste his spiced perfume.

“Is that what they have told you, little fox?” He asked, his deep voice low and sensual against your ear, “The only Illyrian I have a thing for is you. The moment I saw you swagger into that meeting as if you owned the place, I knew the Mother had made the right choice. She mocks me with your family, but I would risk their disapproval for just a taste of you.” You sucked in a breath, anger quickly replaced with lust as he pressed against you, and you cursed your body for reacting. You knew he could smell your arousal as his cruel grin widened.

“You feel it too, don’t you little fox.” His scent consumed you as he dropped every glamour, the heady rush of his arousal surrounded you like a drug. “That despite everything you think about me, you want me too. You want this.”

There was nowhere to run, with your back firmly pressed against the tree. There was no escape. That would be the lie you kept telling yourself afterwards as you surged up to kiss his lips, no longer able to resist. You took him by surprise, and used your advantage to spin him around, lips still on his, pushing him against the tree. He looked at you with lust blown eyes, throwing his head back, eyes screwed shut as you squeezed him, hard.

“This is mine.” You growled, the jealousy and need you had felt at the ball rushing back full force, “You are mine. From now on if you so much as sniff around another female I will make sure to show you exactly who you belong to.”

He panted, nodding frantically.

“Yes. Please. Please y/n, I need you.”

You fished his cock from his pants, it was wet and throbbing, the length of it in your hand making your pussy clench in need. He hissed at the cold air. You needed him closer. You needed to taste him. Dropping to your knees, you enveloped him in your mouth, his hands flying to your hair.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuckkk.” He groaned. He pulled your hair roughly, and you looked up at him with doe eyes. You wanted it hard, rough. Wanted him to fuck your mouth as if he hated you. He felt it all through the shimmering golden thread and whimpered.

“You’re killing me, Y/n.” He grit out. With a small smile you bobbed your head, experimentally. A burst of salty precum coated your tongue and you swallowed it with a moan. He was hot and pulsing in your mouth, you pushed your head further down until he was at the back of your throat, your nose bumping against his navel, wanting him to feel the contractions as you swallowed around him. Breathing through your nose, you tapped at the back of his legs. you wanted him thrusting into you.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he pulled his hips back, dragging his cock lavishly across your tongue. With a sharp breath he pushed in, and you met his thrust with a bob of your head, knees aching, eyes watering.

He growled, and picked up the pace until he was fucking your face with abandon. His moans and pants sending slick dripping into your panties. Salt was all you could taste as his dick leaked continuously onto your tongue. He was soaking wet, with your spit, with his slick. It was the messiest blowjob you had ever given, and you fucking loved it. The bond hummed in pleasure as you gagged and drooled around him.

“Sweetheart, fuck, I’m close.” He whined, his thrusts growing sloppy as he ground his hips against your face.

“Gods your mouth, your fucking mouth, you’re gonna make me cum.” You laved your tongue over him, his constant stream of words both amusing and arousing you. You pulled off his cock and held your tongue out, looking up at him, hand pumping him roughly.

“I’m, I’m cumming, shit, Sweetheart, fuck.” He came copiously, so much that you choked on it. You swallowed, watching his eyes darken as you licked your lips.

He leaned against the tree, panting, and you sat on your knees.

This was not what you had planned. Not in the slightest. You had come to tell him to fuck off, to let the bond grow cold and stale. And yet you were on your knees in front of him, the taste of him consuming your senses. What had you done? You knew he could feel the growing fear, spreading through your chest like a chill.

“I have to go.” You stood abruptly.

“Don’t—” You didn’t stay to hear what he said next. You ran to the doorway, and didn’t stop running until you had reached your bedroom in the Night Court.

You opened the door. Rhys stood, a murderous look on his face and letters gripped tight in his fist. The scent of Eris was all over you. You had no way to hide it. His eyes darkened, your desk cracked and splintered then misted into thin air.

“Rhys I—” You scrambled for the right words to say as your brother took a heavy step towards you.

“I can explain.”

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phoward89 · 2 months

Text

Based on this ask

Set 4 months before the 10th Hunger Games.

WARNING: Dark!Coriolanus, Spit kink, dry humping, slight degradation, fingering (f receiving), reference to stalking

The day of love, the ancient holiday of St. Valentine's Day, better known as just Valentine's Day for short, was vastly approaching. Rom-coms were clogging up nearly every station on Capitol TV, every grocer and sweet shop had large hearts full of candies on display, jewelry stores had diamond rings on display in the front windows, restaurants were being flooded with calls about holiday dinner reservations, and florist shops were bombarded with orders for roses.

February was the month of love and it seemed that everyone was losing their mind over it. But for different reasons. Couples were trying to find the perfect gift for their significant other while shop owners were trying to cash out on the commercialism of the holiday celebrating love.

You weren't a fan of the holiday, but why would you be when you've never had anyone give you anything on February 14th? You weren't anything special, just a girl that always has her nose in her books.

You were a bookworm, an impeccable student, and a good girl. Nobody notices girls like you.

You thought that nobody noticed you.

But, it turns out, you were wrong.

Your classmate at the Academy- a tall, skeletal thin boy with messy platinum curls and sparkling sky blue eyes had taken a liking to you.

In fact, he more than liked you.

The top student of the Academy was infatuated with you.

No, no, that wasn't it.

No, he was obsessed with you.

Yes, Coriolanus Snow was obsessed with you. He'd been watching you from afar for years, but now his obsession was growing to the point where he knew just watching you wasn't going to be enough anymore.

Coriolanus just had to have you.

He needed to make you his.

You were like a drug to him, he craved you and had to have you for his sanity.

So, since it was the month of love, Coriolanus Snow decided that he was ready to finally make you his.

How would he do that? Well, by being your secret admirer during love week of course.

Then on the day of love, he'd reveal himself to you; forever making you his.

On February 7th you walked into the Academy like you did any other day. You avoided the judgemental stares and gossiping from the snobs as you made your way to your locker. When you reached it, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Or at least until you opened the metal box, only to reveal a white rose on the shelf above your stack of textbooks. Also, nestled under the rose was a note.

You reached for the paper, only to unfold it and discover that whoever wrote the note had perfect penmanship.

The flourish of the longhand was nothing, but perfect loops and dashes. The words were, as you quickly discovered, a poem.

Not just any poem, but a poem about roses by a poet from ancient times. The pre-Panem days.

Who would know that you enjoyed ancient literature?

“I see you received a white rose, Y/N.” Coriolanus Snow told you, seeming to appear out of thin air.

His locker was right next to yours, so you shouldn't have been startled by him. But for some reason, you were.

“Um, yea. Yea, I did.”

“Any idea who it's from?”

“No.”

“Well, then it looks like you have a secret admirer. Don't worry, I'll be on the lookout for you; tell you who they are if I learn anything.”

“You don't have to do that, Coriolanus.”

“Have you thought that maybe I want to, Y/N.” The platinum blonde countered, tilting his head in a way that made his curls rustle.

You forced a smile paired with a polite, but generic, “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

Before he could say another word, you closed your locker and took off down the hall.

Coriolanus watched the swish sway of your hips as you walked away. His icy blue eyes glued to your ass.

Oh god, oh he wanted to take you from behind and smack your ass; make it jiggle.

Soon.

Very soon he'd make you his.

It's your destiny to be his because he always-

ALWAYS

-gets what he wants.

And what he wants most in this entire world is you.

Well, you on his rock hard cock, but that's besides the point.

The following day, you opened your locker to find a single white rose with another note.

It was a quote from an ancient Pre-Panem book. Romeo & Juliet by Shakespeare to be exact.

That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.

And then the day after that, you found a single white rose with a tiny chocolate ball wrapped in a red wrapper inside of your lock. Of course, once again, there was a note written in perfect flourish accompanying it.

Enjoy your chocolate on this sweet day, my darling rose.

You were about to put the note back into your locker whenever Coriolanus appeared at your side. He towered over you, so of course he saw the note in your hand along the presents your secret admirer left for you.

“I see you got chocolate today with your rose.” Coriolanus observed as you placed the note in your locker and pulled out your books for your first couple of classes.

Little did you know, Coriolanus stole what little money Tigris has squirreled away for the mortgage payment this month to buy you a single piece of candy. He was poor, so poor that he didn't have a pot to piss in, but he had to get you something to impress you.

And all girls loved chocolate, didn't they?

Well, he knew his Grandma’am loved chocolate. So, safe to say, he was hoping you'd like the chocolate. That the small treat would make you fall in love with your secret admirer.

With him.

Instantly.

“Yea.” You nodded, closing your locker. The platinum blonde continued just staring at you instead of making a move to unlock his locker. “The secret admirer struck again.” You stated the obvious as a way to clear the awkward air that was starting to loom around you and Coriolanus.

“I see that.” Coriolanus smirked. “Are you flattered by the gifts your admirer’s been leaving you?”

You mulled over that for a moment. Hmm…How did you feel about all the roses and little notes? “Well, it’s sweet. But I wasn't even aware that I'm likable so for somebody to keep leaving me roses and notes is a bit of a shock.”

Still staring at you, Coriolanus flashed a smile that was all pearly whites. “Of course you're likable, darling. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

“Have you seen half of the people we go to school with?” You asked, trying not to burst out laughing as the names and faces of your stupid and annoying classmates fluttered around in your head.

“Yes, well unfortunately we're surrounded by idiots that we have to play nice with so we can step on them as we climb up the ladder to success.” He dramatically told you, baby blues rolling into the back of his head, as he finally opened up his locker.

*Oh my God? Did you just say that?” You laughed, finding his remark amusing. You never knew that he had such a dark sense of humor. “If only we started talking years ago, then we could've been sitting at the lunch table judging everyone.”

“Oh, so you enjoy my company then?” he asked, pulling a book out of his satchel and placing it into his locker.

“Maybe.” You shrugged.

“Just maybe?” Coriolanus pressed, grabbing what he needed for his first couple of classes and packing it into his satchel.

“Sejanus likes you, so you can't be that bad.”

Coriolanus leaned over you, his eyes flashing mischievously, and his voice a low velvety baritone, “Oh, but you're mistaken. I'm a very bad boy, I just don't get caught being bad.”

It was right at that moment the first warning bell rang for the first morning class. That bell gave you an out in a situation that had quickly escalated. “The bell rang; we better go, Coriolanus.”

He nodded, only to say, “Call me Coryo, Y/N.”

“Okay, well, see you later, Coryo.” You told him before quickly taking off towards your class.

Coryo watched your backside, fantasying about spanking your ass while roughly fucking you, before taking off to his own class.

Every day was the same thing. You would receive roses and notes filled with poems and quotes from ancient Pre-Panem literature. And everyday Coryo would make a remark about it.

So, when Saturday rolled around, you were relieved that your admirer wouldn't be able to leave you anything.

Or at least that's what you thought.

Turns out, you were wrong. So very, very, wrong.

You were at your kitchen table, which has seen better days since the wood was worn, scratched, and chipped, eating some toast made out of stale bread, whenever your mother came into the kitchen. A bundle of 3 roses tied together with a ribbon bow paired with a piece of parchment in one hand and her daily morning paper in the other.

Oh no.

Your secret admirer struck again.

“You got roses and a letter addressed to you, Y/N.” Your mother told you, placing the items on the table. “Is there something you want to tell me about?” She asked, taking a seat at the table.

“I have a secret admirer.” You honestly answered, reaching for the love note while your mother unfolded her newspaper.

“Oh, how nice. Maybe he's rich.” She smiled, watching you unfold your note.

Of course she'd say that. But you understand why though. You go to school with a bunch of snotty rich kids while you're living hand to mouth in an apartment Corso. If it wasn't for your older brother, Rein, sending home his peacekeeper’s pay, well, you'd probably be out on the streets. Your mother just wanted you to have a better chance at life then she did; wanted you to marry a wealthy man that could take care of you. Get you out of poverty.

You can't fault her for wanting better for you. For wanting you to avoid making some of her mistakes.

You didn't say a word, just shrugged as you read over your note. You couldn't help but smile at the words written in that perfect looping, swooping, flourish that you've grown to adore.

These white and red roses I give to you are a promise of my affections towards you. Red roses symbolize love while white roses symbolize purity, perfection, and an untarnished new love. I have nothing, but both in my heart for you, my darling rose.

Your mother leaned over your shoulder, reading your note. “Seems like you've managed to snag the heart of the Poet Laureate of Dogwood Lane.” Your mother huffed, only to grab her coffee cup.

“I think it's sweet, mother.” You defended your secret admirer, placing the note down and picking up your tiny bundle of roses.

As you smelled the faint, sweet scent of the roses, your mother sighed, “With words like that, he's a poor boy.”

“Mother, don't act like that. It doesn't matter to me if my admirer's rich or not, as long as he's nice to me.” You scolded your mother while leaving the table and taking your roses over to the kitchen sink, so that you could put them in a tall glass of water.

Your family didn't have any vases. They were broken the night your mother received the news about your father's death. She grabbed every vase in the house and threw them at the walls with all her might, screaming and crying with heartbreak.

“Y/N, it's as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is a poor man. You remember that; it'll keep you from doing something stupid.”

But what if you wanted to do something stupid?

On Sunday you received another rose from your admirer and another note. It was a simple note, but it was sweet none the less. Of course, you put the rose into the water glass the other 3 were in.

And come Monday, you received another gift from your secret admirer. You asked Coryo if he had any clue who your secret admirer could be because you really wanted to meet them, tell them that you thought they were sweet. He told you that he knew, but would tell you the next day.

Valentine's Day.

Of course, he was going to be a troll and make you wait until Valentine's Day to find out what he knew about your secret admirer. Damn. He would.

So on Valentine's Day you walked out of your front door, expecting to make the walk to the Academy and ask Coryo what he learnt about your secret admirer, only to find him pacing the floor right in front of your apartment. He had something behind his back and he seemed to be, for a lack of a better word, nervous.

“Coryo, what’re you doing here?”

Stopping in his tracks and turning to face you, he smiled while pulling his hand out from behind his back. Extending a perfect white rose to you, he smiled, “Y/N, my darling rose, I've come to tell you that I'm your secret admirer. That I'd like to take you to the Valentine's Day dance at the Academy tonight.”

“You? You're my secret admirer?” You couldn't believe your eyes and ears. It was Coryo all along. How could you not see it? Before he could utter a reply you took the rose from him and smiled, “Coryo, I'm glad it's you.”

Of course you're glad he's your secret admirer. You enjoy his snarkiness and he's hot. He's tall, has broad shoulders paired with a small waist, and his platinum curls frame his angular face in a way that makes him look like a Greek god.

Before Coryo could utter a word, you threw yourself on him; hugging him. He just chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. Resting his chin on top of your head, he asked, “Are we going to the dance?”

“I'd like to, but I don't think I have anything to wear. Or at least anything that hasn't been worn one too many times already.” You admit, feeling a bit bad that you'll probably miss the dance because you don't have a slew of dresses to pick from.

Coriolanus understands where you're coming from. He too has the hard burden of keeping up a filet mignon steak appearance while on a cabbage and watery broth soup budget.

So, pulling away slightly so that he could use a hand to tilt your chin up; making your eyes lock, he told you, “I'll bring you home after school; my cousin Tigris can fix you up for the dance. I'm sure she'll have a suitable dress for you to borrow, since she's a remarkable seamstress that’s always making something.”

When Coriolanus brought you to his penthouse, you were shocked to find out that he lived in your building on the Corso.

He lives on the 12th floor in your building! Oh, how the universe has a funny way of fucking with you.

Coryo living in your building’s the reason why he became your low key stalker, watching you from afar for so many years. It's why he singles you out. Why he’s your secret admirer.

When you entered the Snow penthouse, you discovered that it was in poor shape. That he was poor, just like you were. That he was acting at school, acting like he had all the riches in the world when he didn't.

It should've bothered you, but it didn't. Coryo was just trying to survive being at the Academy with a bunch of rich snobs. What choice did he have, but to lie about having money. He has to blend in somehow.

Coriolanus was excited for you to meet Tigris, Grandma'am too, but unfortunately the penthouse was empty. His cousin left a note detailing that she took their Grandma'am out to run a few errands. She told.him roughly when they'd be back too.

Fortunately they'd be back in plenty of time to help you get ready for the Valentine's Day dance that Coryo wanted to take you too.

You thought that he wanted to take you to the dance because he likes you, but that was only partially true. Coriolanus wanted to take you to show you off. Stake his claim to you. Mark you as his own.

Once everyone in the Academy saw you on his arm, they'd all know that you belonged to him.

Coriolanus always did like showing off his most prized possessions. But, unfortunately, he doesn't have many of those these days. So, now that he has you right where he wants you, it's time to show you off.

But to do that he needs Tigris to shine and polish you. Make you look dazzling, like a diamond. But, since his cousin and their Grandma'am are out, having you be made over by his cousin’s magical fashion touch will have to wait.

Coriolanus decides that since he's got you all alone in his penthouse, he might as well act on his fantasies of fucking you.

And that's how you find yourself in Coryo’s room, splayed out on his twin sized bed in nothing, but your simple white panties as he sucked and nipped a spot below your jaw. His hands were on your boobs, massaging them roughly as he grinded his boxer clad bulge into your wet, aching core.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding your hips in a desperate attempt to alleviate the ache in your pussy. “Coryo, please…” You whined, feeling the platinum blonde sucking harshly at a spot right below your jaw.

“Please what, baby? Please fuck you?” Coryo taunted huskily in your ear. His warm breath tickling your earlobe; sending a new rush of heat down to your wet center. “Hmmm?...” He hummed against your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone.

You placed a hand in his light blonde curls, only to pull his head up. Making his lust blown eyes meet yours. Biting your swollen, over kissed lips, you admitted, “I'm a virgin, Coryo. I don't know if I'm ready to go all the way yet, but I need you to touch me.”

Of course you were a virgin. He knew that. Coriolanus just wasn't expecting you to be hesitant about wanting to fuck him.

Damnit!

He didn't want to be a virgin anymore. He wanted to have his first fuck with you.

Okay, honestly, he hated people and would only be fucking you since you're his. After all the hard work he did wooing you with the secret admirer gifts and notes, he'd be a fool to try and find somebody else.

Coriolanus gave you a lopsided smile, only to stroke your cheek and confess, “I'm still a virgin too, my darling rose.”

Coriolanus Snow’s a virgin? But he's so hot. How is he still a virgin? Like, with his looks you thought he would've had a few hookups under his belt.

“Why?” You asked, curious eyes looking up into his icy baby blues.

“I'm too busy studying to do anything.” Coriolanus smoothly lied.

Truth was, he could go out and find somebody to fuck if he wanted to, but he was too busy watching over you from the shadows to do that. So, in fact, it wasn't studying he was too busy doing, but obsessing over you. Following you around whenever you went out. Even lurking nearby your apartment, in an alcove where you'd never see him, for the chance of sneaking a glimpse at you whenever you open the door to take out the trash or something.

Yes, he studied his subjects for school, but not with the same obsessive diligence that he studied you.

Trailing his fingers down your neck, until his hand reached the hollow of your throat, he smirked, “Plus, I guess I was waiting for the right girl.”

“Yea?” You ask, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. You couldn't believe your ears, Coryo just said, in so many words, that his wait was over because you were the right girl for him. That made your heart soar.

Coriolanus’ blue eyes sparkled and his plush lips turned up in a soft smile. “Yea.” He nodded, hovering over you. “We can wait until we're both ready, darling.” He offered, stroking the hollow of your throat. “I promise.”

And despite being obsessed with you to the point that he was literally your stalker, knew everything about you, and wanted to own you, he meant it. He wasn't going to push you into giving him your virginity. But that was because he worked too hard (because giving you a roses, notes, and a piece of chocolate for an entire week straight was hard work) to get you to notice him, trust him, and love him back to ruin it by pushing you too hard.

Coriolanus is a patient man, he can wait a bit longer to fulfill his fantasy of stuffing his cock into your tight cunt. At least he gets to fulfill his other fantasies with you. But, he hopes by summer he'll be balls deep inside your tight cunt.

He had an obsessive love for you and he wanted nothing more than to claim you as his. In every way possible.

And that urge to claim you is what spurs him on; what has him biting at your collarbone, soothing the teeth marks with a few laps of his tongue. The platinum blonde smirked against your skin as he felt your fingers tighten around his hair as little mewls left your mouth. It sends pride coursing thru his body, knowing that being marked by him turned you on.

Coriolanus wraps his lips around one of your nipples only to roughly tweak the other between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to let out a small, breathy moan.“Coryo…”

Your reaction to his ministrations caused him to grind his boxer covered bulge into your soaked panty covered pussy. He moaned around your nipple, the feeling of your wetness soaking his hard dick driving him crazy. He needed some friction to relieve his aching cock and by how you were frantically canting your hips up to meet his, you needed some relief too.

Coryo sped up his pace, only to roughly squeeze your tits while biting your nipple. You felt pleasure mixed with pain, causing you to loudly moan and claw at Coryo's back with your hand that wasn't tangled in his hair.

Letting your nipple fall from his mouth with a loud pop, he smirked, “You sound so beautiful when you moan for me, little dove.”

One of his hands trailed down your body, only to squeeze your hip. His thumb brushed against your hip bone as his hand, that was still on your boob, harshly palmed it. He stopped grinding into your core, causing you to whimper and buck your hips in a feeble attempt to get him to move again.

But he didn't move. Instead, his icy eyes stared straight into your soul as he asked, “I want to take your panties off; finger fuck you real good. Can I do that, baby?”

Could he do that? Of course he could. Didn't you tell him you wanted him to touch you before? Was he being shy or was he giving you an out? You didn't know, but all you knew was that hearing that he wanted to finger fuck you sent a fresh pool of wetness between your legs.

“Yes.” You nodded. Your voice was a desperate whine as you told him, “Please, Coryo. I need you so bad.”

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your lips. “Shh, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”

He pulled your panties off, only to toss them over his shoulder. Your instant reaction was to close your legs, but Coryo placed his large hands on your knees, preventing your legs from closing. “Don't get shy on me now, Y/N.” He reprimanded you, lust blown icy eyes locked onto yours as his platinum curls framed his elongated face perfectly like a halo.

You couldn't tell him he was being serious or playful with his reprimand, so you just nodded.

His attention fell to your slick pussy. You were so wet for him. “That all for me, darling? Fuck, your so wet.” He groaned, gnawing on his bottom lip as he felt his already rock hard cock get painfully harder. God, just looking at your perfect, pretty pussy dripping and drooling juices just for him sent a possessive pride straight to Coriolanus' heart.

It gave him an ego boost knowing that he's the one to make you so wet. That only he can do that, make you needy and wanting for him.

Serves you right to be wet between your thighs because of him. God only knows how many nights he fisted his cock, worked up with need for you. It's only fair that he makes you into a needy wanton little whore for him.

“Yea, it's all for you.” You nod, letting your hands run over his chest. You can feel his ribs underneath his pale skin as you tell him, “It'll always be for you.”

Coriolanus gave you a needy open mouth kiss as he hovered above your body. The kiss was messy and took you by surprise, but it also turned you on. A feral look flashed in his eyes, which was more black then icy blue at the moment, before he grabbed your chin in his hand. Keeping you jaw open with his hand, he uttered the declaration of, “Mine, mine, mine.” Before spitting right into your mouth.

You felt the spit rolling down your throat, becoming one with you in an exotic way. Coriolanus’ smiled widely, showing too much of his pearly whites, at the site of you swallowing down his spit. “You're mine, my darling rose. All mine and I'll never let you go.”

Yes, you were all his. His personal little slut. His darling rose. His, his, his.

Coriolanus’ face hovered dangerly close to yours as he snaked a hand between your bodies. But, before he could touch you, you stopped him by grabbing hold of his wrist.

He gave you a startled look. Did you change your mind? Did you want to stop?

Fuck, he hopes not.

No, you didn't want to stop. Infact, you wanted him to take off his white boxers so that you could see his cock. You wanted him bare before you since you were spread out for him.

And you told him so.

And boy, oh boy, he was so happy to hear you say that.

Quickly, he stood up and pulled off his boxers. Seeing his large cock, that was at least 8 inches with veins running alongside it, you felt desire heat up inside of you.

“Can I touch it?” You asked as he knelt back on the bed.

“Yes, you can touch it. But after I'm done with finger fucking you. Okay baby?” He cooed, settling back between your legs and cupping your soaking wet cunt with his large hand. “I'm gonna make you feel so good, little dove.” Coriolanus told you before running a long finger up your slit.

A shiver felt down your spine at the feeling of him teasing you with his finger. You let out a ragged breath as his finger slipped into your tight pussy, only to languidly thrust a few times. You felt yourself grow wetter as he pulled his finger out of your wet hole, only to bring it up to his mouth and suck on it.

Coriolanus’ eyes rolled into the back of his head as he moaned, “Mmmm…you taste so sweet.”

“Coryo, please.” You begged. His teasing was driving you crazy.

Deciding that two could play that game, you reached down with your hand and grabbed his hard cock.

“Fuck.” Coriolanus gasped as you experimentally ran your thumb over the leaky, red tip of his cock. His breathing was harsh as he said, “I got an idea. Think you’d want to try it?”

“What is it?” You asked, curious to hear this idea of his. You felt like you'd explode any minute now, so if he had a way to ease your aching cunt, then you wanted to know. Especially since he keeps getting distracted when it comes to fingering you.

Maybe he was nervous because he'd never finger a girl before, or maybe he was just a tease that liked to edge you. Who knows. But what you did know was that if you weren't touched soon then you were gonna go mad.

“Well, we’re worked up and I don't know how much more alone time we have, so I thought we could just grind together like we're fucking. But of course I won't put my cock inside, just rub it thru your wet folds.”

“Yes, yes, Coryo. Please, just make me cum.” You rattled out, feeling desperate. Hell, you’re at the point where you're tempted to just start playing with your own pussy to cum. That's how bad you needed to cum right now.

“Goddamn, baby, you're such a whiny little slut for me.” Coriolanus cooed, holding his cock and using the tip, oozing with precum, to rub against your clit in a teasing manner.

Well, it seems like Coriolanus Snow's the type that likes to play with his food before he eats it.

His metaphorical food. The boy's practically starving to death with nothing, but stewed cabbage and watery broth to eat. So, he doesn't play around with real food.

Hunger is a weapon; he knows that all too well.

But your lustful hunger for him is something that he uses as a weapon of sorts. He uses it, teasing and edging you, to make you beg to be his. Beg to be filled by him, just for a blissful release to satisfy the throbbing ache in your wet cunt.

Your wet cunt that’s hungry for his cock.

And by God, he's going to give you his cock.

Coriolanus stopped teasing your clit with his tip, only to roll his hips into yours, sliding his hard cock along your slippery wet folds. His fingers dug into your hips and yours dig into his biceps while you both let out loud, throat moans. The feeling of his cock sliding thru your folds was heavenly for the both of you.

With every movement Coriolanus made, you matched. Being the first time either of you have every done anything remotely sexual, your movements at times were sloppy and rushed. Frantic even. But it felt good.

The only sound in the room was that of your moans and heavy breaths mixed with the obscene sound of Coryo's cock slipping between your squelching wet pussy. Oh, the pressure of his cock rubbing against your cunt was delicious.

It felt better than any of the times you've fingered yourself, rubbed your clit, or humped your pillow.

Yes, dry humping Coriolanus was better than anything you've ever felt before.

“Feels so good, Coryo.” You mewled, clawing at him, feeling the coil in your stomach start to tighten.

“Yea.” Coryo huffed, his brow furrowed with sweat as he felt his cum heavy balls begin to tighten. Leaning forward, caging you in with his arms on either side of you, Coryo's breath ghosted your kiss bruised lips. “You feel close to cumming, baby? Huh, little slut, wanna cum?”

Nodding eagerly, you wrapped your arms around his back, scratching it in an attempt to bring him closer to you, as you let out a sharp moan. “So close. I'm so close, Coryo.”

“Me too, baby. Me too.” Coryo groaned, bucking his hips even sloppier and faster in a desperate attempt to make you both cum.

His fists are white knuckling his bedsheets while your nails rake up and down his back, attempting to anchor yourself as your release neared.

Groans and moans mixed with the wet, sweaty sound of skin slapping together and the loud squeaking of the old bed filled the air as you felt the rubber band inside of you snap.

You cum hard, harder then you've ever cummed in your entire time as a teenager. “Oh, Coryo. Coryo.” Tumbling from your lips in a sweet, moaning chant as your secret admirer continued to slide his cock between your folds.

The feeling of your cum, wet and flooding his dick, drove Coryo wild. It was better than anything he could ever dream of. Imaging how you feel when you cum during the nights he tightly fisted his cock doesn't even compare to the real feeling of your juices coating him, dripping messily down his dick and thighs as you squirt and soak the mattress beneath you.

Coryo's hips made one, two, three more tilts upswards towards yours before he’s burying his head in your shoulder and groaning out, “Fuck, darling. Fuck…”, as he cums, painting your pussy with ropes of his white hot cum.

Chest heaving as he pants to catch his breath, Coriolanus backs away from you, only to admire the was his cum decorates your glistening puffy pussy like fine pearls. Oh, if only he had a camera to take pictures of you. The site was so beautiful, so erotic.

“You look so beautiful, Y/N.” He complimented, his voice a breathy murmur as he settled himself next to you.

Turning you head to look at him, you smile. “Yea?”

“Of course, baby.” Coriolanus replied, a smile coating his lips as he extended his arm out in a gesture for you to tuck into his side. “You're the most beautiful girl in the world.” He declared as you nestled into his side, resting your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his torso. “You're my girl, yea?” Coriolanus asked, his icy eyes looking a bit vulnerable, as he held you close.

Vulnerable. Now that's something you never thought you'd say about Coriolanus Snow. He always seemed so confident, but right now while asking if you're his he seemed to emit some form of vulnerability. Subtle, but still in his baby blues.

“Yea, I'm your girl.” You confirm with a love struck smile.

Coriolanus relaxed when your words washed over him. He has nothing to worry about. You were his now. All the hard work he did being your secret admirer paid off.

Turning his head to look at the alarm clock in his bedside, he sighed, “We need to get dressed. Tigris and Grandma'am will probably be home soon.”

Grandma'am and Tigris welcome you with sparkling smiles and happy hugs when Coryo introduced you as his girlfriend. Tigris was excited that Coryo had found somebody while Grandma'am was elated that the daughter of the late Colonel Halvir (who served with and died with her son, General Crassus Snow, during the war in District 12) was her grandson's girl.

You're happy that the Snows accept your brand spanking new relationship with Coryo because you knew that your mother wouldn't. And you know that your older brother's too busy with his new officer's commission in 12 to care either.

Just like Coryo said she would, Tigris dolled you up in a dress that she made. She even did your hair and makeup for the Valentine's Day dance at the Academy. She made you look like a princess.

And everyone knows that a princess needs her prince.

And Coryo's your prince, giving you a white rose to pin on your dress. It matches the one that he had pinned on his label.

Coriolanus Snow proudly walked into the Academy's ballroom, showing you off on his arm.

Everyone will know that you belong to him. And when people ask how you got together you'll tell them about Coriolanus being your secret admirer during the week of love.

It sounds like a plot of a Capitol TV rom-com. But, unknown to you, your love story with Coryo would play out more like a true crime thriller.

Like an episode of Dateline.

Except that he'll never harm you. No, he's just the sociopath, narcissist, manipulative snake that destroys everyone's lives to make you the queen to his king.

His First Lady Of Panem.

But that didn't matter at the moment. All that matters is that right now you're happy with your secret admirer.

With your Coryo.

And he's happy to finally be able to be with you, because stalking you all the time was fucking exhausting.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1, @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88, @v-love

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dabblingreturns · 1 month

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Okay I'm 3 episodes into the seven after having watched freshman and software year of the bad kids and I think I might know what Sam Nightingale's issus is with Zelda dating Gorgug.

So a lot of it is probably the normal wariness of a teenage girl who's boyfriend tried to traffic her, and her foster parents just broke up because her foster dad cheated and her parents probably arnt together. And she doesn't want her best friend hurt by a man same way she or her foster mother were.....

But I think Sam also has beef with gorgug specifically. Well not gorgug the person, but the idea of Gorgug.

Her mom's human and her dad isn't, and she has been raised her whole life by humans elves as a water Genasi. And gorgug was also given up by his biological parents to be raised by a new family that also loved him but wasn't able to help with his orc side.

So on the surface sam and gorgugs history looks simalar. Except Gorgugs birth family did want to be a part of his life with no alterior motives and Sam's mother wants to exploit her.

And Gorgugs parents love and support him but also love each other, and Sam's foster mother leaves her in an empty house when she leaves.

And Sam was a child actor who knows the ugly side of fame and gorgug is a up and comming drummer of a big rock band and is being pushed, and occasionally pushing himself(crab party) into the spotlight.

And Sam sees the similarities between them.

But Sam is actively trying to to leave behind her old life, her old gender, her old family, and her old best friend.

I imagine to Sam it might feel as if she and Gorgug are running the same race but he is bounding ahead with ease. And what makes sam so unloveable that she has to fight for every bit of real affection in her life, but gorgug just seams to take being loved as a normal and natural thing.

And Gorgug is fighting his own battles, and they are real and important. But Sam is fighting battles gorgug never even had to think about because gorgug got lucky and Sam didnt.

#dimension 20 #the seven #fantasy high #sam nightingale #gorgug thistlespring #fantasy high meta #i love gorgug so much #and i dont think sams anger is fair #but by god do i see where it is comming from

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cosmicanakin · 3 months

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thinkin' about nerd!anakin & popular!reader.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

you slip into the kitchen where anakin is bustling about working on some new prototype. sliding your arms around his waist from behind, you press a kiss to the center of his back between his shoulder blades. “how's it going in here, handsome?”

he turns with a brilliant grin, still tinkering as he talks. “just fine tuning some upgrades. got paired with lydia for the engineering project and she has some innovative ideas i want to test out. speaking of, i should give her a call and we can brainstorm some more.”

your smile falters slightly at the mention of lydia. you know she's a notorious nerd, just like anakin, but something about them working so closely together rubs you the wrong way. “right, your partner. do you have to call her right now?” you pout, pulling him in for an embrace.

anakin chuckles, nuzzling your nose. “yes sweetheart, we're trying to stay on track to finish early like the good students we are. don't worry, you know you're the only girl for me.” he pecks your lips softly before slipping from your arms to grab his phone.

reluctantly, you follow anakin to the couch and flop down beside him with a huff. his call connects and lydia's face popped up on the screen, pale skin and dark hair framed by thick glasses like usual. “hey anakin!” she greets excitedly, straightening her cardigan.

“hey lydia, y/n's here too.” he smiles, sliding an arm around your shoulders. you force a tight lipped grin and wave. lydia smiles politely in return but her eyes linger on anakin a moment too long for your liking.

“so, tell me more about these water filtration designs you were working on,” anakin prompts, always eager to delve into his passion. lydia launches into an enthusiastic ramble about her concepts that has anakin hanging onto every word with rapt attention.

you try to contain your rising irritation as they converse in advanced terminology far over your head. anakin's eyes sparkle with interest and admiration for lydia's brilliant mind and you feel increasingly out of place. her cheeks flush under his praise and gaze.

that's the final straw. subtlety clearly isn’t working so you decide on a new approach. shifting into anakin's lap, you drape yourself over him and start peppering his jaw and neck with heated kisses. he inhales sharply in surprise.

“y/n, wh-what are you doing?” he stammers breathily as you continue your affectionate assault. you raise your eyes to the screen and smirk at lydia, who watches with parted lips and pink cheeks of her own.

“sorry to interrupt,” you say feigning your innocence, grinding down into anakin’s lap. he suppresses a soft groan, hands coming to grasp your hips unconsciously. lydia averts her eyes, clearing her throat awkwardly.

“i can see you two are, uh, busy. maybe i should let you go.” she mumbles, shuffling notes in front of her screen. anakin nods frantically, eyes fuzzy with desire. “y-yeah, probably for the best. we'll, um, talk tomorrow lydia. bye!”

you end the call with a tap of your finger before he can prolong it further. capturing anakin's lips hungrily, you roll your hips firmly into his growing erection. he melts into the kiss with a whiny moan.

“fuck y/n, what's gotten into you? not that iʼm complaining,” he pants as you drag open mouthed kisses along his jaw. you nip at his earlobe teasingly. “just reminding you who you belong to, honey. now, shall we take this discussion to the bedroom?”

without awaiting his response, you tug anakin to his feet and backward down the hall. he obeys willingly, worshipping your neck and shoulders all the way. you push him down onto the mattress, quickly removing your clothes in a flurry.

anakin lays watching with blown pupils and parted lips, caressing the prominent bulge in his pants. “god, you're so beautiful.” you crawl over him like a lioness, pinning his body down and rocking your sensitive core against his clothed bulge.

“say it,” you command breathily. “say you're mine.” anakin moans at the delicious contact, already putty in your possessive hands. “i'm yours, and only yours.” satisfaction blooms in your chest at his submission.

you make good and sure to brand that fact into his memory that night, until he's left whimpering your name in a blissful puddle. no one, not even lydia, would ever come between you again if you had anything to say about it. this boy belonged to you heart, body and mind.

#﹙ kari writes 𝜗𝜚 ﹚#nerd!anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin x fem reader #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin angst #anakin imagines #anakin blurb #anakin star wars #anakin x reader #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker fluff

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wonderlandwalker · 4 months

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Trying to Forget | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Part 2 of Remember. Finnick is trying to make peace with simply being your friend, because he thinks that is better than not getting to see you at all, but he might be proven painfully wrong. Find part 3 here

Content Warnings/Tags: Memory loss, insinuations of smut, angst, foreshadowing

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I have seen all your requests so here it is, part 2 of Remember. Happy ending is unfortunately not part of my vocabulary so this will have to do. I want to write more as a continuation of this but I have a big exam coming up so unless someone wants to take that for me I might have to take a break for a little bit

He still wasn't used to it, to see you there, to see you sitting next to your friends and how he had to join them as if that’s all he was, a friend. And don't get him wrong, he was glad you were there, he was thankful they had found you, but it hurt too.

You spend your days as if nothing was wrong, and he supposes to you there wasn't. He had to hold himself back from falling to your feet and praying to the gods to give you back to him. And he didn't understand what he had done wrong to deserve this punishment. He knows he has made mistakes in his life, but surely the cruelty of his current situation could not be matched by any and all of his past. When you look at him with those eyes full of excitement he wants to kiss you and make you remember, but it would only push you further away. So he pretends, he pretends he’s okay with the way things are, that he is okay with being a friend.

He tries to let go, he really does. He tries to separate you from his love for you. He tries to remember not to hug you from behind when he walks into a room, but every time he remembers a piece of him withers away.

And he doesn't know how to deal with this, because whenever he was upset, he would go to you. He would talk to you, or lay down next to you, and your presence would assure him he’d get through it, it would show him what he was doing it all for. But your presence isn't assuring anymore, it's shattering.

So he’s stopped touching you, he’s stopped looking at you like you’re about to remember him again, he’s stopped showing you affection. But he doesn't know what to do with himself, he’s spent as long as he can remember loving you, and he doesn't know where to channel this hole that is threatening to swallow him. So he makes sure you have everything he knows will light up your days, even if you don’t remember, he’ll remember for you. He makes sure they don't run out of blueberry jam because he remembers the time you told him it made the perfect breakfast with yoghurt. And whenever he does, you always look so surprised, asking him how they possibly could have known, but the real question is how he could possibly ever forget.

Yes, he’ll remember for you. He’ll remember how you get cold at night after a long day, and he convinces someone to stack an extra blanket on your bed. And you might think it’s a coincidence every time, but he’ll never let coincidence make a turn for the worse.

He sees when you go to visit the doctor, but he doesn't know what is going on anymore, because he isn't your boyfriend anymore. He’s asking people, bribing people to tell him, but it rarely works, because it’s confidential, and he no longer holds the privilege to your heart.

There’s a small party tonight, and he knows you’ll be there. He knows because you’ve become close to Johanna, you laugh with her and you spend your days with her. And he’s glad that you’ve found someone you can talk to, but he still wished it had been him. In a way, it’s a small victory, because Johanna has taken pity on him. In any other situation, he’d tell her he didn't need it, he didn't need anyone's sorrow to comfort him, but he’d just be lying to himself and she knows it too. In any other situation he would have shut down on himself, he would have locked himself in his room and not come out. But you’re still here, haunting him like a ghost from a comforting dream he once had, so he goes on as usual, but it might be worse this way.

Yet he still takes every crumb he can find, and so here he is. He’s standing around talking as if everything isn't so very, very wrong. He sees you walk in, and he wants to look away, because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, but he just can't. He remembers the dress you’re wearing, and if you had too he would have called you cruel for it. But he knows you don't, he knows it's just him basking in the memory of your skin against his, and that you probably don’t even remember what he feels like anymore.

He recalls the memory as clear as day, but if someone has been repeating them in their head like he had been, there wouldn't be any other option. You’re wearing the dress you wore on your anniversary last year. He had seen you wearing it and insisted on staying in, but you just laughed at him and called him silly for the idea, he didn't think it had been silly. He thought that if you had let him, he would have cancelled everything he had spent weeks planning. Because truly, all he really needed was you. You had shown him the dress and asked him how you looked. He had said you looked good enough to eat, and he was ready to prove his point to you over and over until the sun went down and took his vision of you with it, and even then he would have gladly continued.

But this time he doesn't get to, he sees you walk in with Johanna by your side, and he honestly doesn't know if this was intentional, but the grin she gets when she sees him watching tells him it isn't purely coincidental. Johanna had taken pity on him, but she was testing him as payment.

All he wants to do is walk over to you, take your hand and kiss the soft base of your palm as you start to giggle nervously. He wants to, but he can’t. He can’t because this time you won't grace his ears with laughter, you’d just pull away. And he tries not to think of the way he wants to trail his fingers from your silk hair to the top of your dress. He tries to distract himself from the urge to kiss you while he drags the zipper down your back. He tries not to remember the way you used to moan his name as he traced a path up your thighs with his lips.

He wants to forget, he wants to forget so he can find peace again. With all of his might he tries to forget, as if that will make everything more bearable. But in reality, if he did forget, he didn't think he would ever forgive himself.

He tears his eyes away from you and starts to leave before you can meet them, and if he hadn't, if he had given into his wish to keep getting lost in the vision that you were to him, he might have seen the smallest spark of memory flash through your eyes. He might have seen you walk his way to greet him with a new sense of sentiment, trying to nourish the bubbles that had surfaced after the storm. But he never gets the chance, because he has convinced himself keeping his hopes up was futile, he had resigned himself so much to a life of admiring you from a distance that he didn't even consider it might not be forever, that even the cruellest of circumstances can't keep two people destined for each other apart. But if he wasn't careful, the scissors of the fates might take it from him once more before he got the chance to see it.

Part 3: The Will of the Moirai

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yesitsmewhataboutit · 4 months

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Quirk Bracelet

Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

➤ After some new developments, Bakugo can’t sleep, and not just that, his quirk is out of control and you guys have to find a solution before he completely loses it

»»——⍟——««A/n: hey yall… listen i know it’s been a hot minute but i had a little spike so expect some stuff😅and honestly hopefully i can get back in the swing

Masterlist

̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ Requests open　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

Being the girlfriend of someone like Bakugo Kasuki is not what people would expect it to be. He's gentle toward you, so gentle and even loving. You'd go as far as to describe it as a type of "basic" and "rom-com" love, the way he genuinely does get softer for you and only you.

Only you can tease him and not get yelled at. Only you can mess with his hair or playfully bug him, and he barely bats an eye.

Now, Katsuki Bakugo was raised right. He knows how to be a gentleman, someone with manners and class, well, as classy as he can get, but he'd never put his hands on you, get physical with you, or use his quirk on you. Even play fighting was iffy to him for the first few months of you guys dating. Everyone knows Katsuki is a hothead, but those rules go for everyone, not just you. He may threaten. He may yell, but he has decorum, so he knows never to use his quirk on someone just because he's playing around. Eight times out of ten, he's not using his quirk for malicious reasons, and even then, it's not extreme. But still, it's never on you.

Katsuki has always had amazing control, especially around you. When you started dating, he made it a goal to be sure he never somehow hurt you with his powers. He's used to doing things alone, little lapses in his powers, or the messy nature he has when alone has to get completely under control. His getting comfortable around you makes him exceptionally more focused on watching what he does.

And he's always been perfect at it, until now.

Bakugo is sweating. He's stiff, flitching every few seconds, his breath hitching. He's asleep, but his hands start getting flooded with moisture as his heart rate increases. If he were alone, it wouldn't matter, but he's not. You're peacefully asleep next to him, curled up, your back against his chest, and his body leaned over you.

If Bakugo were awake, he'd know what was about to happen. He'd calm himself or get away from you immediately if he knew he couldn't stop it, but he's deep in sleep, deep in the dream that's disturbing his sleep, and before anyone knows it, sparks fly.

Katsuki wouldn't have even woken up if it wasn't for your body jolting away from his and the painful sound leaving your lips as you fell to the floor of his bedroom. He shoots up, his eyes blinking, trying to adjust to the light, not even registering what happened or what he did. He jumps to the floor, his hands immediately going out to you.

He stands up quickly, only to turn on his bedside light before quickly turning back to you, and that's when he freezes, his eyes widening, seeing the burn on your nightshirt that reaches the skin on your stomach and your arm.

"Y/n. Oh my god, Y/n, I'm so sorry," Katsuki says breathlessly, not knowing what to do.

"It's ok," you hiss, your words coming out quickly as you clutch your side. "It's ok." Bakugo quickly scoops you up in his arms, rushing out and immediately going to the infirmary.

It was about 3 am, so Bakugo banged on the door until poor Recovery Girl answered, groggy and annoyed, but all those feelings quickly faded when she saw you hurt, curled in his arms.

The burns were thankfully not too bad. Recovery Girl only left you with some medicine to sleep and ointment, and she said it'll probably leave a scar. Bakugo walked with you back to your room, nodded goodnight, and turned to leave. "Katsuki, where are you going?" He stops and turns back to you but doesn't say anything. His eyes only linger on your charred shirt and wrapped arm. "It was an accident. You can stay, Katsu, it's ok."

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, his eyes looking everywhere but never meeting yours. "It's late, Y/n. You should get sleep while you still can." You roll your eyes, stretching out your hand and grabbing him, pulling him back into your room and to your bed. You push him to sit down, change your shirt, and then join him in bed. It takes time, but he wraps his arms around you as you settle in, drifting to sleep.

It's been a week. You thought things would get better, that maybe it was one and done and you wouldn't have to worry anymore, or rather, you wouldn't have to worry about Kastuki anymore, but you were wrong, very wrong. First, it happened while he was taking a nap in the living room area. You were sitting next to him, watching TV, and suddenly the pillow his hand was on burst into flames. Then, it happened again when he dozed off while you both were studying. He jolted, and his papers burned.

You keep trying to reassure him, promise him everything will be ok, that it's only a phase, but it's doing nothing to ease his nerves. It takes one more time, you, him, and your other classmates are eating dinner and watching and movie. Katsuki ate, but he's now staring off at the TV, his eyes red, his body slumped, and he looks a wreck, very unlike his usual self. Again, he starts drifting, his headbobbing, eyes dropping, and within seconds, sparks flying in the palm of his hand.

Katsuki strengthens up, looking around before abruptly standing and storming off toward the dorm rooms. You stand, running after him. "Hey, Katsuki, Hey!"

He stops and turns. "Y/n. Please. I just need some space. I need sleep. I need- I don't know." You don't know what to say. You know he's struggling but don't know how to help. He runs his hands through his hair, the way he does when he's frustrated, letting out a sigh. "I don't know why this's happening. I can't get decent sleep. I don't even remember the dreams that are doing this to me." You can hear the defeat and desperation in his voice.

You do the only thing you can think of, and that's pulling him into a hug. You feel his body mold onto yours, his head tucking into your neck. You stay like that, racking your brain to find a solution, and when you find one, you pull away.

"Katsuki, I think it's time you go to Mr Aizawa." It's an unspoken rule among everyone that when there's a problem, you fix it. No one ever goes to the teachers, but in this case, you think it's time to break that rule.

"Yeah," he sighs. "I think you're right."

When you go to Aizawa and tell him what's been going on, he's not too worried. He said he'd seen things like that in heroes before, the only real concern is how powerful Bakugo's quirk is. He said it's a psychological block he's seen heroes experience. It causes dreams that whoever suffers from it won't remember, but in the dreams, everything is so real that it also causes quirks to activate.

Everyone has different experiences and symptoms, but from what you told Aizawa, he knew what Bakugo needed. A quirk bracket. Used to dampen powers for heroes, during sleep or the regular day. It won't stop his dreams, but since he won't remember them anyway that won't be too much of a problem, plus he'll be able to catch up on his sleep.

That night after you see Aizawa, you and Bakugo go back to his room and start getting ready for bed. "Why'd he have to tie this stupid thing so tight," Katsuki grunts, looking at his wrist.

"Cause you don't want it to fall off, and then you blow up the whole building," you laugh and settle in next to him. His eyes flicker to yours and then back down at his wrist. "Come on." You lay down and open your arms for him.

He hesitates but settles in. It doesn't matter the thoughts going through his head or how much he may be scared to hurt you again because the facts are that he hasn't slept, and because of that alone, the second he lays down, his eyes close, and he's drifted off.

Masterlist

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