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targaryenluvs · 1 year ago

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OUR LITTLE DOVE

pairings: dark!lucy gray x fem!reader, dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, coriolanus snow x lucy gray

summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you. but it seems lucy gray is willing to share you with a certain peacekeeper, even if you aren’t.

warnings: crazy lucy n corio conspiring like evil doers, manipulation, chasing, primal play?? is that what is called idk corio enjoys hunting your ass down, kidnapping, drugging, forced into accepting a third partner?? nc touching, abuse of power (peacekeeper), power dynamics, kinda cheating (lucy n corio), guilt-trip, jealousy, threatening, self doubt and relationship problems, murder, betrayal

word count: 3.0k

a/n: lol i complain about wanting to write fluff but all my good ideas r so dark 😭 someone needs to give me tips on how to write girls cuz i have no experience would be easier if i was gay boooo!!

he was like a shadow, stuck to your back, always.

you’d complained to lucy numerous times that you didn’t feel comfortable around him when she played at the hob, knowing he’d be there, in the crowd. “sweetie, he was my mentor. he helped me so much in the games, i wouldn’t be here without him. you love me don’t you? so you need to learn to love him too, he’s a good friend a mine. i love you and i gotta get to the stage baby.” she explained as she ran around getting herself and the covey ready.

you were always front row. wanting to be as close to lucy as possible. she looked especially majestic tonight with flowers in her hair. as you listened to her sing you’d managed to forget about the certain blonde peacekeeper near the back. but he hadn’t forgotten about you, nor lucy.

you’d left to get a drink and you’d came back to an unfamiliar tune. you usually knew every song being played off by heart but this was new.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy

And not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

she sounded as angelic as usual and the crowd around you seemed entranced.

As rough as a briar

Like walking through fire

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

lucy smiled at you once, just once. which threw you off since you usually got a bunch. especially during new songs and songs about you. was this not also about you?

I've taken some hits, so

No wonder I'm wary It's why

I need you

so it is about me! you thought as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sway to the music and singing. you’d hoped you wouldn’t miss a smile headed your way.

You're as pure as the driven snow

your eyes flew open as you stared at lucy, she was looking past you and to the peacekeeper. to coriolanus snow. you’d always been a rational person, you prided yourself on restraint but that restraint was hanging on by a thread. you wanted to jam a beer bottle into his neck. lucy was your girlfriend not his. and yet he smiled stupidly towards her as she sang and you could feel your heart clawing its way up. best to leave now rather than stay and hear more of the ever so driven man.

your head was spinning as you slumped to the floor, in one of your finest dresses yet worst mental states. of course, something had formed between the two. she was in the goddamn hunger games and he was her mentor. trauma bonding? he quite literally saved her life, coached her and you did what? sat at home and hoped.

hope could only get you so far.

your hope and faith in lucy gray baird was dwindling as her lyrics swirled in your head. of course she loved him. who wouldn’t? the man was undeniably eye catching. a capitol man. but you’d always imagined lucy staying away from the capitol, despising them. but maybe it wasn’t the captiol part but the man part. maybe she wanted a true life, a home, marriage and children and everything she could wish for.

what on earth could you provide her with?

“y/n?” it sure as hell wasn’t lucy calling out for you and you knew that. coriolanus’s reflection was prominent in the puddle before you as he neared. great, you sneered, would love to get to know you mr peacekeeper. please tell me how you stole my lovely girlfriend from me!

your chest felt oh so heavy as you heard his footsteps in the gravel, determined and unwavering as he made his way to your slumped body. “what do you want? you wanna gloat?” coriolanus stopped in his tracks, gloat? “why would i gloat?” you looked up at him annoyed, “rub it in my face. you practically stole my girlfriend from me.” coriolanus laughed. actually laughed and it made you want to strangle him with his stupid dog tags.

“sweetheart.” vomit. you wanted to vomit. maybe choking and dying on your vomit would be less embarrassing then this. why on earth was this fuck head calling you his sweetheart. “fuck off.”

you didn’t see him coming. and you certainly didn’t expect his demeanour to snap. but the large hand tangled in your open hair was a big slap in the face to your unreadiness. “you of all people don’t get to talk to me like that. do you know who you’re talking to?” you could hear his perfect porcelain teeth grinding at your words. god this man couldn’t handle an insult. wuss.

“what the hell is your- ow! problem!” you yelped as he dragged you into an alleyway. “you need to learn how to respect your superiors. if you’re nice to me, i can make your life easier. doesn’t it hurt? not being able to fully provide for your family? seeing them struggle? do you really think disrespecting a peacekeeper is going to help? i suggest you straighten your act and thank me for even looking your way. there are plenty of other girls here.”

but he didn’t want those other girls. he wanted you. you with the teary eyes and messy hair. you who he’d been seeing in his dreams and during the day. you with the kind smile and curious eyes. you who were so sweet and pretty but mean when need be. the y/n who was stupid enough to spit such hateful words at a peacekeeper. but he’d teach you. whether it be with words and lessons or actions and bruises. you’d learn your place, by his side and lucy’s, and underneath. but with such fearful, brown doe eyes watering up infront of him, the girl he’d heard oh so much about from lucy. how could he refrain from indulging?

his hand reached out to wipe away the few stray tears that fell as his left extended towards your right, which was clutching your head, where he’d grabbed you. “shh, let me help you.” your hand slowly retracted as your heart ran a marathon. the man was obviously unstable, going from a deceptively caring man to violent. coriolanus smiled at your actions, and it freaked you out. he caressed your scalp in an attempt to soothe, “good girl.” he cooed as your apparent saviour approached.

“sweetie?” lucy called out to you as coriolanus withdrew from your personal space. he walked over to her and she let him. he held her hand and spoke with, love? his voice was soft and comforting, his thumb again caressing the back of her hand as they talked, whispered, plotted? god knows, all you wanted was to leave.

was this your chance?

you tested the waters, slow and calculated movements as lucy nodded in agreement with him. but by the time they were done speaking you’d bolted.

but you sure as hell weren’t getting far with these two on your tail, poor y/n l/n. a little dove trying to spread her wings but they were bound to be clipped.

your feet were throbbing and begging for you to slow down. but your brain was in charge for once, your heart which yearned for your dear songbird pushed to the side as your head screamed and urged you to go. she was in league with him apparently. her seeing him corner you and not even batting an eyelash. did she truly care for you so little? did she want to rid herself of you? she could’ve broken up with you and let that be it. maybe the games had twisted her head.

even as you believed yourself to be gaining distance from the two you could hear the not-so distant steps of determined pursuit, headed your way. how would they kill you? slow and intimate? hasty and brutal?

“if you stop running now we won’t be mad little dove!” lucy shouted in warning as you felt yourself momentarily slow at her words. traitor. you thought to yourself as your body involuntary listened, she still had an affect on you. “she’s right, we love you, we won’t hurt you. unless we have to, don’t give us our reasons.”

“shut up!” you screamed. god, i know we haven’t talked in a while. last minute efforts right? maybe he’d listen to you, save you from your tormentors. you should’ve kept your head clear, focused on running. focused on your surroundings and if you had, you would’ve noticed the nearing tree roots, thick and protruding from the ground, ready to knock you down.

you crawled behind the tree, trying to catch your breath as your hands worked tirelessly to provide some form of relief to your aching ankle.

crack.

you’d been found. you fucked up.

“our little dove, ever the sprinter.”

his words had you lurching forwards in an attempt of fleeing but lucy’s cold hand on your ankle dragged protests and cries from your throat as well as you, back to them. “you should’ve listened before, we would’ve been nice. given you some time to adjust, but you can’t sit and think for a second can you?” coriolanus mocked as his hand trailed up your un-injured leg, “that’s okay, you won’t be doing much thinking from now on. we’ll be taking care of you, since you obviously can’t take care a’ yourself baby.” lucy’s voice was saccharine, like honey, and her smile was even sweeter. the familiarity and comfort of her presence was intoxicating, you felt at peace on one side and the other wanted to jump off a cliff. she lowered your guard and coriolanus slithered right in.

the prick in the side of your neck wasn’t painful, but their words were. “you’re with us now, we’ll take care of you, we promise.” and you were stuck, stuck with them for god knows how long.

you blinked away the sleep in your eyes, adjusting to the room. maybe they had killed you? in their own twisted way they’d keep you forever, in their memories and soul. coriolanus and lucy’s voices swam around your head and blended together. you were wrong. yay.

“it’s a bit early for katniss, even if it’s one of her favourites.”

“she should eat something better.”

“better? don’t go all capitol on me now corio.”

he was smiling, you could tell.

“never lucy gray. but she’ll be weak for a few days, proper meals will help her regain some strength.”

you picked your head up and looked through the window, the lake was evident.

“alright, you go grab it and i’ll stay here.”

“why? so you can get more time with her? if anyone should get extra time it’s me.”

“now who was her partner first? oh that’s right, me. you’re acting as if i’m gonna pick her up and run away. if you’re that scared than we’ll both go. take her with us.”

coriolanus’s head whipped towards the cabin and you quickly flopped back down on the bed. you shut your eyes as you heard the door creak open. “gosh, doesn’t she look pretty?” lucy asked, knowing the answer already. “so calm, i liked her better when she was crying.” lucy hit him, “coriolanus snow!” he stroked the side of your face and you had to resist from turning your head and biting his fingers off.

“little dove.” your eyes opened again, turning your head his way tiredly. “we need to get some supplies okay?” you nodded as lucy went outside to gather the baskets she’d left out earlier on to dry. coriolanus’s hand dug into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, “i told you i’d make you respect me. now listen, if you try anything when we’re in town i will never let you forget it. you’ll know who you belong to every single day. maybe i’ll pay your family a visit? an appointment with the hanging tree for being rebels? stealing?”

you shook your head violently as you began to cry, “you don’t want that? didn’t think so. you listen to me and everything will be fine. your family will get daily help and weekly groceries. they’ll never go hungry again. all thanks to their sweet little girl. lucy’s too nice, but don’t think for a second she’ll save you from me. you’re mine and if you try anything.” he leaned in to whisper, “i’ll strangle her with my bare hands infront of you.” his words were meant to scare you, and they did. but don’t you know? coriolanus snow doesn’t need a reason to do bad things.

coriolanus was wicked and ruthless when it came to what he wanted, if you had any hope of trying to get through this then you’d need lucy’s attention and help. so you nodded. “words sweetheart.” you swallowed your pride, your dignity, and you shook hands with the devil.

“yes, i’ll do what you say.” he straightened up, his white shirt a contrast to his dark thoughts.

“y’all ready to go?” lucy questioned as coriolanus grinned, “yes, yes we are.” he lifted you up and helped you dress, you hadn’t realised the fact that you were only dressed in his own white shirt, dress to you. he handled you like you were the most delicate object. as if he wasn’t hell bent on breaking you, over and over again. till you were fit to his standards. the captiol standards. the snow standards.

his, his, his.

with how obedient you were, he figured you’d do well in the capitol. which was exactly where he was meaning to bring you.

lucy walked in front of the two of you as you made your way through the woods. coriolanus’s hand was glued to your waist as he held you close, afraid to let go. you were at flight risk of course. his grip was tight and bruising. lucy’s humming distracted you at times, if you were delusional enough you could imagine it to be the two of you. your brothers far infront and the covey following. after an amazing afternoon at the lake, heading home for dinner, maybe a performance or the night shift.

your daydreaming was interrupted when you clocked coriolanus’s missing hand from your waist, and his arm now around lucy grays throat.

don’t you remember? you’d do well in the capitol! you were his! but not entirely, no.

not with her in the way.

you were frozen in place as lucy clawed at him before reaching out for you. a plea, a cry for help and aid yet you stood stuck in fear. a minute, two. she’d put up a strong fight, especially when you ran towards the two, pushing and shoving at coriolanus to let her go. but again, you fucked up.

here lies lucy gray baird, singer, victor, psycho.

obsessed? madly in love? you couldn’t think of another word, and as much as you wished to forget her, forget how she’d practically allowed another man into your relationship and let him kidnap you. her lifeless face and hollow eyes made your heart clench. but soon enough she was rolled over, thrown in a pre-made hole and buried. she’d survived the games but no one survived coriolanus snow.

“don’t forget what i said. don’t forget what you agreed to. you said you’d do as i say, i’m telling you to get up and follow me. we’re leaving district 12.” your face was painted with confusion as coriolanus clutched your face, “i’m going back, and you’re coming with me. don’t ask questions, just do as i say.”

and you did.

when he had you say goodbye to your family, a courtesy, a privilege he’d granted you. you kept it short and sweet, no questions just hugs and false promises of return.

when he ushered you onto the train and he wanted you to sit and be silent, you did.

through his time at the university, he wanted you close to him, living with him. and you did.

through his presidency campaign he wanted for you to charm sponsors and entice newcomers. you did.

when he wanted to marry you in a grand spectacle infront of the captiol and dress you up, you did as he asked.

when he held you down on your wedding night after tearing your dress off, biting and marking you down all over, pushing you down to your knees and took you all over the house, asking you to give yourself to him as if he didn’t take you anyways, you did.

you had no idea why at this point.

for your family? who hadn’t reached out in so long, even when they promised to talk to you every day? coriolanus had them all arrested, punished and hung for inciting riots and uprisings.

for your friends whom listened to your concerns of the capitol peacekeeper who hovered and didn’t make you feel crazy? each of them ended up dead in many different ways, hung, shot, a mugging gone wrong.

you didn’t know at this point and when you looked in the mirror you didn’t recognise the girl who stared back. a captiol sheep, dressed up in the finest silk dresses and slick heels yet the filth underneath the finery, jewels, and makeup weighed you down. each time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you, it felt like a peace of yourself was thrown away.

and as you clutched your swelling stomach, you couldn’t help but feel pity for baby number four.

maybe you’d grow up and find love.

maybe i’ll be able to take you all away from him.

maybe we’ll heal.

you thought, but in the back of your head, a little voice wouldn’t shut up.

you’ll always be his little dove.

#dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader #lucy gray x coriolanus #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x reader #lucy gray x fem!reader #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird x reader #dark!lucy gray x reader #dark!lucy gray baird x reader #hunger games x reader

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haeiheart · 1 month ago

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na jaemin — operation: catnapped by @haeiheart

summary! You agree to pet-sit your friend winwin’s cat, easy job and it’s only for a few hours plus you’re getting paid— Except somewhere between the third floor and your unit, you accidentally kidnap a completely different cat. A few hours later, there’s a knock on your door, and standing there is… an honorary frat house member?

pairing! cat owner! jaemin x reader

genre! strangers to friends to lovers, neighbors (same apartment), college au!, comedic (hopefully), fluff, mutual pining, crush as first sight?

warning? mentions of juyeon from tbz, frat house behavior from the boys (frat), mentions of sex (in dreams), making out? kinda idk but yea, flustered defensive jaemin and very flirty reader hehe. states jaem has 3 cats but only mentioned one cz i got super lazy oopsie

note! this was actually an idea for an smau i had in mind but i decided to make it a story instead and have haechan be the next smau after mark is completed hehe but hopefully this was executed well, also um not proofread so hopefully there isnt too many mistakes. enjoy!!! >_<

word count! 7.8k (yippee not bad)

You were promised an easy day: pet-sit your neighbor’s cat, feed it snacks while winwin is gone, try not to let it die. you get paid. Simple.

He gave you clear instructions and details in advance “She’s a white cat. Usually just waits outside my door. Super chill. You literally just have to bring her in.” Now despite being his friend you never actually met the kitty but she shouldn’t be hard to spot right? So when you trek up to the fifth floor and see a fluffy white cat lounging between doors 412 (winwin’s) and 413, you don’t think twice. She blinks at you, yawns, and casually rolls onto her side like she owns the building. Seems pretty chill to you. Must be right.

“She’s cuter than I expected,” you mumble, crouching to scoop her up. She lets you with no resistance, no judgment, just a soft little meow that honestly sounds kind of smug. You carry her downstairs like a proud thief. You wish you could keep her because look at this cutie.

Back in your apartment, she immediately makes herself at home and leaps onto your bed, circles three times, and flops down like she’s royalty. You toss her a few treats (which she devours like she hasn’t eaten over a week), set out a water bowl, and even try to introduce her to one of your throw pillows, which she promptly rejects by batting it off the bed.

You spend the next hour scrolling your phone while she naps beside you, occasionally stretching like she pays rent. How cute. At one point, she headbutts your arm, and yeah, you kind of melt. Maybe this is your new emotional support animal. Maybe this is fate. Maybe this is the start of something wholesome and healing.

What you don’t know is that this isn’t Winwin’s cat.

This is Luna.

And Luna is not your problem.

Yet.

Jaemin doesn’t panic easily.

He lives with his three adorable cats, Luna, Lucy, and Luke, and over time, he’s learned to handle chaos like it’s a lifestyle. Fur on every piece of clothing? Expected. Broken mug? Classic Luke. Midnight zoomies that sound like a herd of toddlers on Red Bull? Routine. He should be awarded with the title of best cat dad, at least that’s what he thinks.

But today, something’s off.

He walks into his apartment, sets down his iced milk tea, and is immediately greeted by Luke’s judgmental stare from the kitchen counter and Lucy’s dramatic flop onto his shoes.

“Where’s your sister?” he mutters, already scanning the room. That’s weird usually she should be easy to spot…

Silence. No jingle of a collar, no dramatic meow, no Luna launching himself off a shelf or tables for no reason.

That’s weird.

“Luna?” he calls out, already checking under the couch. Nothing. Behind the curtains. Under the bed. Inside the laundry basket (which, to be fair, she has claimed as her personal mini studio apartment before). Still nothing.

Then it hits him.

He left the door cracked earlier when he ran downstairs to grab his drink delivery.

He checks the hallway.

Jaemin sighs. “No. No way. Winwin wouldn’t catnap her. He isn’t even in town.” Then it hits him, if he isn’t in town then who’s taking care of HIS cat?

By a gut feeling, as you would call it fatherly instinct, there’s no way this is happening. There’s no way someone actually looked at Luna and thought, “Yep. That’s the one I’m supposed to take care of.”

So he calls winwin.

It rings twice before Winwin answers, voice staticky but calm. “Hey, what’s up? Is something wrong?”

Jaemin blinks. “Yeah. Luna is gone.”

A pause. “Gone?” Winwin repeats.

“She’s not here,” Jaemin says, deadpan. “Luna. She was here this morning. I come back, she’s gone. Vanished. Poofed herself into thin air.” He says with a pout forming in his face.

“Jaemin. Luna is your cat.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you calling me?”

“Because I think if your cat sitter lives in this apartment she or he must’ve stole him.”

The silence that follows is so long, Jaemin checks the screen to make sure the call didn’t drop.

Then, Winwin laughs. Like really laughs. The kind of tired, amused laugh that says “this isn’t my problem, but I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

“Oh my god,” he wheezes. “She took Luna?”

“I think so.”

“Bro,” Winwin says, barely keeping it together, “she’s never met my cat. I told her she’d be waiting outside my door. Luna was probably lurking again.”

Jaemin closes his eyes. “So she just saw a random white cat in the hallway and picked him up.”

“Yep.”

“And took him.”

“Yep.”

Jaemin exhales through his nose, long and dramatic. “I’m knocking on her door.”

“Be nice,” Winwin says, still laughing.

“No promises.”

Click.

As he makes his way to your apartment unit as winwin has informed of your whereabouts. You were busy dressing Luna up in the most adorable outfits to imagine. Man you could get used to pet sitting.

But you take that back the moment u hear loud footsteps in your hall, followed by exaggerated door knocking on… your door? Taken aback, you place Luna down on your couch and hurriedly made your way to your door, opening it to see… Jaemin?

He scans you as you’re wearing an oversized hoodie, socks with cartoon ducks on them, and a slightly panicked look on your face like you were mid-heist.

Jaemin blinks.

His brain does a hard reset.

You are… very cute. Distressingly so. Not what he was expecting at all. For a second, he forgets why he’s even standing here.

You tilt your head. “Uh. Hi?”

Right. The cat. Focus. He thinks.

He clears his throat, straightens his back, and holds up the can of tuna like it’s evidence. “You have my cat.”

You blink. “I— what?”

“You took my cat,” he says again, trying to sound assertive, but his voice betrays him with just the slightest edge of disbelief. “Her name’s Luna. Not yours. Not winwin. Mine.”

You glance over your shoulder at Luna, currently curled up on your couch, still in her tiny yellow bumblebee costume. She looks content. A little too content.

You fold your arms, trying not to laugh. “Okay, first of all, I thought she was Winwin’s. Second of all… she looks adorable.”

And for a second, Jaemin forgets his mission all over again. Because yes, his cat has been kidnapped, humiliated, and renamed— but now he’s standing in front of the girl responsible, and for some godforsaken reason, he’s not as mad as he really should be.

“Well” he says, looking away with an exaggerated pout, “I guess I can forgive you. Even though you stole my child, changed her name, shoved her into a tiny insect outfit, and clearly tried to emotionally replace me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re so dramatic.”

“She’s dramatic. We match,” he retorts, stepping inside like he owns the place. His eyes immediately land on Luna, who’s now lounging on your throw pillows like she’s at a one way vacation spa. Somehow she loafs perfectly into your cushions. Weird.

“Luna,” he calls, crouching and holding out his arms like a proud cat dad. “Let’s go, princess. Daddy’s here.”

Luna blinks at him slowly. Then turns away. Entirely.

You snort. “Wow. Rejected.” You bite back a laugh, watching the way Jaemin’s face twists in exaggerated betrayal.

Jaemin tries again, softer. “Baby, come on. Don’t make this weird. Let’s go home. I have snacks. Your favorite tuna—the one with the stupid little fish on the can.”

Luna stretches. Rolls over. Completely ignores him.

Jaemin looks personally wounded. “Are you serious right now?”

“She loves me now,” you say, smug. “We bonded.”

“You bribed her with a bee costume.”

“She purred for thirty minutes straight after I gave her a belly rub. I’m basically her soulmate.” Luna skips over and rubs her head against your leg, purring like she agrees.

Jaemin stares at Luna, betrayed. “I raised you better than this.”

You laugh as Luna curls around your leg like she’s claiming you in a custody battle.

Jaemin glares at his cat. “You’re dead to me.”

Luna meows innocently.

Jaemin looks back at you, arms crossed. “Okay, new deal. You stole her, you keep her but only for now. Which means I’m now legally required to supervise all visitation hours. I’ll be dropping by.” Maybe he said it with the intention of seeing you again. But who cares he can if he wants to.

You raise a brow. “That so?”

“Mhm,” he says, already sitting on the edge of your couch like he’s lived here for years. “This is what co-parenting looks like. Don’t fight it.”

And just like that, you’ve accidentally adopted a cat and invited a very dramatic boy into your life.

There’s a brief pause before both of you suddenly freeze, eyes widening slightly.

“…Wait,” you say.

“Winwin’s actual cat,” Jaemin finishes, blinking.

You both glance at Luna, still purring like a traitor at your feet.

You clear your throat. “We should probably… go get her.”

Jaemin nods. “Yeah. Before she starts thinking you abandoned her too.”

A week later, you haven’t seen Jaemin since that weekend. Winwin’s back now, which means no more cat sitting… or accidental naps with stolen cats.

You step into your favorite coffee shop, finally free for a few hours, and grab your drink at the counter. As you turn around, your eyes land on a familiar figure sitting alone by the window, Jaemin. He’s dressed slightly nicer than usual, button-up shirt, hair pushed back like he actually tried… but the expression on his face is pure discomfort. He’s stiff, eyes flicking to the door every few seconds, like he’s waiting for something or someone.

You hesitate, then approach casually, pretending to look around like you’re not analyzing him facially before. “Hey… Jaemin?”

He looks up quickly, a little startled. His face shifts from surprised to sheepish in two seconds flat. “Oh. Uh. Hey.”

You point at the seat across from him. “Can I?”

He shrugs, but his ears are red. “Sure. I mean—yeah.”

There’s an awkward beat of silence before he finally mutters, almost like he regrets it instantly, “I was supposed to be on a blind date.”

You blink. “Oh?”

“She’s not coming,” he adds quickly, like saying it faster makes it hurt less. “Or she forgot. Or maybe she saw me through the window and ran. Whatever. I’m not emotionally invested.”

You try not to smile even though you admit he looks cute all pouty. “You definitely sound not emotionally invested.”

Jaemin glares playfully, then sighs and leans back in his chair. “This is why I don’t do setups. My cats have better taste in people.”

You hold back a laugh. “Well, lucky for you, I’m here. I can sit awkwardly across from you and pretend this is still a successful date.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You offering to fake a date with me?”

You grin. “Only if you buy me slice of cake and others.”

He scoffs and smiles lightly which you almost miss but didn’t. “Knew you had an ulterior motive, you thief”

You grin, leaning on the table. “What can I say? You looked like you were one sad song away from having delusions out the window dramatically. I had to step in.”

Jaemin lets out a loud, offended gasp. “I do not look dramatic.”

“You dressed up for a blind date and got stood up,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “It’s giving a tragic second lead in a romance drama.”

You tilt your head, eyes scanning him playfully. “Though honestly, I can see why someone would set you up. You clean up pretty well.” You knew your intentions and you knew the affect it would have on him.

Jaemin blinks, clearly not expecting that.

“You trying to soften me up now?” he asks, flustered but pretending to act cool.

You smirk. “Just saying… if I’d known you could look like that, I might’ve set myself up.”

He coughs into his drink, ears turning very visibly pink. “O-Okay. Wow. That’s—uh, bold.”

You grin, watching him squirm. “What? Too much for your heart to handle?”

He glares at you, flustered. “I’m not—! I mean, I can handle it. I just… wasn’t ready.”

You laugh. “Relax, Jaemin. I’m just being nice.”

“Sure you are,” he mutters, hiding behind his cup again. “This is payback for the cat thing, isn’t it?”

“You’ll never know,” you say with a wink.

The rest of the afternoon unfolds like an unplanned scene from a movie, comfortable, light, and quietly magnetic. You stay at that coffee shop far longer than either of you intended. What starts off as you teasing Jaemin just to see him flustered turns into a back and forth rhythm you both fall into naturally. You keep flirting, endless little jabs and compliments disguised as jokes, like it’s second nature. And maybe it is, but this time, there’s real meaning hidden underneath your playful tone.

You’re trying to tell him, just a little, that you think he’s cute. That you like the way he smiles even when he’s trying to hide it, and how his laugh catches in his throat when he’s caught off guard. But Jaemin, oblivious as he is, just assumes it’s your usual personality, like it’s something you hand out to everyone without thinking.

Still, he listens to every word you say. Laughs at all your dumb stories. And when you gently nudge his foot under the table or casually lean in too close when you show him a meme on your phone, he notices, but convinces himself you’re just naturally like this. That you don’t mean anything by it.

But you do. You really do. He is just slow and blank, just like his cats.

You and Jaemin start talking more after that day. What was once a chaotic meet cute over a cat turns into something softer, steadier. Weekly texts turn into daily ones. Inside jokes multiply. A meme here, a random “you won’t believe what just happened” there, until talking to him becomes part of your routine without you even realizing it.

Meet ups happen more often too. First under the excuse of “cat visitation rights,” then because he found a new café and thought of you, then because neither of you really bothers making excuses anymore. It’s easy with him. Effortless, even when he’s being overly dramatic or you’re teasing him into a blush.

Eventually, you start noticing the way other people notice you when you’re with him. Like the two girls whispering near the campus fountain or the way someone in your psych class did a double take when Jaemin showed up to walk you out. You almost forgot he’s kind of known around here. Thanks to his stupidly attractive face, his magnetic energy, and the fact that half his closest friends are in the loudest frat on campus.

You both start hearing the rumors, of course whispers floating around campus about how you and Jaemin are totally dating. People make comments, some subtle, some not. But honestly? Neither of you really care.

If anything, Jaemin seems to like it. He doesn’t say much about it directly, he finds himself smiling when someone calls you his “mystery girlfriend” in passing. He leans into it just a little too well, doesn’t correct anyone, and never seems bothered by the assumption. If anything, he’s happy that it gives him an excuse to be closer to you. To linger longer after your hangouts. To text first. To act a little too comfortable.

Because the truth is, even with his popularity and his easy charm, Jaemin never really explored much outside the world of his small circle— his friends, his cats, his usual routines. But then you showed up, loud and teasing and full of unexpected softness, and maybe the rumors make it easier for him to pretend. To be a little delusional. To imagine that maybe, just maybe, you like him back.

But right now you’re currently set at Jaemin’s kitchen island, textbooks spread open, highlighter uncapped and forgotten as you read the same sentence for the fifth time. Jaemin’s behind the counter, half-focused on the pot in front of him, cooking up something that smells suspiciously like instant noodles with way too much effort.

“You’re really putting your whole soul into that ramen,” you say without looking up.

Jaemin hums. “It’s called love, thank you.”

You glance over. “It’s called MSG.”

He points his chopsticks at you like he’s offended. “I’ll have you know, this is gourmet. I added an egg.”

You snort, turning a page. “An egg doesn’t make it gourmet, Gordon.”

He shrugs, plating the food like he’s on a cooking show. “Well, Gordon doesn’t have three cats who judge his every move. I work under pressure.”

You smile, eyes drifting to Luna lounging on the windowsill, tail flicking lazily. “I think she’s your harshest critic.”

“She is,” he says, setting a bowl in front of you. “But she also likes you more than me, so I try not to take it personally.”

You look up at him, brow raised. “Aw. Jealous of your own cat?”

He leans on the counter across from you, resting his chin in his hand. “Maybe. You do flirt with her more than you flirt with me.”

You smirk. “So you have noticed.”

His eyes widen just a bit before he looks away quickly, ears turning pink again. “No comment.”

Just as you’re about to tease Jaemin again, the front door swings open without so much as a knock.

“Yo,” comes Winwin’s voice as he steps in, nose already in the air like a bloodhound. “I smelled something fire and figured you weren’t the one cooking it.” Clasping his hands together as he rubs it acting like he’s ready to devour a whole table.

Jaemin groans dramatically. “Do you have to use your emergency key every time you get hungry?”

Winwin ignores him completely, eyes locking onto you instead. “Hey! Didn’t know you’d be here.”

You grin and hop off the stool to greet him. “Winwin!” you say, giving him a quick hug.

Winwin hugs you back easily, then nods toward the food. “You cook this?”

“Jaemin did,” you say with a smile, while Jaemin stands stiffly at the counter, chopsticks in hand and expression unreadable as his eyes slowly scan that hand. The hand that’s hugging your waist. Winwins hand.

Winwin’s eyebrows wiggle, noticing jaemin’s behavior. You watch him transforming his face to something you know he makes when he’s about to joke. “Might come over more often if it’s a free chef and a cute food buddy.” He lifts his hands up to pinch your cheeks which he does to actually bully you relentlessly considering you both always had a sibling dynamic. But jaemin doesn’t know that.

“Goodbye,” Jaemin deadpans, turning back toward the stove like he’s about to cook again just to distract himself.

You glance at him, then back at Winwin, amused. “I think he’s offended.”

“I think he’s sulking,” Winwin says, dropping onto the stool you just left like he owns the place. “Didn’t know you were this sensitive, Jaem.”

“I’m not sensitive,” Jaemin mutters under his breath, a little too sharply. “I’m just reevaluating who gets to walk in my apartment uninvited and steal my guests.”

You blink. “Wait… I’m the guest?”

Jaemin glances at you, then quickly looks away, muttering, “You were until someone else got a hug first.”

You laugh, eyes lighting up as you lean over the counter. “Aww, someone wants a hug. Well, come here then.”

Jaemin freezes mid-turn, eyes narrowing. “I don’t— I didn’t say that—”

But before he can escape, Winwin already standing, arms outstretched with a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, come here bro. Let it all out.”

“Don’t you dare” Jaemin backs away, but you’re already walking over with your arms open too.

“Group hug!” you announce cheerfully.

“No, no, no—stop—ugh!” Jaemin groans as both you and Winwin pull him in, squeezing him between you like he’s the stuffing in an overly affectionate sandwich.

He squirms dramatically, arms stuck awkwardly to his sides. “I hate this. I hate this.”

“You love it,” you say into his shoulder.

“You’re so warm,” Winwin adds mockingly.

“I’m removing both of you from my emergency contacts,” Jaemin mutters, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, despite all the whining.

Eventually, the ridiculous group hug dissolves into laughter with Jaemin still dramatically complaining, Winwin pretending to wipe a tear from his eye, and you leaning against the counter, giggling like the chaos didn’t just start with you.

Winwin sticks around for a “quick bite,” which, unsurprisingly, turns into him stealing half of Jaemin’s pantry while requesting snacks you didn’t even know Jaemin even had. Somehow, that quick visit turns into all three of you lounging on Jaemin’s couch, half watching a movie playing in the background while Luna nestles herself between you and Jaemin like the princess she is.

Thirty minutes into the movie, Winwin sighs loudly and flops sideways onto the cushions. “Okay, I’m bored.”

“You picked the movie,” Jaemin points out, raising a brow.

“Yeah, well, I was hoping something would explode by now,” Winwin says. “This is just people talking about their feelings.”

You laugh. “It’s a rom-com win.”

“Exactly,” Winwin says, sitting up suddenly. “We need something more fun. Let’s play a game or something.”

Jaemin side-eyes him. “What are we, twelve?”

“You’re the one still wearing cat socks,” Winwin replies, already reaching for the TV remote.

You and Jaemin both freeze.

“…You told him about my socks?” Jaemin mutters to you.

You shrug with a guilty smile. “I might’ve mentioned it. Once. Or twice.”

Winwin smirks. “Now shut up and play. I’ve got ideas.”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “Let me guess—Truth or Dare?”

Winwin grins. “Bingo.”

Jaemin sighs, but doesn’t protest. Which is basically consent.

You shrug, already intrigued. “Fine. But if anyone makes me eat something cursed, I’m leaving.”

“No promises,” Winwin says, rubbing his hands together like a villain. “Alright, I’ll start. Y/N. Truth or dare?”

You roll your eyes. “Truth.”

Winwin doesn’t hesitate. “Do you think Jaemin is cute?”

Jaemin nearly chokes on his drink, turning to you with wide eyes.

You smirk, unfazed. “Obviously.”

Did you really just call him cute that casually? Like it was no big deal? Like it wasn’t currently short circuiting every brain cell in his head? He swears he can feel his ears heating up, and now he’s gripping his cup like it personally betrayed him.

Winwin cackles while Jaemin tries to act cool, suddenly very busy petting Luna like his life depends on it. “Y-You say that like it’s no big deal.”

You stretch out on the couch. “It’s not. You’re cute. Everyone knows that.”

Jaemin mutters something under his breath, probably a prayer.

Winwin’s already delighted. “Okay Jaemin, your turn.”

Jaemin glances at you, then sighs. “Y/N. Truth or dare?”

You pretend to think, then grin. “Dare.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a spark of mischief returning. “I dare you… to tell me your most recent dream.”

You raise a brow. “What kind of dream?”

He shrugs casually. “Any kind. Unless you’re scared.”

You lean back against the couch, letting your lips curl into a lazy, mischievous smile. “Alright. You asked for it.”

Jaemin lifts an eyebrow, instantly wary. Winwin sits up straighter, sensing drama.

You stretch your arms with a nonchalant hum. “I had a dream about you, actually.”

Jaemin blinks. Winwin visibly perks up.

“In the dream, we were… in your kitchen,” you continue slowly, eyes flicking over to Jaemin, watching the way he starts to stiffen. “Except you weren’t wearing a shirt. And for some reason, I was sitting on the counter.”

Jaemin makes a noise in his throat that could only be described as panicked curiosity.

You grin. “You said something dumb like, ‘wanna try my special sauce,’ and then—well, I’ll spare the details.”

Winwin’s losing it. “NO, DON’T SPARE THE DETAILS—”

You ignore him entirely, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Okay, so then, in the dream… you came closer. Still shirtless, obviously. You leaned in and said something stupid like ‘bet I taste better than the ramen.’”

Jaemin chokes. Again.

Winwin is wheezing on the couch, halfway to tears.

“And then,” you say, voice dropping just enough to be dangerous, “you kissed me. Right there in front of the stove. It was very Intense. Steamy. Heavy breathing. Your hand may or may not have ended up on my thigh.”

Jaemin is frozen. Fully red. His soul has left his body.

“I’m… I’m gonna pass out,” he mutters, hand over his mouth.

You shrug innocently. “Hey, you dared me.”

Winwin could not hold in his laughter any more, not that he was even trying in the first place. “knowing you this was probably made up to tease him”

You giggle yourself. “i guess we will never know then”

Jaemin’s still staring at nothing. Processing. Possibly glitching.

And you? You just smile sweetly, sipping your drink like you didn’t just blow his mind wide open.

Jaemin sits there, stunned, his brain short circuiting in twelve different directions. You, one of his closest friends, the girl who teases him relentlessly and steals his cat’s affection on a daily basis, just casually admitted to having a sex dream about him. Like it was no big deal. Like you weren’t currently flipping his entire perception of reality upside down.

But… was it real? Or were you just messing with him again, like always? Your tone was playful, sure, but the way you looked at him when you said thigh… was that acting?

His mind races: were you flirting or just being you? Was this a bit or a confession? And why, in the name of Luna’s fluffy tail, was he kind of dying either way? Because no matter how close someone may be to another, somebody who is just a friend wouldn’t act like this.

Jaemin spent the next couple of days thinking about you more than he usually does. And that’s saying something, because even on a normal day, you took up an annoyingly large portion of his brain. But now? After that dream confession? It was like you had crawled into his subconscious and set up permanent residence. He couldn’t eat ramen without hearing your voice. Couldn’t walk into his kitchen without picturing you on the counter. Couldn’t even pet Luna without wondering if you actually preferred him over the cat.

So eventually, he cracks.

“Okay, I need to tell you something,” he says, sliding into the seat across from Jeno at their usual café table.

Jeno blinks, mid-sip of his iced Americano. “Okay? What’s up?”

“I need to tell you something,” Jaemin says, already bracing himself but Jaemin stays oddly quiet trying to build up the courage to even speak on it.

Jeno eyes him, then sips his drink. “Is this about Y/N?”

Jaemin stares. “How did you—”

“Because you’re being weird,” Jeno says, calm as ever. “You only get this dramatic when it’s about her.”

Jaemin sinks lower in his seat. “She said she had a dream about me.”

“Okay…?”

“A dream dream.”

Jeno’s eyes narrow. “As in—”

“There was kitchen counter. Shirtless me. Thighs may have been involved.”

Jeno snorts into his drink. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Jaemin leans back with a heavy sigh. “I don’t even know if she was serious. It was during a dumb truth or dare game. She said it so casually, like it was a joke. But it’s messing with my head.”

Jeno gives him a look. “You like her.”

Jaemin doesn’t answer.

“You really like her,” Jeno adds, smirking now.

Jaemin mutters something under his breath, fiddling with the straw in his drink. “I’m so screwed.”

Jeno leans back, arms crossed, eyeing him like he’s waiting for Jaemin to catch up to something obvious. “Okay, but what’s actually stopping you?”

Jaemin frowns. “From what?”

“From getting her,” Jeno says bluntly. “You like her. She clearly likes you. You hang out all the time. She literally told you she dreamed about you shirtless. What’s the holdup?”

Jaemin lets out a breath, leaning forward. “I don’t know, man. What if she’s just playing around? What if that’s just how she flirts with everyone? What if I try something and it ruins what we have?”

Jeno raises an eyebrow. “And what if you don’t try and someone else gets her while you’re busy being scared?”

Jaemin pauses.

Jeno smirks. “Exactly.”

He takes another sip of his drink before adding casually, “You should invite her to the frat pool party this weekend.”

Jaemin blinks. “You know I’m not even in the frat.”

“Yeah, but you’re frat-adjacent,” Jeno says with a grin. “It still counts. Plus, everyone’s gonna be there. Chill vibes, music, food. Could be a good move.”

Jaemin taps his fingers against the cup, thinking.

Jeno shrugs. “Just sayin’. Would be a shame if someone else hit on her while you were hiding behind your cats.”

Jaemin groans. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I’m right,” Jeno says smugly. “Text her.”

Jaemin bites his lip, hesitating for just a second before grabbing his phone. “Okay… okay, I’ll do it.”

Jeno raises both brows. “Right now?”

Jaemin nods, already typing. “Might as well rip the Band-Aid off.”

He hovers for a split second, then hits send. The second the message is out, he visibly tenses, shoulders rising, eyes wide, phone clutched like it just self-destructed in his hands.

“Oh no,” he mutters. “What did I just do? Why did I do that? I’m sweating. Am I sweating?”

Jeno bursts out laughing. “You haven’t even gotten a reply yet.”

“That’s the worst part!” Jaemin hisses, already dramatically slumping over the table. “What if she thinks it’s lame? What if she doesn’t even like pools? What if she leaves me on read and then ghosts me forever and Luna hates me out of secondhand embarrassment—”

“Bro,” Jeno cuts in, grinning as he reaches over and pats Jaemin’s head like he’s a panicking child. “You’re so down bad it’s actually adorable.”

Jaemin groans into his sleeves. “I need emotional support cats immediately.”

You got the memo about the party, and you agreed because why not? It sounded fun, and if you were being honest, the text from Jaemin asking if you’d come had your heart doing something stupid in your chest. So you said yes.

You even found the cutest two-piece to wear, pairing it with a breezy skirt and a cropped tube top to throw over it. Casual, but cute. The kind of outfit that said, “I just showed up,” even though you definitely spent too long picking it out.

Now all you gotta do is wait for jaemin as he said he would pick you up.

Jaemin pulls up in front of your apartment right on time, windows down, music low, one hand lazily draped over the steering wheel like he wasn’t lowkey nervous the entire drive over.

You hop into the passenger seat, adjusting your skirt as you settle in, and he glances over only to freeze for half a second. His eyes drag down, then snap back up way too quickly, and you don’t miss the way his ears turn a little pink.

“You, uh…” he clears his throat, gripping the steering wheel with both hands now. “You look pretty.”

You smile, pretending not to notice the way he avoids eye contact for a solid five seconds.

“Thanks,” you say, leaning back in your seat. “You clean up alright yourself, Mr. Not-a-frat-boy.”

That gets a soft laugh out of him, and the tension eases just a bit. But the blush? That stays.

Soon comes your arrival to the party.

Jaemin pulls into the driveway, the thump of bass growing louder as you approach the familiar chaos of the frat house. People are already spilling out onto the lawn, some with solo cups in hand, others half-soaked from the pool in the backyard. It’s loud, messy, and alive with energy but when Jaemin glances over at you, he looks like he’s only focused on one thing.

“You ready?” he asks, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You nod, opening the door and stepping out with a bit more confidence than you actually feel. But it helps, walking beside him.

The second you step through the gate to the backyard, the air shifts. Music blasts from speakers near the pool, drinks flow freely, and laughter echoes from every corner. A few people wave at Jaemin, some call his name, and you realize once again how known he is here. Not a frat boy, but somehow still the center of it all.

And now, you’re right beside him.

You barely make it ten steps into the backyard before a familiar group huddled near the drinks table notices Jaemin.

“Yo, finally!” Jeno calls out, waving him over with a plastic cup in hand. “We thought you bailed.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, guiding you through the crowd. “I’m literally on time.”

A few heads turn as you both approach. Renjun, Haechan, and Mark all lounging around like they own the place. Jeno’s the first to raise a brow as his eyes flick between you and Jaemin, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

“Wait,” Haechan says, straightening up. “Is this Y/N?”

Jaemin rubs the back of his neck, already bracing himself. “Yeah.”

“This is the cat thief?” Renjun grins, then eyes you up and down. “Damn. Pretty cat thief.”

You blink in surprise, lips twitching upward. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, it is,” Jeno jumps in smoothly, nodding. “Jaemin’s been suspiciously protective over his cats ever since, but like… if you were the one stealing them? I get it.”

“Can’t even blame Luna for choosing her,” Mark adds, sipping his drink. “She’s got taste.”

Jaemin looks like he’s about to explode. His ears are already red, and the second you turn to glance at him, his expression is half panic, half please stop talking right now.

“She’s standing right here, guys,” Jaemin mutters, clearly flustered.

“That’s the point,” Haechan says, grinning wide. “Let her know how down bad you are.”

You cross your arms, amused. “Down bad, huh?”

Jaemin glares at his friends, then looks at you with his face burning, voice barely steady. “Ignore them. They’re insufferable.”

“You’re not denying it though,” you tease, raising a brow.

He opens his mouth, closes it, then groans and mutters, “I hate everyone here.”

You just laugh, heart fluttering, and Jaemin silently prays the ground opens up and swallows him whole.

After the wave of teasing finally dies down, the group breaks off to mingle. The music’s picked up, the grill’s going, and someone’s already cannonballed into the pool. It’s the kind of party that has a rhythm of its own, easy to fall into.

Jaemin gets swept into a conversation with some upperclassmen you don’t recognize, laughing and catching up like he hasn’t seen them in years. You give him a quick smile before peeling off toward the snack table, figuring you’ll let him do his thing for a bit.

That’s when someone taps your shoulder.

“Hey,” a voice says, smooth and casual. You turn to see a tall guy with soft brown eyes and a ridiculously charming smile. “Sorry, just realized I’ve seen you around a couple times but never got your name.”

“Oh,” you say, caught a little off guard but not in a bad way. “It’s Y/N.”

“I’m Juyeon,” he says, offering a hand. “Cool to finally meet the girl who made Jaemin show up to a party early.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that what I’m known for now?”

He grins. “Among other things.”

You laugh, easing into the conversation. Juyeon’s easy to talk to, friendly, flirty in a light, non-serious way, but nothing that makes you uncomfortable. He’s just… genuinely nice. And kind of funny. You chat about random classes, music tastes, and somehow end up debating over who has the best fries in town.

And from across the yard, Jaemin glances your way mid conversation, mid laugh and goes completely silent when he spots you talking to Juyeon. His smile falters, just a bit.

You and Juyeon somehow end up posted near the snack table for way longer than expected. It starts with light chatter, but before you know it, you’ve both slipped into full gossip mode like you’ve been best friends for years.

You’ve learned two very important things about him so far:

He has a grudge against any professor who gives pop quizzes on a Monday.

He once had a big, fat, tragic crush on a girl he just realized is your friend, someone you dormed with in your first year of college.

“You’re lying,” you laugh, nearly choking on a chip. “That’s who you meant?”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I didn’t know she was your friend, okay? Now this is awkward. I’m going to have to pretend I didn’t memorize her entire class schedule sophomore year.”

“Wow. That’s so stalker coded of you.”

“It was one semester! I was delusional and only eighteen!”

You both burst into laughter again, shoulders bumping. From across the yard, Jaemin glances over just in time to see you wiping a tear from your eye, laughing at whatever Juyeon just said, looking far too cozy for his liking.

Mid convo or somewhere between Juyeon ranking the best campus bathrooms and you defending your controversial fry opinion, he suddenly glances past you and tilts his head.

“Not to ruin the fun,” he starts, eyes flicking toward the backyard crowd, “but your boy’s been staring over here for a solid five minutes.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Jaemin,” he nods subtly. “Been looking like he wants to join but doesn’t know if he should. Or like he wants to throw a grape at my head.”

You follow his gaze and, sure enough, Jaemin’s standing a few feet away, pretending to listen to someone talk, but clearly distracted, gaze flicking between you and Juyeon like he’s calculating the distance for a casual interruption.

“Oh.” You try to play it cool, sipping your drink.

Juyeon grins, eyes narrowing teasingly. “Sooo… what’s going on there?”

You shrug, a little too fast. “Nothing.”

“Mm. That’s not what it looks like.” He leans in, voice playful. “You into him?”

You pause, a knowing smile creeping up your face. “And if I said maybe?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Then I’ll keep my bestie status and not get in the way. But damn. No wonder he looked like he was gonna throw hands when I offered you the last cookie.”

You snort. “He did not.”

“He definitely did.”

After you and Juyeon part ways with numbers exchanged because hello, who wouldn’t want a gossip loser nerd buddy like him, you make your way toward the edge of the yard, debating about finding a drink refill.

That’s when Jaemin appears, seemingly out of nowhere, a little flushed and noticeably tipsy. Not in a sloppy way, just enough that his eyes are softer than usual, his pout exaggerated, and his footsteps a bit too dramatic for someone who’s only walking ten feet.

He stops right in front of you and just stares.

“You were gone forever,” he mumbles, brows furrowed like you personally betrayed him.

“I was at the snack table,” you say slowly, raising an eyebrow. “You saw me.”

“Yeah. With him.” He squints, swaying slightly. “Who was that? He smiled too much.”

You blink, trying not to laugh. “You’re sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” he sulks, arms crossing like a toddler who didn’t get picked for a game.

“You totally are.”

Jaemin sighs, head dropping back dramatically before tilting to look at you again. “Okay, fine. I’m jealous. Visibly, apparently.”

You try to hold it in, but laughter bubbles out of you anyway. “Wow, big moment. Admitting it out loud.”

He rolls his eyes, but you catch the way his shoulders loosen just a little.

You reach out, nudging his arm. “You know I wasn’t actually entertaining anyone else, right? I mean he’s cool. But he’s not you.”

That gets his attention.

His brows lift slightly, the pout dropping as he stares at you with wide eyes. “Wait. You’re serious?”

You just grin, turning to walk backwards toward the house. “C’mon, you’re tipsy and dramatic. Let’s go somewhere quieter before you start confessing more things in public.”

Jaemin blinks, stunned for a beat before jogging to catch up, a dumb smile already forming on his face. “Hold on wait, are you serious serious?”

You shrug, laughing. “Guess you’ll have to keep following me to find out.”

You and Jaemin slip away from the buzz of the backyard and into the quieter halls of the frat house. The noise fades into a dull hum behind you, replaced by the soft creaks of the old floorboards and distant laughter echoing through the walls.

“This one’s always empty,” Jaemin says, pushing open a door like he’s done it a hundred times. “Guest room. I’ve crashed here more times than I can count.”

You step inside, taking in the slightly mismatched furniture, the faint smell of detergent and cologne lingering in the air. It’s cozy in a weird, half lived in way.

Jaemin flops onto the edge of the bed with a quieter sigh this time, elbows resting on his knees, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“You know,” he starts, voice lower, a bit rougher than before, “when I saw you with him earlier… it wasn’t just jealousy. I think I was scared I missed my shot.”

You pause, hand still on the doorknob, caught off guard by the shift in his tone.

Turning slowly, you walk over and sit beside him, your thigh brushing his. “Jaemin.”

“I know I joke a lot,” he says, not looking at you just yet. “But I wasn’t joking when I said I wanted your attention.”

You glance over at him, expression softening. “And here I thought I was being obvious.”

He finally looks at you and there’s this unspoken mix of surprise and relief behind his eyes.

“You were?” he says, like he genuinely hadn’t let himself believe it.

You bump his knee with yours, offering a subtle smile. “I don’t flirt with just anyone, you know.”

His lips twitch, eyes dropping to your hand resting near his. “Guess I’m gonna have to take you more seriously now.”

You lean in slightly, voice still light but layered with something more intentional. “I’d prefer it.”

You shift a little closer, resting your chin on your hand as you glance sideways at him, tone light but with that same softness lingering beneath.

“You know,” you start, “I always thought you were just the pretty guy who hangs around the frat that parties every week.”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “Wow. Off to a great start.”

You grin. “Let me finish.”

He quiets, watching you now with a curious look.

“I always thought you’d be one of those effortlessly cool people,” you continue, voice calm, “y’know, the kind that everyone likes but never really knows. Like you’d be all charm and no depth.”

Jaemin hums. “Okay, still kinda sounds like an insult.”

You nudge his knee. “But then you started showing up. And you were… weird. In a good way. Soft. You care about your cats like they’re your kids, you pout when someone finishes the last snack, and you give really stupid but oddly specific advice.”

He snorts under his breath, but you can see the way he’s trying not to smile.

“And honestly?” you say, more gently now, “I like that version of you way more than whatever image I had before.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment and just watches you, like he’s trying to memorize everything about the way you’re looking at him right now.

“…You really think about me that much?” he says finally, voice quiet.

You nod, scooting a little closer, your hand lifting to gently cradle his cheek. “Yeah. More than you probably realize.”

Your thumb brushes along his cheekbone as his eyes flicker to your lips, and just when you’re both leaning in, barely a breath apart, he suddenly hesitates, pulling back an inch.

“Wait okay uh,” he starts, blinking fast. “Just so you know, I haven’t really kissed anyone in a while. Not that I’m bad at it! I mean, probably not— I just haven’t done it recently and I don’t want it to be weird or, like, awkward—”

You giggle, already leaning forward again. “Jaemin.”

He swallows. “Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

And then you kiss him. And he melts like you’d been waiting your whole life just to do that.

The kiss starts soft and warm, like both of you are still processing the fact that it’s finally happening. His lips move slowly against yours, testing, savoring, and when your fingers slip into his hair, he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for weeks.

But then he kisses you again but deeper this time and your hand slides to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until there’s no space left. His hands find your waist, gripping gently like he’s still afraid you’ll disappear, and before you even realize it, you’re moving, shifting until you’re straddling his lap.

He stiffens beneath you for half a second, eyes wide as you lean back in with a grin, and then he’s kissing you like he forgot anyone else existed. It’s all slow-burning heat now, messy, breathless, your fingers fisted in his hair while his hands squeeze at your hips like he’s making up for lost time.

And just as things start to blur at the edges—

“YO JAEMIN— OH MY GOD—”

The door flies open and you both jolt back like teenagers caught in a bad romcom. Standing at the door is Chenle, holding a Red Bull and a bag of chips, staring with full disbelief.

You burst into laughter, dropping your forehead to Jaemin’s shoulder as he groans dramatically.

“Chenle, why.” Jaemin nearly whines, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. “Why would you do this to me?”

“Bro, lock the door! I didn’t sign up for trauma tonight!”

You’re shaking with laughter now, arms around Jaemin while he glares over your shoulder, still hiding in the crook of your neck.

Chenle backs out slowly, still talking. “No, yeah, enjoy your moment, cat thief lovers. I’ll just be repressing this until graduation.”

The door shuts.

Jaemin groans again. “I’m moving out of this country.”

You just giggle, tilting his face back toward yours. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Not dramatic enough,” he mutters. “I was just about to make out with my favorite person and the frat loser shows up.”

You grin. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

#na jaemin #jaemin #nct dream #nct dream jaemin #nct jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #nct x reader #nct #nct fic #jaemin fic #na jaemin fic #nct fluff #nct imagines #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios

200 notes · View notes

leclercsainzz · 1 year ago

Note

hello love x

i was wondering if you could potentially do one where the reader is an actress and is in the new hunger games movies and everyone ships her with tom but she’s also dating lando … could you make a love triangle situation with these two?? like maybe she hangs out with tom more than lando or something idk lol u can come up with anything (you can decide who the endgame is) sort of like a illicit affair or where maybe she is seeing tom and everyone is aware of it idk??? (at this point im just saying nonsense i think lol)

ILLICIT AFFAIRS

PAIRINGS: lando norris x gf!reader / tom blyth x fem!reader

TYPE: social media au

WARNING: // cheating implied

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

yourusername

liked by landonorris, tomblyth and 689,736 others

yourusername: making this movie was hands-down one of the best experiences of my life thus far! i cannot wait to share more behind the scenes content with you all:)) and with only one week to spare .. see you out there on our press tour!

view 5,846 comments

landonorris: can’t wait!

landonorris: proud of you, my love!! ❤️

↳ yourusername: ilyyyyy 😘

↳ user: lando being a supportive bf >>>

↳ user: alexa, how to get my own lando norris?? 😭

user: she’s so pretty, i can’t

user: after reading the book, i just know this movies gonna break me 😩😩😩😩

user: LANDO LET ME HAVE HER, PLEASE

user: SCREAMING!!! CANNOT WAIT!!!!

user: i have been looking forward to this movie since they announced it, can’t believe we’re only one week away

joshandresrivera: who’s the cute guy at the end??

↳ yourusername: just some guy i know 🤷🏻‍♀️

user: caNnot wait, omggggg

user: read the book and idk if i’m mentally prepared

user: you look soo good 😩😩😩

songbirdsandsnakes: our lucy gray ❤️❤️

user: i’m actually freaking tf out about this alapapalddbsod

user: YES YES YES YES YES

oscarpiastri: can i get free tickets?

↳ yourusername: absolutely!

↳ user: i love this duo so much 🤣

user: movie of the year incoming????

user: the movie hasn’t even come out yet and the amount of snow x lucy gray edits i’ve seen just from the trailer alone 😩

↳ user: i just know once the movie comes out they’ll be all over tiktok ��. i can’t wait tho!!!!!!

user: i just realized that jason schwartman, viola davis, and peter dinklage are in this too!!! alwnsofnf

user: i’ve seen the trailer like 10+ times, can’t wait!!

hunterschafar: ❤️

user: will josh and jlaw be in this??

↳ user: noooo 💀 bro, this is set 64 years before them

user: she’s playing lucy gray right???

↳ user: yes

user: AHHHHHH

user: can’t wait for all the interviews omg!!!!

user: yn and the hunger games???? SIGN ME TF UPPP

user: soo excited over this

user: i wonder if lando will be attending the premiere

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 675,758 others

yourusername: last race with my favorite boyyy 🥺🧡

tagged: @landonorris

view 4,846 comments

user: LAST RACE??? WHYYY????

↳ user: she starts press tour tomorrow for the hunger games

user: ima miss seeing you in the paddock 😩

user: ima miss you in the paddock 😩 but i cannot wait for the hunger games press interviews

user: his smile 😩😩

user: my fav papayas 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡 + oscar

user: the first pic 😭😭

user: last race??? nooooooo

user: wait, im confused …. why’s she leaving???

user: gonna miss you

user: last pic 😩

user: YN?!?!!? YOURE LEAVING??!?? 😭😭😭😭😭

user: my favssssss 🧡

user: ya’ll acting as if she’s leaving forever and won’t see her again lmaooo 🤣 she’s doing press tour bc the movie she’s in comes out in a week

landonorris: 😘😘😘

landonorris: gonna miss your cute face 🥺

↳ yourusername: gonna miss you tooo, pretty boy 🥺

user: the way he smiles around her

user: wait when is she leaving???

↳ yourusername: a little after the race

↳ user: wait why tho??

↳ user: she starts press tour tomorrow since her movie comes out next week lol

oscarpiastri: that smile thoooo 🤭

user: where is she going????

user: THE best couple

user: what movie is she going for?

↳ user: the hunger games

↳ user: WAIT FRR????? is it the new one???

user: parents, frrrrr 😍

user: can’t wait for press tour, i just know she’s gonna slay

carlossainz55: pic creds to me, thank you 💁🏻‍♂️

↳ yourusername: 🙄🙄🙄 yea yea

↳ landonorris: 😘

↳ user: ynlando who??? i only know carlando ❤️🧡

user: they’re the reason i believe in love ❤️❤️

user: the way he looks at her, bro 😭😭😭

↳ user: he’s sooo in love, i can’t 😩😩

user: we won’t see ynlando for a while 😭

user: my ynlando heart 😍😍😍❤️❤️

yourusername

liked by landonorris, hunterschafer and 689,945 others

yourusername: thank you, berlin ❤️ @thehungergames

tagged: @tomblyth @hunterschafer @joshandresrivera

view 7,526 comments

user: THE REFERENCE OMG!!!!

user: MOTHER IS SERVING, OOH MYYYY 😍😍😍😍

user: he’s sooo fine!! but he looks EXTRA FINE with the buzz cut & blonde hair 😮‍💨

📌 pinned

↳ yourusername: told yaaaa @tomblyth

joshandresrivera: ohh hiiii 👋🏼

user: yn came to serve

user: tom’s the new white boy of the month!!!

user: HER PINNED COMMENT

user: tom’s soo good looking 😩

user: she’s so beautiful 😍😍

hunterschafer: WERK

↳ yourusername: are we about to kiss rn?

user: okay but why do i ship her and tom?? 🫣

user: idc what anyone says, she looks gorgeous! 😍

user: ngl but tom and yn look good together 🤷🏻‍♀️

↳ user: she’s got a bf and he’s got a gf

user: this man’s gorgeous but i also gotta remember he’s the one responsible for finnick’s death

↳ yourusername: same bestie 🥺

↳ user: OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

user: okay but her and tom look soo good 😩😩

landonorris: stunning 😍

landonorris: you’re gorgeous

↳ yourusername: 😘😘😘😘

↳ user: them >>>

↳ user: missing them rn 😩😩

user: dress is gorgeous! she’s gorgeous! i just don’t like the top of the dress, if i’m being honest

tomblyth: ❤️❤️

user: cannot wait till the movie is out!!!!

user: tHe second slide and fourth slide slandnslsmd

user: oBSESSED 😩😩😩😩

user: i can already tell yn and tom are gonna be my fav duo

user: tom tho 😍

user: you look soo beautiful, i can’t 😩

user: 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

user: i’m already a simp for president snow, and the movie hasn’t even come out yet

user: TOM, OMG 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

user: THE WAY SHE PINNED THAT ONE COMMENT 😂 yn being a coriolanus simp confirmed???

user: everything about you is soo slayyyyyyyyyy

user: nothing beats the original cast but they all look sooooo good, i can’t even lie

user: the dress reference 🤩

user: PLEASE GIVE TOM MY NUMBER!!!! OR GIVE ME HIS NUMBER EITHER IS FINE WITH ME

user: is it just me or does tom look better with the buzz cut and blonde hair???

↳ yourusername: you’re not the only one 😩 ive told him several times!!!!!!

yourusername

liked by joshandresrivera, landonorris and 699,947 others

yourusername: world premiere for @thehungergames 🇬🇧

view 6,836 comments

user: THE THRID POST ALSNDKDKDMDNSN

user: i ship

user: why do they look so in love in that third slide??

joshandresrivera: 🧡

user: yn, babe, where’s lando????

user: that don’t look like lando to me 👀

user: the chemistry is INSANE 😮‍💨

landonorris: you’re killing it, babe ❤️

↳ yourusername: 😘😘 love yaa

↳ landonorris: i love you moreeee 😘

↳ user: parents 😭😭😭

user: i hope her and tom date, they look so good together

user: ya’ll gotta stop shipping tom and yn, yn’s literally dating lando and tom’s got a girlfriend

user: tom and her look so good 😩😩😩

tomblyth: love you, gorgeous ❤️

↳ yourusername: ❤️❤️

↳ user: IM SORRY WHAT??!???

↳ user: excuse me??? sir????

user: TOMS COMMENT AKALSMDN

user: the chemistry is INSANE

user: he called her gorgeous 😭😭😭 brb gonna go cry

hunterschafer: YUPPPPP

hunterschafer: serving as always!

user: MOTHER IS SERVING 😍😍😍

user: obsessed with you and tom 😍😍😍

user: if i were lando, i would be crying in a corner rn

user: why do they look like a couple in that third slide??

user: toMs’S COMMENT!! he called her gorgeous

user: ya’ll shipping her with tom as if she doesn’t have a bf

↳ user: have you ever heard of cheating??

user: ya’ll see the interview?? she called him delicious and said that it’s so easy to fall in love with him 😭😭

↳ user: she said, “and getting to work with that is delicious to an actor like me” bffr she never said anything about it being easy to fall in love with him 🙄

↳ user: actually she did proceed to talk about how easy it is to fall in love with him?????? if anything you bffr

user: @landonorris come get your girl

user: she’s so touchy with him 🙄🙄🙄🙄

user: LANDO OPEN YOUR EYES

user: we’re all thinking the same thing right?? 😏

user: they’re definitely fucking around

tomblyth

liked by yourusername, hunterschafer and 678,927 others

tomblyth: thank you, l.a. 🤩

tagged: @yourusername @joshandresrivera @hunterschafer

view 5,936 comments

user: ngl but yn and tom look cute together

user: PARENTS FRRRR 😍😍😍😍😍

user: lando & yn >>>>>

user: they have sm tension

user: ya’ll are crazy if you think yn would leave lando for tom

↳ user: and youre crazy for not thinking that maybe yn already cheated on lando with tom 🫢

user: @landonorris @landonorris @landonorris

user: lando’s busy trying to win a race while yn’s busy fooling around with tom

yourusername: SNOW FALLS ON TOP!!!

↳ user: yes, on top of you

↳ user: nahhhhh 😭😭😭

user: how’d you know about the tattoo??? 👀

yourusername: love yaaaa ❤️

↳ tomblyth: back at you! ❤️

↳ user: @landonorris

hunterschafer: cute

↳ user: how does it feel to third wheel all the time?

user: yn’s literally soo gorgeous!!! 😩

user: if i were yn, i’d be all over him too, idcccc

user: lando’s stronger than me bc if my gf was like this with another man id be going apeshit

user: they’re 100% having an affair

↳ user: ohh definitely!

↳ user: the fact that he knew about her tattoo that none of us knew about says a lot!!!! this man has explored her body

user: yntom >>> ❤️❤️❤️

user: i wonder if lando knows about the tattoo tom was referring to

↳ user: that man is clueless like the rest of us

user: @landonorris

user: not ppl tagging lando 😭😭

↳ user: he’s gottta open his eyes

↳ user: @landonorris

imessage

— author’s note: this is simply for the story, i’m aware that rachael and tom both have partners

pt2?

2K notes · View notes

netherfeildren · 1 year ago

Text

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; Jackson Joel Miller; Dom/sub undertones; Rough Sex; Impact Play; Face Slapping; Spanking; PIV sex; Ass Play; Oral Sex (m!receiving); Come Eating; Throat Fucking; Unprotected Sex; Potentially Toxic Dynamics? (haha?); Complicated Feelings; Brief mention of virginity loss; Brief blood mention; They Love Each Other in Their Own Weird Way, Ok?; Older Man/Younger Woman; Idk What This Is, I Don't Expect You to Either;

A/N: miss you guys, sorry for the disappearing act <3

Word Count: 3.1K

Read on AO3

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Sunlight spills over everything, and the pastoral green leads you to him.

One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

But there’s an incongruity afoot here that only you appreciate.

The secret lies in that there’s a riddle woven through the three miles you pilgrim to see him weekly. The first, a boon, the green lush wasteland, if a thing that’s alive can be wasted. The second, an honesty, I’ll venture this distance for him. The third, a precursor, when your muscles start to tingle, your thighs, hot and itchy, nape, coated in a taste of salt. Your feet crunch along the gravel and dirt, protected by the soft leathered boots inherited from Lucy who’d died last Monday. A good start to the week, with new boots, and a thoughtful gift she’d left you, your friend, when your own shoes were so worn from all the walking you do for him. The end of the world changes death, finds good things within it.

The sun warms the bridge of your nose, and you tip your face up to the too-bright light, trying your hardest to look straight at the intensity of it. He’s very much like this too. Why would you look directly at the sun if not for the hurting it brings? Your palms splayed forward at your sides, the breeze moving through your fingers, and the world is all around you alive in this apocalypse.

Jackson is left further and further behind as you move towards him, and what no one understands, not even Joel Miller himself, is that there is something virtuous about this affair.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth now,” he says down at you, bare as the day you were born and kneeling before his clothed and towering height. Nothing but the heavy hanging length of his cock is naked for you, the first you’d ever seen in your whole life. If he had his way, the only one you’d ever see for the rest of it. The wide head is slick and glossy, the way it bobs obscenely from his open jeans looking like the weight of it would hurt, the way it juts from the bed of hair at this groin like a threat to you.

You know now, after all his focused training, that it only hurts him when you don’t tend to it as he needs, that it’s only a threat when you fail to do the same. He’s shown you the rules of hurting, in all these months you’ve come your three promised miles to him time after time. Shown you how it comes easy, that of hurting someone you love. A running in place sort of thing. You know all the steps that will come, the exact spot you’ll tread in. The way to propel yourself forward to finally leave that same place, avoid it, if you want.

“Open wider. Won’t fit like that,” he clicks his tongue, voice a burr as he grips his throbbing flesh and with the other too big hand, also like a seeming threat, but not, he gives you a quick, softly stinging slap to the high of your cheekbone. The sound, fast and snapping like his disapproving tongue. You swallow a moan, looking up at him with that look in your eyes you know disturbs him, adoration, letting the hinges of your jaw go loose, saliva pooling beneath the cover of your tongue. “Don’t you want me?” He asks.

And you blink once, moan crossing the bridge to a laugh if your mouth wasn’t stretched wide as it’ll go. He sees it though, skipping water in your eyes and gives that half smile, the mean one, the one that says he has all the answers in the world, knows all the things there are to know, that one you like best. Good girl, and his voice makes no sound, only the shape of the words on his mouth. You haven’t been good enough yet to hear the real thing of them out loud. This tells you that you must apply yourself to the task at hand, making him come.

One heavy tap to the flat of your tongue sticking out for him first, and then he’s slicking that fat head against the surface, giving you the first real taste, salt and musk trickle down the back of your throat and you moan again, eyes screwing shut tight, cunt aching something fierce. Leaking just like the tip of his cock leaks too.

That’s the thing about this thing, the one you see very well and Joel still fails to. The two of you, as disparate as you might seem, are the same in all the basic but most important ways. Too much in common for him to look at in the eye comfortably and still do the things you do.

“Open your throat. Get me hard.” In your head, he calls you baby. In reality, only sometimes, when you’re extra good, does that happen. But in your imagination, where it matters more, he doesn't ask nice, but you are his baby.

He slides back, back, hits the end of your throat, pulls out against the wet heat of your tongue. You keep your jaw wide until you feel him harden entirely, until he stretches his neck back, tendons jumping stark, clench of his jaw fluttering with a choked groan. “Suck me,” your permission to savor him like you need to.

Hands pressed firmly to your bare knees, not digging at your soft wet like you’d like, or pawing at him as you’d like even more, you close your lips around him, cheeks hollowed and suck hard, tonguing at his slit on the pull back so that he’s bearing his teeth at you in a growl and shoving forward again hard, a snarl as the cinch of your tight throat strangles the head of his cock on every one of your swallows. Your eyes water, but he pets softly at the same spot he’d stung earlier with his slap.

A game you used to play with your siblings, who could slap one another harder until the other gave out. It’d taken a while for you to come to the realization, but eventually, you’d realized the memory of it in your mind as it exists now wasn’t innocent the way it should’ve been. That there had been something you’d liked about it in a strange way—that hurting. That the first time you’d asked Joel to play the same game with you, you’d wanted him to slap you other places just as hard until you gave out also.

The games were part of the thing. His own strange rules, like the way you couldn’t touch him sometimes—you dig your bitten down nails into the soft skin of your inner thighs—only when he said it was okay was it allowed. The way you were never allowed to touch your cunt unless he said so also. He had weird things about him, turned strange by the dangerous ways of life. Like the solitude, the house out and away, the begging you had to do for him to have you.

Sameness.

He wraps his fist in your hair, more sting, “Gonna fill your belly with my come, yeah?” His thrusts pick up pace, pulling your head back as far as your neck allows so that he can fuck your throat in full, jaw hanging wide, and you’re just the wet and willing hole you know he sometimes wishes you could always stay as.

The thick cock against your tongue throbs once, twice and then he’s spilling hot and heavy down your open throat, sweet salt against the back of your tongue while you try and breathe through his strangling, tears spilling.

When he pulls back, slipping wet and heavy from your mouth you fall forward onto your palms, breathing fast, almost hyperventilating, stinging with the forced will to remain obedient. Your spine burns beneath your skin and your sore jaw hangs unwillingly open, sloppy mouth dripping a string of semen between your splayed palms.

He crouches before you, dripping cock like your mouth, milked to heavy softness hangs long and sated between his thighs. And he pets your crown, the vulnerable shell of your ear, whole body on fire so that every inch of skin hurts without his touch, hurts worse with it.

“Good girl,” he says now with voice.

The walk seems longer some days. A thousand miles plus an eon instead of merely three. Especially on the days you’re more desperate than usual. The ones when your stomach feels full of sugar for him and the memory taste of his cock is already aching in your molars. Those days your steps are hurried, look in your eyes frenzied to get to him, to escape the things you leave behind. A too full house, your sister’s squalling, teething baby, your little brothers, and too many mouths to feed and not attention to be had, not enough mother for everyone to get loved.

There’s reasons for this game between the two of you, you’d had to come out and find your attention somewhere else.

Your love too.

And if it comes with a sting sometimes, well, so had your mother’s. You like it like this now.

The first time he’d touched your cunt: show me that pretty pussy, baby, and he’d had you from that very first sweet word, you gonna let me finger it? You’d spread wide, leaked into the cup of his palm like a whore, you’d needed to make sure he was for keeping from the first try, you see. So you’d done all he’d said, taken four fingers and only cried a little bit but whined a lot. Been all, hurts, Joel, high pitched and dragging his name out on a puppy whimper.

He’d given you that first lesson in hurt the very first time: Yeah? Supposed to. A real mean man. And then made you gush into that very cupped palm so that he could drink of your sweetness.

The third mile comes to an end, the precursor, over, his house in view. It’s all quiet and slumbering and the long grass pulls you forward with its wind blown sway. The wide door to his shed is propped open, half finished rocking chair up on the workbench that sways with the intruding gust. The grass whispers behind you, the dark woods across the field moan, and he’s nowhere while the Tetons loom in the distance.

You drag your fingers along the slats of his house as you pass, everything is so quiet, like he’d never been here. Like he’d gone and left you the way he’s promised he’d never do. Your belly feels bloated with heat, heart turned into four incongruous chambers that no longer beat in tune, memories of him rioting between each thump. Your cunt goes soft and drooling in your panties as your fear beats higher and higher, and you come to the mouth of the shed, peering into the cool darkness of this little place where he makes his beautiful things. The things that go into people’s homes to be used by people’s families to be stored in people’s memories.

The gleam of the sun does not cross the threshold, and you brace your palms on either side of the wide door, the air thrums and he’s not here—yet—you slide the toe of Lucy’s old boot across the border of sunlight into sanctuary and peek your closed-eyed face into the shade right before you’re taken bodily to the ground by his heavy weight. Palms catching splinters, his strong chest heaves into the line of your spine, strong arm at your waist to pull your breath from your lungs and your legs from under you.

He forces you belly first to the ground, other hand circling your throat in the imitation of a strangle lest you lose yourself and decide to struggle for the first time ever. But you dig your fingernails into the dirt, scratching for purchase in preparation of what’s about to come, all the fight going out of you; body, half in shadow, half in sunlight. Your bones feel salt bleached. An over abundance of sodium in the blood that renders you catatonic for him.

He nuzzles soft at your nape while his hand shoves under your dress, ripping your underwear down your legs so that the elastic cuts into your tender skin to hurt. All incongruous movement, this man is.

“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to go creepin’ ‘round strange men’s homes?” His voice is so deep, drawled, broken up into different notes of lust and anger and temerity. All the strange things that make Joel Miller up.

Yeah, you sigh into the dirt. “Told me exactly how it’d go for me if I did.”

You hitch your rump up then, presenting your cunt for fucking. The breeze doesn’t do half to soothe the throbbing wet. The sort of ache that’ll only be fixed by something heavy inside the hurting place. The sound of his belt quiets the disparate chambers, the beat in your ears of rushing blood is uniform now, there’ll be a wet spot in the shape of you in the dirt when he’s through. You lift your hips higher, knees scraped rough as you spread wider, face pressed to the ground and your fingers are well and burrowed in their little gouges now.

He smacks the heft of it against you asshole, spits and presses a little. He likes to scare you sometimes. Nooo, Joel, all whining stutter, but with your back arching deeper like a little babied liar; you don’t mind where he puts it, only that he puts it somewhere.

“Hush,” he soothes all nice, spanks your ass once all not— “Gonna teach you a lesson.” And shoves inside, bumping against your womb on the first try, stretching your hole too wide, too quick. And there’s no prep, no qualm. No need to hesitate when you own a thing. You swallow your animal cry, ah ah ah, you want to hear how good you’ve been out loud. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise which is what you know he wants and fucks hard and fast, each swing whistles with ownership.

He fucks you in the dirt like an animal, and this affair is virtuous.

He teaches you the truth about hurting, about ownership, about so many things that only a man like Joel Miller could teach a girl like you. And all the while he tells you that you’re too pretty to take such an ugly fucking.

The way he works your cunt, hungry, balls swinging wet so that they sting like his slaps, tip battering hard so that it aches like gratitude.

These are the things three miles give you. A whole man to teach you about the whole world.

The slick squelch of your overwhelmed cunt sounds loud, no more disparate heartbeat, no more green grassed whispers. Only the sound of his grunting above you like an animal remains. “You’re the perfect little cunt. You know that, baby?” There it is, you sigh. Start to tremble around him like that, like his good baby that you are, desperate flutters, little gash being fucked into obedience like you need. Your overwhelmed pants make little dirt dream clouds before your eyes as you start to come for him, crying his name, crying your love, crying that you’re so, so thankful.

“Don’t stop, Joel. Not yet.” And he loves it when you beg, loves it when your cunt pulls tight like a knot.

“Not yet,” he promises because he might be a real mean man, but he loves you like separating salt from blood.

Complicated and precise.

When he’s through with you, there’s sunlight spilling over everything again. It’s journey goes on and on, and his semen drips from your cunt now. He turns gentle, thrusting still, making sure it’s fucked deep, pulsing in time with your own throb. Rhythms merge between the two of you.

His rules are strange, his claims over you equally mysterious. He won’t say things out loud, won’t let you touch any real part of him, but his strange truths ring loud anyways, and when your heart isn’t disjointed, you hear him perfectly well.

When he lays you out bare and trembling across his messy bed, the groaned pains of his age and rutting in the dirt like an animal sound from him as he drapes himself alongside you. Large and hairy, feet hanging off the end of the bed, entirely real with one knee propped up so that his thick cock lays heavy and soft over the swell of his belly. Your heart beats soft and overfull now.

You watch the sun set across the planes of his chest and bask in the blue dark as the night draws breath around you. The work of meting out obedience to little girls who come searching for it is toiling, and you watch him melt into sleep, but right before he’s just gone away from you, with a single finger petting at the jut of the old broken bone in his shoulder, your whispered plea: Will you give me a falseness? You don’t call it a lie. This is a virtuous thing, after all.

Lies aren’t allowed in this house.

He breathes a deep sigh, and you watch the fan of his long lashes sweep open, staring up at the shadowed rafters of his home. You swear you can see each and every individual whisker in his thick beard, dark and gray dispersed throughout. You see every single detail.

He’d told you once there were ghosts here, in this house, and you’d learned later it wasn’t a lie. This became more and more obvious the more you got to know him.

He stares up at them now.

When he’d taken your virginity, when it’d left you the way you’d always imagined it would, covered in tears and blood and semen, you’d made that promise to each other. That you wouldn't lie, that he’d have all of you, that you’d not touch all of him. The ghost lay beside you in the damp bed of your lost innocence that day. It’d been just so ever since and over many miles of three you’d come to appreciate the realities of it. Who could be more connected than two people who always tell each other their truths exactly as they are?

“Give me a falseness,” you say again, not a lie.

“A good kind or a bad kind?”

You flip a mind’s coin, wish you could see the exact ghosts he sees— “Bad.”

He turns to look at you, this half smile he wears is your second favorite one now, the honest one, and it’s all there for you to see. All the disparate chambers of Joel, just like your heart beating in your ears. You suppose the ghosts don’t matter then.

“I don’t love you.”

And you nod solemn. Bad, like a whisper, like your game.

You smile back, the one you know he likes best, the one that looks like his.

Netherfeildren’s Masterlist

Updates Blog

#vic fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller smut #joel miller #the last of us AU

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pleucas · 9 months ago

Note

If your still looks for requests the casino owner 🙏🙏🙏 please 🙏🙏🙏

Your art is so prettyy but idk if you’ve drawn him yet

:0 actually i just drew sigma for some IG requests... guess i'll post some of em here too aha

here she is. luv her... she was very fun to draw actually (i thought the hair would destroy me but it was actually quite nice) and her fit is one of the best in the series no joke. maybe i'll do more...?

yosano!

higuchiiii

lucy <3 also a really fun fit to draw

🥹

& cow boy!

feel free to send in more reqs <3 i'll get to them eventually promise

#casasks #pleuquests #new tag wow #(for requests!)

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runningfrom2am · 1 year ago

Text

leveling the playing field X

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there

masterlists // nav // requests

a/n: hi all!! i have some slightly annoying news (I'm so sorry) but i think i have to close my taglist for this fic and for other coryo stuff (which i am working on bc I've seen the requests!!) bc its gone up almost 150 people and i can only tag 50 people per post and it is SO much work to tag everyone individually even after i paste them in and i don't want to have to reblog it 2 or 3 times to tag everyone :(. I'm so sorry like i said ik its annoying but if you'd like to be the first to know ab new parts and you're not already in my taglist, feel free to turn on my post notifs!! that way you'll also see everything else including my asks ab the fic where i answer more questions and we talk theories and all that fun stuff :)

next part

Coriolanus was having a hard time adjusting to the life of a peacekeeper, but he was getting there. He sent off that letter for you almost as soon as he arrived, but was yet to receive a response so that seemed like an answer enough. He had to forget you, especially if he wasn't going back to the Capitol anytime soon.

He was homesick, to say the very least. Both of his bunkmates were out, likely working, but he didn't care much to know exactly where. He was just relieved to have a moment to himself to wallow in his self-pity, chest constricting tighter and tighter with every breath.

A door slammed shut down the hall, followed quickly by his own door opening- at which he held his breath. He had to get it together.

"Is this bunk taken?" Someone asks, a voice not belonging to either of his bunkmates, but he recognizes it nonetheless.

He shot up straight, taking in the appearance of the boy in front of him. "Sejanus!" He had never been happier to see his classmate, hopping out of his top bunk to quickly give him a hug.

"This is a surprisingly warm welcome for someone who almost got you killed." Sejanus chuckled, hugging him back.

Coryo laughs slightly, pulling away and grabbing his shoulders. "Oh, no. Quite the opposite. What are you doing here?"

"About the same as you." He shrugs, sliding his things under the bed below Coryo's. "They were going to expel me, but my dad paid them for my grad certificate and let them send me here. They got a new gym on the condition that they let us both graduate."

Coryo should be relieved, but a graduation certificate doesn't matter much if he's stuck here for the next twenty years. "And Y/N/N?" He asks.

"Y/N?" Sejanus asks, lifting his head back in confusion. "What about her?"

"Did she graduate too?"

"I... I don't know, I didn't know she was in trouble. We were told she was sick."

Coriolanus's stomach drops. That's a story he'd certainly heard before, and he didn't like at all how that ended. He swallows, nodding a little bit as he looks at the floor. "So you didn't see her at all?"

"No... Not since the last time I saw you." Sejanus states. It had been a few weeks now. "But, her mother came to our door a week or so ago, real early in the morning. Ma shooed me away but I heard them talking, it seemed like she didn't know where Y/N was either. She was looking for her, wondering if any of us had seen her."

Again, this is what Coryo had seen before with what happened to Clemensia. Her parents weren't allowed to see her at all while she was in the hospital. "I think she's dead." He admits.

"What? What makes you say that?" His friend gasps.

"I... I heard her screaming when I left our meeting with Highbottom." Coriolanus explains. "At first it was normal Y/N screaming, you know, but then it got worse and worse until it just... stopped." He hoped Sejanus would change his story, that he would remember seeing you at school or on the streets or at one of your parent's obnoxious parties, having a good time, and being yourself. That maybe he had just forgotten, but the look on Sejanus's face tells him that didn't happen.

It was Sejanus's turn to look down now, giving a solemn nod. "I mean, no." He laughs suddenly, shaking his head. "They wouldn't kill her on campus- if you could hear it, she's not dead. They wouldn't kill her just like that, right?" He says, trying to convince himself of that truth. "Surely she's just sick. Maybe grounded, or something."

"Yeah, yeah. Probably..." Coriolanus concedes, hoping that somehow Sejanus was right.

Simultaneously, you were adjusting beautifully to life in District Twelve. You got in the habit of borrowing Lucy Gray and Barb Azure's clothes, and they let you sleep on the floor between their beds. For the first time in your life, you were free. No one knew you, no one had a single expectation of you besides Tam Amber appreciating your help with the goats and occasionally going to the market with Lucy Gray and Maude Ivory to get food. It was refreshing, to say the very least. Everyday you felt yourself unwinding more and more.

"Do you play any instruments, Y/N?" Maude Ivory asks you, skipping to catch up to you as you hike down a trail out to the lake with the rest of the covey.

"I do, actually." You nod at her, a small smile on your face. "Try three."

"Three!" She claps excitedly. "What do you play? You'll have to perform with us! Do they have different instruments where you're from?"

"Not really." You giggle, putting your hands in the pockets of your bright red skirt. "I play the piano, and the violin, which is just like Clerk Carmine's fiddle, but much more boring, and a harp, if you've ever heard of that."

"You play the fiddle?" The young girl smiles.

"Not like he does." You smile at the boy as he walks ahead of you, not paying any attention.

"I'm sure you're just as well." Lucy Gray interjects, bumping her shoulder with yours as she walks next to you. "Maude Ivory, you should hear her projection. I'm yet to hear her sing, but boy, can she yell."

"I can't sing." You laugh, shaking your head. "Back home you don't sing unless you're training for the opera, and you have to start that around the same time you learn to walk. My parents would rather me learn the piano."

"Then why am I the one yellin' at all our shows? You should step up." Maude Ivory giggles, and you just shake your head, ruffling her hair.

"I definitely couldn't do it nearly as well as you." You insist. "Besides, I have stage fright." You joke, mostly to get her off your back.

She laughs as she fixes her hair, running to catch up with the kids in front of her.

"She just adores you." Lucy Gray smiles. "It's nice to have a new face around."

You smile, watching Maude Ivory collect flowers from the side of the road. "She reminds me of my brother. They're about the same age."

"Right, you lent me his guitar." Lucy Gray says, a particular sadness in her tone tipping you off that she believes you should be upset about leaving him. You miss him, sure, but he's better off now with you gone. Besides, he couldn't be any worse than you. Your parents have always doted over him, and there's no doubt in your mind that now that you are gone, it's multiplied.

"Yes. That's him." You reply, accompanying a moment of silence between the two of you.

"Do you miss him?"

"Sure." You nod, kicking a small stone down the path in front of you. "But he's better off without me there. That brings me enough peace to sleep at night."

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." You smile at her, grateful for the change of topic.

"What happened to Coriolanus?" For the first time in weeks, you feel a pinch of discontent in your gut at her question.

"I don't know." You lie, shrugging your shoulders. You don't even know why you felt the urge to lie at all, you knew he was here somewhere but you hadn't seen him once. Out of sight, out of mind is what you have been trying to convince yourself. "He's alive, I'm sure. Peacekeeping in one of the districts probably."

"Oh, I was hoping you would know more."

"It would be nice." You agree. "But he's not exactly in my good graces at the moment."

"It feels so out of character for him to betray you like that, doesn't it?" Lucy Gray asks.

You laugh, shaking your head. "It was unusual. That's what I thought, anyway." You sigh, giving a slight shrug. "I haven't told anyone, but we had... I don't know, a moment, a few weeks ago. During the games. Just a couple of days later and he's throwing me under the bus like I meant nothing to him. We've been friends for years- I thought everything was about to change for the better, and then..."

"That's cruel." She says disapprovingly. "I bet he's sorry now that you're gone with the wind. He's regretting it. I promise you that much."

You smile slightly at the thought, allowing yourself to entertain it, if only for a moment. "He better be."

"Is that for me? Oh, c'mon y'all, you know that I gave up drinkin' when I was twelve..." Lucy Gray says, taking a sip out of the clear liquor bottle someone in the audience handed to her. "Oh, It's to clear my pipes, just to clear my pipes." She clarifies, tossing the bottle back into the audience.

Coriolanus watches leaning against the side wall of The Hob. He's happy to see that Lucy Gray is back to doing what she loved, and she made it home alive and well. He's also more than pleased to finally get off the barracks for something other than work. "Now, who's ready for a song, huh?" She smiles, looking down off the stage to her right. "Okay, comin' right up. First, I'd like to introduce to the stage with a big welcome, a grand ole friend of mine, The lovely Sage!" She says, giggling at her rhyme as another girl climbs up on stage, giving Maude Ivory and Lucy Gray a quick hug each.

Coriolanus looks away as the crowd cheers, scanning the crowd for Sejanus who had just excused himself to grab a drink a couple minutes ago. He's wondering where his roommate could have disappeared to when Lucy Gray's friend starts speaking.

"Well hello, everyone, so lovely to meet you all! I have never felt so welcome anywhere." His head snaps back to the stage. He'd know that Capitol accent anywhere, even as you pause to allow any cheers to quiet down. "I mean that." You grin, hands clutched to your chest. "And that feels so good, considering Lucy Gray all but forced me up here." You laugh, draping an arm over her shoulder, letting her take back over. How could this be real? Coryo is tempted to rub his eyes or pinch himself to make sure he's even awake. He was so sure you were dead, but despite the different name and completely different clothes, he was positive it was you. The pang in his chest made that obvious, along with the wave of surrealism that suddenly surrounded him so all he could see was you.

"Now, my beautiful girl Sage here will be taking over for our friend on the fiddle, we'll give the band a quick break, and we're gonna have a bit of a change of pace while she's lending us her talents." Lucy Gray says, and Coriolanus watches as you take the beat-up violin from the young boy gratefully. He knew you played, but he hadn't heard it for years. You looked so calm, something he wasn't sure he had seen in public since you were young. He can't pull his eyes from your figure as it graces the stage with your presence, lighting up the room even if it was only for him.

A small smile grows on his face as you start to play, several whistles echoing through the room before Lucy Gray even joins in with her singing. He wants to scream, to cheer and clap and yell and tell everyone in this dark, rundown building that this 'Sage' was his. Inarguably and undoubtedly his. Coryo's pride is only curtailed when he recognizes the song; it was the ballad Lucy Gray played in her interview on your brother's guitar.

The sophistication your violin playing brought to the piece almost made it sadder and infinitely more haunting. It's beautiful. Now with your classical touch, the song sets a pit of guilt in his stomach. That somehow, even without you singing, it's now a ballad from you to him.

"Just let me remind you what I am to you..."

He makes eye contact with Lucy Gray as he shifts his gaze away from you. She pauses for only a moment, hands still moving rhythmically over the strings of her guitar. She smiles and nods at him, jaw slightly agape as she glances back at you to see if you noticed him. When it's clear you haven't, she gets back on track with the words within only a moment.

"'Cause I am the one who looks out when you're leaping. I am the one who knows how you were brave..." Your lips turn up in a small smile as she sings, eyes still shut while you focus. Even though he's sure you're thinking of him, it doesn't bring him much consolation. Well, at least you were thinking of him. He would take it.

The song ends as quickly as it starts, and despite the slower tone, the audience is still excited. More so as the band returns to the stage and you return the violin to Clerk Carmine before turning back around to give a bow. You wave out to the audience, reveling in the whistles and praise before reaching out for an extended hand, accepting it as its owner helps you down. "That was stunnin', where'd you learn to play like that? I've never heard anything quite like it." The man asks, still holding your hand out in between you.

"Oh, thank you. I've been playing my whole life." You grin as the music picks up again.

"Can you dance like you can play?" He asks, lifting your arm to spin you.

"I can certainly try." You laugh, going along with it as he pulls you into a more open space of the crowd, and to Coriolanus, it seems like you're taunting him. You're dancing like you don't have a care in the world, dressed in a skirt that looked like it was made out of a red bed sheet cut up and stitched back together in half-hazard squares, and what looked like one of your t-shirts cut up into a tank top that exposes most of your stomach and back. Appallingly too, a smile present on your face that he had dreamt of seeing again one day but was certain he never would. The only problem is that you're dancing with someone else. Not that he was much of a dancer, but he could try if he had known that's what you wanted.

He's planning his method of attack. He can't leave without speaking to you, because he doesn't even know if you'll be back here the next time he gets a day off. Though, based on your appearance and newfound carelessness, it's likely.

His urge is just to kiss you, but the only thing holding him back is that it could set you off. If you hadn't heard his apology from miles away, would you still be angry at him? But actions speak louder than words. He knows that physicality works with you, and it was hard to deny that he hadn't dreamt of how soft your lips felt on his for weeks. One time was just simply not enough for Coryo.

Coriolanus scowls as the man you're dancing with spins you again, making you laugh as he drapes an arm around your waist.

Maybe he should get Sejanus, see if he's seen you yet.

Another spin, and a hand sliding lower down your bare back as the man pulls you closer, his fingers landing on the waistband of your skirt. When was the last time that scumbag had so much as washed his hands? Coryo wonders to himself, rage boiling up under his skin.

Kiss her. Definitely kiss her.

But if the song choice was any indicator, you definitely weren't pleased with him. It couldn't be, though, because how would you know he would be in attendance? Coryo finds his feet carrying him through the crowd, pushing past a dozen carelessly drunk people in his effort to get to you before he's even thought it all through.

Your brow furrows as a body forces itself between you and your dancing partner. "Hey! What are you-" You cut yourself off, hypnotized by the cold blue eyes staring down at you.

That's my girl. Even though you're angry, Coriolanus is grateful to be the object of your gaze once more.

"'Scuse me, man, do you mind?" The man says, making an effort to push Coryo away. He turns, and before you can intervene he's swinging his fist right at the other guy's face, finding its target in a fraction of a second.

He stumbles back, grabbing his face as it immediately drips blood from his nose onto the floor. There are gasps in the crowd as it disperses around you.

"Hey, settle down, settle down now." You hear Lucy Gray call out amidst the music playing in the background while you grab the back of Coryo's shirt, pulling him back before he continues to beat up your dancing partner.

"Coriolanus, what are you doing here?" You shout over the music. He shakes out his fist, turning back to you now and grabbing your face, pulling you closer to kiss you instead of dignifying you with a response. His actions would certainly speak louder.

You want to be angry, but that falters as you feel his lips on yours again, his hands planted firmly on either side of your waist as he holds onto you so tight you weren't sure breathing was an option- even if you could. You followed him here, of course you wanted to see him, but how could he betray you so easily and expect forgiveness in a kiss?

It takes you longer than it probably should to build up the courage to place your hands on his chest, shoving him back. "What is wrong with you?" You spit, looking him up and down in the blue uniform signified of a peacekeeper off duty.

"What's wrong with me?" He asks, looking around and gauging how many people were even taking notice. "What do you mean, Y/N/N, I wanted to-" Clearly you hadn't heard his silent apology, or it just wasn't enough.

"Hey!" You hiss, jumping at him and attempting to cover his mouth at the use of your nickname, and he quickly swats away your hand. "Let's go. Outside, now." You shove him back by his chest, pointing towards the exit.

You look up at Lucy Gray on stage, still singing as she watches you nervously. You give her a nod and a small reassuring smile before linking arms with Coryo and guiding him toward the door. Just like old times.

taglist: @keziahcore, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @gloryekaterina, @andrewgarfieldsbitch, @queenofspades6, @pepperonipastas, @ladybug0095, @lunamothwrites, @sbrewer21, @mus-tbe-a-weasley, @splxtscreen, @unclecrunkle, @karmaswitch, @coconut-dreamz, @nekee-lilac02, @ooooglymoooogly, @riddlerloveb0t, @lovedbalances, @notyourwildestdream, @snowlandson-top, @too-lit-for-fanfic, @utopiakys, @deafeningballoonnacho, @roosterschanelslut, @chmpgneprblem, @cosmoetik, @lauravanderbooben20, @dry0campa, @luclue, @lokidala, @urvampgfsworld, @carolanns-world @nan-nie, @shakespearseclipse, @iovemoonyy, @notyoursweetheart-honey, @xyzstar, @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland, @queenofshinigamis, @elodiebeau, @soulessjourney

i've closed my taglist for coryo now!! sorry to everyone who wanted to be added, but unfortunately there was significantly more demand than i expected and i sadly just cant tag everyone. BUT! if you still want notifications when i post for this fic, please turn on my post notifs!!

#tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games #thg fanfic #thg fanfiction #thg series #coryo snow

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gudvina · 1 month ago

Note

Your point about SC and the noble poor trope is so important and needs to be discussed more in fandom actually.

One of the things I struggled with most about the book was that LD was put on such a high pedestal her beliefs were meant to be seen as correct and virtuous but the issue is that Suzanne Collins was locked into having Maysilee and Haymitch team up. So we end up with Maysilee (who is a great character and the only thing I like about the book other than wyatt) who is sort of written with the reformed mean girl trope but then we also have LD who hates her because of her status and we’re not supposed to disagree with LD based on how she’s written the narrative is contradicting itself.

If SC could’ve just let LD be a flawed character it would’ve been a great opportunity to delve further into how division within the districts actually prevents rebellion and benefits the capitol. We could’ve explored more about the themes that were introduced in the first book with gales treatment of Madge.

Idk I’m biased because I love Maysilee as a character and dislike LD (not even speaking about them as love interests just as characters) and people refuse to acknowledge that LD’s hatred of Maysilee is unfair. Also her owning a caged canary is supposed to parallel Haymitch in a cage except Maysilee herself is in a cage too? Like she’s from the districts and is a tribute and is maybe better off than other people in district 12 but like she’s still a victim of the capitol and people refuse to acknowledge that? Idk I can’t stand the Maysilee haters out there LD included lmao

I also believe that showing Lenore Dove as a complex, flawed character would have benefitted way more to the story than the portrayal she had on Sunrise on the Reaping.

The way her character was written didn't leave any room for discussions, she was a sort of messiah who was rebellious in a reckless, inefficient way. A noble pure girl who was beautiful, smelled like honeysuckle, played the piano, was able to read proficiently but was also so poor she couldn't eat. She's written as the missing link between Lucy Gray and Katniss Everdeen. We are supposed to feel for her, admire her intelligence, be intrigued by her mystery, feel the ominous meaning of her words because, and that's important, it's all tied to a higher purpose.

And yet, she falls flat because her writing was inconsistent, underdeveloped and, at some point, incoherent. That pedestal she was put on by the narrative does nothing to help this, instead it just highlights these problems and makes her character feel even emptier than it could have been had she not been mentioned every two lines.

On the contrary Maysilee, the reformed mean girl as you rightly called her, was just a girl who happened to not be from the Seam, but instead from the Merchant Area, and because of that (and the fact that people have been interested in her dynamic with Haymitch, colliding with Lenore Dove's character) her writing considerably undermined the importance of her character in favour of Lenore Dove's. She's the owner of the mockingjay pin but she hates it, apparently, so much that Haymitch feels it appropriate to mention how Lenore Dove would have been glad to have it herself. The mockingjay pin. What would one day become the symbol of the rebellion that frees the District, not anymore associated to Maysilee only, but also to Lenore Dove. She is judged constantly by Haymitch and Lenore Dove and constantly implied to be like Capitols just because she's well off, when she's actually the real rebel of this story. Lenore Dove's rebellion is closer to Gale Hawthorne's than to Katniss Everdeen's, but Maysilee's acts of rebellion feel more real, more powerful and, in a way, they have a higher impact on the story.

These parallels between Gale and Lenore Dove could have been explored and could have given the latter much more complexity, but Suzanne Collins was afraid to go that way because she didn't want the reader to dislike her, she wanted the reader to root for Lenore Dove. And for people to make twitter posts about her haunting the narrative.

Especially considered the fact that Lenore Dove is like that™ because of what she was told about Lucy Gray, someone she idolised herself and wants to imitate.

This book could have gone a different way. Could have been a little more subversive than the others, but for that Suzanne Collins should have put some effort in writing it, and ultimately its main purpose wasn't to send a message but to make a few more pennies to add to her wallet.

#anti lenore dove #maysilee donner #haymitch abernathy #sunrise on the reaping spoilers #anti sunrise on the reaping #anti sotr #the hunger games

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alexxncl · 8 months ago

Text

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 48 SPOILERS‼️

before reading this...i feel like shit is about to hit the fan idk. the last part of the science fair can't be all sunshine and roses

...

SIGH

my brother in christ the lesson JUST STARTED 🧍🏾

maybe it's the remnants of simeon's angelic nature clashing with the magic solomon used on him. everyone says that solomon is slowly losing what's left of his humanity bc of how long he's been alive, along with the fact that that he went to cocytus and came back alive

or maybe i'm just yapping

simeon: *whatever tf just happened*

luci: mc, i need to talk to you

mc: omg i love you too babe 🫶🏽

like ?? 😭 mc is hilarious i fear

IS HE A DEMON NOW ????? i wanna say i'm surprised but i'm not. i just wonder how the story's gonna play out if they go that route

more on this here

luci trusting satan's judgment bc he's one of the most trustworthy of his brothers and the most similar to him

:((((

but also luci??? HELLO??? whore behavior we love to see it 😌 give me more

but also maybe not bc what if he copes with his negative emotion through sex ??? the whole family needs therapy

the siblings ever. i love them

this is so interesting to me

i wanna ask how the rest of them didn't figure it out sooner, but they all probably went into "protective brother" mode as soon as they realized he didn't have his angelic powers to protect himself anymore. solomon didn't have those kinds of ties to simeon, so he was able to act on and use logic in a more effective way than the brothers would be able to, figuring out that something was wrong before anyone else

solomon assuming that simeon is oblivious to what's going on though? i feel like he's too smart for that to be true. if anything, he's probably either DEEP in denial, too stubborn to bring it up hc he doesn't wanna worry anyone, or mentally wrestling with the fact that he finally got what he wanted - to be with the brothers in the devildom after their fall - but at the cost of his identity

i know i'm reading too far into this, but do the boys really think that lowly of demons (themselves)?

like yes, some demons of lower and higher stature are the absolute worst people you'll ever encounter, but the brothers and diavolo and barbatos and probably numerous other demons are proof that you aren't defined by your physiology or designation or identity or anything like that

some angels act worse than the lowest of demons do, but they're still angels. being a certain race doesn't determine your personality or moral standing, it's who you are as a person

ngl idk what to make of this yet, but i feel like it's important. foreshadowing even. so i'm keeping it here

baby no :( he's doing it to protect you

i love and hate the way simeon is so protective of luke. on one hand, that's basically his son, so i get wanting to shield him from the worst parts of the world and the worst parts of yourself

but on the other, luke is his own person, too. adults tend to forget that kids don't exist as an extension of themselves, but as people trying to find their place in the world. they aren't as naive and are way smarter than most people give them credit for

luke not voicing his concern is a result of and will continue to result in simeon shutting him out under the guise of protecting him, when in reality it's only putting more of a strain on their relationship

ngl i AUDIBLY laughed at that first part bc what 😭

also why would they cut the lesson off here ??? obey me devs when i catch you

i'm honestly so happy the sf arc shifted to something else bc i was getting tired of the happy shit. give me ANGST /lh /hj

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voxslays · 5 months ago

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okay so I have an idea for a fic-

so basically reader is Charlie’s mom (Lillith exists but is like Charlie’s aunt or a family friend or sm). Anyways, the reader has Charlie and one of the angel shows up a short while later. Yeah, the angels are pretty pissed that Lucifer and reader had a child—because they don’t wan’t them to feel anything but negative emotions for the rest of eternity—and decided to punish them (more specifically Lucifer bc they hate him more) in fear that they would rise up against the heavens.

The catch is, instead of killing both you and Charlie on the spot or locking you away, they put a curse on the reader (could be any curse, but I’m thinking a sleeping curse or sm), however, (and fortunately) the curse doesn’t really affect you yet. The angels are like “haahahaha lucifer we are taking away the love of ur life hahahahaha.” But way more regal and annoying—Lucifer gets pretty protective over the reader and starts to get a little depressed. I mean he is gonna loose his wife after all! Thanks a lot heaven.

Also, if it does go the sleeping beauty route—idk if the reader would prick her finger on a spinning wheel, or how that would even work, bc let’s be honest, Lucifer would use his powers to completely destroy every spinning wheel in existence just to save his loved ones lives—the reader could be in a trance-like state and touch the spinning wheel unknowingly???

But one day the curse takes over your body, and you just fall asleep (like sleeping beauty 😝) and Lucifer can’t wake you. So that’s what causes his depression and isolation from hell. Fast forward to seven years later, you are still asleep—in some glass case somewhere (in the castle) for extra pizzazz—and Lucifer visits you, and it’s like super angsty. You may be asleep, but Lucifer makes sure there are imp or hellhound guards outside the room your asleep in 24/7.

Another fairytale kinda route is Snow White. Maybe one of the angels transforms into a Luci look-alike and gives the reader the apple, and she would take it because she obviously trusts her husband. And what kind of fruit is Lucifer associated with? Apples. She probably views it as a sentimental gift of some sort—well jokes on you, it’s poisoned. Like the sleeping beauty route, I think Lucifer would be trying desperately to find a cure to the poison—and maybe avoid apples??? Again, idk.

Also Charlie doesn’t know what happened to her mother, she just thinks you disappeared randomly one day, because Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to tell her, although when they reconnect in dad beat dad he would probably tell her then, also Charlie is 100% more stressed—not only trying to help redeem sinners—but to find a cure for her mom. After the season one battle, Lucifer (with the help of the hotel residents after they find out about the curse) to wake you.

HOWEVER, the angels that cursed you—who may or may not have been Adam and Sera (or maybe god?? Or micheal?? I haven’t thought that far ahead yet)—try to stop them. Maybe when the reader wakes up they don’t even remember they have a family…and for a dramatic turn, they fall in love with…ALASTOR!?? DUN DUN DUN?? Our poor boy Luci is super upset and tries to get the reader to fall in love with him again, which might take some time.

Overall, it’s super angsty but has a happy ending…eventually. Dw, I would NEVER write a story with an angsty ending. It would make me cry. However, I have seen a couple other Hazbin stories include alternate endings—which I could totally do if you guys were up for that. Anyways...

Sorry if this is too wordy, I wanted to get all my ideas onto this post and wasn’t sure the best way to format it. But oh well.

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lewkwoodnco · 10 months ago

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guardian angel - lockwood x reader

As a Visitor lingering in 35 Portland Row, you can’t help but worry over Lockwood and his reckless ways

He caught a familiar Visitor trying to wrench open a warm can of beer left on the kitchen table. So far, it seemed that she had only been successful in vigorously shaking it up. She had been too engrossed to notice Lockwood walking in, so she was just startled enough for him to swipe the can out of her barely-there grasp.

"Nice try. Maybe when you turn 18."

She groaned. She had been so close. "Technically speaking, I'm 87 years old."

"Technically speaking, you're dead."

a/n: might fuck around and make this a series idk idk also halfway through I realised the reader would be classified as a type three i think? but lockwood can’t talk to type threes so let’s just pretend she’s the only one he can talk to

tropes/warnings: angst, a lil fluff, slight slight hurt/comfort, descriptions of injury, visitor!reader

word count: 3.8k!

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

Anthony Lockwood had one rule and one rule only when it came to psychical investigations - there was no such thing as a friendly Visitor. And for the most part, he abided by it. But every rule has its exception, and this one came in the form of a sharp-eyed Type Three not much older than himself.

On this particular evening, the trio had just returned from a particularly draining case. George padded down to the basement to put away their iron chains while Lucy headed for the kitchen to put the kettle on. Lockwood winced as he peeled his coat off, heavy with decades-old dust and soot. He shuffled into the nearly pitch-dark living room, visibly unwinding as he sank into his favourite armchair. But he knew better than to hope for some peace and quiet just yet. Almost immediately, the hair at the back of his neck prickled not uncomfortably as he cast his eyes around. The air shifted, and he looked up just in time to see a familiar face materialise.

“Butter-fingered Locky nicked himself?”

He smiled weakly, carefully pulling his shoes off with his good arm. A shallow gash ran through his left bicep where something had ripped through his coat and shirt. The Visitor fiddled with some trinkets on the mantle above the fireplace with a carefully crafted air of nonchalance, occasionally glancing at his face expectantly.

“Broken window. Some of the glass ripped through my coat.”

“Ooh. How dramatic,” she teased playfully. He reached for the first-aid kit on the coffee table, pulling out the disinfectant and bandages he needed one-handed. He tentatively dabbed at the wound, twisting his torso uncomfortably as he struggled to bandage it up.

“Shouldn’t you be getting someone else to do that for you?”

He looked up and arched an eyebrow. “Why? Are you offering your services?”

She grinned, her face creasing into a light-hearted expression he found oddly relieving. She opened her mouth to reply when the living room door creaked, and the warm light of the hallway flooded the living room. Lockwood jerked his head up as she flattened herself against the fireplace, much less opaque now. George was standing at the door, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the living room.

“How’s the arm?”

Lockwood grimaced, carefully checking how sore it was. “Could be worse.”

George nodded absent-mindedly, wandering towards some files haphazardly stacked on the coffee table. Lockwood turned back to see her watching his wound thoughtfully, a gentle frown marring her face.

"That’s got to hurt. I think. It's been a while since I…you know.”

"How did you die?" Lockwood asked in a low voice. Instantly, her concern evaporated. Her eyes darted towards George, pouring over those files only a few feet away from them, with mock severity.

"Hmm. Pneumonia, I believe."

She batted her eyes at him coquettishly and, as was routine, vanished into thin air. She didn't like giving him straight answers in general, and never for that question. One day it would be typhoid, the next frostbite, and then the Plague, and so on. Still, maybe one day she’d blurt it out without thinking, and so Lockwood kept asking.

She had been haunting 35 Portland Row from before Lockwood's parents had moved in. As a child, before his Sight had fully developed, he always had an inkling that something was there, hiding in the shadows. She had watched his mother mark out his height on the wall year after year. She had watched him scrape his knee barrelling down the front porch steps when he was five. She had watched his father chase him around the front yard on Saturday mornings. She had watched him grieve the family stolen from him. She had watched him stumble around, figuring out what to do with himself, night after night.

And so began her little acts of kindness. It was only because she was bored, she had told herself. A flare burn on his coat mysteriously mended seemingly overnight. The kitchen table flowers never seemed to wilt despite his forgetful watering habits. The orange juice carton was always put away in the refrigerator, even on nights when he was too exhausted to remember if he did. She had never meant to get this emotionally invested. Eventually, when he started noticing things were rarely where he had left them, he began to pick up more on her presence.

The first time she had materialised in front of him was when a 14-year-old Lockwood had yelled into the abyss that was an empty 35 Portland Row in the middle of the night, threatening to snuff her out for good if she didn't show herself. However, as far as 14-year-old boys went, Lockwood was not particularly menacing, so it was more pitiful than frightening.

Still, the Problem had been relatively new when she had kicked the bucket, and she was nothing if not curious to a fault. He hadn't seemed to have expected her to actually show up, given the deer-in-headlights look on his face when his nervous brown eyes met her shining, lifeless ones. She had an inkling that the threat had been an empty one, because as much as he pretended otherwise, Anthony Lockwood never hurt anyone or anything as long as he could help it.

“I don’t understand,” he had whispered, looking terribly vexed, a strain to his pale features. “I’ve never felt any malaise from you. I don’t even feel it now. How could you -?”

She had shrugged. Her guess was as good as his. Probably worse, since she hadn’t had access to half of the numerous books written about the Problem in her time.

After the first time she had materialised, he had resolved to find her Source and end the whole affair. But as their friendship blossomed, his resolve weakened, until eventually he decided it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to let a harmless Visitor like her lurking around. That isn’t to say they never slipped up around the others. If George himself wasn't so prone to talking to himself, he might have picked up on Lockwood seemingly muttering to no one in the pitch-black darkness of his room being odd.

Since then, she started showing up more and more frequently, as early in the day as she was able to. This one evening, she had shown up as Lockwood had been cutting a slice of treacle tart to go with his cup of tea.

"Tony." Lockwood flinched. The air near him shimmered as she materialised, laughing, perched on the kitchen table. She enjoyed startling him more than any decent person should. Lockwood eyed her warily, mildly peeved.

"I've told you, it's Lockwood now."

"Yeah, yeah, but I've got nothing better to do for the next, hmm, I don't know, forever. This is my only entertainment, you know" she said, staring dolefully at the treacle tart. He followed her line of sight.

"I thought you didn't like treacle tart."

"I don't," she sighed exaggeratedly, unfolding her legs from beneath her, "but if I were still alive, I'd be able to give it a second chance, wouldn't I?"

He rolled his eyes and tossed a fork at her, and she gave a playful shriek of laughter as it flew through her.

Occasionally, it had crossed his mind that perhaps he was being selfish by keeping her here. He didn't know any more than the next person about what 'the next world' was, if it even existed, but in the psychical investigation industry, it was generally agreed upon that putting a Visitor to rest was the closest they could come to moving on. Despite the blades and gunpowder involved, freeing Visitors from their eternal agony was almost humane.

He didn't mind however she addressed him after that evening.

There was an old mansion right on the outskirts of London that was infamous for being impossibly haunted, earning it the nickname “Hell’s Manor.” Many agencies, including Fittes and Rotwell, had tried their hand at ridding the place of the supernatural phenomena, with little luck. It was only a matter of time before it was their turn.

“The main problem with Hell’s Manor,” George was saying over lunch after spending the morning at the Archives, “is how much the Visitors interfere with the investigation. More than half of them are Type Two’s, and according to the few survivors, they could barely see their teammates, let alone speak to them.”

The three of them glumly picked at their ghormeh sabzi, weighed down by the complexity of the case. “So what do we do?” Lucy finally asked.

“We could…” George glanced cautiously at Lockwood before continuing. “We could always turn down the job.”

Lockwood didn’t look too appreciative of that suggestion. He set his jaw, stabbing at his lunch with a bit more force than necessary.

“Fine,” George relented. “Let’s give it some more thought. We’ll pick this up again next week.”

As George started on the dishes after lunch, Lockwood wandered over to the living room where George’s extensive, meticulous notes were scattered across the coffee table. Hell’s Manor was no joke, and George’s extreme attention to detail was a testament to that.

Lockwood scanned the notes thoughtfully. A nagging, reckless idea began to take root in his mind. He doubted any agency in their right mind had considered sending in only one agent, not with the horror stories chronicling the place. But what if…what if it was such a terrible idea, that it just might work? Lockwood was not one to doubt the power of sheer dumb luck, not when it had gotten him this far.

He heard the kitchen floorboards creak. He surreptitiously snuck a few of the sheets up to the library, where he started drawing out some plans of his own.

A few hours later, he caught a familiar Visitor trying to wrench open a warm can of beer left on the kitchen table. So far, it seemed that she had only been successful in vigorously shaking it up. She had been too engrossed to notice Lockwood walking in, so she was just startled enough for him to swipe the can out of her barely-there grasp.

"Nice try. Maybe when you turn 18."

She groaned. She had been so close. "Technically speaking, I'm 87 years old."

"Technically speaking, you're dead."

She pulled a face. "Boo." She turned to get a proper look at him and frowned at the sight of him nearly fully decked out in equipment. “Hang on,” she said, “I thought you didn’t have any cases tonight.”

Lockwood tried to appear engrossed in whatever he was reading. “Lucy and George don’t have any cases tonight,” he said far too casually without looking up.

“This better not be about Hell’s Manor,” she said in a flat voice, no trace of humour in her voice now. He didn’t reply, avoiding her gaze.

“Lockwood. Promise me you’re not going to Hell’s Manor tonight. Alone.”

When he still didn’t reply, she laughed humourlessly, as if she refused to believe it.

“Are you completely mental? Did you not listen to a word George said at lunch? Even I’m too nervous to hang about riff-raff like them, and I’m just about as dead as it gets.”

“It’s easier this way. Trust me.” She watched him stuff more flares into his gear belt than it could comfortably allow. “You can’t miscommunicate with anyone if there isn’t anyone to communicate with.”

“Lockwood,” she said mournfully, “they’ll eat you alive.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said tersely. “I’ll be in and out in a jiffy. And if you know what’s good for you,” he hurriedly added, recognising the defiant look brewing on her face, “you’ll stay away.”

“Loc-“

“I mean it, Y/N. Stay out of this.” Lockwood stared hard at her as her mouth pressed into a thin, flat line. He was impossible to reason with when he had his heart set on doing something like this.

He turned, heading straight for the front door, pausing only at the rapier stand while her protests fell on deaf ears. In a haze of desperation, she slipped in between him and the door, as if she had enough substance to bodily block him from leaving. Without thinking, she stuck a translucent hand out to stop him. A translucent hand that, if Lockwood hadn't reflexively flinched, would have passed straight to him, and stopped his heart.

They stood there frozen for a moment, paralysed by shock and the terrifying almost-tragedy. Regret washed over her like waves crashing against a shore as she internally berated herself for being so careless. She was the first to break the silence, sharply sucking in an airless breath as she squeezed her eyes shut. "Crap. I didn't mean to -"

"So that's how it's going to be." Lockwood's voice was as wooden as his face.

"No." She bit down on her tongue, which was itching to go off on him and his injured expression. Logically, she knew he was only trying to emotionally blackmail her into letting him leave. So why couldn’t she bring herself to truly believe it? "Don’t be like that. It was - it was a mistake. You know I didn’t do that on purpose."

"Do I?" He glanced downwards to where her hand was still poised, mere inches from his chest. Immediately, she lowered her hand, putting as much distance as she could between the two of them as she flattened against the door. The lump in her throat made it hard to swallow.

She glared at him. "God, Lockwood, it was a mistake. You know I wasn't trying to -" She struggled with her words for a moment. "Trying to off you."

"Whatever," he muttered darkly under his breath. He reached around her to open the door as she moved out of the way, momentarily too flustered to stop him. He took advantage of her hesitation as he briskly walked out before she could recover.

"Anthony John Lockwood, you'll be sorry if you leave like this!"

Lockwood had never seen her this livid. He had made it all the way to the garden gate but she could only follow him up till the front porch steps, and even now her image was beginning to dangerously shimmer. Visitors couldn't manifest in the physical realm if they were too far from their Source, especially this early in the day, and both of them knew it was only a matter of seconds before she disappeared entirely. Her eyes flashed with anger as her mouth twisted into a vicious snarl, and she had never seemed more non-human than she did in that moment.

What did she know, Lockwood found himself thinking. She's been dead for nearly a century.

He paused long enough to watch her and her wrathful stare fully dematerialise. Then he turned and started walking, as if he couldn’t feel the leaden weight in his chest.

Hell’s Manor was a blur of anxiety and nausea. Lockwood had come up with a flimsy sort of plan where he had shortlisted the rooms most likely to contain the Sources, but he hadn’t anticipated the struggle just to get to them. His hands trembled, his stomach churned, and sweat beaded across his forehead as he fought against the overwhelming malaise beating down on him.

As he crept up yet another winding flight of stairs, he felt himself shiver as the air grew colder and thinner. He forced his eyes open wider, trying to block out the howling of some far-away draft and the creaking of the stairs. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the ephemeral silhouette of a Wraith slowly advancing towards him through the shadows. Shadows, or other Visitors? His heart thudded unsteadily as he reared an arm back and lobbed a flare at the Wraith.

The Wraith flickered and howled as it burnt up, its agonising shrieking filling Lockwood’s ears. He stumbled gracelessly, latching onto the railing for support, his legs nearly too weak to hold himself up. As suddenly as the screeching had started, it ended. His head spun, ears ringing with the quickly disappearing echoes of its cries. Although the Wraith was momentarily incapacitated, the other Visitors were not.

Lockwood realised far too late that what he had erroneously registered as dizziness was the stairs beneath his feet ripping off the railings, twisting this way and that. He had the wind knocked out of him as he flailed, falling backwards and hitting his head on something very hard, the bitter taste of copper filling his mouth.

Bloody and bruised, he finally gave in to the overwhelming urge to close his eyes and pray for a quick death, the blood roaring in his ears muffling the rest of the noise. He took in a shuddering breath. Some of his ribs were definitely broken. The side of his face stung where a falling piece of wood had struck him, narrowly missing his nose.

He ached and hurt all over. He imagined not leaving Portland Row that evening. He would have been home - warm, alive, and mostly pain-free, curled up in an armchair with a magazine, listening to whatever inane prattle Y/N chose to fill his ears with that day.

Oh, how he wished they hadn’t fought.

Unfortunately, the quick death he was hoping for refused to come. The chaos of the manor had reduced, as though there was a lull in the destruction. In fact, it was almost too quiet. Distantly, he heard some shuffling, then the sound of wood being dragged. Dragged, as though by someone alive and solid. The piece of debris that had been pinning his leg down being moved out of the way. Hands reaching out and pulling him up. But no one knew he was here. Only one person did, but it couldn’t be her. Could it?

That question was the last thing hovering on his mind before he slipped out of consciousness.

When he came to, the assault on his senses was overwhelming. He could hear his associates arguing over the beeping of some machine. The strong scent of antibacterial soap grated on him. The bitter taste of oral anaesthesia burned his tongue. He groaned softly, head shifting on his pillow. Almost immediately, the voices ceased. With a tired sigh, he reluctantly cracked open an eye despite the pounding in his head.

“What the hell were you thinking?” His eyes fluttered close as they started going off on him, only half-listening.

“- it was only by sheer dumb luck that we knew you were gone, otherwise who knows when somebody would have-“

He hadn’t been listening too closely, but he perked up considerably at the last bit. “Wait, wait. What do you mean, ‘sheer dumb luck?’”

He could see George seriously considering outright refusing to explain himself, but he finally gave in. “Your bedroom windows. You left them open, and your closet doors were making a racket slamming open and closed. That’s what tipped us off that you were gone, and the papers on your bed told us where. Great plan, by the way,” George’s tone shifted into something more sarcastic, “Why bring an entire team down when you can get yourself killed all on your own?”

He knit his brow, certain that he had shut his windows that morning. He hadn’t even taken any of his plans to his room; he had left them in the library. He cast his eyes around the room where they landed on Y/N hovering in a corner, intently watching him worriedly. As soon as a look of recognition crossed his face, the tension in her face softened and she winked at him, turning her attention to an anatomy chart behind her. With considerable difficulty, he tore his eyes away from her.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

It was evident from their perplexed looks that they hadn’t expected such a ready apology. Usually, it took much more threatening and scolding to get Lockwood to express any kind of remorse. They stuttered for a minute, truly taken aback, until Lucy suggested that they go find the nurse.

"You snitched on me?" Lockwood cried out incredulously as soon as the door closed behind them. This, apparently, was far from the right thing to say, if the way she glowed brighter was any indication.

"Hey. I don't want any lip from you 'till you can breathe without wincing. Plus," her lips twitched despite herself, "I can see you've done a pretty excellent job of busting it up yourself."

"Ha-ha. A regular comedian, you." She extended a hand, her ghostly fingers hovering above the cut on his lip, only this time, he didn’t reel back. Her fingers skated over the other bruises and scratches on his face as if she secretly wished to erase them. He watched her impassive face with half-lidded eyes and, despite his annoyance over her interfering, drunk in the sight of her like a man starved.

A sense of awkwardness hung in the air from their fight earlier. Lockwood might have wanted to talk it through if he wasn’t in so much pain. Instead, he was bad-tempered and sulky, and god did his ribs hurt. He sank into his pillows, burying half of his face into them, like a petulant child throwing a tantrum.

"I had it under control," he whispered through gritted teeth.

Her eyes roved over his battered form disinterestedly. “Yes. I can see that.”

They fell silent again.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

He mumbled something less-than-complimentary into his pillow.

"Lockwood?"

"What?" he bit out. Only, it wasn’t Y/N who had spoken. Lucy was standing in the doorway, her forehead creased and her eyes fixed right where Y/N had been floating just a moment prior. She seemed too distracted to have noticed the unexpected venom in his voice. A good amount of Lockwood's frustration dissolved as he tried to keep his face blank of any panic, sitting up the best he could. Lucy frowned around the room for a minute, and he was sure the jig was up, until she shrugged casually. Lockwood relaxed visibly.

"Oh, nothing. Thought I heard some voices."

“Hmm. Must be the, uh, other room.”

“Probably.” Lucy paused for a moment, eyes dragging over the cuts and bruises on his face. Did he really look that terrible? “Try to get some rest.” She gave him a small smile as she turned to leave, quietly closing the door behind her.

He didn’t like how empty the room felt. For the first time in a long while, he felt well and truly alone.

"Y/N?" he called out in a soft voice, much more in the mood to make up now. He hated how pathetic and vulnerable it made him sound. But there was no reply. The air remained still, his surroundings free of any Visitor-like haze. There was only the beeping of the hospital machines left in her wake, which lulled him to a fitful sleep.

TAGLIST: @neewtmas @midnight--raine @ahead-fullofdreams @how-to-stuff-and-things @cielooci @mohinithoughts @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @elenianag080 @avdiobliss @houseoftwistedspirits @mischivana @dangelnleif @mitskiswift99

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #fanfiction #fanfic #anthony lockwood x reader

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shesgeeked1 · 1 year ago

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Pilot Kelson smut

(i haven’t seen any stories about pilot which is crazyyyy cause he was so fine in this movie!! so i made one.)

- pilot kelson played by jake gyllenhaal in Highway, 2002

- i tried to make it like the movie as much as i could so please don’t mind the cringy parts 😭

- contents: cheating, sex obviously, unprotected sex, caught. (idk😭)

- gif made by me 😊

• you and pilot have been besties since elementary but ever since he got with lucy you guys haven’t been close as usually.

you sigh as you look at the time. “you just clocked in” your coworker told you while laughing. “i know and i already wanna go” you said tiredly. u hated your job but the money was worth it. new costumers walked in and you grabbed your notebook and lazily went over to greet them. you knew this was gonna be a long day.

some hours in you hear the work phone ringing and decided to answer. “hey welcome to burger den, what can i get for you” you said politely. “um, well actually this is gonna sound weird but i’m actually calling to see if this girl works there that goes by y/n”

you waited awhile until you answered. “yea you’re talking to her, who is this?” you questioned. “it’s pilot i know we haven’t hung out in awhile but i was wondering if we could catch up maybe after work” he said. you were happy to hear from him again and wanted to see him as badly as he did.

“i wish but i work late hours today pilot, i’m going straight to bed after i get off” you told him. “then i’ll come see you during work, duh” he said with a chuckle. “wouldn’t lucy have a fit?” you said sarcastically. you didn’t like her one bit. “lucy doesn’t have to know anything, plus it’s not like we’re doing anything.” he said.

“fine, see you soon” you told him while hanging up quickly to get back to work. soon later you see 2 people walk in. it was a girl that had a bikini for a top with a long brown coat and bell bottom jeans, next to her you see your friend jack. you went over and hugged him.

“ms. untouchable” jack said while hugging you. “and the god of fuck” you told him. “you know it” he said. “how long has it been, like 5 years?” you asked. “gold star y/n!” he said while touching your forehead. “and who’s this?” you asked jack. “this is our friend cassie, cassie this is my childhood friend y/n” he introduced you both.

“the god of what now?” cassie asked “of fuc-“ you began. “it’s a long story that’ll i’ll tell you about later” jack stuttered as he covered your mouth. “ohh you haven’t told her yet?” you said as you moved his hand. -you’re not helping- jack mouthed to you. -my bad- you mouthed back.

“noted but you’re very beautiful” the girl told you. you paused as you didn’t take compliments well. “thanks, you’re gorgeous as well” you told her while blushing. “okay can we quit the flirting lesbians?” you heard someone say. you turned to find the spiked haired friend you’ve been missing since forever.

“pi!” you said while going in for a big hug. he looked nice with his button up collared shirt with some brown jeans and this dumb loud ass colored visor. “damn how long has it been” you asked. “too long, i missed you a lot” he confessed. “i did too” you said as well. it was your break anyways so you went and got food for you both.

“damn she starving you?” you questioned as pilot was eating like there was no tomorrow. “maybe” he chuckled. you both talked until you finished eating. “that was good” he said as he rubbed his belly “yea i can tell” you giggled. “wanna-“ he began. “wanna what?” you questioned “wanna smoke like we use to do back then?”

you gave pilot a blank stare. “pilot i am at work if i come my high ass back in here i’m not gonna wanna do shit” you told him. “man cmon what happen to the old y/n? you scary now?” he teased you. “never” you said as you got up and pulled him along with you. “y/n, where you going? your break ends in like 5” your co worker whispered to you. “just tell the manager i’m shitting or something”

you said while walking out. “shitting?” pilot said while laughing. “yea he’s a pain in my ass anyways.” you responded. he then lead you to the car and started lighting up. after sometime of passing it back and forth it started to kick in. “you know i really missed you and im sorry for cutting you off with no explanation” he confessed.

“yea, you’re still a dickhead for that” you said. “i know but lucy made me do it and i didn’t wanna make her feel any type of way” he said. “it must be good then” you joked. “tbh it’s not, she doesn’t satisfy me at all” he said. “then why u still with her?” you asked “cause i don’t wanna be mean yk”

that’s what you admired about pilot even though he was cheater and a liar he was always nice and caring no matter what. “and no matter how many girls i find to fill in that void i never succeed” he confessed “damn must suck” you told him. “yea, can i be honest” he asked “sure” you said. “ you remember that time when we macked?”

he asked. “yes pilot” you said while rolling your eyes. “what?, don’t act like you weren’t into it” he laughed. “i don’t know what you’re talking about pi” you joked with him. “you sure? cause i remember you saying how you couldn’t wait to feel me in you“ he said while staring into your eyes. “what does this have to do with anything?” you questioned as you broke eye contact.

“seriously tho, you were the only girl i felt something with y/n” he told you. “same” you told him. you hated how good pilot made you feel but it’s wrong for him to treat lucy like that even if you didn’t like her. “but enough about me what about you?” he asked putting the attention on you. “what about me?” you repeated “yea, you still haven’t been touched?” he joked.

“yea” you answered. “damn, life without dick” he said while turning his head to you. you both started bursting out laughing. you took a moment back to think how you really missed pilot. you were admiring him for awhile and started seeing how good he looked. you tried to shoo off these feelings blaming it on the weed.

you didn’t realize that pilot was doing the same as your faces just inches apart. you then kissed him but regretted it shortly after. “shit, i’m sorry” you apologized. pilot grabbed your face going in for another which caught you off guard.

while still making out, pilot pulled you ontop of him cranking the seat back. you started to feel him grow under you. “pilot this is wrong” you said in between kisses. “you sure? cause you seem to be enjoying yourself” he told you as he took one hand under your dress to feel your wet panties.

you moaned at his touch as you felt embarrassed at how wet he made you. “pi, what about lucy” you whined. “she doesn’t have to know” he whispered to you. these words made you wetter as you loved the thrill of doings things you weren’t supposed to. he then stuck his hands in your panties and rubbed around your clit.

you tried to hold back your moans but pilot noticed and began rubbing your clit. “fuck-“ you moaned at the sudden wave of pleasure. “you like that” pilot whispered into your ear. you didn’t want pilot to know how much power he had over you so u didn’t respond. he then inserted 2 fingers into you without warning.

you let out a loud moan as you felt him already touching your gspot. “what about now” he asked again. you were still stubborn and wouldn’t say a word no matter what. he then began to go faster and faster making you closer to reaching your high. “not yet y/n, pi needs a little something too” he said as he took his fingers out.

you then got on your knees perfectly fitting under the steering wheel while watching pilot slowly unzip his pants. you grew impatient as you finished it for him, pulling down his boxers as-well. you palmed him slowly hearing his breathe become shaky.

you looked into his needy eyes as he watched your every movement. you then took him in your mouth without warning. “shit” pilot groaned at the sudden pleasure. you started to bob your head up and down while stroking him at the same time. “damn, slow down” pilot stuttered out.

you went even faster driving pilot closer and closer to his high. “fuckkkk” pilot drug out as he grabbed onto your hair realizing himself into your throat. you swallowed making sure not to miss a single drop. “lucy never made you do that?” you teased him. “never” he breathed out heavy.

you got back into your seat and pilot jumped to the back. you stared at him blankly. “what?” he asked cluelessly. “you’re not getting none” you told him. “so you think you can make me bust a nut like that and get nothing in return? yea you’re crazy” he said as he pulled you to the back with him.

he sat you perfectly on top of him slowly moving you back and forth seducing you. you couldn’t help but move your hips making yourself crave for him even more. “i promise you won’t regret it” he said into your ear. pilot knew exactly what he was doing and it worked. you slid your panties to the side exposing your soaking wet pussy grinding so slowly onto him.

“want me to fuck you?” pilot asked while looking into your eyes. you turned away not answering. “hm?” pilot said while teasing your entrance with his tip. “no-“ you moaned “your pussy is telling me otherwise” pi whispered to you. you couldn’t keep the act up anymore so you gave in.

“just fuck me” you whined. with this he slowly slid himself into you as you took him all. “mm yess” you moaned as he felt so good inside of you. “bounce that shit” he said and you did as you were told. the car was now filled with the sound of skin slapping against eachother. “just like that pretty”

pilot moaned loudly. this turned you on even more as you went harder. pilot threw his head back biting his lip trying not to be a moaning mess. “your dick feels so good” you praised him. this drove him crazy and at this point the car began to bounce. you felt him harden up in you and you slowed down.

“don’t be a tease y/n” pilot groaned as he slapped your butt. you hissed at the pain but it felt so good mixed with the pleasure. you started bouncing again driving pilot closer to cumming. you then got off and bent over wanting him to fuck you crazy.

“please pilot? drive me crazy” you said seducing him. pilot was frustrated that you gave him blue balls so he slid into you without warning. “wait” you screamed as he pounded so deep into you hitting your cervix each time. “take it” he groaned. you were such a moaning mess.

“harderrr” you screamed. with this pilot put your head into the seat fucking you senseless. “never knew you were such a slut y/n” pilot laughed breathlessly. you both were sweating like pigs and pilot loved it. “you still untouchable baby?” pilot asked you. not a single sound came out of your mouth.

you were too dick filled. pilot then pulled you by your hair making your back touch his chest. “i said are you still untouchable?” he moaned into your ear “nooo” you screamed as you were getting so close. “louder baby” he grunted. “fuckkk” you moaned out releasing all over pilot.

pilot kept going sending you into overdrive. you threw your hand back, pushing him off but he grabbed your arm slamming it on your back. “its too much” you cried out. pilot didn’t care, he kept pounding until he grew sloppy releasing all over your back but before you two could even get up someone knocked on the window.

you both looked up in unison covering your bodies. “a little privacy jack” pilot told him “shit, sorry pi” jack said while turning around giving you both time clean up and get dressed. after you finished you got back into the passenger seat and jack and cassie got into the car. it was an awkward silence that fell onto the four of you.

“so” cassie started. “untouchable” jack said under his breath. pilot and cassie bursted out laughing as you grew embarrassed. “haha very funny” you rolled your eyes. “my bad ms. UNtouchable” pilot said while poking your arm. “shutup and drive” you told him while giggling.

cue shutup and drive by rihanna- 😎

(i feel like that is such his song)

hope you all liked this !!!!!

#jake gyllenhaal #smut #highway #pilot kelson x reader #fanfic #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal x reader #pilot kelson

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