#sorry for different names layout | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

georgiapeach30513 · 7 months ago

Text

Two Good Reasons, Part 1

Summary: Andy was supposed to be in the past. There's where he should have stayed.

Pairings: Andy Barber

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, mentions of teenage sex, unprotected sex, PIV sex, daddy kink, degradation, body issues, oral sex (M receiving), breeding kink, creampie, cheating? 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.3K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

The woman in front of you babbles on a few more seconds before you look at your computer confused. You are in over your head, and don’t know where to begin. Maybe lying on your resume was a terrible idea, and you were better suited for the coffee shop. They didn’t let you choose what hours you wanted to work, and you needed that. At least at this office you are given that luxury.

You were underqualified, and a kept woman of sorts. “Ma’am,” you glance up at her quickly. She has kind eyes, and an upturned nose. She was just a bit younger than you, and you want to trust her, but there’s that prickling feeling inside of you that makes you not trust younger women. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

You shake your head no, ashamedly. “I’m a fast learner though.”

“So was I,” she takes a moment to look around the office. You are the only two around, so you’re not sure why she’s so concerned. “Listen, take your time. It’s not that hard, but unfortunately there is a layout to things. You’re here, and I kinda like you. Mr. Drysdale isn’t a terrible human, and you’re at the front desk. So all in all you’ll be fine.”

You thank her, and nod your head. How the hell did you wind up here? Not just in your situation but this stupid place. You knew nobody, and now you’re left wondering if that was the point. That you wouldn’t be able to reach out to someone for help. You had no inner circle. No one to just vent to. It’s how he liked it. And what did that cost you? You look down at your left hand, and get angry all over again. You were past feeling sorry for yourself. Past begging and pleading for a different outcome. He hit you where it hurt.

Now you’re doing what is right for everyone. You’re becoming independent. Nothing is going to stop you. You’re not going to rely on a man. Or allow one to make you feel less about yourself. You’re going to make them proud. You’re going to…

Shit.

Your head ducks down quickly as a tall man walks through the door. He gives a quick glance your way, but you miss the crooked smile. You wouldn’t look at him. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t acknowledge his existence.

He bustles past you, directly to Mr. Drysdale’s office, and you finally stand up. Moving to jump in front of him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Barber, you’ll have to schedule an appointment with him.”

“So you do remember me?” How could you ever forget one of the most perfect human beings you’d ever met. You’re everything. Every first you ever had was with him. Every plan that you could ever make was with Andy. Everything was Andy’s. And that’s when he was younger.

His hair was lighter then, and he didn’t have that full delicious beard. He definitely didn’t seem this tall, or broad. Or scrumptiously thick. He was just a boy then, but now he is everything you knew he would be. He walks like he has so much power. Still commanding a room, and even the breath that you breathe, he steals from you.

You exhale slowly, nodding your head. What do you even say to this man? Quick look at his hand. He doesn’t have a ring, and now you feel invasive. But he’s got his hand on display. “I don’t remember you this quiet,” he smiles again.

He’s just as beautiful as you remember. Years ago the two of you had named all your children. You’re sure you have it tucked away somewhere. You even had your wedding planned. You had everything until he moved off. Distance became more than just the miles away that you were between you. It became the lack of communication. Then no communication. And as much as it pained you, you knew that he was gone, and he was forever going to be the one that got away.

Living a few decades had done his body good. He was — immaculate. Much taller than you remember. But apart from his physical appearance he still has that ability to make your stomach feel like mush. Like everything in this world ceases to exist because Andy Barber is around. You’re not a child anymore, but he still feels like he can stop time. Because when the two of you are together it’s the way that it was meant to be.

”Doe? You okay, sweetheart?” he asks again. You are sure you look like the biggest dork, standing in front of him to block the way to Mr. Drysdale’s office.

“You remember?” That little nickname was your undoing. How Andy managed to come up with it, he never told you. But it’s so soft and shy, something you weren’t then.

“There’s nothing I don’t remember with you,” why did that sound so sensual? It has to all be in your brain because you’re lonely. And he’s Andy. “You look good,” okay, now he’s lying. You look like a hot mess. Your makeup is mostly smeared on. Your clothes are things you found at a thrift store. Your eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep. And your weight fluctuates too often for you to keep up with. Depression can do that to a person.

“I look — nothing — you just — better.”

“You never could take a compliment,” he gives a wink, and takes one more step towards Mr. Drysdale’s office. “Is something wrong?”

“You need an appointment to meet with him.”

Andy looks down at you with a smile. You swear he’s taller than he used to be. You can almost feel the way his fingers would dig into your skin as you — stop it. You’re at work. And he’s Andy. “Ransom, get your ass out here.”

You hear a chair roll back, and are irritated that Andy is going to make it look like you aren’t doing your job. Mr. Drysdale opens the door, standing in the doorway with both hands on his hips and shrugs. “You’re about five minutes late.”

“Your secretary has been keeping me. For good reason though. Maybe you should let her know who the District Attorney is,” your jaw goes slack as you look at him. He did it. He really fucking did it. Next stop, judge. “Doe, care to join me for some coffee afterwards, and you and I can catch up?”

“I can’t,” it’s not a complete lie. You can’t just go and get coffee randomly. Things have to be planned out. You have people you have to call.

“She can’t,” Mr. Drysdale agrees, opening the door wider. “Stop trying to steal my office managers. He’s not hiring. He’ll lie to you, constantly. I pay better, and have better hours.”

“I’m the DA though, and you’re just the…”

“Shut up, and get in here. We’re not talking about it. But seriously, don’t listen to him. He’s a dangerous flirt,” Andy is definitely dangerous. And that terrifies you. He shakes his head with a smile, but you know the truth. Andy is poison to you. The best tasting poison. You’d find yourself falling without even trying. Because he was once your everything. And then you both grew up.

He darkens the doorway again, and you look back down at your computer. This is getting a bit ridiculous. You are trying to hold strong, and he is doing anything but that. He is a parasite sucking the life out of you until you fold to his desires. You’re not doing it. Losing Andy in the past was hell. Losing him now will be much more difficult. You’re an independent woman, goddammit.

“Doe?”

“You don’t have a meeting with Mr. Drysdale today. And tonight we’re closing early so people can enjoy the office party,” a party that was designed to celebrate another year of Andy being the DA. It was all very self gratifying for him. “Mr. Barber.”

“I don’t want you calling me that,” you glance up at him before returning back to your computer to just stare. You can’t even pretend to be working because you’re not. You’re just avoiding him and those looks, “Did I do something wrong?”

“Maybe calling me my childhood nickname? Nobody does that anymore, Mr. Barber,” he rolls his eyes before leaning over your desk. He’s too close. You can count the freckles that splay out over his nose, and smell his intoxicating cologne. The one you wish you knew what it was so you could be the girl that sprays a shirt and you can get a fill of him without having him. “Andy, what do you want?”

“For you to stop fighting my invitations to coffee. Or the office party. Or to dinner. Unless you have a perfectly good reason to tell me no,” he glances down at your left hand, and you feel sick. Would things be different a year ago? Would you still entertain Andy this long? The ego boost is working nice for your fragile self esteem.

But the way he looks at your left hand hungrily has you ready to actually vomit. This isn’t where you saw your life. Working in the Assistant District Attorney’s office while the DA barges in and compliments you, and asks you out on a daily basis. No. You were supposed to be keeping a house. And making sure your husband had dinner when he came home. And now you’re in fucking Newton and alone. Sort of.

Your tanline from your finger has since faded, and so should your conflicting feelings. Life wasn’t supposed to be so difficult. You know you sound like a child, but your dreams have been shattered so many times, and now here’s the first one waltzing back into your life asking for damn coffee. Or dinner. Or the office party. Next week will be something new.

“What if I just want to get drunk?” You had the means to go to the party. The means to do whatever you want. You didn’t have anyone relying on you tonight.

“Then I heavily suggest you let me make sure you get home safely and that nobody takes advantage of you.”

Do not allow this man to make that sound sweet. It’s not. It’s just basic human kindness. Stun him. Make him wonder and worry. Make him — want. Not just want, make him beg for the taste of you, “What if I want someone to take advantage of me?”

His eye brow cocks up, and his mouth turns up into a crooked smile. Andy’s knuckles bleach with how tight his fist is at the not so subtle suggestion. Good. You affected him as much as he’s been making you weak. “Any suggestions?”

There it is. The possessive Andy. The one that wants to let everyone know that you are his, and you are off limits. You want him to tell everyone that you belong to him. You want him to claim you in ways that the two of you feared when you were younger. You want him to own you. And you want him to leave you alone. One night. Just to prove to yourself you still got it, and then you want to live your life.

“Sweetheart, I won’t let anyone take advantage of you. You’re too precious for that.”

“And what if I want you to?” He growls. Actually growls. A rumble rolls up his chest, and he grits his teeth. His jaw pulses with desire. “Just one night.”

“There’s never been just one night between us,” you scoff. He’s making things difficult.

“You’ll just have to make it that way,” he wouldn’t want your baggage anyways. The two of you are adults now. You can’t be running around acting like teenagers and fucking everywhere you land. You have responsibilities and a job. A life. And…

“If you think you can say no to me after one night,” he challenges. Prick.

“It’s what it will have to be.”

He slams the two of your bodies against the door, and you shudder. Arching your back to bring your body closer to his, and his meaty hands slap over your ass. Sliding down the spheres before lifting you up, and you hungrily wrap your legs around his waist. Bringing him to your core, ripping your dress, but sighing at feeling his bulge next to you. Thankfully it was only ten dollars at GoodWill. Focus!

He grinds his hips into your aching body, and your vision blurs at the sensation. Head pointing up to the heavens while you offer up your sacrifice to Andy. Gasping for air, and his mouth traces down your neck. Tasting and nibbling your heated glaze, and your fingers make work of his button up shirt.

“You’re eager,” he rolls himself into your center, and you gasp at how hard he is. These slacks leave nothing to the imagination. You can see the perfect outline of him, and you need him naked now.

“Shut up, and fuck me,” removing your back off the door, he carries you down the hallway. Clawing at the back of your dress, and it’s fine, it’s already ripped. Tearing at the material with the need to only get you naked, so he can have you.

Andy drops your back onto the bed, untangling his arms so he can remove the rest of your dress. “Don’t worry, I’ve got some sweats for you,” you wish he would stop talking.

“Fuck me!”

Standing up, and off your body, you hate the loss of him, but enjoy him pulling and tugging on your underwear. Disposing of your bra, and he holds your legs open wide. Tilting his head to get a good look at your spread and weeping cunt. “Mmm, you look good enough to eat. Doe, you’re prettier than I remember.”

Why is he lying? Stop staring. It’s making you feel uncomfortable. You don’t have the body of a teenager anymore. Time is cruel, and the longer he stares, the more you want to just walk out of here. “Fuck,” his eyes roll in the back of his head when he enters a finger into your warmth. “Just as tight.”

Lying again. He probably says this about all his fuck buddies. You sit up in the bed and start jerking off every bit of clothing on his back. Making way to his pants, and you slowly undo his zipper. Peeling away his boxers, and you moan when his fat, thick, veiny cock bounces up in your face. “It’s yours. Go on, and take it,” Andy watches you with so much enthusiasm as you lick his precum off his slit.

Mewling at the musky taste that can only be described as Andy Barber. Your body liquifies and arousal pools in your core. You kiss down his shaft, keeping your eyes on him. There’s a lot of things that time can change. Your ability to suck a cock like a pro is one of them. Getting to the base of his length, your tongue twirls around the velvety steel, and you trace kisses over his sack. Keeping your eyes on him as you suck one into your mouth, and he lurches.

“You’re a goddess,” he groans, and you move over to the other. Massaging the testicle with your tongue before letting it fall out. Laying your tongue flat, you trace that delectable vein up his glorious dick before you reach his spongy head, and you swallow him. You try to swallow him whole, but come short. He somehow became bigger.

Wrapping both hands around his base, you bob on him. Gagging and slurping up the wetness before his hands grab both sides of your head, and you let your hands drop to your side, “Are you wanting me to fuck your mouth?”

Hollowing out your cheeks, you place your hands to grip onto his toned thighs. “You’re such a slut for me,” he says before his hips piston into you. Hitting the back of your throat like a man on a mission, and you let him take it. His pleasurable sounds are better than you remember. Maybe he’s just more comfortable. He’s older. More experienced. Not as timidly as the young man he was.

He halts his ministrations before pulling himself out of your throat, and you long to taste his cock again. His hands go under your armpits before he throws you up the bed. His wide body keeps your legs spread, and gripping his base, he runs it up and down your slit. Gathering up your juices. “Andy!”

“Shh, I’m enjoying seeing you spread open and begging for me to fuck you. Use your manners,” no. You can leave at any time. But you don’t want to. You want him to use you like his own personal sex doll. “Don’t be such a fucking brat. Say, please.”

“Please.”

“Is that all?” Oh, who is being the brat now? “Go on. Say it. My cock does want to sink into your warmth, and have you quaking and spread so wide. Keep you full and…”

“Please, fuck me, daddy,” the whine of your voice has him snapping his hips. Plunging into your needy cunt in one move, and you reel. Fingers gripping onto the bed sheets, and seeing stars with the depths that Andy reached. “You’re huge!” You gasp for air.

“So you’re saying when we were younger?”

“Not this — oh god — big!”

“I always loved it when you would go dumb on feeling me inside of you,” this cock is dangerous. It’s what all fantasies are made out of. Long, but not too long. But so fucking thick. Stretching you so wide that your toes curl. Back lifting off the bed because you can’t get enough of him. When was the last time you felt this satisfied by a human? The answer to that is depressing.

His movements are deliberate. They’re smooth like your body was made for him. He wouldn’t have to do anything, but just let you warm him. Keep him close to you forever. One night. Maybe a second night. No. Don’t fall for him. Don’t dream about his cock. He doesn’t need your mess of a life.

He pumps into you so slow, and you’re wrecked. This is better than you remember it. But you won’t allow your head to imagine that now is yours and Andy’s time. You won’t allow yourself to get worked up. You were teenage lovers that drifted apart, and you’re doing this one more time. That is all. Not more than that.

“Doe,” god, his voice. It tingles through your body, and you look up at him. He says your real name, smiling down at you. His voice dropped a few octaves with age, “Stay with me, baby. I know it feels good.”

“Don’t pre…”

“Aye! That happened one time. And it was our first time,” you can’t help but smile. You both were each other’s first, and it was less than stellar. It was raw, and unexpected. But you did it together. “You like this, huh?”

“That obvious?” He stabs into you with a quick hard thrust, and your mouth droops open. Fuck. He’s good. He’s too good. He’s too right. Does this ever have to end? Can he just stay seated inside of you forever? That’s not really the way you want to live life, but it’s a nice quick and fleeting thought.

It’s almost too slow and intimate. Like the way he’s fucking is more worshiping you and promising you another time tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. And you’re fighting that with all the resistance you can muster. You need him to fuck you and fuck you so hard and deep that it has a lasting effects and you won’t need him again. Even though you know that’s a lie.

“Andy, I…” his expression is pained, like he knows what you’re asking. “Please, don’t make this difficult.”

“I don’t want to. I want to make you mine,” the sentiment is too good to be true, and you hit on his shoulders. Letting him fall to his back before you saddle on up. Grabbing the base of his cock, you sink down over him, and fuck him. Use him for your pleasure. Bucking on top of him like you were made to do this. Your hands press hard into his toned chest. He got so much better with age, and then you are just you. Just plain. Just a woman that nobody would want in the daylight.

Getting yourself off is easy since he’s being a vocal man. You’ll let your legs be rubbed raw if it means you get to take him fully and to the hilt. It’s gotta last. It just has to. If life were different and it was easier, you could make this happen. You should tell him. Let him know the truth that changed your world. “I’m not able get pregnant,” keep it simple and easy. He doesn’t need to know the details.

You don’t know how he did it, but he has you off his body. Pushing your front onto the bed, and keeping you on your knees when he crawls behind you. Hands tightly on your hips as he slides all the way home. The only sound in the room is wet skin slapping on each other and needy hungry moans. Reaching under your stomach he lifts your back to his front as he pounds into you.

“Then let me fuck you like I’m going to breed you,” you whimper out his name, and an arm wraps around your neck. Holding you tight against him and adding pressure to the soft column. Cutting off a bit of your airflow, and making you dizzy. “Let me fuck my seed so deep in your belly, and make you mine.”

The words are so sweet and still so vulgar. “Yes! For real this time,” a few too many accidents in the past led to pregnancy scares. You don’t want an accident. You want him in your belly. You need him there. “Fuck me harder!”

He fucks you so hard that you know your going to bruise. The way he grips onto your soft curves tells you how badly he wants to keep you with him. “Look at me. Doe! Look at me!”

With furrowed brows you turn your head to stare into his eyes. “We’re about to come, and you’re going to keep your eyes on me, okay?” You nod your head as your orgasm builds in your belly. Bubbling and frothing just below the surface like a hot deadly volcano. Rumbling below the surface as he ruts into you like his life depends on it.

“Don’t take your eyes off me. Swear it!”

“I swear it,” one more slap into you, and your volcano erupts. Walls clamping around his cock. Placing him in a vice grip as thick ribbons of cum spurt inside of you. So much cream that you feel bloated, and so satiated. “Thank you,” you whisper as your eyes start to get heavy.

“Only a short nap. We’re going again. And again.”

“But I said…”

“You said, just for tonight. Not just one time,” you didn’t care to argue. You revel in the feeling of him in your belly as he starts to pull out. “Can I look?”

“What?” How does something so filthy seem sweet now. He wants to see himself inside of you.

“I’ve always wanted to look at you leaking without fear,” giggling you nod your head, and roll to your back. Spreading your legs open wide, while Andy settles in between your thighs on his belly, watching so closely and with bated breath as pearls of his seed drip out of you. “Perfect,” he hums, and starts fingering it back inside of you. “If I make it stick, you’re mine.”

“You won’t,” he hears the pain in your voice as you respond, and crawls up your body. Placing the softest most tender kiss up your imperfect body. Showing you love you can no longer give yourself. He ends on your lips, and kisses you so passionately that it takes your breath away. He won’t. And you can’t ever be his.

Andy looks at his text message from Ransom, making sure this was your house. Suburbs. This didn’t strike him as your home. But Ransom assured him it was. He walks up the steps to your home, and stumbles back.

“Andy? Why are you here?” Scott Huffman asks. A little girl clings to his leg, and she looks up at him smiling. “Aubrey, please, baby, get off daddy’s leg,” Andy looks at the little girl oddly. She has your eyes. “Go check on Suede.”

“Bubba!” She screams, getting off her dad’s leg. And he steps back. This is wrong. This can’t be right.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asks again. He grimaces when a loud bang reverberates inside the house, and he looks at his watch annoyed. “God, she’s late. I should have known she would be. Andy?”

“Umm,” he holds onto your clutch that you left at his house. Looking at Scott confused. He says your name, and Scott looks at him accusatory. “She left her — here.”

“How do you know my wife?”

“I’ve got to go,” Andy says, shoving the clutch into Scott’s arm as he walks away. No wonder you said that he couldn’t have you. You pranced around Ransom’s office without a ring. You trapped him. No. That’s not really the word for it. You said you couldn’t get pregnant, probably because you had your tubes tied after two kids.

What the fuck? How could you lie to him like that? He knows things didn’t end the way they should have. But cheating on your husband is another thing. Scott wasn’t really in his department, but he is aware of the lawyer. Ruthless. Come to think of it, he didn’t wear a ring either. He didn’t want to be in whatever sick bullshit you and your husband were playing.

He wants you. Wanted. Wants. He doesn’t know. And it doesn’t matter what he wants. Because you’re going to come home and be the perfect wife to your husband and at least two kids. And he’s going home alone.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy

#two good reasons #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber smut #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fics #andy barber fic #chris evans #defending jacob #chris evans character

374 notes · View notes

angelseraphines · 3 months ago

Text

ೃ⁀➷ wild at heart ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ rick grimes x greene!reader headcanons

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

╰┈➤ as the middle greene sister, you possessed the fierce loyalty of maggie, the eldest, tempered by the gentle quietude of beth, the youngest. the bond between the greene sisters was as thick as the bark of an oak tree, strong and enduring. though you welcomed a few close friends into your life, it was in the company of maggie and beth that you discovered solace and understanding, a sanctuary from the world. you and beth being the daughters of your father’s second wife made no difference to maggie, all that mattered was that you were flesh and blood, a greene.

╰┈➤ when the outbreak began, your world unraveled. acquaintances and friends went missing or left the georgia countryside, resources were scarce and so your focus on your education was abandoned for the sake of your family, you could not leave your father’s farm, it wasn’t safe, despite your father’s belief in that a cure could be found. your days were spent hauling haystacks and knelt over the rich soil, your skin burning beneath the scorching rays of the sun.

╰┈➤ it had been a peaceful morning when he arrived, a man stained in his dying son’s blood and blue eyes clouded with terror. you were drinking chamomile tea on the porch with maggie when your brother-in-law, otis, came rushing, gasping for air, yelling that a boy had been accidentally shot in the chest and needed medical treatment. maggie would go find your father, you would go help the man with his son. he said nothing then as you took the pallid boy in your arms, you would briefly look into the eyes of the man. his gaze and the distress etched onto his white face told of the love he bore for his young son.

╰┈�� you would not learn his name until later that night, the man was rick grimes, once a sheriff from a nearby county. in the spare room where the boy had been laid for your father to deal with the bullet shards in his chest, rick had been sat by his son’s side since he arrived. with his head hung low and skin drained dry of color, he would speak to you as you inserted the needle into the crook of his elbow for the blood transfusion. “when will your father begin with the operation?” rick slurred out. he had given far more than the safe amount of blood, you would not answer his question concerning the procedure as you were unsure and didn’t want to worry him any further, but you would warn him about the danger of donating more blood. as weak as he was, rick shook his head and stuck his arm out for the next transfusion, stating that carl was his son, his life was worth little without his family.

╰┈➤ when shane broke the news that otis was mauled by walkers on the mission to retrieve the necessary supplies to save carl’s life, you broke down in tears. maggie was left distraught and left the farmhouse to grieve on the porch, beth locked herself in her bedroom and wept all night, you would go on to assist in the bullet fragment removal in spite of your anguish, you had responsibilities that could not be forgotten in the name of misery. rick would come find you after the operation had been completed successfully, “i’m sorry about otis, he was a good man.” the grave weight of his tone left no doubt of his sincerity. you thanked him for kindness and expressed that you were simply grateful otis had not died in vain, but to save a child’s life.

╰┈➤ life returned to its more mundane state, only it was not only her family present, but rick grimes and the entirety of his group, living half a mile or so from the family farm. you had met some of them, but it was rick grimes who caught your interest. he was a true southern man, family-oriented and self-righteous in his beliefs, but you didn’t find that to be an unappealing characteristic. you were coming to realize that in dire times such as these, honor was something humanity desperately needed to cling onto.

╰┈➤ maggie knew you as if you were the palm of her hand, she would tease you endlessly for your little crush on the former sheriff. flustered, you would retort by bringing up her growing relationship with glenn rhee, to which maggie would toss an apple at you for your mockery. you were somewhat ashamed and tried your best to keep your affection for rick buried in your heart, as not only was he two decades your senior, but he was married to a woman named lori and had a young child. though there were times when you questioned how happy his relationship with his wife was, but you figured it was your fascination with him that clouded your judgment.

╰┈➤ you tried your best to push aside your feelings for rick, but days turned into weeks, and your sentiments toward him only became more serious. you were shy around him, a stark contrast to your usual demeanor which was lively and friendly. rick would go on to jest, saying, “you’re as quiet as a damn mouse.” the mirth in his eyes meant he was only joking, but your father would overhear this conversation in passing. when rick left to go deal with personal matters, your father would stop you, warning you that you should stay away from rick grimes. when you argued that he was a good man and your relationship with him was innocuous, your father shook his head, telling you they would have to leave sooner or later, he was responsible for his family, not for these strangers who indulged in their strained resources. you would accuse your father of being inhumane, of essentially sending them away to die, and would refuse to speak to him the rest of the day.

╰┈➤ you would come to find out that because of a botched plan to secretly meet between maggie and glenn your father’s secret barn harboring walkers was discovered by rick and his group. rick’s so-called best friend, shane, demanded with a great deal of aggression that all the walkers be slaughtered for everyone’s safety, but these were your friends and family. your father had explained these people were merely ailing, and that once he found a way to treat them, they would return to their previous state, a notion you were becoming to doubt. yet, you still held to a sliver of hope that your mother and your brother could be saved. rick came to confront you about this revelation when you were returning from the chicken coop, “you knew the entire time? and you didn’t say anything?” the question angered you, and for the first time since he had arrived, you were not so enamored by his charm. you answered that your father knew his best how to handle his affairs and went about your daily routine of chores, but you would be distracted as you picked root vegetables and swept the kitchen floor.

╰┈➤ it was the next morning you woke to the sound of gunfire and wailing, terrified, you hastily pull on your leather boots and head outside to find your father’s barn full of walkers, its old wood tattered by bullets and the rotten corpses of family and friends left on the gritty dirt. shane walsh had decided to take matters into his own hands and kill every walker in the barn. you collapsed seeing beth cradling your mother’s barely recognizable corpse. rick would rush to get you to your feet, trying desperately to reassure you, but you pushed him aside and crawled to your sister’s side. when your mother’s corpse began to twitch and her jaw hung open, growling, she reached out to grip beth with thin claws, rick would raise his pistol and shoot her in the head. you then came to grasp what a walker truly was, they were not alive nor sick, that creature who attempted to kill your sister was not your mother, your mother was dead, your brother was dead, the corpses you saw were a monstrous husk of what your loved ones once were.

╰┈➤ your father would disappear from the farm, presumably to return to alcohol to cope, and beth was left in a catatonic state. you stayed in the farmhouse, isolating yourself as you tried to come to terms with what had occurred. it was later that evening when there was a gentle knock on your bedroom door, you were surprised to open it and reveal a rather fatigued rick grimes, standing there with a furrowed brow and a slight frown. he asked if he could come inside and you let him in. you donned only a lace nightgown that fell right below your knee and your long hair was worn loose, tumbling about your shoulders. “i wanted to say how sorry i am for what went down today. i might have been wary about the barn situation, but what shane did… that was no way to handle this.” you were silent for a minute, then told him that he was right about the walkers, they weren’t sick, they weren’t alive, and you couldn’t comprehend how her father didn’t know that. you questioned if he was perhaps in denial, unable to deal with his wife and son’s passing. rick was uncertain himself, but assured you that regardless of any mistakes your father made, he loved you and your sisters dearly. with tears welling in your eyes, rick would instinctively pull you in for an embrace in an attempt to console you, an act that was unexpected, but not unwelcome by any means.

╰┈➤ when he pulled away, you bid him farewell and wished him a good night, kissing him lightly on the cheek before he left. he smiled at you, “i’ll have your father back at home before dawn.” his gaze lingering on you before he headed for the doorway. maggie happened to come to check on you as rick left, he acknowledged her with a nod and headed for the staircase. your sister cast you a harsh glare, saying while she trusted you and rick, you should be cautious in such treacherous times, that others might not see their relationship as so innocent, especially his wife. you didn’t say anything, maggie gave you one last bit of advice before leaving, “don’t let a married man in your room at night.”

a/n: i apologize if this was a little light on the romance, however if you guys to do wish to see multiple parts i promise there would definitely be more between rick and the greene sister! let me know if you want to see a certain era such as the prison arc or alexandria arc, i chose the greene farm for the setting as season two is my personal favorite from the walking dead. i also write for many other the walking dead characters so be sure to check out my masterlist and let me know if you have any requests! 🤍

163 notes · View notes

woso-dreamzzz · 10 months ago

Text

Mimic II

McFoord x Baby!Reader

Beth England x Baby!Reader

Summary: You're scrappy

The day that it first happens is the match against United.

It's a home game and you're very familiar with the layout as you sit by one of the girls on the bench on your leash and watch.

Mam, predictably, gets a yellow card and you screech your outrage at the ref no matter how much nice Lotte tries to calm you down.

You think Lotte is an alright babysitter but she's very easy to get to do what you want and you know Mummy doesn't like that sometimes. You think she's told Lotte that too because she's got a tight grip on your leash and doesn't let you wander into Jonas' box to scream like you can usually get her to do.

So, you have to amuse yourself by tearing up grass and getting your hands all dirty.

The game ends with a narrow win for Arsenal and Mummy comes to get you very quickly.

You tug at the buckles of your leash. "Off! Off, Mummy!"

"Sorry, gremlin," Mummy laughs," But you have to be on the leash. You know why."

You stamp your foot as Mummy cleans your hands.

"Mam not on leash!" You say finally," Mam was naughty! Yellow rectangle for Mam!"

You're making a good point. Caitlin doesn't want to quite admit that though. You're on the leash because you're naughty sometimes and Katie definitely did get a yellow card today.

She sighs.

It's not the same at all but, for the sake of fairness, Caitlin lets you win this round.

Begrudgingly and definitely to avoid a tantrum, she unclips your leash.

You look positively delighted and she catches your arm before you go running off.

"Stay where me or Mam can see you," She says," And no biting people."

You nod. "I not bite."

"Alright," She says," Go on, run wild."

You giggle hysterically as you run off. You've not quite mastered running though because you trip a few times before pulling yourself up again.

You wander through the crowd of players until you spot the United keeper that saved Mummy's goal.

That's kind of naughty, you think. Saving Mummy's goal shouldn't be allowed.

The girl's kind of tall and she looks strong. She's wearing a different coloured shirt to the other United girls so you can easily track her through the crowd.

She's talking to Leah too and you know how to recognise Leah.

When people are naughty, you usually like to bite them but Mummy told you that you're not allowed to bite today so you choose the next best thing.

Mam says you're scrappy sometimes. You don't know what that means but you think it applies to this situation.

You creep up behind the girl before slamming the top of your head into the back of her knee.

She crumbles to the ground instantly, folding over like the pieces of paper that Mam uses to make paper planes.

"Mary!" Leah shrieks as the girl rolls onto her back.

"What the fuck?!"

You stand over her and wiggle your finger right in front of her face. You stamp your foot for good measure. "No save Mummy goal! Is naughty!"

"What-? Who are you?!"

Leah's hand pulls you further away. "This is Katie and Caitlin's kid," She says," Gremlin, say sorry."

"No! Say sorry first! Save Mummy's goal!"

Thankfully, this United girl (once she's recovered from her sudden fall) takes it in her stride.

"I'm sorry, kid," She laughs," It was only doing my job."

"Naughty job!" You insist," Not happen again!"

It's not exactly an isolated incident either. It seems after every match, you find some player to fight with.

It freaks most of them out, you think, because they're big and strong and you're tiny but still very capable of getting them to the grounds.

You surprise lots of people like Auntie Macca and Auntie Lanni, who find it all so funny that they send you off to do it to their teammates too.

Mummy doesn't like it though. She says that she's raising a delinquent and Mam says it's the McCabe genes, whatever that means.

You're not stingy in who you attack. Everyone is free game but there's one person that you really enjoy fighting with.

Her name's Beth. Beth England, to be exact because there's already a Beth at Arsenal and this one plays for Spurs instead.

Mam says that Spurs is Arsenal's number one rival and you have to hate them because they play in white and white is a colour you can never keep clean.

Beth England wears the armband that Captain Kim wears so you can easily recognise her in a crowd.

She's your nemesis.

That's a big word that Mummy taught you when you were watching Phineas and Ferb a few days ago.

"You need to be very good if I let you off," She says to you and you nod even though you're lying," I mean it. No fighting with Spurs players."

You lie again and nod.

"Alright, give me a kiss first and I'll let you go."

You give Mummy a big wet kiss and immediately, you're on your way.

Mam joins you on your journey and she demonstrates how to hold your fist if you're going to fight someone. She thinks your rivalry with Beth England is funny.

Mummy doesn't like her encouraging it but she does.

"Nem-sis!" You screech when Mam guides you over.

Beth England looks confused. "Nem-sis?"

"She means nemesis," Mam explains," It's her word of the week."

"Oh, right."

"Nem-sis!" You screech again to regain her attention. "Fight me!"

Beth England clears her throat before mimicking your position and putting up her fists.

You run at her.

You don't think she expects that. You think she thinks you were going to punch her but Mam says the element of surprise is important so you crash into her legs and try to topple her over.

She stays standing and you're unable to move her but you don't stop trying.

Behind your head, Katie smothers a laugh and gives Beth a pointed look.

She nods and very carefully lays on the ground like you've forced her over.

You look triumphant and sit on her stomach to stop her from getting up again.

You poke her right between her eyes. "Arsenal best!" You proclaim," Say!"

"Never!"

"Arsenal best!" You bounce on her stomach to show that she's not going anywhere. "Say!"

"You can't make me!"

"Say or! Or go on leash for being naughty!"

That's it. You've got her trembling under your might now and she goes limp.

"Arsenal's the best!" She proclaims," Arsenal's the best! Don't put me on the leash!"

"Good!" You stand up and wiggle your finger at her. "London red! Not dirty white!"

You run back over to Mam and take her hand.

"I beat Beth England!"

"You did!" Mam says," I'm so proud of you."

"'Cause London red!"

#woso x reader #mcfoord x reader #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe #caitlin foord x reader #caitlin foord #beth england x reader #beth england #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

786 notes · View notes

shmaptainwrites · 1 year ago

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐑 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x single mom!Reader

SUMMARY — James moves into a new apartment and finds a new friend in his neighbour across the hall

WARNINGS — mild descriptions of blood and injury, hospitals/hospitalization, a little angst and hurt comfort

NOTE — Guys this was supposed to be out Monday, I am so sorry, life is just not life-ing (ie. its midterm season) so enjoy this being posted as I am fighting for my life in cell bio. Also this has only been minorly edited by me so if there's any weird wording ot typos I apologize in advance

If no one had told you someone was moving into the apartment across the hall from you, you probably would have gone months without noticing anyone in there. You weren’t sure if your schedules were just not in sync or maybe he never really left his place. Regardless, it took at least two months before you met your new neighbour.

When you did, it was a coincidence. You were leaving and he was coming back home.

You both paused and stared at each other for a moment before rushing to introduce yourselves, only to accidentally talk over each other.

After you both stopped, he motioned for you to go first. You gave him your name and made a stupid comment about how you hadn’t met until now. Maybe it wasn’t stupid because he laughed, or maybe he was just being nice.

“I’m James,” he said. “And about not seeing me, well it probably doesn’t help that I leave at the crack of dawn and usually come back late.”

“Oh, let me guess, doctor?” you asked and he nodded. “It was either that or day-shift stripper so I figured my odds were pretty good.”

That made him laugh again and you smiled.

“I hope you rest well before your next shift. Unfortunately, I have to head out. Duty calls.”

“I’ll see you around,” he gave you a small three-fingered wave which you returned before jogging down the stairs.

You didn’t think you’d have much reason to see him again, but accidents do happen.

You knew sometimes you’d have the tendency to be a bit clumsy, but this was beyond that. Dropping your knife down next to the half cut vegetables, you looked around for something to wrap your hand in to stop the bleeding.

You thought about your options, you could call an ambulance and pay the ridiculous fee, you could drive yourself to the ER and risk getting into an accident, or you could knock on your neighbour’s door and hope he was home.

You sprung for option three, seeing as it was most immediate.

Opening your door, barely even bothering to close it behind you, you knocked on James’ door, praying that he was home and would be able to help.

It seemed as though your prayers were answered because you heard the lock click and the door open to a very confused looking James.

“I am so sorry to bother you,” you started, “but I was making dinner and the knife slipped-,”

“You cut yourself,” he filled in the blanks himself and you nodded, biting down on your tongue from the pain. “Come in, let me see if I can get you sorted.”

He opened his door wider and you stepped into his apartment, an identical layout to yours, but differing in decor and furniture.

He pulled back a chair at his small dining table for you to sit at and went to another room to grab something.

He came back with a first aid kit and sat down in the chair next to you, opening the kit and grabbing a few things he knew he would need before pulling back the towel you had wrapped your hand in and examining the cut.

“Wow, this is really deep,” he remarked. “You must be in a lot of pain.”

“Yeah, trying really hard not to pay attention to it right now,” you nodded through gritted teeth.

“Look, I don’t have a lot of stuff with me, but I think this lidocaine numbing spray should help a bit, but it will sting first,” he warned you and you nodded.

He used the spray and you winced, but just as he said the pain slowly dissipated and soon all you could feel was a dull ache. He started by cleaning the wound and flushing it with some water and alcohol.

“So what were you cooking?” he asked.

“Trying to make just some chicken and potatoes, but of course my hand and the knife decide to slip at the same time,” you sighed.

He pulled out a needle and some surgical thread next, determining what the best way to stitch you up was.

“Do this often?” you asked.

“Unfortunately for you, no I don’t,” he shook his head. “I work in oncology so I have to think a little harder about my stitching.”

“As long as it’s free, take all the time you need,” you joked.

“Oh, no one told you, my rate is 500$ a minute, I take cash or cheque,” he teased right back and you chuckled a bit.

“How about I do you a favour when you need it and we call it even?” you asked and he nodded his head.

“Seems equivalent. Alright, you’re gonna feel a light pinch,” he said and saw your face contort in discomfort and he quickly apologized.

He tried to do the stitching as quickly as possible, and then covered it up with gauze and tape to make sure the stitches were protected.

“You should probably come by again tomorrow so I can take a look and make sure everything’s okay and it isn’t infected,” he said. “I should be back around six.”

“Sure, thanks again for this. It’s handy having a doctor next door,” you smiled. “Now I should probably go and clean all the blood off my counters and order something to eat.”

“Hey, why don’t you just have a plate of food here before you go back?” James suggested. “I made extra.”

“You sure? You already stitched me up and now you want me to eat your food?”

“It’ll be nice company,” he assured you. “Unless you have someone you need to get back to.”

“No, it’s just me right now,” you nodded. “I’ll stay, the blood can wait.”

James served you a plate of the food he had made before grabbing his half-eaten dinner and joining you again at the dining room table.

“So, um, you know what I do for work first hand now,” James started. “What about yourself?”

“I like to say I’m a constant student of the world’s universal language,” you smiled to yourself, “but people don’t really know what I mean by that so usually stick to saying I’m a professor of mathematics.”

“Wow,” James looked impressed. “You don’t really look like a math professor. All of mine were a little…crazy. I never would have guessed.”

“Unfortunately not everyone can have Einstein’s hair,” you joked and James laughed.

“Do you teach at Princeton then?” he asked and you nodded. “What a coincidence. I work at the teaching hospital.”

“Oh, you must know Lisa then,” you grinned. “She’s a good friend of mine.”

James nodded, “Such a small world.”

“You’re telling me.”

You continued to eat dinner and chat about various things, most pertaining to the school or your mutual connection through Lisa. By the end of the evening, when you wished him a good night and went back over to your apartment, a part of you was happy your hand would give you an excuse to see your neighbour once more.

—

James stared blankly at his fridge wondering how he’d managed to go this long without buying any groceries. He could just eat out and put off shopping for another day, but he had time off and he probably should take advantage of it.

Without much more thought, he grabbed his house key and his coat, deciding to go to the grocery store just down the street, it would be a nice walk in the afternoon sun. When he opened his door, he saw you standing outside with a few empty grocery bags in hand.

“You heading down to the store?” he asked and you nodded with a smile.

“You too?”

“I don’t have the hardware,” he pointed to your bags. “But the fridge is empty, so yeah, I figured it was about time to do a grocery run. How’s your hand doing?”

“A lot better than last week. Thanks for asking,” you looked down at your bandaged palm. “Excited to be able to take this off.”

Just as James was about to say goodbye and wish you a good rest of your afternoon, your door opened and a young girl stepped out.

“Mom, I can’t do up my zipper, it keeps getting stuck,” she grumbled.

“Here, let me give you a hand with that,” you bent down and put the grocery bags to the side, helping her out with the finicky zipper. “Maybe we need to get you a new jacket, this one’s starting to get a bit tight, huh?”

The girl nodded and thanked you for your help by giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Mom, who’s that?” she pointed to James and you chuckled a little.

“I was just about to introduce you two,” you said. “Nadia, this is James, James this is Nadia. My daughter.”

“Nice to meet you, Nadia,” James waved and she waved back.

“Are you friends with my mom?” she asked.

“I-I think so,” James nodded.

“Yeah, we’re friends,” you agreed.

“If he’s your friend can he come over for dinner tonight?” Nadia asked.

You looked in between your daughter and James once a few times before saying,

“You know, I think it’s his day off, I’m not too sure if he had plans already.”

James shoved his hand in his pockets and asked,

“And what if I don’t have plans?”

You bit back a small smile, “Then I would say, do you want to come get groceries and have dinner with us tonight?”

“I’d love to.”

“Nice,” Nadia grinned. “That means we get dessert.”

You scoffed and looked down at your daughter, “Is that what this was all about?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged her shoulders innocently and you shook your head, locking the door behind you and beginning to walk down the stairs, Nadia leading the way and James at your side.

“You never mentioned you had a daughter,” James said quietly while you walked down the sidewalk, Nadia running ahead to press the button for the crosswalk.

“Never came up,” you shrugged. “She was with her dad both times you saw me before.”

“She’s cute,” James said simply. “Looks a lot like her mom.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, trying to ignore the warm feeling rising up in your cheeks.

You watched as Nadia came running back up to you both and tapped James on the arm.

“Do you like apple crumble and ice cream?” she asked.

“I do,” James nodded. “I used to make it with my mom when I was around your age.”

“My mom makes it with me too,” Nadia grinned. “Can we have that for dessert tonight?”

“Sure, if they have the granny smith apples, if not maybe we can make a peach cobbler instead,” you suggested and Nadia agreed, taking your hand and dragging you towards the store so you could get the ingredients faster.

You and James did your shopping in parallel and would both send Nadia on small quests to retrieve some things you needed to keep her busy.

“You’re pretty good with kids,” you commented after he had told Nadia about her next ‘top secret mission’.

“Comes a bit with the job,” he said, sifting through the peppers on the produce stand to find a few good ones. “It’s nice to be reminded every once in a while that not all kids are going through treatment.”

“I don’t know how you’d be able to see that every day,” you shook your head and sighed. “I would be a wreck if Nadia was in the hospital.”

“Well, let’s hope that never happens.”

“James! I got the berries!” Nadia came speeding back and handed him the basket of strawberries before taking a moment to catch her breath.

“Wow, that was fast,” he grinned. “Come on, I think it’s about time we go pay for all this stuff.”

You weren’t sure whether it was slight of hand or if James had an in with the cashier, but he managed to pay for the groceries, insisting it was just paying for dinner, so to even it out you slipped 50$ to the cashier to pay for his things.

“It’s not really letting me pay for dinner if you just pay for my stuff too,” he teased you as you walked home.

“If you’re really that set on paying me back you can come help me and Nadia cook. Maybe make sure I don’t cut my hand again,” you waved your bandaged hand in the air.

“Alright,” he conceded. “I’ll be over as soon as I drop these off.”

When you got home, you and Nadia quickly cleared up a few of her toys from the living room and a few minutes later, as expected, James’ knock echoed through the apartment. Nadia beat you to the door and grabbed James’ hand, bringing him to the kitchen and shutting the door behind them.

“Since you know how to make the crumble you can wash and peel the apples,” Nadia instructed.

“Is this okay with mom?” James asked.

“I’ve tried your cooking before, it’s okay with me,” you nodded. “Nadia, hon, do you want to help with the salad? Like I taught you?”

She nodded her head and went to wash her hands quickly before standing up on a stool so she could reach the counter and cut the vegetables.

“Be very careful with the knife, okay? Don’t make the same mistake mom did otherwise James is gonna start asking for our medical insurance,” you teased and Nadia gave you the classic,

“I know, I know. I’ve done this like a million times.”

“Well, let’s make it a million and one without accidents,” James added and you mouthed a thank you to him.

Nadia was chopping away and bossing all of you around like she was head chef at a restaurant, all the while interrogating James about his work at the hospital and how he ended up in the apartment across the hall.

“Where did you live before?” she asked.

“Uh, kind of close to where your mom works,” he said. “In a house with a nice apple tree in the front yard.”

“So why did you move to an apartment then?”

James chuckled. “Good question. I um, I used to be married, but I’m not anymore so I decided to move somewhere different.”

“Like mom and dad,” Nadia nodded her head in understanding.

“Yeah, a bit like your mom and dad, I guess,” he agreed. “Do you like it in this building?”

“Yeah,” Nadia nodded. “And mom cooks better than dad, but don’t tell him that.”

“It’ll be our little secret,” James winked and finished mixing the apples with cinnamon, sugar, and a few other spices and ingredients.

Dinner was ready within the next hour and dessert followed soon after, much to Nadia’s excitement.

“Okay, moment of truth,” James sucked some air through his teeth as he served Nadia a plate with some ice cream on the side.

She dug into it and put on her best thinking face before giving a big thumbs up and a smile.

“Phew,” James sat back down in his seat and Nadia giggled at his exaggeration. He finished serving you and himself before putting the ice cream back in your freezer so it wouldn’t melt.

“So, did you enjoy your day off?” you asked.

“More than I was expecting to,” he nodded. “Thank you guys for having me over.”

“Maybe you can come again next time I’m back with mom?” Nadia suggested. “Can we have dinner with James?”

“I mean, if he wants to I have no objection,” you agreed with her.

“I’ll mark it in my calendar.”

Nadia quietly celebrated and said something about having dessert every time and you gave her a warning look that only encouraged her to continue to be cheeky.

Dessert was followed by a sugar rush, and crash and while Nadia snored on the couch you were saying goodbye to James and thanking him for spending the day.

“She really likes you,” you looked over at your sleeping daughter on the couch.

“Feeling’s mutual,” he smiled softly.

“You know, if you ever want company or a friend, my door’s always open,” you told him. “Even if it’s just someone to sit in silence with you at the end of a long day.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“And I’m sorry about your divorce,” you said. “If I can say one thing it’s just that it gets better. Eventually.”

He nodded his head and gave you a sad smile.

“Helps when you have a friend who understands,” he patted your arm and wished you goodnight walking across the hall and disappearing behind the door.

—

The couch was your favourite place to grade assignments and midterms. Final exams needed something a little more substantial considering how long they’d take when you didn’t have a teaching assistant helping you.

You didn’t know how many cups of coffee you’d gone through when you heard the knock on your door.

“It’s James,” you heard through the other side. “A little birdy told me you were stuck grading all day.”

“Come in,” you called back and he opened the unlocked door and slipped inside, coming to join you on the couch.

“I brought you a pick me up but I see that may send you into cardiac arrest,” he looked over at your many mugs littering the table.

“I have a weird thing about making coffee in the same cup,” you shook your head. “And I will take that,” you grabbed the to-go mug out of his hands, taking a sip of the piping hot drink. “God, sometimes when I’m writing these tests I forget I have to grade them too.”

James chuckled and looked over at the papers laid out on the coffee table.

“Why don’t you take a short break. No one expects you to get all the exams back the day after midterms,” he said.

“Yeah, but my TA expects me to grade all the long proofs so that they can do their part and grade the short answer stuff,” you sighed. “But you’re right I should take a break before I start taking marks off for using a weird letter as a variable, or something more complicated than that, I don’t know I can barely think straight anymore.”

James took the coffee and midterm out of your hands, putting them on the table, letting you lean back further into the couch and close your eyes for two seconds.

“Is Nadia with her dad?” he asked.

“Yeah, visiting her grandparents,” you nodded. “I hope they don’t fill her head with too much nonsense.”

James looked at you a little confused so you explained further, “They hated me, don’t know why. Maybe because they expected Mike to have a stay at home wife, but after we graduated I wanted more.”

“So you went to get your master’s and doctorate,” James filled in and you nodded.

“They thought I was trying to make their son look stupid, but they grossly overestimated my motives,” you chuckled humourlessly. “I’m just really nerdy and like math. I wanted to learn more so I did.”

“And what did your ex think?” he asked.

“Mike…he’s an interesting guy,” you shrugged. “I don’t think he’s a bad person, he was just a bad husband for me. He’s a decent dad, he’s there for Nadia, but he wasn’t there for me when I needed him to be.” you shared. “What about you? What went wrong there?”

“The first time or the second?” he asked with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No kids I’m guessing,” you said and he shook his head.

“First time, I was working two jobs to keep us afloat while she was at an unpaid internship. We both had terrible communication skills, and shouldn't have been married in the first place. The second time, I think I screwed that one up.”

He ran a hand through his hair before letting both his hands rest in his lap.

“Marriage is hard as hell,” you sighed. “I mean I wasn’t much of a picnic for Mike either.”

“You don’t have to try and make me feel better,” he assured you. “Although I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I’m serious. A marriage goes two ways and yeah sure, one person can screw up bigger than the other, but it’s not that one person is perfect and the other isn’t,” you said.

James pursed his lips and leaned forward, his arms resting against his legs. He wished it was that simple.

“Okay, my goal was not to bring down the mood,” James finally said. “This was supposed to be a fun work break.”

“I hate to tell you you’re failing miserably at the fun part,” you teased.

“Alright, then tell me why you decided to study math, of all the things you could have learnt about, why did math speak to you the most?”

“Katherine Johnson,” you said and yawned, rubbing your eyes. “I read about her in some random book in the library and I realized that numbers are what make everything in the world work. If she could send a rocket ship to space using math, then she had a superpower and I wanted a taste of it.”

“Did you get a taste of it?”

“Did my master’s degree research while jointly working with NASA, so yeah, I did,” you nodded with a smile. “And unfortunately, I have to use that superpower to finish grading these. You can stay if you want, I don’t mind.”

James looked at his watch and sighed,

“I have a meeting scheduled with the hospital board tomorrow morning. I should probably go get some sleep. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

You patted his leg and assured him you’d be in bed within the next few hours whether you liked it or not. Your body probably wouldn’t let you stay up any longer.

James gave your hand a gentle squeeze and said goodnight, showing himself out.

��

The sound of the phone ringing echoed through the house and you called for Nadia to pick it up, busy washing dishes. When she didn’t respond, you sighed to yourself and quickly turned off the water, wiping your hands and going to pick the phone up yourself.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s James.”

“James, what’s up? Aren’t you still at work?” you asked, looking over at the clock.

“That’s actually what I’m calling about, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make dinner this week,” he said. “Something’s come up and I’m going to be here late.”

“Oh that’s too bad. We’ll just have to reschedule,” you assured him.

“Can you put Nadia on the line? I wanted to apologize to her myself.”

“Sure,” you chuckled and called Nadia again. She came out of her room, rubbing her eyes and you told her James was on the phone asking for her. She took the phone from you and said hello, talking to James for a short while. You could see she was disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to make it, but you heard him promise to make it up to her with a movie night one weekend instead.

“Bye James,” she said and nodded her head in response to something he said before hanging up. “He says bye to you too.”

“Thanks honey,” you patted her back. “Are you feeling okay?” you asked. “You’re looking a little tired.”

“I feel tired,” she confirmed. “Can I go take a nap?”

“Sure,” you rubbed her back. “Do you want me to come and stay with you?”

“I’m okay right now,” she yawned.

You nodded your head and watched her make her way back to her bedroom. That evening you had a quiet dinner, deciding maybe to make soup in case Nadia was coming down with something. She didn’t have much of an appetite, only eating half of her bowl before beginning to cough, one of those deep chest coughs that made you feel a little worried.

You quickly got her changed in her pyjamas and had her sleep in your bed for the night so you could keep a close eye on her.

Your instincts that something was wrong ended up being right, as Nadia woke up with a continuing cough in the middle of the night and she felt hot to the touch.

“Nadia, honey are you going to be okay here for two minutes? I’m gonna go see if I can get some help,” you said and she nodded her head while continuing to cough.

Quickly, you ran over to James’ place and knocked on the door, an arm wrapped around your stomach while you chewed on your fingernails.

James opened the door wearing a college t-shirt and sweatpants, immediately taking in your concerned features and asking what was wrong.

“Nadia got sick and I think she’s getting worse,” you bit your tongue. “I’m so sorry to wake you up, but could you come check on her for me?”

“Of course,” James nodded, placing a hand on your back as he stepped out of his apartment, closing the door behind him and walking back to yours.

You led him over to your room where Nadia was laying down and he took a seat next to her on the bed and placed his hand on her arm, letting her know he was there.

“James?” she coughed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he gave her a soft smile. “I heard you weren’t feeling too good.”

She nodded her head.

“Is it okay if I do a quick check up to see what’s wrong?” he asked and she nodded again, letting him help her sit up.

He first touched her forehead with the back of his hand to feel her temperature and then placed his ear to her chest to listen to her breathing.

“Thanks, Nadia, you can lay back down now while I talk to your mom, okay? Try and stay on your side, it'll help with the cough.”

James motioned for you to follow him just outside of the room so he could tell you what he thought was going on.

“I think she’s caught some kind of bug that’s causing pneumonia,” he said. “Her breathing didn’t sound too great so I think it’s a safe bet to take her to the hospital, but I’d say you still have time to pack a bag with a few things and I can get Nadia ready and drive you guys.”

“James, you don’t have to do that,” you shook your head. “I already woke you up and-,”

“I insist,” he said. “You walk with me into that ER and I’m allowed to boss around the nurses and call the best doctor in pediatrics.”

“Okay,” you nodded your head and took a shaky deep breath. “She’s gonna be okay, r-right?”

“They’ll give her an antiviral or antibiotic and keep her for a few nights to make sure it doesn’t get worse and before you know it she’ll be good as new.”

You chewed on your lip and went to go pack a bag with a few of your things and Nadia’s while James helped Nadia get out of bed and into some shoes and a warm jacket with a hat so the cold air didn’t bite at her.

“Are you coming with us?” Nadia asked James after a string of coughs.

“Sure am,” he nodded. “I’m gonna drive and your mom’s gonna sit in the back with you.”

“Why do we have to go to the hospital?” she asked.

“Well, sometimes when we get sick at night that’s the fastest way to see a doctor and get the right medicine to get better,” James explained, opening his arms up for Nadia to climb into them to he could carry her to the car just as you had come out with a packed duffle bag.

“We can take your car,” you said. “I’ll find my way back tomorrow to get mine.”

James nodded his head and quickly went into his place to grab his keys and lock the door behind him.

He drove as fast as he could while still being within the speed limit, keeping an eye on his rearview mirror, seeing Nadia huddled up into your side.

“Mom, my chest hurts,” Nadia blinked back a few tears.

“Hold on, hon, we’re almost there,” you squeezed onto her a little tighter.

James pulled into the ER parking lot and grabbed Nadia while you got your things, walking into the hospital together.

“Dr. Wilson, what are you doing here?” one of the nurses asked, confused.

“I’ve got a young girl, seven-years-old with pneumonia symptoms, we should get her on oxygen, do a test for bacterial and viral infections, and get a chest x-ray as soon as possible. And call Dr. Herberts, tell her I’m calling in my favour,” he instructed while placing Nadia down on one of the beds. “Nadia, this is my friend Alice,” he motioned to one of the nurses, “She’s gonna be with you while we figure out what’s going on.”

“What about you?” she asked while James grabbed the oxygen mask from one of the nurses.

“Your mom and I need to deal with a few other things before we can come be with you, but I promise Alice is going to take really good care of you. She’s really nice.”

“Promise you’ll come?” she asked and James stuck out his pinky for her to link with her own.

“Swear it,” he nodded. “Now can you put this on for me?” he asked, showing her the oxygen mask. “It’s going to help you breathe.”

She nodded her head and let James slip the mask over her head before the nurses wheeled her off to get the tests done.

James turned around and saw you finishing giving your information to one of the attendants and she was about to inform you where to go wait, but James motioned that he had it covered and she nodded.

Your exhaustion and worry had become all muddled together and you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore, covering your mouth with your hand while James came and wrapped you in his arms.

“She’s gonna be okay,” he assured you. “You did the right thing.”

You nodded your head and reciprocated the hug, burying your face in his shoulder to hide your tears from the onlookers.

After a few more moments, you pulled away and James quickly helped you wipe away your tears with the heel of his palm before wrapping his arm around you and leading you to radiology where Nadia would be getting her chest x-ray done.

He sat with you in the waiting room chairs until they brought Nadia out and told you that you could follow them to her room in the pediatrics ward.

By the time you got there and were settled with Nadia, James looked at the clock and noticed his shift would be starting in around an hour.

“You didn’t have to stay,” you said, quietly, gently brushing your fingers against Nadia’s cheek.

“Of course I did,” James smiled. “I pinky promised.”

Nadia looked up at you and nodded, making you chuckle.

“Nadi, can James go home so he can get ready for work?” you asked.

“I’ll come back and see you later after you’ve rested,” he assured her, “But nobody's gonna believe I’m a doctor dressed in these PJs.”

Nadia giggled, “You can go. Mom says you work here so you have to come back.”

“Bingo,” James snapped and gave her a thumbs up. “I’ll see you later sweetheart.”

He bent down and pressed a small kiss to her forehead, wishing her to get better before reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze. His signal to you that everything would be okay.

You pressed your lips together, knowing you were on the verge of tears again, but begged them not to leave your eyes. Instead, you watched misty eyed as this man who you didn’t even know only months ago cared for you and your daughter without question. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time and so you let yourself soak in it for as long as it lasted.

—

After James had left, you called your ex and explained to him what had happened and he came to join you and Nadia at the hospital. The morning passed without much eventfulness and the doctor and nurses came to periodically check on Nadia, adjusting her medication and seeing if her symptoms were changing.

You left her with her father so that you could grab a cup of coffee from the cafeteria, barely having gotten a wink of sleep last night. When you returned, you couldn’t see Mike in the room with her, assuming he’d just made a run to the washroom, but instead you saw James sitting on the side of her bed talking to her.

He was dressed in his white coat, his hair a little scruffy and messy like it normally was. It looked like he was playing some sort of game with her because you could hear laughter and teasing through the glass walls and you decided to give them a minute alone together.

“Who’s that?” you could hear Mike’s voice ask as he walked up next to you.

“Dr. Wilson,” you said absentmindedly, smiling to yourself while Nadia laughed at James’ defeat in a thumb war.

“Acting more like a candy-striper than a doctor,” Mike muttered.

You continued to watch as Nadia pointed to the IV in her hand and James examined it for a moment, explaining something to her before pressing a gentle kiss to the affected area and telling her that he unfortunately had to leave, but he’d come again later and see her. Nadia pulled him in for a hug and they exchanged cute kisses on the cheek. At least it was cute to you, but to Mike who had no idea what was going on they looked a little suspicious.

“What the hell is he doing with my daughter?” he asked you, pushing past to try and give him a piece of his mind.

“Mike, wait!” you ran up to him, but he wouldn’t stop. “Mike, would you stop and listen to me for a minute!”

He stopped and turned to look at you, “You have an explanation for this?”

“Yes, I do,” you scoffed. “He’s my neighbour. He drove Nadia and I here last night. Just lay off. He’s a friend.”

Mike didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he listened and as James came out of Nadia’s room he pushed past him to go be with his daughter.

You rolled your eyes at his actions while James came to stand with you.

“I take it that’s Mike,” he said and you nodded your head with a chuckle. “Nadia looks a lot better.”

“Yeah, doctor’s said they want to keep her under observation one or two more days just to make sure everything is all okay and then they’ll send us home with some antivirals since they don’t think it was caused by a bacterial infection,” you explained.

“And how are you?” he asked and you took a deep breath, prompting him to reach for your hand that was by your side.

“I’m tired, I’m worried, I have to deal with Mike, I just…” you shook your head. “I’m happy you’re here.”

He gave you a half smile and brushed his thumb across your knuckles.

“You need anything and you call my pager. I’ll be right over,” he insisted. “And if you need a moment alone you can sit on the couch in my office.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you.”

His hand slipped out of yours as he walked away. You were just about to go back into the room with Nadia before you felt someone tap on your shoulder.

When you turned around you saw Lisa there with a small teddy bear in her hand from the gift shop.

“Hey,” you smiled and wrapped her in a hug.

“How’s Nadia? Wilson told me you had to bring her here last night.” she asked.

“She’s doing okay, a lot better than yesterday,” you shared with your friend.

“Will she be fine in there with Mike for a bit if I steal you?” she asked and you nodded your head. “Let me go in and say hi and give her this then we can walk.”

You went in with her and gave a kiss to Nadia whispering to her that you were going to go for a walk, but would be back soon.

“Mike,” Lisa gave him a curt nod which he returned before she turned her attention to Nadia, the expression on her face changing from one of neutrality to a smile while she handed her the gift and assured her she was gonna get better so fast and be out of the hospital in no time.

“I’m just gonna take your mom to make sure she gets something to eat so she can keep taking care of you. Does that sound good?” Lisa asked and Nadia agreed.

“James said you’d do that.”

“Oh, did he now,” Lisa placed her hands on her hips. “I’ll have to have a little chat with him later. You know I am his boss,” she winked and Nadia giggled.

You stepped out of the hospital room and once you were a bit of a distance away Lisa looked over to you.

“What was all that about right before I came?” she asked. “With Wilson?”

“James? Oh he was just checking in on me and Nadi,” you shook your head. “It was nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing,” Lisa raised her brows and you rolled your eyes.

“We’re not in high school. It was a rough night and he was there for it. That’s all.”

“And what did Mike think about that?” Lisa asked.

“He wasn’t impressed,” you sighed. “But he doesn’t really know how much time we’re spending together and he doesn’t need to because he’s not in charge of me.”

“He is half in charge of Nadia though,” Lisa said, making a fair point. “Just be open enough with him that it won’t be a headache when it comes to her.”

You nodded your head, and didn’t argue with Lisa when she offered to buy you something for breakfast.

“When was the last time you ate?” she asked.

“Last night, dinner,” you sighed, Lisa took the coffee out of your hands saying you shouldn’t be drinking the caffeine on an empty stomach and you chuckled a little at her motherly attitude.

You sat down at one of the tables and began to eat with her lightly chatting about a few things that had happened since you had last seen each other.

“You know, if anyone gives you trouble you can just call me,” she said.

“Is that an abuse of your power as Dean?” you asked, with a slight air of teasing in your voice.

“Not really,” she shrugged. “I’m just trying to make sure the patients here get the best care possible.”

“Especially when that patient is your unofficial niece,” you winked and she kicked you lightly under the table.

When you finished eating, Lisa walked you back to Nadia’s room before going to the clinic. Nadia was sleeping now and Mike was reading a magazine in the chair next to her bed.

“Thanks for staying with her,” you said. “I hadn’t eaten since last night.”

“No problem,” he said without looking up from the book.

You took a deep breath and sat down on the chair on the opposite side of Nadia’s bed, twiddling your thumbs.

“She talked a lot about Dr. Wilson,” he said, finally breaking the silence, putting the magazine off to the side.

“Yeah, she likes him a lot,” you nodded.

“Do you like him a lot?” he asked.

You shook your head at his question, “Mike does it matter what I feel? We’re not married anymore. I can understand your concern for Nadia, but I can tell you with certainty that he’s shown us nothing but kindness.”

Mike looked at you for a moment with a piercing stare before backing off and leaning back in his chair, opening the magazine once again.

—

You rarely liked the idea of being away from Nadia, but tonight you were feeling grateful she was at her dad’s place. The furnace had broken in your apartment and the only thing warming it was a small space heater you had in your room that was doing a job it was not built to do.

You were huddled under blankets wearing a hoodie and two pairs of pants, still feeling the cold air cut through somehow. You were just about to give up any hope of sleep when you heard a quiet knock at your door and curiously you made your way there, grabbing your housecoat as an extra layer.

When you looked through the peephole you saw James on the other side, just as bundled as you so you quickly opened the door, wondering if he was in a similar circumstance to you.

“Hey, I-I’m sorry were you asleep?” he asked and you shook your head. “My furnace broke and it’s absolutely freezing in my place, can I sleep on your couch tonight?”

“Talk about coincidence, mine’s broken too,” you chuckled. “I do have a space heater in my room, it’s not much but it’s better.”

“I-I wouldn’t want to-,”

“James, we're both freezing our asses off. Come inside.”

He didn’t argue with you and followed you over to your room. When you got there, you both stared at the bed like maybe something would change to make the situation less awkward and when it didn’t you took the lead, climbing into one side and getting under the covers.

James looked a little nervous, but he followed your lead, getting in on the other side.

It felt weird to talk so you both stayed silent, turning your backs to the centre of the bed and trying to focus on curling up to stay warm.

Unfortunately for you, you could feel your body start to move the blood away from your extremities in order to keep your core warm. It came with light shivering and some chattering of your teeth that you desperately tried to stop until you felt a hand on your arm.

“Turn around,” James said and you listened, maneuvering yourself so you were facing him, your bodies just a few inches apart. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you fully into him, letting his legs tangle with yours.

You could feel your heart beating in your ears while he brought your hands up to his chest, holding them in his slightly warmer ones, using a bit of friction to help them regain their heat.

“Better?” he asked and you silently nodded your head. “Good.”

Eventually you had regained enough heat that your body felt well enough to let you fall asleep and you could feel your eyes slowly begin to close as your head rested against James’ chest. He made sure you had enough room to breathe, but kept a tight hold on you until sleep came for him too.

—

“You slept with him?”

“I did not sleep with him,” you emphasized, pacing your office. “I slept with him. In the same bed. Together.”

“And you are freaking out about this, why?” Lisa asked.

“Because you don’t sleep in the same bed as your neighbours, Lisa!” you insisted. “But we did, a-and I was cold and he held me and…I liked it,” you finished in a whisper.

“What’s stopping you then?” she asked. “He’s cute, he’s a doctor-,”

“He’s divorced.”

“You’re divorced,” Lisa countered.

“Exactly,” you nodded. “He’s divorced twice. I’m divorced with a kid. That makes things… complicated.”

“Are you trying to stop Nadia from getting hurt, or are you trying to find an excuse to stop yourself because you’re too scared to see where this goes?” she asked you and you sighed.

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. “How can I tell that everything won’t just fall apart if I do something?”

“You can’t,” Lisa stood up and put a hand on your arm. “Just try to trust your gut, that’s all you can do in situations like this.”

“My gut is telling me to kiss him and run away,” you shook your head and Lisa nodded,

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t do that.”

“I’ll figure it out though, right. Eventually.”

Lisa didn’t say anything, simply giving you a hug, knowing deep down you knew what the right thing to do was and like you said, eventually, you’d come to the same conclusion.

—

Hearing the knock at your door, Nadia bounced off the couch and raced to open it, knowing what was awaiting her on the other side.

James leaned into the doorway when Nadia swung the door open and said,

“What night is it again?”

“Movie night!” Nadia cheered and jumped into his arms, her eyes growing wide when she saw the assortment of treats he was holding.

“It’s not a movie night without snacks,” he said and Nadia agreed with him. You came up towards them and snatched away two of the bags of candy.

“She just got a hundred percent clean bill of health from her pediatrician, you really wanna go and mess that up with all this candy?” you asked.

“Come on, I’m a doctor, I know what I’m doing,” James assured. “We’ll be reasonable, right Nadia?”

The young girl nodded her head and swore on her allowance that she wouldn’t eat all the candy. Hesitantly, you handed the bags back and gave them a skeptical look while they walked over to the couch to get things started.

You finished what you were doing in the kitchen and brought over a bowl of popcorn with you smiling to yourself when you saw Nadia sitting in James’ lap and telling him how to use the remote for your TV. You placed the bowl on the table and went to change into something a little more comfortable for the evening, hoping that by the time you came out they had picked something to watch.

When you stepped out of your room, now wearing a sweater and some flannel pyjama pants, Nadia informed you they were just about to start the movie.

“Come sit, quick mom,” she patted the spot next to her and James and you slipped in next to them, noticing how James wrapped his arm around you, bringing you in a little closer. You didn’t fight the close proximity and instead leaned into it more, resting your head against his shoulder.

Nadia had already leaned back against his chest, her eyes fixed on the screen and her hand shoved inside one of the bags of candy James had brought. The top of her head was just resting against the side of James’ chin and when you looked up at him he was glancing down at Nadia, a small smile on his lips. He looked content.

You could have stayed like that all night, just watching them, but you knew sooner or later you’d have to pay attention to the movie before they started asking questions.

Around halfway through the movie, James tapped your arm and you looked up at him, seeing him point to Nadia with his eyes, who was now fast asleep on him.

You chuckled quietly, sitting up a little straighter and saying,

“I can move her to her bedroom. You don’t have to stay for the rest of the movie.”

“Actually, I’m kind of invested,” James admitted. “But I will take you up on the moving her option, I’ve had to go pee since like the second musical number and she’s really squeezing my bladder.”

You bit back a laugh and shook your head, pausing the movie and standing up so you could genty lift Nadia off of James’ lap and carry her over to her bedroom, tucking her under the covers and placing a kiss to her forehead before going back out to the living room.

James was in the washroom still so you went and made yourself and him a mug of tea. When he came out, he joined you in the kitchen watching as you poured the hot water into the two colourful mugs with math puns on them.

“You take anything in your tea?” you asked.

“No, do you?”

“A little sugar,” you nodded and he offered to grab it for you, opening the cupboard in front of you and placing a hand on your back moving you slightly out of the way so he could take out the box of sugar cubes. Your breath hitched at the sudden contact and you hoped he didn’t hear it, instead masking your desire with small talk.

“I thought you had a sweet tooth,” you said. “It would explain all the candy.”

“I have a bit of a sweet tooth sometimes,” he admitted.

“I think Nadia enables you,” you grabbed your mug and passed James his.

“Oh she definitely does,” he nodded his head, taking a sip of the steaming hot drink before walking back to the couch with you.

You fell back into the same positions you were before, pressing play and continuing to watch the movie. After a few things progressed in the plot you spoke up asking,

“You think this movie’s going to have a happily ever after?”

“Sure, it’s a kid’s movie,” James nodded and looked down at you. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. “It’s stupid.”

James rubbed your arm, coaxing you to look back up at him again.

“You were thinking about something, what was it?”

“It’s just the happy endings don’t always happen,” you said. “I don’t know if I should let Nadi live in a world of fairytales or destroy all her hope of the future.”

“Maybe life isn’t all bells and whistles when it comes to love,” James started. “But we win with other things. I mean look at you, you’ve got an amazing daughter and you’re doing something you love with your life, isn’t that its own kind of happily ever after?”

“I guess it is,” you nodded.

“And you know, your life isn’t over. Who’s to say love is out of the picture?”

You were looking up at him and wondered how he could hit the nail on the head so accurately, like he could read your mind.

Right now, love was pretty clearly in the picture and it was sitting right in front of you.

You could feel yourself reach out your hand, gently brushing your fingertips against his cheek.

“And what if I’m not brave enough to go after it?” you whispered, feeling your heartbeat mixed with his and his shaky exhale that came with your touch.

“Then maybe,” his thumb and forefinger came to hold your chin up, his face inching closer to yours. “Maybe it can meet you halfway.”

You could feel your eyes flutter shut and his lips just barely ghost against yours when you heard a sound coming from Nadia’s bedroom and the spell was broken.

You both opened your eyes and after a moment you pulled away, just before Nadia opened the door to her room.

“Why was I in my room?” she asked.

You were still too stunned to speak, your mind racing at the idea that you were just about to kiss James, and he was going to kiss you back. You felt like a teenager, not knowing what to say or how to act.

Luckily, James was a little more composed than you and explained to Nadia that she had fallen asleep and that you both didn’t want to wake her.

“Is the movie over?” she asked and you all looked at the screen, seeing the end credits rolling.

“Yeah, it is, sorry sweetheart,” James apologized. “Can I make it up to you and read you a story before you go back to bed?”

“Sure,” Nadia agreed.

“Go brush your teeth first,” you instructed. “I’ll tuck you in once James is done reading.”

Nadia went off to the washroom and before James could say anything you stood up and grabbed a few of the dirty dishes, taking them to the kitchen to clean up. You couldn’t talk about what had just happened, not now at least, not when it was still so fresh.

You focused only on the dishes and cleaning the kitchen while James read Nadia her story before wishing her goodnight with a kiss on her forehead and waving goodbye to you and thanking you for the tea.

When the door closed behind him you let out a small breath that you had been holding and went to tuck Nadia into bed.

“Mom, are you okay?” Nadia asked, sensing your far off look.

“I’m fine,” you assured her with a forced smile. “Rest up, I have to take you to your dad’s place tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she yawned. “Night, mom.”

“Goodnight, honey.”

You kissed her on the cheek and stood up, going over to your room and sitting on the edge of the bed. You brushed your fingers against your own lips, closing your eyes you could still feel James pressed up against you, but you pushed it away.

Clearly, you still weren’t brave enough. Not yet.

—

The following weeks were awkward to say the least. You began spending more time in your office when Nadia was with her dad, just for another excuse to avoid James in the hallway.

He hadn’t made too much effort to reach out, you assumed to give you your space. You knew if you told Lisa she would just say you were overthinking things, but you couldn’t get out of your head, even if you wanted to.

You felt like you were going to stay in this crippling state of indecision forever, but you couldn’t keep it up, not when Nadia would ask questions, you needed to come up with something or someone needed to come up with something for you.

You arrived home late from campus today, this time with the legitimate excuse of grading finals. After the long hours of marking that had pushed you to extreme tedium and boredom you just wanted to curl up on the couch with a good book or something that would stimulate your brain.

Before you went to your room to get changed, you heard a knock at your door. Checking the time you wondered who it could be. It wasn’t often you had visitors past 9PM, that was unless it was James.

When you checked through the peephole, you could see James standing outside your door, waiting for a moment before knocking again.

“Come on, I know you’re in there,” he said. “Please, just let me in.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, unlocking the door and opening it, allowing him to step inside.

“Is Nadia at her dad’s place?” he asked while you were shutting the door.

“Yeah,” you nodded, still facing the wood door. “She’s at her-,”

You didn’t have a chance to finish your sentence before James turned you around, taking your face in his hands and pressing a searing kiss to your lips.

You stumbled back until you were pressed against the door, your eyes now closed while you pulled him closer to you. You let yourself run your fingers through your hair like you’d dreamt of doing the night you almost kissed, his hands moving from your face down to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You could feel your heart beating throughout every cell in your body, so loud it almost blocked out your thoughts. Almost.

You paused for a moment, holding James’ face in your hands and pulling away. Your lips felt swollen from the force with which he had kissed you and you wanted nothing more than to do it again, but you had to ask.

“Is our history going to make this complicated?”

“It’ll be complicated if we make it complicated,” he snuck past your defenses and stole another kiss, shorter, softer. “I want this. You. I want quiet nights just the two of us; loud nights with Nadia; breakfast in the early morning; lunches in your office; dinner together like this makeshift family we’ve created. I just…I want you and everything that comes with it.”

You smiled at his words, bringing him in close to you again for another kiss, this time long and slow like you were dragging out every moment of the future you had together.

When James pulled away from you, your hands fell from his face, travelling down his arms until they were in his. You looked over at him, blinking a few times until began to pull you towards your bedroom, a small smile coming across your face.

James sat down on the edge of your mattress and you stood in front of him. His hands were still in yours, looking up into your eyes. You let your hands come back up to his hair, scratching against his scalp. You smiled when his eyes closed and he hummed at the feeling of your touch.

His hands came back to hold your waist and he brought you closer, his thumb rubbing circles around your skin.

You bent down and pressed another soft kiss to his lips, causing his eyes to flutter open when you pulled away.

“What do you want to do?” you asked, fixing his hair you had messed up just earlier.

“I want to lay down here, and hold you,” he leaned back and pulled you on top of himself, sharing another kiss with you. “And I want to fall asleep knowing you’re in my arms.”

You smiled and nodded your head, whispering a quiet ‘okay’ while you adjusted yourselves to be more in the centre of the mattress.

And just like before, James pulled you close into him, but this time you didn’t let yourself feel taken aback or nervous, you leaned into his touch, savoured when you felt his lips pressed against your hairline, sighed when you felt his hands slip under your shirt to trace mindless shapes on your back.

No equation or formula would be able to describe what you were feeling and it made you realize that maybe math wasn’t the world’s universal language after all.

TAGLIST —

@cuntyvicodin @paola-carter @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey

#james wilson #james wilson x reader #james wilson x you #dr wilson #dr wilson x reader #dr wilson x you #house md #house md x reader #hate crimes md #house md fanfiction #house fanfiction #james wilson fanfiction #james wilson fanfic #james wilson fic #lisa cuddy

657 notes · View notes

myloving · 7 months ago

Text

┄ a seraph’s call

　 the beautiful hymns is a free doc themed on columbina from genshin impact, best viewed on print layout for easier access with editing.

you can ⦂

ꔫ change template colors

﹒ change the photos

ꔫ basically anything else

you may not ⦂

﹒ Remove the credit for any reason at all (you may move it to a different area within the doc) 　

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 　𓏵　made for: anon ⠀ ⸺⠀⠀sorry about the wait!

⠀⠀⠀

#𓎢𓎟𓎡　　˚　　isolatehim #𓎢𓎟𓎡　　˚　　gdocs #google docs template #rp resources #rp template #googledocs #gdocs #free rp template #doc template

245 notes · View notes

vxsellie · 14 days ago

Text

‧₊˚┊simple living things﹗

a hunger games!au ellie williams fanfiction.⌇ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔦𝔳

summary. the capitol, what a lovely place. however, as humanity's story goes, the most captivating sights have the darkest secrets. capitolites crawl around the city like vermin, teeth bared like daggers ready to sink their teeth into the newest tributes. good thing they have a few days to train.

content warnings. mentions of past suicide (only lasts a paragraph or two), depictions of gore (it's in a dream tho dw), graphic depictions of addiction, smoking, and fist fighting (not in the way you think??)

total wc. 13,045

notes!! i don't have much to say ab this one guys im sorry,, i didn't edit it so that's really great but i talk about that more in the post-notes @ the end!! once again, reminder that it's better read on ao3!

𝜗𝜚 series masterlist ⸝⸝ playlist ⸝⸝ ao3 𝜗𝜚

20:10.

TRAINING CENTER, FLOOR 4.

“Oh, isn’t it lovely?” Alice Reymond beams at the suite, clasping her hands together in awe.

The Training Center is one of many skyscrapers within the Capitol, a large portion of it dedicated to the yearly tributes and their teams. Each floor is assigned to its corresponding District. For example, the first and lowest floor is where the tributes of One will reside. As such, you and Remy are assigned to floor four. Sam and Henry are below you on three, Ariadne Evans and Selene Jones above you on five.

Since the Reapings, you’ve spent hours memorizing each tribute. Ruben deems it to be a waste of time, saying most of them will die in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. You beg to differ. Sure, a good portion of tributes will die early on, but most of them will end up surviving the bloodbath and be threats to your survival. Since most people view it as Ruben does, your determination to memorize each tribute provides you with the ascendancy. Well, it would, had you not been born a L/n.

If they Capitol weren’t so fucking infatuated by your family, you’d undeniably have the upper hand by knowing each tribute by name and District. But they all already know you. By more than just name, at that. They know your family tree, history, District, name, and all else that’s up for common knowledge — which is everything. It’s fucking maddening. You have to do double the work just to learn each name whilst yours is a given to everyone else.

You’ll be a target in the arena, deemed the highest threat and the most valuable kill.

“We each have our own rooms, bathrooms, and dressing rooms. Just like on the train. Though this place is far more ostentatious.” Alice continues on, walking around the space with a wide grin. “Dinner will be served in half an hour, so you’re able to get washed up. Return back here in something more comfortable than those costumes, yes?”

Alice shoos you and Remy away, turning to admire the suite alone. She continues to mutter words of veneration under her breath long after everyone has left.

The suite has an open layout, kitchen and living room separated by a three foot wall. To the right of the space is a wide hallway, corinthian columns on either side. Down the hall are four doors, one for each of you. The floors are hardwood, the walls velvet with intricate mouldings.

You push open your door. Your room is decorated in different shades of blue, likely due to Four’s being a fishing District. It’s cliche, though you find yourself far more fond of the blues than you were of the pure whiteness back home. It adds character despite that being basic.

You’re quick to strip out of your pirate outfit, slipping into something more congenial.

Your stylist was kind enough, a short plump woman named Birdie. Her hair was chopped into an electric red pixie cut that messily framed her round face. She didn’t look as much as a Capitolite as Alice Reymond, though she still had that wealthy aura to her. She was super sweet, asking how you wanted your hair done and how short you wanted your skirts. Most stylists don’t care to ask for the tributes’ preferences, so you were grateful to her in that sense of things.

The piracy was her idea, though she allowed you to choose between fabrics. You were sure you’d be dressed into something appalling, whether that be two shells or a full blue bodysuit. But the pirate dress wasn’t too bad. It was actually the best option possible. It was creative enough to draw attention, yet modest enough that you weren’t exploited.

You remember feeling someone’s eyes on you at all times, making you shift uncomfortably as you couldn’t figure out who was staring.

But when your carriage turned after leaving President Fedra’s building, you caught the eye of District Seven’s tribute. Ellie Williams, you believed her name to be. She wore something much showier than you did, making her undeniably attractive. Her short auburn hair was cast back, accentuating her blotchy freckles. Whoever Seven’s stylist is this year surely has an eye for Ellie’s features, knowing exactly what to highlight and how.

You walk around your room, taking in the sight of the space. It’s larger than your room on the train, though it’s full of so many gadgets that it doesn't feel as vast as your room at home. You mess around with the devices for a while, exploring the wonders of Capitol technology.

You can change the color of your walls, lightbulbs, and carpet with the press of a button. You leave it on blue though, something about the color bringing a sense of comfort to the foreign space. There’s also a machine that materializes food within the blink of an eye! All you have to do is order a meal by speaking into the intercom! How cool is that?

Your adulation is quick to fade. And you’re now disgusted by it.

Kids die from starvation in the Districts daily. Yet, here in the Capitol, food is materialized by the press of a button? The thought makes your stomach churn and you’ve suddenly lost your appetite.

Right on time, there’s a knock at your door. You rush to open it, no longer wanting to be near the sickening machines of the Capitol. Alice stands in the hallway, eyes bright as she announces that it’s time for supper. You nod, following behind her to the kitchen. On the way, she knocks on Remy’s door and he joins you guys at the table.

You sit down, the meals already set out in front of each of the four chairs. Though, one remains empty. Looking down the table to where Ruben should be sitting, there’s naught in his space. You raise an eyebrow at this, turning to Alice.

“Where’s my brother?”

“Oh, all mentors attend a dinner at the Capitol following the Parade! They’re able to talk with sponsors about how well you guys did.” She responds cheerily as she tells an Avox to cut her steak. “He should be back by now, though. Hm. Perhaps he’s just running late.”

You frown, having no choice but accept her nugatory explanation — which did nothing to console your nerves.

The Avox nods, stepping away once he’s cut her meal into tiny bites. You catch his eye and he raises his brows, silently offering to cut yours as well. You shake your head, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

Alice glances up at you, her movements paused. “What’d you say?”

“I wasn’t speaking to you.” You tell her, gesturing to the Avox behind her. You speak casually despite knowing how this will inevitably vex her. “He was going to cut my steak for me and I declined.” Her eyes widen before she places her fork down gently, trying hard to withhold her patience. “It’s informal to speak to Avoxes in such a manner, Y/n. You’re meant only to address them when giving orders. They’re criminals and have earned their place as servants.”

“What’s informal is your lack of sympathy.” You scoff. “You have no idea what their crimes are. There’s a high possibility that they’re defendable, that they have families who miss them dearly.” “Yet there’s a higher chance that’s not the case.” She responds.

Alice appears to be absolutely horrified by your show of defiance and willingness to argue on such a matter as this. Remy watches with wide eyes as you two continue to bicker back and forth, all Avoxes now having lowered their heads to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

Your argument is ended only when the front door of the suite clicks open.

Ruben staggers through the doorway, his hair tousled and his shirt half unbuttoned. Your eyes widen as he lifts his head. His pupils are blown and bloodshot, his lips are parted and chapped. The cause is obvious — the post Parade dinner. He must’ve taken one too many of the personally enhanced drugs that the Capitol provides him with.

Alice is quick to her feet, rushing to his aid. It’s so odd how she can be so caring at times, yet so malicious at others. Remy’s brows are furrowed in confusion, clearly not understanding why Ruben is acting so peculiarly.

Alice brings him over to his chair, where he slumps down onto the table. You don’t move. Part of you feels a sense of pain, seeing him like this. You feel like you should help him as he’d helped you all through your childhood. But another part of you wants to run away, cower in your room until it’s all over. You’re frozen in place, feeling like that useless, defenseless child you once were.

“What’s wrong with him?” Remy asks, his voice small.

It takes a few seconds before you realize the question is directed at you. Remy watches you with concerned eyes. You blink a few times, taking a deep breath to ground yourself before you answer him.

“He just had a lot of fun and he’s feeling a bit tired, is all.” You say, using the same response Ruben once gave when explaining why your father would return home drunk all the time. You then turn to Alice with the same pointed expression Ruben would give your mother. “Stay with Remy, I’ll take Ruben to bed. We’ll let him sleep it off. He’ll be better by dawn.”

Alice’s brows furrow for a second, though she’s quick to piece it together. She nods, pulling Ruben’s face out of his food before stepping away to allow you to intervene. You crouch down, draping one of his arms over your shoulders before pulling him to his feet.

Ruben stumbles, his knees buckling under her weight so you’re practically carrying him all the way to his bedroom.

His room is a carbon copy of your own, though he’s switched the color settings to a dusky hue of taupe. You lead him over to his bed before dropping him onto the mattress, allowing his weight to slide off your sore shoulders. He groans, shifting around atop the blankets.

“Oh, quit your whining.” You roll your eyes, though you’re aware he’s likely too far gone to comprehend anything you say. With a sigh, you begin to unlace his shoes. “If anything, you should be thanking me.”

“Thanks, Y/n.” He says, syllables slurring together. He barely opens his mouth, his voice muffled through his teeth. He lulls his head to the side, peering at you through lidded eyes. “‘Never wanted ya t’ do this part, y’know.”

“I know.” You whisper, tossing his shoes aside.

You unbutton his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders for him. Scars cover his arms and torso, painting his skin in different shades of pigmentation. Some scares you recognize to have been caused by your parents’ abuse, others by his time in the arena. There are only a couple that you were unaware of. Though, despite already having known about almost all of them, the sight of his body so battered is painful to look at.

You wonder if yours will look so bad after your Games. You’re already coated in scars from your parents' inflictions, but that makes up only half of what Ruben has. A mosaic of all things bad, scars are. They paint a picture of ache, telling the story of one’s agony.

You stand straight, folding his shirt over your arm before placing it on his desk. The Avoxes clean the rooms while everyone’s asleep, which includes picking up clothes. So, taking a few seconds to fold them neatly goes a long way.

“G’night.” Ruben murmurs as you open the door to leave. Despite his residual grogginess, the next three words that leave him ring clear as day through the dark room. “I love you.”

Your heart clenches in your chest at the sound, not having heard those words fall from his mouth in a long, long time. You never thought you’d hear them again and, if you did, you hoped it would be said in sobriety. With him inebriated in such a way, you don’t feel it’d be fair to return the gesture. It’d erase all intended sentiment.

“Yeah,” You whisper, “You too.”

With that, you exit his bedroom and shut the door softly behind you. You walk back out to the dining area, seeing that the table has long since been abandoned. Remy and Alice must have gone off to bed. The Avoxes are clearing the dishes, working in complete silence. You thank them, grabbing the attention of a few. As they’re unable to respond, they simply nod in appreciation before returning to their task.

You stand in there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. You could go to your bedroom, though the sight of all the gadgets makes you sick and you’re certain you’ll be unable to sleep. In the end, you decide to exit the suite.

It’s frowned upon to venture the halls at night, though it’s technically not unallowed. There are cameras everywhere, watching the tributes’ every move. You spot three in just the hallway down to the elevator. The buttons on the wall start at ground level — where the actual training is set to take place starting tomorrow morning — ranges from 1 to 12 for each District, then ends at rooftop. You were unaware that the Training Center even had roof access. Curiosity gets the better of you, causing you to press the button.

The walls of the elevator are glass, allowing you to look at each floor as you pass it. Though you’re moving far too fast to actually examine what you’re seeing.

You step out of the small space once you’ve reached the roof, the doors sliding open to reveal a huge amount of space. The railing is made of concrete, reaching the height of your chest. Though you know that there’s an invisible boundary preventing the tributes from killing themselves before the Games. The Capitol wants to see your deaths, so prior suicide is highly loathed by the excited viewers.

The air is chilly, but not cold. You walk across the roof to the edge of the building, resting your elbows on the concrete wall. You can’t see the stars here as the city pollutes the sky with artificial light. The streets, however, provide their own spectacle. And, if you squint hard enough, they almost look like stars. But you quickly feel dumb once you’ve done it.

The fresh air is nice, despite the lack of stars. It helps to clear your head, ridding your thoughts of your own problems. But whenever your mind manages to stray, you’re reminded of Ruben and how closely he resembles the father he loathes so greatly. They’re perfect mirrors of one another — addicted to the Capitol’s attention, abandoning their family to relish in the spotlight of the sadists, and eventually falling victim to addiction. The only difference is that Ruben hadn’t had kids yet. Perhaps he never will, the fear of replication too much to bear. More than that, you wonder if you’ll end up like the same way, partying with the Capitolites until you’re unable to walk. It’s in your blood, you suppose, so you’re sure it’s inevitable. Might as well accept it now, right?

Just as your thoughts begin taking a darker turn, you hear the elevator doors slide open.

You straighten our back, knowing whoever it is must be either a tribute, mentor, or escort and they’re thereby an enemy to you. As soon as you’re in the arena, whoever they are will be working towards your death.

“You can’t jump, y’know.” A rough, female voice says as her footsteps thud across the rooftop toward you. “I heard a rumor that there’s an invisible field around the building.”

You only look in her direction once she’s leaned against the railing beside you, her back facing the cityscape. Ellie Williams. The girl who defied the Capitol at her Reaping, the girl who stared at you throughout the Parade, the girl who’s suddenly pulling out a cigarette.

“Want one?” She asks, catching your gaze.

“Didn’t know those were allowed here.” You respond shortly, turning to face back forward.

“They’re not.” Is all she says.

Your lips thin in silent perspicacity, eyes narrowing. “Of course not.”

“Well they can’t arrest me, can they? It’s too late, they need me in the Games.” She points out, placing the cigarette between her lips. She once again holds one out to you. You shake your head and she shrugs. “It’s not like your lungs will kill you any sooner than the arena will.” “Unless I survive.” You point out.

“There’s always that, yeah.” She agrees easily, igniting the cigarette with an oddly shaped lighter. It looks oddly familiar to you. She notices your staring and is quick to defend herself. “It’s not mine, it’s Joel’s. So are the cigs. He’s the one who advised me to smoke in the first place, said it’d helped to ease his nerves before his Games. So I decided ‘why the fuck not?’”

She inhales deeply, though it’s apparently too deep because she suddenly breaks out into a coughing fit. She spins around to lean on the wall forward-facing.

You watch as she struggles for air, the hacking eventually fading to laughter. She straightens, still raspy as she says, “I get that you think you’re better than everyone, but you could at least try to make conversation before we’re shipped off to die. What’s the harm?”

“I don’t think I’m better than everyone.” You respond with a huff.

“Might not think so, but you are.” She says, inhaling once more. She coughs again, though it’s far less riveting than the first time. She exhales the smoke out into the night sky, her breath forming a puffed cloud against the blackness. “You’re the rich girl, you’ll get all the sponsors. You’re already better off than I am in that sense.”

“You’ll get sponsors just fine, I’m sure.”

You say, thinking back to her costume in the Parade and the way the Capitol adored it. Exploitation is one of the most used methods to obtain sponsors. If she plays her cards right, she could easily be the newest Diamond. She’s attractive and you’d be a fool to deny that.

“Not if you’re hoarding them all.” Says Ellie. You know she doesn’t mean it insultingly, but it still hits you that way. She notices your expression and adds, “Intentional or not, the Capitoli- Uh, Capitol people will be tripping over themselves to get you gifts.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation to you, they won’t be sent through to me.” You say, because it’s true.

Ruben may be your mentor, but your father is sure to be present in Saint Mary’s Hall — which is where the mentors watch the Games and coordinate sponsorships. He’s a Diamond and will therefore be permitted entry, especially considering his daughter is a tribute.

When Ruben was in the Games, your father had been his mentor and controlled all his sponsorships. Because gifts must first be approved by the mentor prior to being sent into the arena, he had this power. But, the thing is, your father refused a single gift from reaching Ruben. Even when he was dying of dehydration and bloodloss, he refused to let anything through. It created a rift in Saint Mary’s Hall, many sponsors deeming him immoral. He was quick to patch that up, though, as he said he’d been doing it to make his son stronger. Being as skilled as he is at manipulation, the Capitolites were quick to naivety. From there, he was only praised for his thinly veiled neglect.

So, if your father is within the Hall this year — as he likely will be — there’s no way anything will be sent through to you. He’ll refrain Ruben from permitting gifts and withhold sponsorships completely, purely because he wants his kids to win fair and square. It’s iniquitous to let you starve, yes, but you’re almost glad for it. Because Ellie is right. If it weren’t for his cruelty, you’d be undeniably hoarding all sponsors from other tributes. Sponsors could send you buffets and magical medicines while all other tributes die out slowly of starvation and lack of medical care. It’d be the equivalent to cheating the Games and you’ll be damned if you win this thing through sponsorships. If you make it out alive, it’ll be thanks to you, not the Capitol.

“Won’t be sent through?” Ellie asks. She raises a brow at you, wordlessly inclining you to explain.

Instead of telling her your entire life story, you redirect the subject to one you know she’ll be unable to deny. “Actually, I changed my mind. I could use a smoke.”

Ellie’s eyes widen, the corners of her lips twitching as she removes the cigarette from her lips and holds it out to you. You hold it between your index and middle fingers, staring at it with a hint of uncertainty. It’s unwise to do anything related to addiction, considering your family history. But it’s so tempting and the arena isn’t too far away. Plus, being addicted to smoking cigarettes is far better than your father’s alcoholism or Ruben’s drug addiction. Right?

“Scared?” Ellie taunts you.

Her gibe is the final push to make you indulge. You scowl at her before placing the cigarette between your lips and inhaling deeply. It seeps into your lungs, burning the back of your throat on the way down. Your head instantly feels wonky, your vision swimming. You hear Ellie’s laughter as you begin coughing just as hard as she had.

You lean against the concrete barrier, resting your forehead on your folded arms to muffle the hacking sounds. Between coughs, you manage, “That was fucking awful.”

It takes a bit for you to quiet down. The first feeling that you register is queasiness, but then you notice the equanimity. Your maddening thoughts have begun to muffle, pushed to the back of your mind. It only lasts a few seconds though, causing you to already reach for another drag.

“What’d you come up here for?” Ellie asks, passing you the cigarette. “You already know I’m here to smoke, it’s only fair for you to explain in return.”

“Hey, I never asked you for an explanation.” You remind her, inhaling. “I owe you nothing.”

“No, but you’re using my cigarettes aren’t you?” She points out, a glint of something akin to regalement behind her gaze. “A form of payment is due anyhow.”

“Joel’s cigarettes, you mean.”

“Shit,” She curses as you pass it back to her, “I forgot I told you that.”

You huff a laugh, watching as she turns to face the horizon. Not that it’s much of a sight though, what with the buildings plaguing the skyline. Her side profile is illuminated by the dull lighting of the roof. Your eyes trace the slope of her nose, admittedly infatuated by her. You blame it on the nicotine, even more so on the relaxation it causes you.

Ellie drops the cigarette off the roof, pulling a second from her box. While she’s turned, you begin speaking. Perhaps because it’s easier to talk when you can’t see her face or perhaps the cigs are making you that much more sociable.

“Back home, there’s nowhere I could go where I couldn’t see the ocean.” You say, causing Ellie to suddenly perk up at your voice. Her eyes flick between your face and her hands as she rushes to light the cigarette. “I rarely spent time in it, always holed up in our house. But the sight of the sparkling water was a comforting constant throughout my life. It’s odd to be where the water isn’t. Plus, despite not having been in it much, the few memories I do have are enough to satisfy me. They’re all good ones.”

“Let’s hear ‘em.” Ellie says, passing you the lit cigarette.

You inhale deeply before speaking, “Well, my first memory of the sea is learning to swim in it. My brother took me. He wasn’t allowed to, but I begged him so he did. He was patient, but laughed at me the entire time, saying I looked like a fish out of water. He claims I was a fast learner, that I picked it up quick. But I can remember the salt in the back of my throat and the way my eyes burned. There was nothing quick about that. I was four and was certain I would die.”

Ellie chuckles, watching you from the side. One arm is rested atop the railing, the other taking the cig from your hand. “He’s your mentor this year, right? What’s that like?”

The question itself is innocent enough, genuine curiosity that comes with getting to know a stranger. But it makes you bristle nonetheless, your shoulders suddenly feeling tense. Not because of Ellie’s question but because of the answer.

‘It’s horrible.’ You could say in regards to the technicalities. The distance between you, the long glances you share, the unsaid apologies. Flashes of his messy hair, bloodshot eyes, and undone blouse pop into your head. ‘It’s great.’ You could say, just as truthfully. This time, you’d be referring to the mentality of his proximity rather than the materialistic things. The comfort that comes with being near him, even amid deafening silence, the odd nostalgia that hits you when he’s sat at the dinner table beside you.

Though, as it turns out, the memory that announces itself most needily is the one most painful — tucking him into bed after he’d taken a few too many pills only a short while ago. Perhaps because it falls under both categories. The horridity of seeing him so disheveled paired with the aching reminder of your father. Though, there’s still a greatness to it. To feel him lean on you, knowing that you’re actively repaying all he’d done in your shared youth, that he needs you. To hear those three words whispered into the darkness of his room despite knowing they’re empty of the meaning you covet.

“Did I say something wrong?” Ellie is quick to ask, nervosity to her tone as she picks up on your hesitation. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No,” You say, “I’m just not sure how to explain it. The duality.”

She hums in recognition. “I get that. I came here with a loved one as well and, uh, it surely didn’t turn out as I thought it would.”

You blink at her, taking the cig from her offered hand. Your thoughts are fuzzy, though just barely enough that you hardly even notice. It’s nice how you’re still in control of yourself whilst feeling the faraway effects of the nicotine.

“Riley, right?” You ask, tilting your head at her as you breathe in the tingly air.

She nods, “Yeah. We’ve been best friends since we were nine, inseparable. But, recently, she’s grown a bit distant. Though she didn’t fully disappear on me until the Reaping. Since then, we haven’t spoken a word to one another.”

“You looked pretty close during the Parade.” You tell her.

You can vividly recall the image of their intertwined hands coming onto the screens. The crowd cheered as you watched with thinned lips. It was obvious to you what it meant, though the audience remained completely oblivious. You were impressed, at first, by their unapologetic defiance to the Capitol, especially considering it was the second time they’d done it. But you knew it was a bad idea on their part. Once they're in the arena, the Gamemakers need only press a button to end their lives.

“Didn’t realize you were looking.” Ellie says.

“Everyone was looking.”

She thinks on this before saying, “It’s odd, isn’t it? The lack of privacy. The Parade aside, there’s always someone looking.”

“I suppose.” You agree.

To you, it’s not such a foreign concept. Even in your own home, you were unallowed to lock doors. Your father claimed that needing solitude was a flaw that’d lead to vulnerability in social settings. So having privacy was never even a question, though there’s a vast difference between the possibility of someone walking into your bedroom when compared to being ceaselessly monitored at all times.

How someone could ever grow used to being watched nonstop is beyond you. Even in your private bedrooms and bathrooms in your assigned suites, there’s no way of knowing whether there are cameras. You wonder how Ruben dealt with it, how he still deals with it annually during his mentorship for the past ten years.

Ruben’s Games were twelve years ago, though he’s only been a mentor for ten in total. He was a mentor for two years until your uncle, Theodore, won the 64th Games. Theodore promptly took over the role of mentorship for District Four for the following two years. It was only cut short when he drank himself dead. His second year being a mentor, two children were Reaped and both died brutally in the arena. He’d blamed himself and ended up committing indirect suicide via alcohol poisoning.

It was a hard toll on everyone. He was always so cheerful, a big round man who was exceedingly vocal about the things he loved. After his Games, though, he changed. He was secluded in a way he’d never been before. To learn that cheery Uncle Theo killed himself was hard on a ten year old. He was your favorite relative after Ruben. You oftentimes wonder what he’d think of your Reaping, how he’d mentor you in place of your brother. Would it be more or less tolerable?

At the thought, you reach for the cigarette. Ellie passes it to you wordlessly.

You’re grateful for her lack of questions, glad she’s able to realize when you don’t necessarily wish to speak. You’re also grateful for the comfortability of her silence. With Ruben, quietude is an awkward endeavour, making the air so thick you feel suffocated. Even with Alice, it feels unnatural. But with Ellie, it feels intrinsic to her company.

“Shit, it’s probably getting late, huh?” She says after a long time of silence. You look up at the moon, noticing how far it’s risen into the sky. It’s been about an hour or two since you abandoned your suite for the fresh air. Ellie runs her hands down her jeans as she straightens. “I’ve gotta get going before my escort notices I’m gone. She’s super controlling about that kind of thing.”

“Your escort is Tilly Reymond, right?” You ask, recalling the way she’d approached Alice right before the Parade, referring to her as a sibling would.

“Oh yeah,” Ellie says, “Yours is Alice.”

You laugh, remembering their conversation from earlier today. They bickered like children. Tilly had come over to ask if Alice was feeling proud of herself for having another L/n Reaped in her lifetime, to which Alice grinned madly and said she did, in fact, feel rather pleased. From there, they did little aside from argue.

Their quarrel differs greatly from yours with Ruben. Tilly and Alice are passive aggressive, giving compliments on each other’s dress whilst eyeing a certain stain or disarranged jewel. You and Ruben, on the other hand, fight as though you’d both rather eat glass than admit the other to be correct. It’s nasty, throwing insults like daggers. Something you’d both been unfortunate enough to inherit from your parents, presumably. To argue with such animalistic avidity.

“Well,” Ellie says with a small smile to announce her residual need for departing, “Meet me here at the same time tomorrow? I’ll bring some more cigarettes.”

“More of Joel’s cigarettes.” You correct her with a teasing grin.

She waves a dismissive hand, “Yeah, yeah.”

And with that, Ellie Williams walks back inside. She’d left you with the cig you’d been smoking, so you remain outside for a little while longer as you work it down to a butt. Your mind reels with tangled thoughts of the Parade, Ruben’s addiction, and Ellie’s laughter. Fuck, it’s been a long day. And tomorrow is bound to be even more taxing.

6:00.

TRAINING CENTER, FLOOR 7.

Ellie hardly slept a wink last night, her dreams full of terrors regarding her upcoming fate. Through wafts of heavy smoke, trees from Seven, and estranged voices, she could barely make out the contents of her slumber. What she could decipher was waking up over and over, only to find she’s still trapped in a dream.

At one point, she was in the arena. As she doesn’t yet know what she’ll be thrown into, her brain concocted the one from last year — which had been won by a girl named Abigail Anderson. It was a rocky terrain, the entire arena on a slope. The tributes were on a mountain, having to find shelter in caves and trees that littered the topography. The tributes in her dream, however, were the ones Reaped this year. She was starving and wounded and struggled to walk on the dampened stone. Other tributes ran past her, their forms abstract and footsteps inhuman. She called for help, only to be ignored by each one. Finally, after what felt like hours of agony, someone crouched down to aid her. Riley. Her best friend and her savior. Except she wasn’t. Instead of propounding assistance, she pulled Ellie to her feet only to shove her back again. She’d tumbled down the mountain, eyesight rolling alongside her. The scene shifted.

She’d fallen all the way down to the rooftop from last night. The logistics were nonsensical, though that hardly mattered when she took in the state of the unwaking world. From her place of elevation, she was able to overlook the Capitol as she’d done last night. Though, this time, the buildings were up in flames, people screaming in the streets with scorched flesh and mutilated bodies. She attempted to run to the elevator, only to find that her feet were manacled to the floor. She fought with futility against the chains until her ankles were bruised and blistered from the unforgiving metal. Somehow, due to unconscious malarkey, she could see the Capitolites as though she were looking through a pair of binoculars. Their faces, distorted and pained. Their hair, scorched and lacking in their tell-tale extravagance. Then she saw a familiar face. Riley, crumpled on the ground just as Ellie had been when they were on the mountain. Riley reached up, begging for help. Ellie lurched at the sight, though she was still bound to the rooftop. Riley was pleading with someone. Ellie followed her gaze to see you, leaned back coolly against a brick building with a cigarette hanging from your lips. Her– Well, Joel’s cigarette. You helped Riley to her feet, only to shove her to the ground. It was a perfect mirror of what Riley had done to Ellie. Only this time, the shove caused her to be trampled by the huge crowd of panicked people that plagued the streets. Her body was crushed under the people until she was naught but a heap of meat and tissue.

Ellie awoke with a jolt, her chest heaving.

Those were the only two dreams she could accurately recall. All the rest were blurred and distorted by the others. But she knows there were more, so many more. The scene kept shifting, antagonizing her relentlessly. Flashes of Riley’s face, both pleading and cruel. Of your face, imbued by that same duality. Of Joel’s or Marlene’s or even Tilly’s. Her mind was a horrid, callous place and she never wanted to think of the terrors again.

Though, as it turns out, her luck ran out rather quickly. The trepidation of her dreams followed her all the way down to the training rooms below ground level. Joel and Tilly brought she and Riley down, the group of them comfortably conversing in the elevator. Even Riley joined in, though Ellie couldn’t. Her head was still reeling, though she’d woken an hour prior. She wonders if she’s still in a dream, only this time with sentience.

She chews at her nails as the elevator opens to reveal a wide, metallic hallway with two heavy doors at the end. Above them is a sign reading, Tribute Training Rooms. She removes her fingers from her face, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

“Hey,” She feels a heavy hand on her shoulder, causing her to jerk away. She turns to see Joel standing beside her as Tilly and Riley leave them in favor of entering the training rooms. “You’re actin’ weird today.”

“Oh,” She breathes, willing herself to relax, “It’s nothing, just on edge. I guess.”

He nods, pulling her over to a shadowy corner of the hall. “Did the cigarettes work? Y’know, for your nerves.”

“Uh, yeah, actually.” She says. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

Just then, the elevator doors creak open and another pair of tributes walk out with their mentor and escort. She recognizes them to be from Eleven, only able to remember because that’s the Reaping that Riley stormed off after.

They’re the two kids, their mentor being Dina Woodward who won the 66th Games at age thirteen. She’s infamously kind to her younger tributes as she’s able to relate to their youth. The Capitol is split directly in half, one portion adoring her for the empathy whilst the opposing portion loathes her for it.

As they walk past, Dina offers Joel a kind nod that he returns. She pushes the heavy double doors open, holding them ajar for her little tributes to saunter through. Joel only turns back to Ellie after Dina has shut the door behind them.

“Ya have to be more careful.” He tells her harshly. “If anyone, even Dina, overheard that you’re smokin’ in the Capitol, we could get into a shitload o’ trouble. Me specifically, since they can’t do anythin’ to you before the Games. But still.”

“I get it.” Ellie scoffs. “I didn’t even say anything while she was out here, anyway.”

“Well still.” He crosses his arms. “What’d ya wanna ask me?”

“Why’re you helping me?” She inquires, eyes narrowing in distrust. “You were a complete dick when we first met and now you’re giving me illegal solutions to help my nerves. Why even bother if you think Y/n will kill me?”

Joel sighs through his nose, leaning back. “I had a talk with a friend last night.”

“At the dinner party?”

“Yep.” He concurs. “She kinda lit into me ‘n’ said I need to at least try with my tributes. See, I wouldn't usually take such hard criticism, but t’ argue with Teresa Servopoulos is a fuckin’ death wish.”

“That’s..” Ellie trails off, trying hard to remember which District she’s from. But her mind is blank. She knows Tess is a mentor, which would explain her presence at the dinner party last night, but Ellie can’t seem to recall anything else about her.

“District Three.” Joel says, picking up on Ellie’s contemplation. “Victor ‘f the 55th Games.”

“Oh yeah.” She says. “She won the year before you did.”

“Yeah, she–”

Joel is cut off by the elevator doors opening again. From them, District Two’s crew exits. Ellie stiffens at the sight of Abigail Anderson’s strong build. The braided girl scowls at Joel, her gaze so sharp it could cut through the tension that’s suddenly accumulated within the hall. Had Ellie not just had that funky dream about Abigail’s arena, she’d likely have not thought anything of her presence. But she did and so she does.

She won last year’s Games, taking over mentorship from Melanie Moore. Abigail’s victory allowed Melanie to move to District Ten, where she instantly wed Owen Moore — winner of the 70th Games. Their relationship gathered a lot of attention from the Capitol as people gushed over their love story, much to Melanie’s distaste. This year is the first time in seven years that Melanie isn’t the mentor for Two. Which is a shame because the tributes appear to have already picked up Abigail’s insolence. Lev and Yara walk shoulder to shoulder, glaring at Joel just as their mentor is.

Joel frowns, though he seems more upset than angry at their show of distaste. Once they’ve entered the training rooms, Ellie turns to him. “Geez, what’s her problem?”

“Uh,” He pauses, thinking on how best to explain, “Her father, Jerry, was Reaped the same year that I was. And, well, only one victor can win, so–”

“I get it.” Ellie nods, feeling a sense of solemnity to his tone. It’s unsettling to hear from such a naturally rough man. Joel’s Games were aired when Ellie was three years old, so she doesn’t recall much from them. The Capitol replays highlights from past Games, but it’s not the same. She knows only what the Capitol deems important — his most brutal kill, him running in the opposite direction from the Cornucopia, and his final kill. Jerry Anderson isn’t among that.

“C’mon, kid.” Joel says, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Let’s go.”

Ellie nods, following him down the hall to the training rooms. The interior is exactly like the outside, a big metal box made of tile, glass, and concrete. A large circle is formed at the center of the room, all the tributes and their corresponding mentors and escort encircling an athletic man who’s preaching explanations, schedules, and rules for training here. There are stations set all around, an expert in each skill located there, willing to offer help to the tributes. The escorts and mentors all leave once the instructions are finished.

Ellie watches them depart. The crowd of them is plagued with ambivalence; the escorts exude an air of wealth and elegance reserved only for someone raised in the Capitol, whereas the mentors exude strength, honor, and dignity reserved for killers who won past Games via brutality.

As the doors close behind them, she watches through the cracks as pairs are formed. She sees Joel and Tess begin talking with a blonde woman she recognizes to be Maria Miller — she married into Joel's family by marrying his little brother. Joel doesn’t talk about him much. Abigail and Owen also seem to instantly turn to each other, as do Tilly and Alice. And, before she can see any other duo, the doors close fully. She turns back around to see the rest of the circle has dispersed.

Her instinct is to look for Riley, though she quickly discards that instinct and walks over to an empty station without reading what it’s for. A short, hoary man welcomes her to the plant section. She withholds a sigh, now realizing why it was empty. Everyone else fled to the weapons.

“Plants are much more important that most people realize, you see.” Says the old man, picking up a small bunch of berries. “What does this look like?”

“That’s nightlock.” She says.

“Oh, uh-” The man’s brow furrows.

It’s clear he was expecting her to say ‘Those look like blueberries, I would totally eat them!’ but she didn’t. Ellie hunted in the woods in Seven often enough to know her way around which plants are and aren't edible. She feels bad for the man, as she looks clearly upset. It’s not her fault, though, she hadn’t meant to come over here.

“What are nightlock berries?” Asks a small voice from beside her. Ellie jolts at the sudden presence of another, turning to face the owner of the voice. A small girl with dark skin and coiled hair stands to her side. She’s from Eleven, one of Dina Woodward’s tributes.

“Oh, I’m glad you asked.” The old man grins. “Nightlock is a wild plant that grows small purple berries below its pointed leaves. They’re extremely poisonous to anyone who eats them. You’d be dead before they even reach your stomach.”

“Woah,” The girl whispers, looking at the pomes with wide eyes. “I never would’ve guessed such little things could cause such big reactions.”

The man chuckles, “Yes, nightlock is not something to underestimate.”

As the two of them fall into a long conversation about plants, Ellie slowly backs away from the scene and exits the station. She knows well enough not to sit at stations she doesn’t need to sit at, doing so would be a waste of everyone’s time. But then again, perhaps it was a good thing. Everyone is learning, yes, but they’re also watching. She feels the careers’ eyes pinned to her as she exits the plant station. Everyone is observing everyone, learning their weaknesses and strengths.

For Ellie to walk into the plant section first, they’ll assume she knows nothing about it. They’ll underestimate her. And, much like the poisoned berries, it’s a foolish thing to do. An idea pops into her head as she walks over to the archery section.

A few other people are there, she counts three. Henry from Three, showing his little brother how to aim an arrow at a target; Ariadne from Five, who’s hitting the bullseye each time; and the other little kid from Eleven, whose name Ellie doesn’t know, attempting to hold the bow with both hands. See, just from gazing across the space, she’s gathered enough information to be considered valuable. Ariadne Evans is a beast with a bow, Henry will likely be trying to teach Sam to use every weapon possible, and the little Eleven boy is horrible at long range.

Ellie walks over to the table, grabs a bow and quiver, then positions herself in front of one of the targets. The instructor offers assistance, though she refuses it easily. She feels a pair of eyes on her, though she doesn’t dare turn around. Every instinct in her body screams to hit the bullseye, to show off. But that’d be useless. Then her strengths would be revealed.

She positions the bow in her hand, holding it out a bit crookedly. She places the arrow on the string, purposely messing up a few times. Then, with both eyes open and her back slightly hunched, she releases the arrow. It clatters against the floor and Ellie huffs, feigning annoyance. She does this three more times before setting the bow and quiver on the table and storming off, appearing to have given up on archery.

As she leaves the station, she does a quick assessment. Three people had been watching her. Nolan Barlowe from Ten — the buff guy who looked overjoyed to have been Reaped. Thalia Thatcher from One — the younger sister of the 68th victor. And, finally, you. The literal best people to have put an impression on. You three are the most threatening. If she’s underestimated, all the better.

You’re leaned against the wall, arms crossed as you observe everyone with sharp eyes. She fights a smile at the sight. You look the polar opposite of who she’d smoked with last night. Your gaze remains steady as you eye her from across the room.

Right. You’re not supposed to know each other aside from brief passing.

She is amused by your technique, though it’s the single most cockiest thing she’d ever seen. You’re not training with everyone else, instead opting to watch as though you’re superior. It exudes the idea that you don’t need to train, which Ellie assumes is the case.

She walks over to another station, struggling to ignore the way your eyes follow her every move. The station happens to be spear throwing — which won’t be hard for her to suck at because she does suck at it. Throwing the overlarge stick over her head and hitting a target? Yeah, it’s not exactly something she practices back in Seven. There’s no need to spear while hunting as it just damages the meat. Had there been any bodies of water in her District, which there’s not, she’d perhaps have learned it through fishing.

She vaguely wonders if you’re good with a spear, being from Four and all. She then recalls what you’d said about not being in the ocean much. God, it pisses her off how secretive you are. There’s a fifty-fifty chance that you know how to spear. You’ve clearly trained a lot, so you’ve likely practiced with it. But also, she knows you went to the ocean sparingly.

Two other people are at the spear station — Nolan Barlowe, and an old man she doesn’t recognize at all. She doesn’t even remember him being Reaped. Oh. He must be from Twelve because she hadn’t watched their program when it aired.

He watches her with a glint of something unreadable in his eye. It makes her stomach churn as she grabs a spear.

There are human-shaped mannequins against the wall for tributes to practice hitting. Nolan sees Ellie and scoffs under his breath. At first, it irritates her. But then she remembers this is her plan: look weak and be underestimated. She sighs, feigning recluse toward his show of disregard. He keeps his eyes locked on hers as he throws the spear without looking, the blade wedging right between the mannequin’s eyes. She swallows, this time not needing to feign her unease. I mean, seriously, who practices with a spear in their freetime?

Ellie shifts as the two men practice on either side of her. She adjusts the spear in her grasp, dramatizing her oblivion.

Do I hold it with one or two hands? She thinks to herself. The fuck do I do with my elbows?

With a grunt, she throws the spear at the target. She shocks herself when the blade wedges in the mannequin’s heart. She’d fully expected to miss. Nolan’s brows furrow in curiosity. Ellie grabs another spear, desperately needing to undo what she’d just done. She holds it the same way as before, muttering under her breath to remember how exactly she’d done it. She then tosses it halfheartedly, the spear landing three feet in front of the mannequin. She frowns and Nolan chuckles.

“I knew it was just beginner’s luck.” He says with a scoff, causing the man from Twelve to chuckle. Ellie sighs, fighting the urge to argue with him. Instead, she scowls at them both as though she’s terribly offended, then storms off.

The next hour in the training rooms is spent doing the same thing. Sometimes, she actually feels like she could get the hang of some weapons. She finds herself quite enjoying small throwing knives, though she purposely drops them when she notices herself getting better with them. She also, shockingly enough, is good at just straight up hitting things. She’d used a crowbar as a weapon and scared the trainer, who was forced to take a few steps back to avoid being injured.

She’s noticed other tributes’ traits as well. Nolan hasn’t left the spear station, so it’s likely he’s only good at one thing. After half an hour in the archery section, Ariadne left to practice with a mace. And, terrifying as she is, she’s even better at that than with a bow, swinging it around like it weighs nothing. Ellie was also proven correct when she watched Henry escort Sam to each station, instructing him on how to use every weapon. Lev and Yara are both scary with a bow as well, having even better aim than Ellie herself. The couple, Roland and Archie, don’t dare stray a foot from one another, bound together at the hip. She’s also noticed that Riley has been trying different stations, though she’s careful not to be near the one Ellie is currently at. She’s stayed away from the axes, not daring to show off her skill with them just yet.

Ellie is walking over to the fire-making station when she feels a tap on her shoulder. She whips around to see you standing behind her, finally having peeled away from your wall. Your gaze is steady as you watch her, looking every bit the threat you are.

“I need a partner at the combat station.” You tell her easily, casually. As though you’d never spoken before. Ellie gets flashbacks to doing this exact same act with Cat at the Remake Center. It makes her chest cave.

“And I’m your first choice?” She asks.

Everyone’s eyes are pinned to the two of you, though Ellie knows they’re far more interested in you than her. You haven’t left your wall for the entire hour of training, watching everyone with such closeness that there’s a heavy weight in the air. You’ve done naught but observe. It’s truly no shock that they all find it impossible to look away.

“Yes.” You say easily, your voice deceptively smooth.

She narrows her eyes, desperately trying to read what you’re thinking. Is it not foolish to be talking at all? She’d thought you two came to a silent agreement that speaking would give away your recent rendezvous. She continues to stare at you. But you’re a closed book, thoughts cryptic. But then you tilt your head at her, inclining her to reply.

Ellie shrugs, “Why not?”

With a threateningly alluring grin, you begin walking toward the large mats set to the side of the room. Ellie trails behind you. Nobody has used the mats yet, leaving the instructor to be sleeping in her chair. You kick off your shoes before stepping up to the ring. Ellie unlaces hers, taking a few moments longer than you did.

She’s still clueless on your logistics to this, to training with her. You’re the most feared. The tactic of refusing to show your strengths was honestly the smartest thing you could have done in your position, in spite of the clear show of pride. If you were to train with someone, it’d make best sense if you were to do so with your fellow tribute, though Remy is too small to fairly practice hand-to-hand with. Or you could train with the second strongest tribute present, which would either be Nolan or Ariadne. Or, possibly, the weakest, which would be– Oh. Well, shit. It’s Ellie. Perhaps she took her strategy too seriously. Yes, the children from Eleven are weaker than she is, but it’d be unfair for you to beat them up. Ellie is a year older than you and thereby your best option.

“No damage to the face.” You tell her as she pulls herself up onto the mat.

She looks around. A crowd has formed around the ring, everyone yearning to see you in action. Ellie feels a sense of pride at knowing she’s the one who gets to fight you. She turns to face you, realizing she has two options. She could keep up her weak facade, causing everyone to continue to underestimate her so she can easily sneak up in the arena — which is the wiser of the two. Or she can reveal that she’s not the useless girl she’s pretending to be — which is more satisfying.

Ellie squares her shoulders, already coming to a decision. Fuck, her dignity will be the death of her.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She replies.

You chuckle, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Good to hear.”

Ellie holds up her fists, not at all knowing how to approach this. Are you a tackler or..? She knows that Marlene likes to keep her distance, dodging more than she punches. She knows that Riley uses her legs more than most people, sweeping or kicking her opponent. But you’re a mystery to her, to everyone. Do you rely on offense or defense more heavily? She knows Marlene uses–

Her thoughts are cut off by a blow to her gut. Ellie hunches over, not having even noticed you moving in on her. She’s quick to recover, though her stomach aches from your punch.

The crowd remains silent as you two begin to circle each other, holding their breaths in anticipation.

She watches you, taking in the way you step and the way your fists are idly positioned in front of you. But you’re giving no signs toward your next move, completely closed off. She decides to make the move this time, aiming for your jaw despite her agreement of ‘No damage to the face’. You evade her easily, light on your feet as you back out of her reach.

Ellie comes forward, attacking again. She’s fast. Fast enough that you’re unable to dodge her fist to your ribs. Breath is forced from your lungs at the impact. Ellie is momentarily proud of herself. But that's before she realizes all she managed to do was rile you up.

Your leg collides with her side before she registers the movement. The same side that you’d punched in the beginning. While she’s still catching her breath, you grab her by the arm and twist it around her back. She grunts at the ache in her shoulder.

Your lips caress the shell of her ear as you whisper, “I knew you were a good pick.” before then shoving her hard in the back, sending her stumbling forward.

She’s quick to spin around to face you. It pisses her off to see that you appear unmoved, standing in the same spot as before without so much as a hair out of place. You move with fluidity, like a dance. More than that, you’re calculative. You already know Ellie’s style.

You close in on her, reeling your arm back and aiming for the face. Apparently, you’ve both abandoned the agreement. Ellie ducks under your fist, taking advantage of your unprotected stomach, punching you hard in the gut. Exactly where you’d hit her. It’s childish, but it makes her feel a sense of satisfaction as you buckle over.

The satisfaction is short lived as your ankle is suddenly coming at her face. She twists, grabbing you by the calf and using her own leg to sweep you off your feet. Your back slams against the mat. Hard. Ellie stands over you with a shit eating grin.

“Still think I’m a good pick?” She asks, crouching to taunt you. You’re splayed across the mat, chest heaving. Sweat clings to your hairline, your lips parted. Ellie’s stomach flips at the sight, though she’s careful not to show it.

A smirk tugs at your lips, “I knew you weren’t weak.”

“Is that why you chose me?” She chuckles. “To prove to yourself that–”

She's cut off when both your feet fly into her stomach. She coughs, staggering backward as you hop to your feet. You’re instantly on her, hands on her shoulders before you drive your knee into her gut. Once. Twice. Three times before Ellie notices your face has been left unguarded by your busy hands. Her fist collides with your jaw. Your head snaps to the side. She’s quick to use your momentary shock to her advantage, tackling you to the ground.

You slam against the mat, on your back once more. This time, she’s wise enough to hold you down. Ellie’s knees are on either side of your torso as she pins your wrists above your head. You pant heavily as she grins down at you. You scowl up at her, brows contorted into a furrow. But then, all at once, your expression does a 180 and you’re smirking with just as much titillation as she. You squirm under her, causing Ellie’s grip to tighten on your wrists.

“Y’know,” You say through heavy breaths of exertion, “If it weren’t for our current situation, this could be a rather fun position.”

Ellie’s face flushes, her eyes widening. Her focus slips and your grin widens. Unbeknownst to her, that was your only intention — to get her to slip up, to be taken aback just long enough for you to change the game. You buck your hips hard enough to roll her over. You straddle her waist as Ellie pants beneath you, glaring.

“That wasn’t fair.” She says.

“It worked, though, did it not?” You point out with a grin. She groans, tipping her head back against the mat in defeat. She can feel every movement you make, your bodies close enough together that she’s sure you could count the freckles on her face, if you so desired. “What’s your next plan, Williams?”

“I’m thinking.” She grunts. “I could headbutt you, but that’d damage your face.”

“Oh, so now you care about that.”

“I don’t want your stylist killing me in my sleep.”

“Ah, she’s far too kind for that.”

“Is she?”

Ellie thinks of Cat, wondering what she’d make of this. Do you have a similar relationship with your stylist? She doubts it. What she and Cat have is highly illegal and could result in both of them being turned to Avoxes if they were ever found out. You’re far too reputable to risk such a thing. But then again, most stylists barely even talk to their tributes.

She wonders, wonders, and wonders when it comes to you. A mystery, you are. An enigmatic book so foreign to her she’s unsure where to even begin to read you. The words blur and the page numbers shuffle, forming an unintelligible story left unread by all.

“What an odd tone, that was.” You say. Ellie hopes you’re unwise enough to not recognize it as jealousy. To imagine you with your stylist as she was with hers is a sight she wishes to remain as such an enigma.

“I yield.” Ellie says, cutting the conversation short via surrender.

The crowd hums with conversation. Everyone knew you would win anyway, though they’re shocked at the fight Ellie was willing to put up against you. They disperse as you climb to your feet, offering Ellie your hand. She takes it, standing.

She briefly catches the sight of Riley’s face as she’s pulled up. Scowling, condescending. Not at all an expression one would reserve for their lifelong best friend. It makes her stomach twist and she quickly releases your hand. You don’t seem to think much of it, walking over to put your shoes back on. She does the same.

And with that, you part ways as strangers. Which, with or without the rooftop acquaintance taken into consideration, is technically true.

21:37.

TRAINING CENTER, FLOOR 4.

“Did I or did I not say to avoid any type of combat?” Ruben asks, trying desperately to keep his tone level as he reprimands you for the bruise on your jaw. The moment you walked into the suite, he rushed to freak out over it whilst Alice gaped dramatically.

“I won.” You argue back, scowling at them both. “Plus, it’s not like I was hiding some big secret. They all know I can fight.”

“Yeah, well now they know your technique.” He says, pinching his nose in annoyance. “They know what you’d do in certain situations. They know if you prefer offense or defense, if you use your upper or lower body more, if you–”

“I get it.” You butt in, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Do you? Because it doesn't seem like you do.” Ruben snaps.

He’s been, frankly, acting odd all day. You wonder if it has something to do with last night’s dinner. You want to ask about it, sitting at the foot of his bed with bright eyes as he speaks about his issues. But you can’t do that, no longer on that level of relation with him.

You frown at him, fists clenching at your sides. “You’re not my fucking parent. I’m an adult and can handle the Games how I damn well please.”

“Well if you die, that’s on me. That’s my guilt to carry.”

Of fucking course. It only makes sense that he’s only interested in how your death would affect him, how guilty he would feel. Not once does he think of his little sister who would be the dead one, buried six feet under the dirt.

“Great. Then you add my death to your fucking sob story.” You seethe. “Cry about it to your Capitol friends, maybe they’ll make you some new drugs.”

Ruben opens and closes his mouth a few times. His eyes are wide, clearly offended by your comment. A mixture of satisfaction and repent swirls within your gut, creating a recipe for cataclysm. You know this’ll end one of two ways — you and Ruben will get into a screaming match, taking after your parents in all the worst ways, or one of you’ll storm off and subsequently not talk for a long time. Both options result in misery, so you allow Ruben to make the choice.

Alice’s jaw is hanging open, resembling some sort of a fish gasping for air. She appears absolutely appalled by your audacity to insult Ruben in such a way. It takes everything in you not to wipe that expression clean off her face.

“You say some really fucked up shit when you’re mad.” Ruben says, voice quiet. “Y’know who else used to do that?”

You say nothing, already knowing his answer. You hope your lack of indulgence will prevent him from saying the name, but it doesn’t. He speaks it nonetheless, spit with such venom that your jaw twitches.

“Your father.”

Something deep in your chest yearns to lash out again, to bear your words like daggers ready to slice him open with their cruelty. It’s an insatiable, carnal desire that’s followed you all your life, looming over you like a shadow. Anger is so quick to wrap his hands around your throat, so hasty in pulling the strings like a sadistic puppeteer. You only now register that it’s not Anger causing this, it’s you. The blood in your veins and the nitrogenous bases in your DNA that tether you to your father. There’s nobody, nothing else to inculpate aside from your own heritage.

You crave the sweet release of shouting at him, imagining the hurt look on his face. Despite knowing the satisfaction won’t last long before guilt replaces it, you still want it. To inevitably hurt the ones you love, what a curse that is.

As said, there are two options from here and you take the latter. With a heavy huff of anger and a clenched jaw, you turn on your heel and storm out of the suite. You’re on the rooftop before you’re even able to register how you’d gotten there.

You were supposed to be here half an hour ago, having promised Ellie to meet at the same time as last night. You desperately hope she hasn’t left yet, for you really want a cigarette.

“Look who finally showed up.” her voice is heard before her form is seen. You turn toward it to see Ellie leaned against the railing opposite of the one you’d occupied the night prior. Fair skin and freckles dance under the silver moonlight cast upon them, auburn hair a flame against the darkness.

She already has it lit between her fingers and you refrain from lunging toward it.

You wave off her comment, walking toward her.“Yeah something came up.”

“Such as?”

“A desperate need for some food.” You lie. “Didn’t mean to take so long, Capitol meals are just too good to turn down.”

Ellie chuckles, mindlessly passing you the cig. You take it, placing it in your mouth with an animalistic hunger that only causes her laughter to grow laced with amusement. The smoke fills your lungs and clouds your head, a momentary sense of tranquility washing over you. It causes the sting from Ruben’s words to not burn so much, easing the wound he’d left like intangible ointment.

You begrudgingly pass it back to Ellie, staring at her as she inhales. There aren’t any bruises on her face, which is rather unfair as you’re certain you got a lot of punches in. Well, you suppose they were mostly aimed at her stomach and ribs. Shame.

“Why’d you choose me?” She says into the chilled night air, breath fogged. It takes you a moment to realize what exactly she’s referring to.

“As a combat partner?”

“Yeah,” She confirms, “If you wanted strong, you could’ve asked Nolan or Ariadne. If you wanted weak, you could have asked Selene or Elliot.”

“I didn’t want them, though. I wanted you.”

Her mouth twitches at this, though she simply speaks, “But why?” “Because I knew your frailty was an act.” You shrug, swiping the cig from her. “You’re a good actor, a great one even. But I know what it looks like to enjoy something. And you really enjoyed that archery station. The spear and the crowbar too, just not as much. And, oh, how could I forget your cute little plant section?”

“Okay, stalker.” She huffs as you laugh.

“I was watching everyone, Ellie. Don’t feel too special.”

“Awh,” She feigns a pout, “I was just beginning to.”

It’s comfortable here, on a roof of solace. It’s like a secret oasis shielded away from the rest of the world, obtained only by the two of you. It’s nice, perhaps too nice. You’ve formed a bad habit of distrusting things when they grow too good to believe. As you pass the cigarette back to Ellie, your mind comes up with countless scenarios of how this could end — you get caught, cast out of the games, and turned into tongueless Avoxes; or maybe you don’t get caught, become good friends, then you’re forced to kill her in the arena. No matter how this goes, the ending is the same. Inevitable loss of comfort.

Ellie remains silent beside you, comfortable in the lack of conversation. She overlooks the city, the lights reflecting within her viridescent eyes. You imagine the way the light will leave them in the arena. Because, amid the infinite scenarios in your mind, there’s not a single one that entails you losing the games. Whether you’re the one to take Ellie’s life or not, she won’t live.

“Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask, desirous for an off-switch to your thoughts.

Ellie’s eyes remain on the scene below as she responds. “The higher Districts might train for the games, but the lower ones are taught to defend themselves.”

“From what?”

“Anything?” She shrugs. “Everything.”

You hadn’t thought of it that way, as an act of defense. Of course you’re aware that’s what fighting is for. But you were raised into thinking it was a fact of life — you’d been expected to know how to take an enemy down at the age of seven. You were trained to fight with Ruben before you used the holograms.

“Well who was your practice partner?” You ask. “Back in seven.”

You hadn’t thought much of the question, though it causes Ellie’s expression to falter. Her lips tighten as she passes you the cigarette. “It was interchangeable between my caretaker and Riley.”

Oh. Okay yeah, that was your fault. You’d completely forgotten about her stifled relationship with her best friend. Guilt traces up your spine. You want to ask what she means by caretaker, but you decide against prying for more information.

Although she’s good at hiding it, Ellie’s expression is rather dejected. At the sight, you feel the need to offer a fair trade. To give her information about yourself that’s not so easy.

“Mine was my brother.” You say softly, turning toward the city before inhaling the smoke. It’s her turn to stare at you while you observe the city. Her eyes bore into the side of your face and you fight the urge to look at their greenery.

“Are you guys, uh,” She trails off, sounding unsure on how to approach this. “What’s your relationship like? Currently, I mean. You— well, I know you used to be close because you said he took you to the ocean as a kid. And, uh,”

Her rambling makes you laugh, lightening the ache in your chest.

“We’re not so close anymore.” You admit, passing. Her brows furrow, clearly wanting to ask more. You appreciate her forbearing from doing so, though you know she deserves honesty. If you wish to pry as much as you do, you can’t expect to not return such an endeavour. In a much quieter voice, you speak, “He wasn’t the same after his Games.”

Ellie frowns, “I wouldn’t expect anyone to be, considering what the tributes are put through.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “It was just, really bad.”

She nods in understanding, though you know she doesn’t exactly have many details. “I’ve lost people too.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I was a baby but yeah.” She says, quick to undermine her own losses in comparison to yours. It’s endearing. “Both my parents passed when I was an infant. I was raised by my mom’s best friend, Marlene. She’s cool and all but– Well, she’s not my mom. And she makes no effort to act as one.”

You’re quick to recall Ellie referring to Marlene as her caretaker. Well, now you know why.

Ellie turns, looking out at the horizon. Her face is illuminated by the moonlight, smoothing her skin and shining her hair. She breathes out a cloud of smoke, clouding the cool air.

You’re not sure what to say, unused to having people confide in you. Are you supposed to tell her more about yourself as to relate to what she’s saying? Or would that be self-centered? Just as you’re about to spew out a random response, Ellie speaks up, swiftly changing the topic. Thankfully.

“I don’t tell many people emotional shit like that.” She admits. “But, for some reason, that’s all you and I seem to talk about — sentimental crap.” She then turns back to face you, your eyes meeting for a moment. Something passes between you, her gaze sharp but in a watchful way rather than a predatory one. She hands you the cigarette. “Tell me something about you. Something conversational.”

“Like what?”

“What’s your favorite color? Who’s your biggest inspiration? What’re your hobbies?” She lists off, counting each point on her fingers.

“I don’t really have hobbies.” You say, huffing a laugh. “Don’t have time for them.”

“That’s impossible, everyone has hobbies.”

You hum as you inhale the smoke, thinking. You truly can’t think of anything. You’re normally too busy with your mother’s training or retrieving game from mister Alden. When you finally think of something, it’s from your past. Long before Ruben left, when you were allowed to be a kid. “I used to enjoy writing poetry when I was younger, though it was no good.”

“See, that’s a great hobby.” Ellie smiles encouragingly, nudging your shoulder.

“Okay, then. What’s yours?” You redirect, narrowing your eyes at her.

She grins even wider, already knowing her answer. “Hunting, gardening, doodling, painting, reading comic–”

“Painting?” You ask, mildly shocked by this.

“I mean, it’s the one I do the least out of them all, but–” “What do you paint?”

Her brows raise at your sudden interest. “Depends on the day. Sometimes I paint people, though I can never get the proportions right so I only end up pissed at myself by the end. Sometimes I paint abstractly, but I can never figure out what the end result depicts because it’s just a big burst of colors and vague shapes. Ninety percent of the time, they’re landscapes. Of the woods, of the road by my house, of the abandoned mill. Anything, really.”

“Hm, I didn’t really take you as a painter.”

“I’m not, really. I mostly just doodle in my notebook.” She says. “I only paint when I want to create something bigger than the journal’s confines.”

“Is that what you brought with you? Into the arena?”

“No. That would've been a good idea, though.” She shakes her head, clearly disappointed in herself for not having thought of that before you.

“What’d you bring, then?” You ask. She holds out her hand in response. On her right index finger resides a thick metal ring, shaped as a moth. The creature’s wings wrap around her finger, body thin. It’s so intricate, so detailed. You lean closer to get a better look. “Is it a family heirloom or something?”

“No, uh,” She falters as she decides on how to answer. You straighten, still looking at the ring even after her hands have been dropped back down to her sides. “It’s from a friend.”

“So is mine.” You tell her before reaching up to touch your necklace. Ellie looks at it, eyes tracing the line of your collarbone all the way down to the pearl pendant. She reaches out, fingertips grazing the thin chain. Her hands are cold, causing your breath to hitch. She notices and is quick to pull her hands away, clearing her throat awkwardly.

She turns back toward the Capitol, you do the same. The city is asleep, the lights all turned off in the windows as the streets are naked of vehicles. You wonder if there’s a curfew, though you doubt it. Capitolites rarely have rules.

You imagine yourself living here, residing in an overpriced home that you won’t be charged a penny for. You’d be tended to by a vast quantity of Avoxes, never hearing any of their voices. The home would be yours to keep and yours to design. There’d be blue everywhere, subtle reminders of your life back at Four and the salty ocean that mister Alden would put through each visit on his skiff. The thought sounds nice at first, the luxury of it all. But the finer details — owning people, never seeing the ocean again — those are what get you. Not to mention all the parties you’d have to attend. All Capitolites are made to attend the more prestigious parties, mandatory under President Fedra’s decree. But then another thought crosses your mind. You’d have to win the Games first. To even be pondering on your life after them, you’ll have to survive before all else. The idea sickens you as it never has before. At first, you think it’s because you'll have to kill people, a thought that’s never sat right in regards to your morals. But then, as Ellie passes you the cigarette, the cool metal of her ring brushing your finger, you realize it’s not only that. It’s not the fact that you’ll have to kill people. It’s the fact that you'll have to kill her.

[post] notes!! i'm gonna be so fr, i only edited half of this chapter bc its SO fucking longggg (sorry ab that btw). i normally try to reread & edit as i go, but i seem to have abandoned that process #whoopsies!!

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist @luvsturniolo. @ilovewomenfr. @zzombiegirl. @elliessweetheart. @shawangel. @defnoteleonor. @fatbootymuncher. @autisticintr0vert.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 series taglist @kirammanss. @dsybouquet. @serraphinm. @smellovie. @sakiigami. @opt1mistic. @spacecinnamonbuns. @clouded-whispers. @sappicarribean. @corpsebridenightmare. @jaliyah-s. @pixiec4t. @chappellroankisser. @mxquelo. @vahnilla. @moshuka. @cupidluvzz. @elliewilliamssrealgf. @h4-rt3s. @tmbpyv. @prwttiestbunnies. @jinxtheplanet. @sevyscoven

96 notes · View notes

kisses4kaia · 1 year ago

Note

on my knees, foaming at the mouth, begging for more sub coryo

u guys are so funny oh my goodness😭 (slight au where sejanus did not die because we love him🥰) i got a bit carried away as you can see!! but that’s ok !!!! also, university!corio .. okok go read now plz enjoy and reblog :)

being the girlfriend of the winner to the plinth prize whilst simultaneously biting your tongue constantly was no easy feat.

every thoughtless, careless, borderline sexist, comment corio received from older men—and even some of your male peers—along the lines of, “oh, she’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? bet you keep her on her knees, huh?” (whilst you were right there, mind you!), infuriated you beyond belief and typically made corio tense up and awkwardly brush them off.

because no, corio did not always keep you on your knees. as a matter of fact, it was quite the opposite. you had him on his knees, every night, begging and pleading for a taste of you. and if he was a good boy, he would get one. you were assertive, not cruel.

you so badly wished you could shut them down, tell them exactly how it is, but you still loved and respected corio, and you knew what might happen to his reputation if that kind of secret got out.

so you kept on biting your tongue.

and tonight, corio’s arm is snaked around your torso and his large palm rests on the small of your back.

you’re at a elite party he was invited to, making friendly conversation with clemensia and sejanus while throwing witty comments back and forth with your boyfriend, when all of a sudden, one of crassus snow’s old friends come up to the both of you and it goes how you would expect; however, this time, something’s different.

this time, he laughs boisterously and nods, agreeing with the crude comment the man made. coriolanus shakes his hand and says “oh, absolutely. would you expect any less from my father’s son?”

you are fucking appalled, and the astounded expression on your face doesn’t do much to hide it.

when the old man whose name you didn’t bother to remember finally leaves, corio finally looks down at you to see your narrow eyes shooting daggers into his.

you say no words and storm off, and he’s hot on your trail. “baby? baby, hold up, slow down!”

you heed no mind to his words, and only stop your stampede when you find an unoccupied bedroom and drag him inside.

it was glamorous, which was to be expected, considering the host of the party was volumnia gaul; she always was one for dramatic flare. the ceiling was high and the walls were crowned in gold paint. the layout was simple, there was nothing but a queen-sized bed, an empty dresser, and bare vanity gracing its presence, all but proving that it was not it use, and perfectly fine for you to punish coriolanus in.

“what the fuck was that?” your voice is scornful and with the way your face twists up and contorts into a look of contempt, he knows he’s in for it.

he stumbles over his words, trying to think of a way he can phrase his words to deescalate the situation, lessen the blow for himself. “i-i’m sorry. i don’t know what i was thinking. please, honey. please forgive me. i’m begging you,”

the last phrase causes you to look up at him before smirking wickedly, “are you?”

you can see it dawn on him, the realization that you really are going to make him beg—the proper way, down on his knees.

he sighs ashamedly before letting his knees buckle, right one hitting the ground, the left following suit.

the slicked back hair on his scalp gleams perfectly underneath the warm overhead lighting the small chandelier provides, and his glossy, devastatingly blue, eyes are boring into yours as his bottom lip begins to quiver ever so slightly.

“i’m so, so, so, fucking, sorry. i’m so stupid, i just didn’t want him to think lowly of my fathers kin. i fucked up, i know, just, please, please, forgive me,”

he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears when he speaks and you can’t help but revel in how hot this all is. having one of the most powerful men in the capitol at your feet, pleading for you, you have to work hard in order to conceal the ache between your legs.

“show me, then.” you turn around on him and walk to the bed, sitting, before crossing your legs and leaning back, dangerous, siren eyes inviting corio to crawl to you.

he doesn’t even hesitate before getting on his hands and knees and desperately pawing at the ground, trying to get close to you again. and when he reaches your sat figure, he grabs your ankles, uncrossing them and pulling your high heels off slowly, all before kissing his way up your calf, and up to your mid-thigh, where the slit in your dress begins. he looks up at you pleadingly, expression reading ‘may i?’ and you could praise him for being so polite if he wasn’t enduring punishment.

you nod slightly, raising your hips just enough so corio could hike your dress up, bunching up at your waist.

his eyes stay on yours, watching you intently as he pulls your delicate, lacy, black and pink, panties down your smooth legs, before gently placing them on the floor next to him.

when you part your legs ever so slightly, the eyes boring into yours spark up with excitement and hope. he finally breaks eye contact when he shuts his eyes and lays his tongue flat against your cunt, lapping up the ego-boosting amount of arousal that’s drooling from your achy hole.

he’s so perfect for you, timing his transitions between fucking into you with his tongue and sucking on your clit just the way he’s learned you like just right, never lingering too long on one part of you.

at this point, you have your legs wrapped around his head tight, nearly restricting his facility to breathe, shamelessly moaning and praising his ministrations. “fuck, yes corio! oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum? yeah? so fucking pathetic,” you spit at him in between borderline moans so pornographic that you’re apprehensive that somebody outside of the four walls you’re in may hear you, but it doesn’t seem to bother you that much, considering the lack of you lowering your own volume.

and the sounds, the sounds are vile, fucking disgusting. his salivated muscle messily dragging all over your labia, his perfectly pouted lips making out with your pussy like he’s in love with it (he is). all of the insanely erotic factors of this moment don’t do anything to hold off your impending release, and with a weak cry of the boy beneath you’s name, sweet syrup leaks out from your tight hole lands onto corio’s anticipating tongue, and you can feel him smile against you at the taste of it.

he drinks it all down in no time and when he continues to lather his tongue all over your clit, not seeming to want to be done, you have to physically pull his head away from you as a result of overstimulation.

he frowns but when he sees the look on your face, your exhausted, satisfied, fucked-out, face, he has to bite his lip to contain his smile.

“i did good?” there’s a special twinkle to his eye, and you find it all-enamoring.

“so good,”

“you forgive me?”

“yes, but next time you pull some shit like that, i’ll jerk you off under the dinner table, you hear me?”

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 !#angelnon 🤍#kai's got mail <3📑#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #corio angel 🪽★#tbosas smut #tbosas #thg smut #the hunger games #tom blyth smut #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #got just a tad bit carried away here.. oops!#kaia writes coriolanus

455 notes · View notes

10yrsyart · 1 year ago

Text

Connor needs more friends and Tron lost/ destroyed all his friends, so i think they should be buddies 😤👌 they have a lot in common, they can bond over their shared trauma hahah

(the crossover came to me in November and then i shot myself in the foot by deciding to do traditional instead of digital 😂 ...and it hasn't left me alone, so there may be more still)

DBH/ Tron AU

transcript:

Connor: -nothing so far. It appears to be a library archive of ENCOM's back up files. Copies of layouts and simulations. But no location of the GRID server or current status.

Markus: Alright Connor, keep me posted. And be careful.

Connor: I will, Markus.

Connor: (A corrupted security file..? Why-)

Connor: --W A K E U P--

Connor: I'm sorry. Your updated matrix was corrupt, so I had to access your base code.

Tron: Are you a User?

Connor: My name is Connor, I'm th- I'm an android.. a detective with New Jericho.

Tron: My name is Tron. To what do I owe a super computer for the rescue?

Connor: New Jericho received an anonymous tip about the existence of ISOs in ENCOM's dormant system, and I recovered your security program during my search. Perhaps you'd be able to help me?

Tron: I cannot condone any program, or AI for that matter, actively working to harm the Users or ISOs.

Connor: That's not our intent, I promise you.

Tron: ...Very well. On one condition.

Connor: Yes?

Tron: ..I'm an old program, Connor. Would you tell me.. how the User world has changed?

Connor: (smiles)

(BONUS)

Tron: Connor! It's good to see you.

Connor: Hello, Tron.

Tron: How are you?

Connor: I'm well. I was telling my friend Hank about you and the date of your origin. And he said, “For pete's sake, kid, what'cha doin with all us old guys? Ya gotta get out more, get some sun.”

Tron: He sounds like he would have enjoyed one of MY User friends.

Connor: Maybe if he knew who you were, Hank would feel differently-

Tron: NO... no, I'd rather keep my anonymity. It's better that way..

#detroit: become human #connor rk800 #dbh connor #tron #tron 1982 #tron legacy #dbh markus #comic page #comics #traditional art #sketchbook comic #my art #long post.#DBHTronAU

495 notes · View notes

sleepy-grav3 · 1 month ago

Text

Glitching issue

So I was getting distracted again. I heard Masochism Tango and Stalker's Tango, wanted a yandere playlist with intense ballroom songs, that types of thing.

And then I thought of another story idea for my current hyperfixation: DCxDP

One of my favorite ships in that fandom is Dead Tired/Brain Dead, cause I love them... so much...

Anyway-

With the context of the yandere ballroom playlist, you should know where I'm going. And I read a few fics/prompts/whatever else you'd call them where it portrays a normally pretty toxic relationship but they're actually in a really healthy relationship.

There was one about mutual stalking, another with kidnapping shenanigans, one that mentioned attempted deprogramming- you get it. (don't ask me for them, I don't know what they're called and there's too much to sift through to find them, very sorry, do feel free to reblog/comment the authors of them or ones that hold some relevance)

But yeah, now I'm making a fic with a playlist as storyline inspiration. Idk the layout yet.

1 Long Chapter : 1 Song

Story Arc (probably short) : 1 Song

Always a 1:1 ratio, maybe a special 2 songs here and there? Not sure.

But so far!!! I have the usual: Masochism Tango and Stalker's Tango.

Got the Cell Block Tango ready. El Tango de Roxanne will be there too. I got some waltzes and looking into other types of rhythms like them. Tango, Waltz, thinking about Salsa and Swing, got a few others too

Looking into some less yandere themed songs since I can't solely do it on yandere themes. I want it to be drama filled but with some healthy doses of attraction, y'know?

Yeah, that whole thing is going on a headcannon and an idea.

Ghosts feel things more strongly, so some unhealthy things to humans are meh or minimum level things to ghosts. Because of this, Danny's a bit unhealthy in what he considers love (his vigilante life didn't help with that, especially with Vlad), but his human side keeps it more on the downlow

There's a different species of beings that are immortal in a way: The Undying. Life loves them or they're obsessed with Life. Tim is one of the only true Undying. They're as rare as true Halfas.

So... yeah. Love this little idea. Been working on it for a few hours now. And I need help. Song recommendations mostly, storyline ideas are welcome.

I'll be posting a playlist once I get it all sorted out, chronologically, and the outline of the story put up. The summary will be a genuine summary and not just some background info or a quick sentence like I usually do.

But I want a happy ending. No bittersweet, no hurt/barely any or no comfort, no fully angst-

I need some kind of betrayal for someone to go to jail TvT

Will it be Tim or Danny? Who fits best as a viewer for Cell Block Tango, just casually listening to people talk about killing (and that one framed murder).

Who's the one that lives off the thrill of getting hurt (I'm thinking more of the bdsm way, but also the "I'll only let you hurt me" type of way too? Doesn't have to be physical or verbal or even intentional... I'm making this sound worse-)

I got this one part for the Roxanne one

The yandere is "cheating", no idea if it's fake or a previous relationship, or whatever. still under planning for that.

And the "victim" is the one who's begging the yandere to not deceive them. Maybe they've been lied to a bunch of times, maybe they really don't want false hope, maybe they're fine with an open relationship as long as the yandere doesn't leave- idk, but the "victim" is the one who's pulling the strings during then.

I'm trying to think of who's the other person, the yandere, and the "victim". Who's who? Not sure. And how does it fit with the rest of the songs too... Ugh, I really should just do oneshots T^T But I can't at the moment, not with the ideas-

So yeah

Ideas? Song recommendations? Character ideas? Scene prompts????

Please?

Oh, and this post is named glitching because it broke my fucking computer. I don't have a mouse anymore. Luckily, it's touchscreen and the keyboard still works. Still annoying though

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #batfam #dead tired #brain dead #tim/danny #tim drake #danny fenton #or maybe danny nightingale???#Should I do a bad reveal au???

67 notes · View notes

irisintheafterglow · 8 months ago

Text

to tell you is too scary (so I'll just say something else)

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: lizzy mcalpine - "pancakes for dinner"

summary: nightmares don't usually translate to reality, but you call sakusa for the first time in years. just to be safe.

wc: 1k

cw/tags: gn!reader and post-timeskip!sakusa, nightmare about a plane crash but nothing descriptive, angst/comfort with happy ending, childhood friends to lovers (??), dialogue-driven, he hates everyone but you

note: yayy first @ficsforgaza gift post for @froggiewonder17 !! i tried out a different layout for the top section of this post, lmk if y'all like it! thank you again for donating to help palestinian families, i hope you like this :)) my f4g masterpost can be found here!

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

Your thumb trembles over the call button next to his contact, hovering and waiting for some unseen force to make you stop. Your hand keeps shaking, no matter how hard you try to stop it; the ravaged skin of your cuticles is stained with dried blood from your constant picking and scratching. Dread crashes again in a wave and you find yourself trapped under the water, gasping for air that wasn’t being inhaled. With a knot in your lungs, instinct takes over and taps your phone.

The three ascending notes of the phone dialing his number sound far away and you unexpectedly heave out a choked sob. He’d probably changed his number or deleted yours. Maybe he would simply glance at the unknown caller ID and ignore it entirely, returning to his drink with all his teammates at the bar. You didn’t know him anymore.

You didn’t know him anymore.

Your palm slams onto the red circle and you curl into as tight of a ball as you can muster, disappearing into the corner of your bedroom. It’s stupid, calling him because of the first night terror you’d had in a decade. When you were kids, he was always your first call when your eyes flew open. I’m with you, I’ve got you, he said. He guided you when adrenaline turned into anxiety, when the void outside your window was unfathomably dark. He’d stay until your breathing evened into a sleeping rhythm and wouldn’t hang up until your phone died or you woke up the next morning. He was there every time you were drowning, and your soul didn’t know what to do without its safety ring except sink,

and sink,

and sink…

INCOMING CALL.

CALLER ID: Kiyoomi💛💚

You stare at your phone screen illuminating the blankets like a beacon. Blinking once, then twice, you wait for it to disappear like a hallucination or a trick of your psyche. It doesn’t, and when you have half the mind to reach for your phone, the screen disappears. You’d missed the call. Maybe it was a trick of the mind?

(1) MISSED CALL - Kiyoomi💛💚

INCOMING CALL.

CALLER ID: Kiyoomi💛💚

You’re faster this time, snatching your phone from the covers and swiping the “answer call” button to the side. It’s quiet on the other end of the line for a moment, but he’s there. He always was, wasn’t he?

“...Omi?”

“Hey,” he says gently. There’s faint noise in the background of where he is, sounds of conversations and telecom announcements. Even with the sound of rolling wheels, he’s still clear. “You called.” Fifty minutes away, Kiyoomi imagines you nodding in the silence, maybe wiping a stray tear with the corner of your fitted sheet. “You’re safe?” You hum a shaky mhmm, still unable to force out any words. He murmurs your name, coaxing you out of your tight ball. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I’m safe,” you reply after a breath. Based on your voice alone, he could tell the night terror happened no more than five minutes before you called. “I just–I’m sorry if I–”

“I’m here if you want to talk about it,” he reassures you, immediately shooting Atsumu a withering glare when he tries to dance up to Kiyoomi’s less busy part of the airport. The MSBY team’s international flight was canceled an hour ago, but he was still trying to figure out if he wanted to stay with his teammates at a closer hotel. The present situation felt, literally and metaphorically, like you were calling him home.

“There was a plane,” you say in a broken whisper. He strains to hear your crackling voice and shakes his head adamantly when Bokuto and Hinata try to join Atsumu’s antics. Now was not the time to fuck around with him. “You were on it, and something went wrong, and it–There was an accident and…I just had to watch it happen. I had to watch it happen and I couldn’t do anything.” Your voice cracks and trails off, making Kiyoomi’s chest twist like a wrung towel. Your friendship was strained after Kiyoomi’s second Nationals, fading completely until there was nothing left when you graduated except photobooth strips from third grade. He kept your number, though, in case something like this ever happened. In case you needed him again or he needed you, he never decided.

“Are you–are you home right now?” Another broken mhmm. “Can I see you?”

“You’re not overseas?”

“I was supposed to be, as of an hour ago,” he admits, running an exasperated hand through his curls and straightening his track jacket collar. A flash of light catches the corner of his eye. Cameras, cameras, cameras, always. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, continuing, “But, the flight got delayed and ultimately canceled because of maintenance issues. We’re probably gonna have to postpone the game.”

“I’m sorry, Omi.” You hear him shrug in that indifferent manner that always seemed to come down when he was with you. All his walls, actually, came down when he was with you.

“I don’t care, honestly. My question still stands.” He swallows thickly, begging you to say yes for both of your sakes. When his phone showed your contact photo for the seven seconds you called, it awakened grief in him he thought he’d buried years ago. By all accounts, Sakusa Kiyoomi desperately missed you. “I can be there in an hour. I’ll take a car, I don’t care how much it costs.”

“It’s–it’s fine, you really should stay with your team and rest,” you mutter, always the selfless one worrying about his well-being. You were too good to him, letting him cancel plans for training camps and tournaments, always letting him go. “I don’t want you missing another flight if it comes up.”

Too bad that, when it came to you, Kiyoomi had decided long ago he’d always be selfish.

“Say you need me and I will be there.” You don’t hesitate.

“I need you here, Omi,” you murmur. He’s gone in seconds–mind, body, and soul. His body acted instinctually, running on nothing else but the sole purpose of getting home to you. With a wad of cash and an Olympic athlete’s intellect calculating the fastest way to reach you, he vows that you would never need to say you needed him again.

Because he’d say he needed you instead.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#fics for gaza #sakusa x you #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #kiyoomi x you #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n

189 notes · View notes

skrewtiny · 2 months ago

Text

WOAH the first introduction of my actual MC whattttt :000

that won’t be happening often

pardon the background i hate doing them lol This is Ev! My Golden Trio Bro (Jayden should kinda be there too but he isn’t part of the actual Golden trio so he is absent)

Full name is Evarin Aldrich Whitewood, he comes from a Pureblood Family, where his Parents are fond of older and more Fancyish names(though he doesn’t have the fanciest name out of the three Whitewood Kids :).

Relationship Chart:

Not everyone is there, as i did cut out antagonists and characters he has no relationship with/doesn’t even know who they are.

If you can’t tell, Ev doesn’t like people all that much, he’s rather solitary and studious, only having a few close friends.

My whole 'au' kinda story thing is split up all between like seven of these characters, all being the main characters of different seasons and having their different friend groups. For instance, Ev is not all that great of friends with Kevin, Robyn, Lottie, and so on.

-His seasons are:

-The Mysterious Malady

-Intercontinental Wizard’s Cup

-A Light in the Dark

Along with those, he has the main storyline, and the majority of the Quests, but not all.

-Fun lil details:

House: Slytherin

Patronus: Komodo Dragon

Wand: English Oak, 11.8 inches, Phoenix Feather Core

Born: Nov. 28th 1996(Part of the Cutoff Crew, with Daniel, Robyn, and Kevin)

-His favorite Classes are Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration, and although they aren’t classes, he enjoys Dueling and plays Quidditch as a Chaser.

He might not strike you as the biggest Quidditch fan, especially seeing as he prefers to spend most of his time studying and such, but he uses the games and practices as time to get his mind off of certain things.

(Which was partly short lived, as the Freys became the Team Beaters a year or so after he made the team himself. Though he has to admit…they aren’t exactly a hindrance to the team, as he feared they would be)

-Being a Slytherin, Ev shares a Dorm with both Daniel and the Frey Brothers, so you can imagine how divided that room is..and not just in friend groups and opinions of each other.

Evarin is a bit of a Neat-Freak, though not to an extreme degree. He can’t focus in a messy space, and very much prides himself in his attentiveness.

The Frey Twins are the complete opposite and prefer to use the floor as their storage space rather than their trunks or drawers. Ev can excuse a lot of things, but actively leaving your room looking like an Erumpent rampaged through it is not one of them. Daniel is better, but does often have organized messes.

yes i felt like drawing a room layout with a mess i don’t know why, help

*Also for context in my story Daniel is a Slytherin and Ivy is a Ravenclaw, yes i split up the Golden trio i’m sorry Ivy just doesn’t fit Slytherin imo…so i went with what the official art put her as :>*

Anyhow that’s all i feel like writing on this one cuz it’ll get too long, so yurrr

Feel free to ask questions about Ev, the relationships with canon or other of my oc’s, or really just anything relating to him.

You can ask on this post or use my ask box, and if you’re awkward about asking just as i am, go ahead and do an Anonymous Ask :DD

~Thank you for reading this whole thing~

p.s. Who should i introduce next :000

-Jayden

-Adelyn

-Alicia

-Iven

-Merri

-Tamara

#Despite being my main mc #Ev is not in fact my favorite hpma oc #hpma #hp magic awakened #harry potter magic awakened #hpma mc #hpma oc

56 notes · View notes

ziipzeepzop-eez · 9 months ago

Note

hi! me again, i know it hasn’t been that long but i just rewatched one of my favorite anime’s, Komi can’t communicate, it’s about a girl named Shoko Komi who has extreme social anxiety or also known as social-phobia and has trouble speaking to others and making friends as well, i’m serious, anytime the girl tries to speak, she gets nervous and overwhelmed and just starts stuttering a LOT!

So! i was wondering if you could do lil something with the rottmnt boys and a reader who acts like that? you don’t have to! and don’t worry, i’m almost finished with the lil gecko’s design!

i also recommend watching the anime, it’s really good and funny!

have a nice day/night! ❤️

❝ dulcet vibes. ❞

— ‧₊˚ 🎐✩ 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐤𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐞𝐬𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

❝l a/n !! : bro how many coincidences will we encounter ? I LITERALLY ADORE THAT ANIME SO SO MUCHHH AAAAA !!!! i binged the entire series over the course of time and finished it during the summertime last year ! such a wonderful anime. the slice of life feel to it, the equal parts humor and heartfelt, and not to mention the characters are all absolutely adorable and lovable !! especially komi. bro she's such a sweet cinnamon roll i just :(( my baby gorla :((( entire show is just *chef's kiss*

also darling this is like. YEARS late i hope u don't think i forgot abt you ?!!!! thank you soso much for your patience + i really hope you like this waaa !! also, psst. this is probably one of my favorite layouts~ the colors came together soso pretty !! ^^

ᝰ genre !! : fluff, a bit of crack, slice of life, platonic :)

ᝰ precautions !! : none, I don't think 🫡 if I am wrong however, pls pls let me know!! *smek* love y'all. hope you enjoy~

i imagine the gentleness is which they all unanimously develop when interacting with you, developed on day one of meeting you.

they're all quite protective over you !! that much goes without saying, of course.

it started out with you becoming a close friend of april's :'))

seeing as she was the first to understand that you weren't some unreachable individual w/ some uppity "holier-than-thou" complex,

but rather, a kid. just like the rest of them. :')

she recognizes her peoplez. 😤✊🏾 probably finds a kindred spirit in you for feeling a bit like an outcast.

whereas you garner attention for your stoic, quiet demeanor and mysterious beauty, that's usually all people see you as.

some don't even see you as much of a fellow person at all. based on your aura alone — you've been described as an equal mix of cold, stuck up, unreachable, boring or flat out rude . . . as well as absolutely stunning, dark, debonair, sleek, attractive, godlike even.

whatever the case, you garnered the attention of all kinds wherever you went, whether you liked it or not.

they just ain't know you, babes. 😞

and april is all too familiar with being simultaneously judged (solely based on appearances) and ignored or pushed aside because you're different.

and homegirl don't run that way 🫡. she a real one.

i imagine she took/takes on the role of being your tadano at first !!

she was chosen as your guide to show ya around the school and upon seeing y'all's chemistry build instantly throughout said tour, you both were paired up for a project in your shared classes! ^^

at first she was a little off-put by your silence and sharp gaze, and even more so at the loud attention you were given the instant you were introduced into the classroom, but a little time is all it took :)

it quickly became apparent that that simply wasn't the case.

you had pulled out your phone, showed her a message typed out in a cinnamoroll-themed digital notepad,

" thank you for your help :')) i'm sorry i don't talk a lot! i'm just shy. thank you for being so kind to me. 💛🙏 "

yeeeaaah she knew you were a good egg.

and the rest is history!

LEO gives me madddd najimi vibes, i'm gonna be so fr. so let's imagine that dynamic here !! as soon as y'all met, there was probably a little miscommunications at first :'] ofc april had told the guys beforehand that she was bringing you over, and he was positively stoked at finally being able to meet this "new friend" his best gal had been talking so fondly about !! and yes, she had given them all the rundown (but him especially. he was sweat-dropping at all the enunciations in her spiel being directed so openly at him. he ain't even met you yet 😔 why is everyone bullying him he is not that bad please he just wants a new friend this isn't fair ple- #justiceforleofr ✊🏾) but with leo, there's always something happening. (/aff /lh)

y'all know ts that najimi stayed pulling in the show? giving komi these complicated orders to go collect on her own in efforts to help her overcome her social anxiety? THIS HAS LEO WRITTEN ALL OVER ITTTTTTT. he'd definitely verbally note down the most diabolical pizza order and only gives enough time to make sure you even heard it before he's shoving the phone in your hands.

now if you start shaking and hesitate, he'll wait until like the very last second before he's chuckling and looking at you with gentle eyes. he takes the phone back into his hands, confirms the order, then pats your head. he's proud of you for trying!!

(he promptly dissolves into good-natured laughter when you start cuffing at his arm, face as red as a tomato.)

tbh thinks you're a cutie pie and tho he teases you, it's all in good nature !! let someone else try to come at you for your shyness. big "only I'm allowed to tease them" energy from this blueberry.

you know leo as your charming and obnoxious but fun-loving best friend who always smiles and jokes around you. but he can be brutal when he's upset. it's like a complete 360 when he's coming to your defense; his gaze turns hard and all traces of his bubbly self. GONE.

fiercely protective over you. whenever you're with him (or any of them really) he's your protector. and you can count on him to celebrate like it's the 4th of July whenever you manage to overcome your verbal barriers.

RAPH. our red angel of preventing harm. the backbone of our society. he is such a mother hen when it comes to you awww :(( when y'all first met & you responded to his amicable greeting by beginning to tremble and stare up at him with wide, shiny eyes, not a word of reply, he thought it was most obvious that you were scared of him. of them. ☹️

it made his heart ache but it was a familiar hurt. this may be New York, but this whole situation isn't the exact norm. (well, not yet anyway!)

then april went and pushed you forward-- closer to him, enthusiastically encouraging you to "go on, say hi!!" like some excited mom with her shy kid 😭😭. it was a few moments of tense silence, you could literally see the ". . ." in the background. then finally, in a hushed but determined whisper, you respond in kind.

yeah. he's hooked.

you bring a sense of stability and tranquility; a welcome pace to the constant chaos of his everyday normal. he's so used to all things loud and rambunctious and completely fizzy pop frenzied on a great day, that when your sweet little molasses self shows up and becomes a regular part of their everyday lives, he finds a haven that he didn't even know he wanted. much more needed.

raphie carries you in his arms to make a quick getaway? you force urge him silently to rest his head on your lap/tummy when y'all chill in peace.

he's effectively babying you? you take it with a stoic grace and appease his ruffled mother hen feathers with gentle sympathy pats to his arms when he finally relaxes.

he especially loves when you both go on little best friend dates !!

you have a tranquil, 'insider' type outlook on life so when you share your vision with them, he can't help but feel honored. being who you are in the modern world has left you with devices that conspire of the affinity to finding very cool hideaway spots!! & the more time you guys spend with each other, the closer you get. it develops into a very wholesome and loving friendship :(( ICONS, THE BOTH OF YOUSE. 🫶🏾

he loves you sm bcuz he feels like he can truly be himself - you're not the type to judge. he feels completely at ease with you and goes the extra mile to put you at ease too!!

—and you can bet he's allllways keeping leo in line as well 😭☠ like, bro can barely breathe. he can, has, and will tackle leo in mid-air because he went to tackle you in a running hug. 😪

blue bro means well when he plays around with you, but raph can only take so much before he gets tense 🥹 he just wants you to be comfortable!! :(( like, always.

he's like your teddy bear. a safety blanket. teddy blanket?? mm ^^ he's got it all for you. would bend over backwards at so much as a slight breath from you. completely whipped and unashamed of it.

DONNIE understands you on a spiritual level. he's your twin flame. your soul brother. bro's your down b, bro's your solider, he's got that thang-thang— *loud 16-wheeler horn passes by*

no but let's lock in. donbon becomes your saving grace, whether you like it or not (but i mean c'mon, who wouldn't like it? :] bro is him.) out of all the siblings, donnie understands your apprehension to socializing the best. it's not that you don't want to interact with others, it's just . . . hard. and scary. he gets that too.

donnie himself is sociable in the way that he's not afraid to interact with others nor is he scared to; he's just an introvert and if the feeling doesn't strike him, he won't. simple as that. 😆

but you're a bit of a different story. it's not that you don't want to, it's just significantly difficult for you </3. and donnie is nothing if not persistent and a fix-it felix in his own right, so! 👏 what does he do?? what he does best, of course!! he builds. he invents. he creates.

he would absolutely create different gadgets and such to try and make things easier for you. they can range from tiny things — automatic digital/magnetized notepads, tiny flying robots that have neurotransmitters embedded within so it speaks for you in the moments your voice croaks, to literal AI robots that do close to everything for you.

once he had gotten caught up in the excitement and pure influx of creative juices + had drawn up a prototype for a replicate robot of you — purely intended on doing the things that you couldn't in a way of helping out!! — and barely survived the crossfire that he was immediately subjected to by his siblings. he snapped out of it and locked tf in after that and, after a lengthy lecture from raph, he allowed leo to rip the blueprints to shreds & mikey to burn it. yes, he might've gotten carried away in his inventions, but it's all from a place of care!!!

he buys you snacks and gifts you a cute handmade keychain the next time you come over after that. you're confused but delighted. he sticks just a little closer that day, and you allow it.

i feel he'd see himself in you. as a result, he'd want to provide you with more things and protect you a lot!!! he ain't afraid to speak up on your behalf either. trust me, he's given such poetic lip to some stuck up assholes in the social world that it rendered you genuinely speechless. but they stay as inside jokes between y'all and best believe it makes the others so jealous 🤣😭.

also not afraid to tell his own brothers off if they're crowding you a little too much (*coughleocoughcough*) — he's a lot less lenient than raphie tho 😅

he cares. a lot. maybe. he's got a soft spot for you, what can I say?

when everything and anything starts to become too much for you, he's usually pretty good at recognizing it and offers you a place of solitude in his lab! it's cool and quiet (well. quiet-er than the wipeout episode that is his daily life outside those very walls.) and generally gives a very chill vibe.

he also loves the fact that you listen to his ranting and rambling without interrupting, not even once. sometimes he thinks it's because you can't, but when he pauses and goes to inquire as much, he's met with your warmed and focused gaze, a slight quirk to your lips as you nod along and. the message is there. i'm listening.

you're lowk his bestie and he can't really live without you from now on, he thinks. it's like the grumpy cat x golden retriever trope, but you're more of a cat too. two moons coexisting! two cats drenched in purple moonlight.

y'all just get each other i made myself sad. /lh + /hj

MIKEY aims to make you feel as comfortable and welcomed as possible !! at all times, all day, everyday. he even set up a cute little personal nook for you in the lair!! (he's such a sweetie pie y'all i'm 💔)

he was the most excited to meet you!!!! (you're his friend now. y'all are having soft tacos later!)

well, all of them were, but he was (and is) the most amicable and the most emotionally adept at understanding you and your shyness. apart of the "Save Y/N from Leo & His Shenanigans" pt 2. (i love the blueberry y'all i prommy bullying him is my love language). ofc he's just a bubbly glass of fizzy orange juice when y'all come face to face; he's all smiles and going "hi!! I'm Mikey!! what's your name??" even if april alr told them 🤦🏾‍♀️ HE'S JUST EXCITED OKAY???

hesitates for just shy of a second when you begin shaking, but then, you pull out your phone and shove the cute sanrio-themed greeting note in his snout and, the second it registers, he's beaming brighter than the sun and immediately welcomes you in, both physically and emotionally.

he makes you feel seen and heard, even when you try to chameleon your way through situations, as you've done countless times before. even when you assume your "better to be seen, not heard" posture, as you've done countless times before.

mikey being the most emotionally available of his family certainly comes with its perks!! he helps them navigate their individual friendships with you as well, and even tho there are a few hiccups along the way, you all develop a strong and lovely bond— & a large part in that is owed to mikey and his empathetic prowess.

particularly loves baking for/with you!!! it's always worth it to see your eyes light up, and he really does think you have a cute face. it's been described in a more debonair light by others, but to him, you're the sweetest little baozi and he just wants!!! to wrap you up in a blanket burrito and!!! keep you in his metaphorical pockets forever!!!!!!

he has definitely dedicated murals and different art pieces to you. sometimes you'll be minding your own business, just chilling together, and feel him staring at you. but before you can get self-conscious he always speaks up and sheepishly rubs the back of his head while pointing to the sketchbook in his lap. now, you're used to feeling his warm yet concentrated gaze on you, but your face still hasn't changed in the lobster red it becomes when he shows you the finished product :')) what can he say?? you're a one of a kind muse.

gives you cute nicknames. pinches your cheeks (if you're aiight with that.) soso affectionate with you, the fact that he loves you is unshakable and unquestionable.

166 notes · View notes