#But of course I had to take some screens so I could save them

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fic Idea: Online Siren

Danny makes a mistake. Or maybe he struck gold. Depending on the perspective you were looking through.

It starts one night when Sam, Tucker, Danny, and Jazz get together for a private party on Tucker's birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Foley had let them have the whole house to themselves on the agreement that it would only be the four of them. They would be keeping an eye on the security camera and motion detectors around the property. At the slightest hints of Tucker having a house party, the pair would return from Mr. Foley's sister's house to shut it down.

The group of teenagers were more than happy not to invite anyone. It's not like anyone would show- at least not with good intentions. They had an entire night plan- coffee drinks based on their types, video games, boardgames ones, painting hour, karaoke, movies, and cake after presents.

They all pitched in for pizza, and Sam offered to buy everyone breakfast in the morning. The party started at four and would end at ten the following morning. The boys would sleep in Tucker's room while Sam and Jazz crashed in the guest room together.

Danny hadn't had that much fun in such a long time that he didn't even shy away from Sam's video camera while singing. The youngest Fenton has always had a fantastic singing voice, but his stage fright has stopped him from showing off his skill in front of anyone who was not close friends or family.

The following morning, while eating at Tucker's favorite breakfast restaurant, Sam checked her phone after noticing all the buzzing. Danny could catch her face turning pastly white at whatever was on her screen. She taps aggressively, nearly frantically, which gains the attention of Tucker and Jazz.

"Sam? Everything good?" Jazz asks gentely.

"I..no..I'm sorry, Danny," She whispers after staring hopelessly at her screen. "I meant to save it in our private share, not...the anonymous one."

"What?"

"I...post poetry anonymously on this voice website. It's audio recordings only." She explains, placing the phone on the table. Her voice is hesitant. "Last night....I accidentally posted the video of you singing from the Karaoke machine I saved. The one from the Realms. And some of my followers saved it and shared it. It's trending."

Danny feels his stomach drop into his legs. "What?"

"No one knows who you are!" Sam blurts as Tucker quickly pulls out his own phone. A few seconds later, Danny's voice blares out of his speaker, the melody blending well with his singing. The Karaoke has a recording option that deletes background noise, making it far more professional than four teenagers dancing around the Foley's coffee table.

"Dude, this sounds amazing," Tucker says after a moment. "I can't believe I finally have a recording of your singing. Just look at these comments!"

The song is an open domain in the Infinite Realms, telling the tell of the first King's fall. It's rather popular for its revolutionary themes and near musical lyrics that blended with the rapid flute melody, so finding a ghost willing to share a Karaoke version took nearly no effort. People online think Danny was the songwriter.

The song on Sam's page had ninty-thousand listens, with just as many downloads- each download places ten cents in her account. So far, Danny's singing has made nine thousand dollars. It's only been twelve hours!

It got so much traction because Damian Wayne had made an edit with a popular anime and posted it on his personal account. His small usage had exploded Danny's song in only a few hours.

"Take it down!" Danny hisses, slapping a hand over Tucker's screen and glancing at nearby tables. "Sam, please take your post down."

"I did! I swear! But it's too late to stop it from spreading on the WorldClip." She tells him, and Danny's heart feels like it will explode until Jazz gently speaks up.

"Sam, can Danny have those nine grand?"

His best friend blinks momently, thrown by the question before she nods, "Of course! It's his money."

"Hmm." Jazz taps her fingers under her chin before turning Danny's face towards her. It's not until her gentle pats on his back that he realizes he is hyperventilating. "You should post more on that anonymous website. Sam can write the songs, Tucker can make the music, and you can sing."

"What!?" He choked, shocked she would even ask him. Tucker and Sam are eyeing them with wide eyes, frozen in their seats. No one knew where the fear had come from, but the two knew how badly Danny reacted to the idea of performing.

Tucker first met Danny when the boy panicked in the music room. After it was announced, the students would be singing Twinkle Little Star in the first grade. It was the first time Tucker had ever called nine-one-one, too.

He was praised as a hero, while Danny was scolded for overreacting. Tucker had held his hand until the sobbing boy's parents came to pick him up and has never left his side since.

"Danny, this fear has always left you in shambles. I think it would help you. This could be a form of exposal therapy," She says, then shrugs her shoulder. "Think about it. No one will know who you are, but your music could reach thousands without you ever having to show your face. You could pay for the college you wanted to go to in Gotham this way. All of you."

Neither Danny's nor Tucker's parents could afford to send them to Gotham University despite it being their dream school. Sam's parents refused to pay for a "useless" degree such as Botany. They had been growing uneasy with the realization dreams were not always promised as the end of the senior year approached in only a few short months.

They would never ask it of him, but Danny could see the genuine hope tucked in their eyes as they waited for his response. He licked his lips, feeling his heart still beating a mile a minute under his rib cage.

He didn't like being this paralyzed by an irrational fear. He also really wanted to help them reach their dreams.

So Danny opens his mouth and whispers, "Only until we can get to Gotham to find jobs"

Jazz's smile is bright.

________________________________________________________

A few months later, Damian practically runs Tim over in his rush to connect to the game room's surround system. Jon is hot on his heels and has the decency to shout an apology as the pre-teens rush by.

"Hey! Watch it!" He still screams at their backs, irritated. "I could've dropped my croissant!"

"Sorry again Tim!"

"You're fat anyway, Drake!"

Tim rolls his eyes, adjusting his hold on his plate as Dick rounds the corner that the children had appeared from. "What's got them rushing?"

"Online Siren just dropped a new song." Dick laughs. "Dami is a bit of a fan."

"Online Siren?"

"That's right, you were in space for five months. Online Siren is this anonymous singer that everyone is going crazy over on the internet. He's an amazing singer, but because no one knows anything about him. Not even Babs."

Tim raises a brow. "He could be using autotune."

"Maybe, but Tim, I'm telling you. Listen to his music, and you'll find you can't stop. Siren is a fitting name."

"He can't be that good," Tim mutters, following his eldest brother into the game room, where Damian and Jon have blared the speakers to the loudest setting and dancing around.

Tim draws up short at the sight of Damian Wayne actually crying as he sings along to the lyrics, acting as if the singer was right there in front of him and he was a long-time fan.

Then, the music invades his ears, and Tim feels like he is ascending on a different plane. The smooth, near silk-like voice glinds into his chest, rattling his bones, and his knees shake when the man holds a soft, seductive "Oh" for a few seconds longer then necessary.

It sends shivers down his spine.

"What is this!? It's so good!" He screams at the dancing Dick, who laughs.

"I know, right!?"

"It's too good. I think this is a real siren." Tim continues, pressing his hands over his ears. His mind flashes back to the few months he spent with his team, running for a mind-controlling alien that had nearly trapped them in the third space sector. "Dick, we're in danger! Get around from the speakers! Mind control!"

Dick stops dancing with a sigh, muttering under his breath as Tim rushes to the control panel of the speaker system. As soon as he slams it off, Damian releases a screech of an angered cat and launches at him, demanding his music back. Jon flouts nervously on the side as the two youngest Waynes brothers roll on the ground, yelling insults and taking dirty shots.

"I wish I could enjoy things with my siblings without them ruining it." He mumbles, striding forward to break up the fight, only to scream when Tim pulls out pepper spray, yowling like a madman.

"Mind control! Mind control!"

"My EYES! "

"Drake, stop!"

"You'll never get me Siren! Never!"

".I'm going to go get Mr.Wayne!"

"Make haste, Jon! Bring my father to stop this baffoon-my eyes! Drake, you bastard!"

[muqingslover]

Hello, Dove!! If you're comfortable with me asking this, do you think any of the lads men are into filming themselves with MC during the act? I can picture them being open to sending/ receiving nudes, but then I started to think about the video taking too, and I honestly am not sure, lol. What do you think?

Love your writing!!

[ hi hi hi pookie! Yes, of course I can do that! thank you for the request!! I hope it's to your liking! ]

Alright so Zayne is not into the filming itself, but! He loooooves the risky photos!

I've mentioned before that if you send him a photo of yourself wearing lingerie this man is going craaazy. You got him gripping his chair and praying to the heavens above for help.

He is not confident at all in sending anything back though.

Zayne asks his partner to tell him how you would like to see him, if you even want pictures of him at all too, and is so awkward about them.

Personally? He would choose no pics of himself if he could for a very long time.

Then, one day, out of the blue, you would receive a treat of him fresh out of the shower in just a towel. Baby steps, yk.

Oh boy, this one.

Rather than filming Rafayel is the type that would prefer to be filmed.

Push him down on his back while you're riding him and put his desperate, hungry expression on blast.

He thrives on the feeling of your eyes only on him and the extra attention the camera brings him.

Part of him feels very dirty about it and even if he would never admit it out loud that's his favorite part.

He texts you inappropriate photos during inappropriate times on purpose just to watch you squirm from the other side of the room when you open your phone.

What can he say, film making is a form of art and Rafayel loves being your muse.

He is into it the MOST out of all the other LIs.

Caleb has a hobby of recording and taking pictures in general, though most of the time it's all centered on you.

He has endless albums of you. I mean, more than enough for him to make a full art gallery just of you.

Filming you is his guilty pleasure; Getting the right angles that shows your face clearly when your eyes roll back in pleasure, flushed and so, so incredibly beautiful.

On the other hand, he is just as obsessed with getting the two of you together on camera. Seeing himself being the one who makes you feel so damn good, the reason behind those sweet cries of yours, is something he can't resist.

He's dreamed about it for so long, let him have this.

Those recordings are so well protected and hidden that the world could end and they would not see the light of day.

On an extra note, Caleb is too possessive and protective to enjoy risky pictures to their fullest extent. What if someone sees your pretty self on his screen? Nuh huh, no sir. He is NOT sharing.

Sylus is....technologically challenged. In more ways than one.

This sweet, sweet man just can't record to save his life.

The focus is off, the camera keeps shaking and the worst part of it all in his opinion? He does not like to have his hand busy with anything that isn't you during sex.

Which meaaans: Tripod!

At first he doesn't truly see the fun of the film by itself even though he understands the concept of it. Still, he is big into BDSM (iykyk) so he can get behind the idea if you ask him.

With a few tries he'd actually develop a taste for it and come to enjoy it quite a lot.

Furthermore, Sylus would invest in additional settings to make the recordings more pleasant to the eye too such as ambiance, lighting, sound quality and ECT.

Now Xavier is the type that wouldn't do it himself, but he would to let you if you opened the camera during sex.

He'd be slowly thrusting into you while he had his arms wrapped around your waist from behind to spoon you.

When he notices the camera pointed at him he'd lean down to hide his face into your shoulder and mumble some gibberish you can't understand.

Xavier doesn't want his face in the shot so the recordings are either on a lower angle where's his face is covered or with only your face in it.

He does enjoy it though! The camera makes him even more motivated to get you to moan louder.

You will often catch him later on watching and rewatching the videos on his phone like it's the morning news. He has no shame whatsoever.

[grimmsbride]

big flirt …. ! ₊ཾִ ᖫྀ ⁣⁣.

mark grayson ╲ the almighty invincible has no problem showing his lovely girlfriend how beautiful she truly is..

𖥔 ࣪˖ tags⠀⎯ reader is depicted as curvy / plus-size | mentions of internet bullying | mark being obsessed with his gf | mentions of masturbation | pre-established relationship | dryhumping | lotss of praise | cowgirl position | minor manhandling | reader is a little insecure, proceeds to get them fucked out of her | lowkey ooc mark?? | he talks wayyyy too much 😈 | etc

𖥔 ࣪˖ author’s notes⠀⎯ the way mark canonically likes woman of all sizes just does something to me. he took one look at eve and truly dngaf about her size 😭. as always please enjoy this fic and excuse any grammar mistakes

You hated the internet. The way people crawled from their little depths of hell, fingers slamming into whatever keyboard they could find; typing hatred laced with the most obvious passive aggression that made you want to vomit.

You thought superheroes would be exempt from such scrutiny, maybe they people realize hey, these people save my life on a daily basis— maybe i should cut them some slack! But no, of course such a case was nothing more than wishful thinking.

Posts upon posts of blatant disrespect always collected in some random corner on the web, you unfortunately coming across most of them the moment you searched your super-hero name.

While some posts were.. okay, others were just downright horrible.

Your finger slid across the mouse, the page that shined on your features sliding with the action. A grimace collected on your face as your eyes took in the words before you;

Does she need a bigger suit?

There’s no way she works out everyday. I swear she was at least a little smaller last time she appeared on a camera.

I know the saying, “a camera adds extra pounds” but.. I don’t think we can blame the camera anymore!

You shouldn’t let those words get to you. You were a woman of honor, a superhero praised for your efforts and respected amongst the your peers. And after all, it was all just internet strangers hiding behind their screens. They didn’t personally affect you.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar trickle of shame filled warmth slide down your spine— pooling deep in your stomach. That was the downside of being a hero— scratch that, a woman being a hero; always on display, and always judged so, so harshly.

You were stolen from your thoughts the moment a hand suddenly shut your laptop, another gripping the chair you currently sat in and spinning it around. Quickly your gaze settled upon your beloved boyfriend, Mark Grayson. So caught up in your self-loathing, you nearly forgot he was over on a rare day off, having just showered — curtesy of the towel around his bare shoulders, and the droplets of water amongst his hair.

You gave a nervous smile, quickly spotting that little furrow of his eyebrows. The man wasn’t one to get irritated with you, but when he did— it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Enjoy your sh—“

“I thought I said to stop looking at stuff like that.” Mark murmured softly, releasing your chair and rising, grasping the towel on his shoulders to dry his hair. You watched, a little too greedily; taking in the way his arms flexed with the movement, toned stomach on display as the sweats he wore hung on his waist so loosely.

“It’s just stupid people online.”

His next words eliminated your perverted thoughts quickly, a sigh soon escaping you as you leaned back into the chair.

“I know.” You breathed, eyes traveling to the side for a moment. “It’s just.. no one ever talks about anything else. I know I’m a little big—“

“Quit saying that too.”

Mark interrupted you with ease, tossing the towel he had to the side before moving to his knees. His hands rose, warm and large, covering your bare thighs before sliding up to your waist. The man rested his cheek upon your flesh, playing with the fabric of your shirt.

“You’re perfect. You don’t need to change a thing.”

You couldn’t help the cheeky smile pulling your lips, eyes even rolling as your hand fell to tangle into his damp hair, “Mark, you’re supposed to say that. You’re my boyfriend, after all.” You giggled, feeling the way his fingers tightened just a bit in response.

Mark turned to rest his chin onto your thigh, chocolate pools focusing on you entirely. “That may be true. And I’ll say it as many times as you need me to.”

“Cheesy..”

It was his turn to grin, hands trailing down to your thighs once again, pressing his fingers into the warm flesh.

“But.. that didn’t only start when we started dating. I always thought you were perfect beforehand too.”

With a turn of his wrist, Mark began to ghost the underside of your thighs, watching the way you twitched at the tickling sensation. Your hips adjusted, glancing down at the man through your lashes;

“Really?”

“Really.”

You gasped the moment he grabbed your thighs tightly, easily lifting you from the chair whilst bringing himself to his feet. Instinctively your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling his hands travel to cup your ass, holding your body flush against his own.

“You know..” Mark spoke lowly, leading himself backwards until he sat on your bed. There, his legs spread, hands pressed down on your hips so you wouldn’t even think about raising off his lap. He looked at you intently, thumb breaching the edge of your shirt to glide across your skin; tracing a stretch mark etched into the flesh.

“I was always obsessed with you.. Your name, your smell, your, “ His eyes carried down your form, “—body. I didn’t know a person could be as perfect as you.”

“Mark..” You begun, whimpering the moment his fingers clenched, rolling his hips just to buck up into you. The growing bulge underneath his sweats nudged against your barely veiled center so perfectly, making your body grow just a bit hotter.

“There were some nights,” The man continued as if listing off a grocery list, as casual as ever, all while continuing to roll his hips every once in a while just to hear you whine. “—I would lay in bed, unable to sleep because you were on my mind.”

You wanted, no needed him to be quiet. He’s barely touched you, has only spoken, yet you already felt yourself losing focus. You gasped the moment he drew closer, feeling soft lips press against the side of your face before traveling to your chin and neck.

“The only way I could even sleep was touching myself to the thought of you.”

“Mark— oh my god.”

You cried softly, feeling his hips move with more purpose, more vigor. A hand of his rose from your waist to instead collect the back of your skull, tilting you how he liked before capturing your lips in a heated kiss. The man wanted to devour you— all of you. Rid those stupid thoughts circulating your head and replace them with nothing but pleasure.

Mark breathed into your mouth, gripping your plush form as he proceeded to manually move you, rolling your hips back against his own rolling ones. He felt your cunt pressed up against him through your panties and shorts, shuddering as the dampness of your center soaked onto his sweats.

You broke apart for air, resting your forehead against his own as little moans escaped you. Your nails dragged across his exposed skin, pulling yourself even closer to him as a sweet whisper of his name fell from your lips.

Mark never allowed his eyes to leave your face, lidded yet focused on you, and only you. His lips parted, watching you, soft huffs escaping as he bucked up. He groaned at the friction, soon leading himself to lay on his back.

Your hands dragged to his stomach, pressing there as you continued to move your hips desperate for more. As delicious as it felt, it certainly wasn’t enough. You craved much more.

“Mark…” You whimpered so feebly, feeling the way his fingers twitched at the call of his name. Said fingers trailed to the waistband of your bottoms, tugging quickly.

“I know baby, I know..” The man allowed you to rise up a bit, basically shoving your lower garments off whilst you focused on pulling his own down.

Once free of the confinements Mark’s hands were finding your hips against, lining you up with his dick before slowly pushing you down. A breath escaped the both you as your walls enveloped his length, your nails dragging across his skin as you took all of him so deeply.

“Look at that, just perfect.” Mark murmured, clearly the entranced by the way your bodies connected. He couldn’t help but focus there, feeling your walls pulse around him with each breath that escaped you. His hands cupped your form, flesh filling his palms so easily— so perfectly. His eyes flicked to your face the moment you whined, watching your hands fall to his wrist.

Mark grinned a bit, seeming to innocently adjust his hips when really he bucked into you, watching your lidded eyes fly open as the sweetest gasp escaped you.

“I don’t think you get how lucky I really am, having all of you to myself.” His words were quickly overcome by the soft squelches of your pussy the moment he began to thrust up into you. Your nails dragged across his skin, a pleasured hiss escaping his lips in response. His gaze greedily lapped at the way your face screwed up in pleasure, lips parted as you moaned.

“Mark.. baby, please..”

“Yeah.. Allll to myself.”

The man giggled softly, as if delirious off your body. It wasn’t that much of a stretch really, Mark was entirely crazy about you. Those thoughts at night didn’t stop the moment you solidified your relationship, maybe they even grew.

Only now the man was lucky enough to have every single fantasy come true.

Your hips rolled as you met each thrust with your own uncoordinated rut, head knocking against your shoulders as your eyes squeezed shut. Mark fucked up into you as if you weighed nothing, and you probably didn’t to him, curtesy of the Viltrumite blood running through his veins. Your hands slipped from his wrists to instead settle upon his stomach, dragging angry red lines into his flesh.

A particularly hard thrust had you toppling over with a gasp, landing upon his chest. Mark took this opportunity to wrap his arms tightly around your waist, feet going flat on the bed as he drilled into you.

You twisted and turned, unable to run from the pleasure as he made you take every single thrust. Your cunt clenched around him, arousal trickling and forming a foamy ring around the base of his cock, a complete sticky mess. You cried out as the feeling overtook your body, intoxicating and addicting, yet so, so much. Your hand brushed against his hip, a mantra of his name escaping in sloppy speech;

“Ma..mark, baby! Pleas— please slow down..!”

“Mm.” Mark hummed defiantly, lips pressing against your face with the sweetest kisses whilst completely wrecking your body. Soft breaths fanned across your skin, his nails digging into your flesh and refusing to let go. With each thrust a wet plap bounced off the walls of your bedroom, urging him even more.

“Feel so good baby.. you were made just for me, fu—fuck what anyone else says.”

Through hurried breaths he spoke, groaning the moment he felt your cunt clenching around him with each word. A hand dragged down to your ass, gripping the warm flesh as Mark stroked that spongy spot inside.

A melodic string of moans escaped your throat, incoherent babbles that oddly enough sounded like Mark! following shortly after. Your peak was closing in, detailed in the way you shook and gasped, cunt pulsing with each movement.

Mark coaxed you through it, whispering such sweet words right into your ear, lips brushing against the shell of it. His hands gripped at your shuddering body, praising every inch, detailing several more perverse fantasies just to hear you whine from embarrassment.

Soon enough you were reaching your end, coming undone with a final sob of his name, tears pricking at your eyes from the pleasure. You felt the man kiss at your cheeks, continuing to fuck into you as he chased his own end.

“Fuckkk.. Mark..!” You keened as he fucked you through your high, wet squelches covering every inch of the room.

Mark groaned softly, tugging you flush against his form as he slammed into you, “Almost there, pretty— almost there, I got you..” A soft swear fell from his tongue, teeth dragging against his bottom lip the moment he pushed himself deep, flooding you with his come.

Pants enveloped the room as Mark laid out amongst your bed, fingers dragging up and down your spine; delighted in the way you melted into him. He simply laid still, eyes focusing on coming down whilst laying so content under you.

Soon enough you had calmed down, slowly rising to sit in his lap, hands smoothing across his body.

“You’re.. such a little pervert.” You murmured, watching the way a little flush of red spread across his face; as if truly embarrassed, as if he hadn’t just got done with fucking your brains out.

Mark rose to lean on his elbows, head tilting to rest on his shoulder as he looked up at you so lovingly.

“Yeah well.. I’m your little pervert.”

The man smiled the moment you began to giggle, eyes closing as you leaned to capture his lips. He was far too happy to wipe that previous grimace off your face with his actions.

Now to figure out who exactly made those posts about you..

[killishin]

— ♡ right person at the right time.

PART 01.

pairing: jason todd x reader

category: lots of fluff, angst, he fell first she fell harder kinda trope, sfw

content warning: afab, mention of death (reader's mother), violence here and there.

summary: reader's just a normal citizen of Gotham, scrambling to making ends meet. after a fateful encounter, when he saw the reader kick ass and save a life- he can't get them off his mind. and fate just keeps pulling them together forcing him to do something about it.

a/n: wanted to write for him when i was drawing him last night. the drawing turned to shit so i hope the fic doesn't. I've just recently started reading the comics so if he goes a bit ooc i apologise. happy reading.

wc: 3k

dividers by @cafekitsune

masterlist. fic masterlist. next

"god fucking dammit!"

you pick up your phone from the pavement, which by the way, was wet with puddles. so now your phone might not just have a cracked screen but also stops working for good. your brows furrow in concern as you scrutinize the rather horrible crack in the screen making you groan quietly in frustration.

"why now— ugh-" your attempts in starting the phone become rapid and restless before you shove it in your bag with a sigh.

the week had been a rollercoaster, to say the least. freelancing, internship and part time only pays so much, it was getting harder and harder to make ends meet. you were thankful that your father and step mother had moved out and given you the apartment to yourself, though you still had to pay mortgage.

living in gotham is already tough enough, with criminals and vigilantes crawling left and right. your father had begged you to move elsewhere but you really could not afford that. Alyssa, the step mother, had been pestering your dad to move out of gotham. and so they did, bought a good house on the countryside. you were happy for them, even though you didn't exactly like alyssa, you wouldn't want them to say in gotham.

your dad had offered to help you out, in paying bills and mortgage until you found a decent job that wouldn't make you die from stress. but he was old enough, you wanted him to relax now. live a little.

and you did land a job, not exactly decent in this economy but its enough. you were still scrambling with almost no savings but its okay.

only it doesn't feel so okay right now. adjusting to a new workplace is harder than you thought and its a long distance from your apartment. and its way too dark for a single women in gotham to be walking back home because you trust the metro far less.

there are people still there, of course, but its as if by each passing minute that dread in your stomach increases, as if any one of them might whip out some guns or gut someone with a knife. while you loved the moody clouds, it always made gotham too grim. an extra layer of sinister doom.

you increased your pace, your apartment was still a fifteen minutes walk and it wasn't exactly in a secure neighborhood. not like any neighborhood is secure in gotham. well maybe except those one percent of rich elites , like the wayne who lives in his pretty castle. okay you were a teensy bit petty against rich.

your hands were tightly clutched around your bag on instinct while your eyes were alert as they continously scanned the neighborhood, and you notice a few walking exactly like you. scared. hurried.

"almost there almost there—"

"– wait please help!— wait WAIT GOD PLEASE—"

your feet came to an abrupt stop, grimacing as you didn't dare turn your head to look into that dark alley. of course it had to happen in front of you.

of course you were no selfish, heartless bastard. but you were no vigilante either and you've seen enough news to know that its often the helpers who end up dead with a bullet through their head.

your mother was one of them.

"— please don't‐" RIPPP! "— please no!"

you winced at the scream, the unmistakable sound of clothes ripping had your head taking a sharp turn towards that darkened alley.

whatever. if you die you die.

you took a long shaky breath before hurriedly following that sound and despite the lack of light, you could clearly make out the rather disgusting man holding a pistol over the women's head. her sleeve was torn and you guessed he was manhandling her roughly, assumption true from the way he was gripping her arm.

but the man didn't notice, neither the women. it was understandable for her not to but the man should have, you weren't exactly in his blind spot or even quiet in your steps. but you took that as a blessing as you slowly inched forward, slowly yet steadily.

one thing you were the most grateful to your dad was that he put you in self defense classes since a kid. after your mom's death, he had made it absolutely sure that if, god forbid, you ever found yourself in such a situation, you'd at least have a fair chance of escaping. you believed every damn kid in gotham should know it, but sadly, its a privilege not many can afford.

taking a deep breath you spring into action, not giving your brain a moment to freak out.

your hand tackled his hand with the gun and shoved it upwards, muzzle up, before slamming the side of your palm on his throat. he choked, his eyes widening in surprise as he stumbled back and in that moment you could see his eyes were red and crazed. the fucking asshole was high. not good. not good at all.

even in that pain he pulled the fucking trigger, making your ears ring out. the girl screamed as she fell to the ground, cowering and sobbing as she covered her ears. if you weren't already high on adrenaline you would have done the same— shit maybe your heart did stop for a second.

you land a harsh kick straight to his groin before disarming him, snatching the gun and throwing it far. the man groaned loudly, holding his now broken jewels as he dropped to the ground. so for good measures, you swivel and land a roundhouse kick on his head.

....

for a second its just dead silence as you stand, huffing and puffing as you look down at the man before your eyes dart to the girl, who has quieted down a bit. she was looking at the body with the same expression as you, scared and apprehensive.

...did i kill him? why isn't he moving? please tell me he's just knocked out oh god oh god—

before you could take a shaky step forward, a huge body landed right beside you out of nowhere making you and the girl both shriek like a pterodactyl.

"— shit my ears! hey— calm down." you removed your hands that had wrapped around your head as you peaked through, finally registering the rather robotic voice.

red helmet. leather. 6 foot pure muscle and strength.

"oh thank fuck its you." you whispered as you dropped to your knees, your palm rubbing your face as you sighed in relief. red hood, a vigilante. you're safe. man's late but— shit you're safe. thats all that fucking matters.

the vigilante though, looked between you, the knocked out man and the other women, not really sure what to do. he had seen enough to see how fast you handled the mugger. the sound of a scream pulled his attention quickly in time to see you literally kicking his ass. not many people can handle themselves that good in situations like this. you were fast, quick and calm—

"oh my god oh my god is he dead?! did i kick his neck— did i break it— oh my god oh my god–" you cried out in pure panic as you literally poke the man, as if that would get it to suddenly get up like undertaker.

okay so maybe not calm.

"—look i didn't kill him okay?! i just— why are you so late?!" you rambled on, looking at him as if he's the mugger.

he had a pretty shitty day, this might have annoyed him but instead his lips tugged up in an amused smile, his hands resting on his hip as he simply stared at you for a moment.

"what if something happened?! to me or—" your eyes widened even more as if you just remembered about the girl. unlike you, the girl had calmed down a bit, sniffling as she was picking up her scattered things from the ground.

"oh god are you okay?" you scrambled up to your feet, your legs felt like jelly just like the mess in your head and you almost fell down, if not for his hand steadily holding your arm to stabilise you. his hand felt huge on your arm, you thought the hands that must be calloused from fighting and delivering judgement to criminals might have a harsh grip but it was gentle, careful even.

you flinched upon contact and averted your eyes from that tin helmet, as if those glowing slits were really his eyes. he let go of your arm as you walked to the other girl, brows furrowed in concern despite your panic.

"are you okay? d-did he hurt you?" you asked the girl frantically but she shook her head, smiling gratefully.

"no. thank you so much— for saving me. really—" she took a shaky breath as she held your hand, "i don't know what would have happened to me if you didn't come."

she held on for her own support but it calm the storm inside you too. you smiled back and nodded, "im just glad you're okay." you bit back the guilt that was forming in your heart, you had almost walked away.

the girl thanked you again before walking away hurriedly, shooting an apprehensive glance towards red hood. who wouldn't be intimidated by that?

your eyes stared at the wall for a couple of moments before you sighed, your eyes blinking slowly as your mind processed everything.

"you... were good. you handled that perfectly." the vigilante spoke after an awkward moment of just standing there. he knew first hand how terrifying the streets of gotham are, and how even more terrifying it is to fight back as a mere citizen.

"yeah well thank the adrenalin rush." you retorted as you turned back, and suddenly you were much aware of your surroundings. of him, to be exact. your eyes almost travelled down, checking him out but you averted it to the body lying down, pretending to look at him.

seriously you almost got shot and now you're ogling? is this the red hood effect?

"i get that." he chuckled before crouching down, pressing his fingers against his pulse and registering its there. "and to answer your previous question, yes he's alive. no you didn't kill him."

despite that modulated voice you could hear the amusement in his voice, and for some reason it got on your nerves. the fear and shock was now taking a backseat as your eyes narrowed at him slightly.

"also, apologies for not making it in time. forgot my teleportation powers back home." now that definitely sarcasm. you bet he's— whoever he is— is smirking behind that damn helmet.

you scowled at him, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "not accepted. you know i almost got shot?" you scoffed out, no of course you knew he can't be everywhere at all times. vigilantes are humans too but that sarcasm is itching your nerves.

"that body could have been mine."

"i would have made it till then."

you scoffed out a laugh as you rolled your eyes, irked at how sure he sounds, "yeah right. you came a whole minute later after that asshole's ass hit the floor."

you were panicking not a minute ago and now you're sassing him? his lips pulled into a full on grin as he stood up, not missing how you pause and jump back like a cat.

"a second." he corrected.

"like it matters."

"it does."

you released a breath in annoyance before pulling on your bag, you didn't need to do that but you really didn't know what the fuck to do with your hands. "point is, you were late."

"i slowed deliberately because you had it in control." he smoothly countered making your eyes narrowed, you were beginning to distort the rather handsome image of him in your mind to a rotten tomato.

"oh? and what if i didn't?"

"he would be on the ground faster than it took him to pull the trigger."

"are you showing off?"

"hey you asked!"

jason wasn't exactly the most social person, all snark and bite both in the suit and off. yet the few people who genuinly catch his eye, bold enough to challenge him despite the intimidating physique he has— who does pique his interest a bit, he lessens the blows.

and this person right here, had his interest. he didn't even know you, yet there was something about you— maybe the way you slammed your hand on his throat perfectly to choke him— or the way you pull your shit together enough to sass him back.

he'll forget about you in a day or two eventually but he's damn sure you'd hold a place in his memories.

"whatever." you muttered as you looked at the body before shaking your head. its done, in past. you whip out your phone to see the time before remembering it doesn't work anymore. with a curse you shove it back in your pocket.

"i uh— i suppose we just leave that there?" you asked awkwardly as you pointed at it and he almost laughed how cute you looked eyeing the man like he's some horrid smelling garbage.

"don't worry. you should go home." he said as he tipped his head to point out of the alley.

"yeah... yeah— i should." you said quietly as you shoved your hands in your jacket before slowly beginning to walk away. "please don't tell the police i did that. i don't want cops on my door for some shitty routine investigation." you requested, and he had to suppress a snort.

"i promise." he said sarcastically as he crossed his fingers and you nodded, not having the energy to retort a reply. the adrenaline was wearing off.

he noticed the sudden weariness and as if he suddenly remembered the dangers surrounding a women in gotham, he stepped forward.

"hey— you heading home?" he questioned and it came out awfully soft that even his modulated voice couldn't hide.

you paused as you turned back slightly, "uh yeah— its a ten minute walk from here."

"should i walk you home?" why the hell would he say that now?

that warmed your heart, a quiet chuckle spilling out of you. you were bickering like little kids just now but seeing his concern for you made you remember what he is. a vigilante. someone who protects and cares for the people.

"wouldn't people stare if they see a normal women walking around with the red hood?" you asked pointedly, slightly amused by the way his head tilted as if he just realised it. it was tough gauging his expressions due to the helmet but somehow you could guess it right.

he felt like an amateur for suggesting that. seriously what the fuck? "shit— i mean I'll keep an eye till you get home." he corrected, his voice taking a rather grumpy turn now that he sees you taking joy at his stupid mistake.

"isn't that what stalkers do?"

he scoffed, almost smiling at her audacity. but she had a point, he can't even deny. "i doubt I'd even remember your address. saving the city and all." he waves his hand around sarcastically, resting a hand on his hip.

"right, of course." you hummed before waving at him as you begin walking away. "thank you— for uh- protecting me!" you called out as you smiled and walked out the alley.

you had speed walked home, since the moment you left his presence paranoia had almost crippled you. you breathed in relief after you stepped in your apartment, switching on the lights and plopping down on the sofa.

another secret to hide from dad, of course he can't know. he'll drop everything and come back.

you removed your palm from your face as you looked out your balcony, your mind wandering to the vigilante who didn't save you exactly but saved you emotionally from spiralling. right person at the right time.

your cheeks heated up as you remembered him, he was easy on the eyes for sure. even more without the helmet but that mystery would stay a mystery for you. you were a bit giddy from meeting a vigilante— that too red hood. you would have probably danced the fuck out if you weren't so shaken up.

you wonder how he kept an eye on you though, and to seek answers you stood up, walking to the balcony.

jason stood there as he stared at your apartment from the rooftop of the opposite building, a clear view of your apartment from your balcony, something settling in his chest. he shouldn't have stayed for so long, much less stare at you for so long. shit its starting to get creepy. but more than that, what weirds him out is what pull he's feeling in his chest. his mind replays the image of your face, the slant of your nose, the flutter of your lashes, the curve of your lips— how your brows furrowed as you scolded him, how your lips looked extra sweet when smiling.

a short encounter, entertaining at its best yet its sticking to him like a leech.

just as you step out into your balcony he disappears. its nothing he convinces himself, give it a day or two and you'll simply be a distant memory. a blip, insignificant. sure you were cute and dangerously hot when fighting but that was it.

just a really pretty thing.

nothing more.

he's pretty sure he won't even see you again.

.....

won't see you again his ass— what the fuck?

he thinks as he stares at you, standing in the line for a coffee while you scramble in your bag to find your purse, embarrassed because your card declined.

it seems like fate is doing some nasty work pulling him to you.

and with the way his heart is racing, he knows he can't pull away.

reblogs are appreciated :D

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Night Owl

Pairing:Task Force 141 x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, sleep-deprived soldiers, excessive love and affection, soft Task Force 141 boys, poly if you really squint

Author's Note: I had so much fun writing this (I work nights and this is what my family stumbles upon when it comes to me lol) also, you’re Simon’s Wife🙂‍↕️

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The house was quiet, save for the low hum of the television in the living room. It wasn’t late for you—not by your standards—but for your husband, it was the dead of night. The world outside was silent, the sky a deep navy, and the only light in the room came from the glow of your laptop screen and a few dim lamps you had turned on to avoid waking anyone.

You had been working the night shift for months now, your internal clock flipped completely. While your husband, Simon, along with his team—who you had definitely fallen head over heels for—was used to unpredictable schedules, it still threw them off when they came home and found you awake, fully immersed in some new project at ungodly hours.

Tonight was no different.

John was the first to stir. His years in the military made him a light sleeper, so the faint rustling of paper and the quiet muttering to yourself pulled him from sleep. Blinking blearily, he glanced at the clock. 2:47 AM. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before sitting up.

Padding into the living room, he found you hunched over the coffee table, a pile of colorful yarn in front of you, fingers fumbling with a crochet hook. Your brow was furrowed in concentration, tongue peeking out slightly as you tried to master the intricate loops.

“…What are you doing, love?” he asked, voice gruff with sleep but laced with affection.

You looked up, grinning. “Learning how to crochet. Figured I’d make a blanket for the couch.”

John stared at you for a long moment, then exhaled a soft chuckle as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Of course you are.” His eyes softened, admiring how adorable you looked bathed in the warm glow of the lamp.

Just as he was about to sit down beside you, another presence shuffled into the room. Simon, still half-asleep, padded in wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and an old hoodie, his familiar skull mask nowhere in sight. His messy blond hair stuck out in different directions, and his eyes, though heavy with sleep, immediately found you.

He blinked slowly, taking in the scene—the pile of yarn, John sitting nearby, and you in the middle of it all.

“…Why?” he asked simply, his voice low and raspy.

You shrugged, giving him a playful smile. “Keeps my hands busy. Besides, the couch could use a cozy touch.”

Simon stared for a second longer before shaking his head with a soft, fond sigh. “Thought I was dreaming when I smelled coffee. ‘S too late for this, luvie. You’re mad.”

You rolled your eyes as he made his way into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. Moments later, he slumped onto the couch beside you, his large frame sinking into the cushions. Without a word, he pulled you closer, one arm wrapped lazily around your waist, his head resting against your shoulder.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his affection despite his sleepy state. Picking up the half-finished crochet piece, you shoved it into his hands.

“You wanna learn?” you asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Simon sighed deeply but didn’t push it away. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your hand.

A quiet laugh escaped your lips as you replied, “More like I’m lucky I married you.”

Before Simon could retort, footsteps echoed from down the hall. Johnny and Kyle had apparently heard the commotion, neither willing to be left out. Johnny, with his hair a complete mess, rubbed at his face as he stumbled in, while Kyle trailed behind, wrapped in a blanket, his eyes barely open.

“Are we having a bloody crochet party at three in the morning?” Kyle mumbled, voice thick with sleep but tinged with amusement.

You grinned. “Technically, yes.”

Johnny plopped onto the floor next to you, peeking at the tutorial on your laptop. “Ah, hell, might as well learn somethin’ while I’m up.”

“Think you mean, fail to learn something,” Kyle quipped with a smirk, earning a shove from Johnny.

The room filled with soft laughter, the kind that warmed your chest. Simon’s hand absentmindedly traced slow circles on your back, while John settled beside you with a steaming cup of tea he’d made. Kyle and Johnny wrestled briefly over who got the bigger ball of yarn before ultimately giving up and sharing.

Hours passed, filled with quiet chatter, failed crochet attempts, and laughter. You showed them how to make loops and chains, guiding their hands when they struggled. Johnny’s project ended up looking more like a tangled mess than anything coherent, but he was proud nonetheless. Kyle managed to make a lopsided square, grinning when you praised him.

Simon, surprisingly, picked it up quickly, though he pretended not to care. Every now and then, he’d glance at you, watching how your face lit up when explaining something. John, meanwhile, stuck to sipping his tea, occasionally offering words of encouragement but mostly enjoying the peaceful chaos.

By the time the first rays of sunlight began to creep through the curtains, the living room looked like a cozy disaster zone. Balls of yarn were scattered everywhere, half-finished projects lay abandoned, and the boys were slumped in various positions.

John had given up and was leaning against the arm of the couch, his head tilted back, the infamous beanie covering his face. Simon was nestled against your side, his fingers still loosely curled around a tangled ball of yarn, soft snores escaping him. Johnny and Kyle were sprawled out on the floor, half-asleep, their attempted crochet projects tossed aside as they cuddled under a shared blanket.

You smiled, heart full, and pressed a gentle kiss to Simon’s temple. Setting your own project aside, you stood, grabbing pillows and extra blankets. Carefully, you placed them around your boys, tucking them in. You made sure Johnny and Kyle were cozy, pulling the blanket up to their chins. John, half-awake, murmured a soft, “Thanks, love,” as you placed a pillow behind his head.

Finally, you curled back onto the couch beside Simon, his arms instinctively wrapping around you. His face, even in sleep, was peaceful, the usual hard lines softened. You buried your face in his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and calm.

“This is perfect,” you whispered, though no one was awake to hear it.

Even if it meant crocheting at three in the morning, it was moments like these that made everything worth it—surrounded by the men you loved, feeling safe, cherished, and utterly at peace.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[etherealily]

𝔹𝕀ℝ𝔻𝕊 𝕆𝔽 𝔸 𝔽𝔼𝔸𝕋ℍ𝔼ℝ // f.odair

My other Finnick fics, if you have the time.

based on this ask <3

Here's part 2 : Particular Something

Finnick Odair + fem!reader. I love him.

Warning: Cuss words .

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : bitter truths and blobcakes.

◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇

It's hard to recall his first tribute. He'd had to begin quite early. Maybe in some twisted way, he was jealous of you for being able to be twenty and mentor. He'd had to be seventeen. Well, that was until he found out that you knew one of your tributes. His initial sharp inhale of breath upon the realisation didn't even begin to cover the turmoil he knew you must be facing. The jealousy evaporated out of him expeditiously.

He'd first seen your little tribute at the Tribute Parade with her little overalls and laurel crown. The boy seemed to have a better chance. But this little girl, good god, she was younger than Finnick had been during his own Games.

He'd seen you around quite a bit, too. I mean, how could he not? A couple years after his own Games, you'd won yours. Absolutely obliterating the competition. You weren't particularly strong, definitely not Career-level, but you'd definitely got the smarts to make up for it. You relied on geurilla surprise-attacks.

He'd always wondered what happened to you. You were oddly composed after your Games, which meant you were internally chaos personified. He knows this, because he personally knows someone else who was eerily calm after their Games. Him.

Now you were back. Same anxiousness as you'd exuded at your own Tribute Parade, but now, with the anxiousness for two others.

After spending far too much time gnawing on the inside of his cheek watching his tributes train in the Center from an obnoxiously large screen - they were talented, of course, they were Careers, but it was just not enough - he decided that he'd actually take advantage of the Capitol treating this like a party and help himself to the food laid out for him and the other mentors.

And then he saw you. He wasn't exactly sure if you'd remember him.

You were attempting to (utilise your evidently limited knowledge of) sign to the Avox behind the counter, who gave you a small menu in response. Looking up the item number on the menu, you tilted your head. "Cupcake?", you questioned, brows furrowed.

"Yes, Sugar?", he asked, leaning his elbow on the counter, grinning. With all his perfectly pearly white teeth. "Sorry, I had to.", he chuckled, watching as you curiously turned to look at him. "You don't think that's a cupcake?"

"It doesn't look like one."

"It's a District 1 delicacy. Don't let them hear you say that."

"It doesn't look like anything. It's a blob. Plus, I think that's gold on it."

"It's edible gold. It's fine. She'll have two. Trust me, if the Capitol's good for one thing, it's knowing the best materialistic stuff to have. And gold-dusted-cupcakes are iconic. We have 'em every year."

You nodded as you begrudgingly took the two cupcakes from the Avox attendant, handing one over to him.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am.", he replied, tipping an imaginary hat. "I'm Finnick."

"Yeah, I know."

"You remember me? And I don't mean from any ads or TV appearances. I mean, me, from the last time you were here at the Capitol."

You shrugged. "Kinda? Sorry, I was more focused on the Games."

"No doubt, no doubt.", he nodded, watching as you gently unwrapped the bottom of the blobcake. "What are you doing?"

You gestured at the blobcake. "Eating. You said it was good."

"You gotta lick the icing off first. That's how you eat it. It's a law."

"It's a law?"

"Well, not a-- yeah, basically."

"That's disgusting."

He spluttered. "The icing is the best part!"

"So save it for last!"

"Wow. Uncultured.", he muttered, running his tongue along the icing, shooting you a triumphant look. "Mm-mm, it's better when it's eaten right."

Defiantly, you took a bite of the cake-part, mirroring his look, to which he mock-gasped. "Blasphemy."

You laughed. He was glad. "So. You really don't remember me? I was standing right next to your mentor when you came out of the Arena?"

"Wait, aren't you the one who told your tributes to try to psych me out--"

"I nudged them in the direction of psychological--"

"Warfare."

"Not- not warfare, more... teasing. You killed 'em, anyway, so, I guess we're even.", he muttered, offhandedly as he took another lick of the icing, cleaning his lips with the back of his hand. Your silence made his head snap up.

"Right. Sorry." It was so quiet, he almost screamed to counter it.

"No, no, that was a joke- well, not a joke, I'd never joke about that, I just... it didn't mean anything.", he rambled, nudging your shoulder with his elbow, only letting up once you nodded.

Clearing his throat, he continued to lick the gold dusted icing off his blobcake, now sort of understanding your point of how disgusting it must look. But it felt right, and he'd long learnt that things feeling right was a rare emotion these days.

"So, your tributes. Quite the age difference, huh? Can't really push the whole star-crossed-lovers thing that Abernathy's doing with the 12 tributes, can you?", he asked, looking up at you taking another gentle bite of the blobcake.

You shook your head, instinctively glancing up at the screen, where, like clockwork, 11's tributes were displayed, along with a ranking.

"Seven.", you whispered, setting your blobcake down slowly, causing him to raise a brow before his eyes dutifully followed your line of sight. Oh. Wow.

"A twelve-year-old got a seven?", he muttered, resting his elbows on the counter behind him. "You trained her well."

"No, she's always been like... this insanely talented kid. Back at the District, right? She'd manage to squeeze her way into the Victor's Village to come see me. Peacekeepers never see her."

"Squeeze her way? What, you're not allowed to see the others?"

You gnawed on your lip, shrugging as you picked at your blobcake. "I mean, you guys haven't heard? The Peacekeepers said that the whole of Panem knew and that's why they look down on 11."

"Knew what?"

You looked down at your cake and he huffed. "C'mon, let's cause a scandal.", he mumbled, dragging you by the wrist to a secluded corner of the room. "Now, tell me."

Exhaling softly, you glanced around for a moment before nodding. "11's been trying to get our own Training Programme. Like you Careers have -- because it's an unfair advantage. The Capitol doesn't like that. It prefers you guys, obviously. So Snow calls me over sometimes, being the most recent Victor from 11, because he thinks I'll be loyal to him and snitch."

"Do you?"

"Would you?"

Touché.

"And that's why he has you guys separated from the rest of the District? So you can't give them tips?"

You nodded. "I try my best to help people out. I know it's stupid, that at the end of the day, there will be two tributes chosen every year anyway, but I donate some of the annual income I get as a Victor to families with eligible but very young kids. Y'know, like Rue. So that there's no need for Tesserae."

Whoa. So it was true, what the other mentors had been whispering about. You had personal attachment. Yeesh.

◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Of course, Rue, c'mon."

You allowed her to settle down in your blankets before you stroked your fingers through her hair. "You have pretty hair."

"Thank you."

"No problem, Rue-bird." You'd been told by her mother, while she was clutching your arms with her trembling hands, to call her that if she needs it. No promises were demanded of saving her. No promises were given, either.

"How did you win your Games? They didn't tell us."

They wouldn't have. Doesn't go with the image of the badass, merciless Victors.

"Well, um, I was in an alliance with someone from 2. Which, I know, is odd, because usually, the Careers band together, but she was weaker than the rest of them. And somehow, it had just come down to four of us left."

Rue hummed, playing with her fingers as they rested on your stomach.

"So, we'd gone our separate ways to look for food. I found a, uh, a District 3 boy bleeding out. Some muttation, I think, had got to him. He didn't have much time left. He reached out his hand. But all that went through my head was my little baby brother. I had to know him. I--", you exhaled, licking your lips as you looked up at the ceiling.

The worst thing is that you've always been incapable of tears, when asked about the brutality of the Games.

"What did you do?"

"I turned back around. I went past our meeting spot, to where she was, the 2 tribute. And then...", you sighed. Fuck. "I literally stabbed her in the back as she was aiming at a squirrel for food. Well, not stabbed. I shot her. With an arrow. Both of their cannons went off at the same time. Hers and the boy's. I didn't have to mercy kill him."

"That's how you won?"

You nodded, lips pursed.

"You said there were four of you."

Oh, right.

"The other one was my fellow 11 tribute. I hid from him. The Gamemakers tried their best to force us together, but I managed not to."

"So he was looking for you?"

"I couldn't handle killing him, too, Rue. Someone from my own District. But he started believing I was dead and he just kept missing it on all the nightly announcements. He thought the Capitol was messing with him, that he was alone in the Arena. Wouldn't put it past them. But he went mad. He ended up killing himself."

Rue's silence was expected, and strangely enough, welcome.

"You won by default."

"Yes. They didn't see it that way, though. The Capitol's so used to brutal murders that they thought this was an 'innovative psychological strategy', not that I couldn't bring myself to kill him. But for my brother, I couldn't bring myself to let Heath find me."

"Heath?"

"The other 11 tribute's name."

"Did you say sorry to his family?"

"I haven't been able to look them in the eye since. They forgive me, though, they've sent letters on numerous occassions."

She fell asleep, then. Good. After this reliving of trauma, at least one of you should.

◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇

If you could loop this week for the rest of eternity, you would.

One week went by so quick. One second you were on a train, watching Rue and Thresh's knees bounce as they looked out the window on the journey to the Capitol, and the next, you were sitting in a swivel chair marked '11', with Haymitch Abernathy to your right, mindlessly offering you a bottle for the fifth time after you'd declined.

But this time, you said okay. Because the countdown had just begun.

You bit the inside of your cheek, taking a sip, but your eyes stayed trained on the screen. If those two kids can't close their eyes, neither would you. You'd avoided watching any of the Games since yours so far, but now, you had no choice.

Your biggest worry was that some Career jackass would set off one of the landmines and that would set off Rue's or Thresh's.

But no. That didn't happen. Instead, a goddamn massacre painted the screen and the reflection on everyone's eyes was an angry, bruising red.

"It's a motherfucking bloodbath. I mean, it always is, but goddamn.", you heard Haymitch mutter from next to you. You looked down from the big screen back to the little one you'd been personally provided - the one you could zoom into, use map tools and whatever the fuck else the Capitol had cooked up - to locate your tributes. But fuck. You couldn't find her.

Thresh, of course, survived the bloodbath almost effortlessly. Well, no, that would be wrong. He used a lot of effort, but his training worked well. And plus, finding that he's hidden himself in the ginormous patch of tall grass - forestry district, baby! - you weren't too worried. But fuck, fuck, fuck, where was Rue? Where the hell was Rue? You heard cannons upon cannons and you just clenched Haymitch's bottle tighter with each one.

You were allowed to try to find your tributes on the screen, allowed to navigate through landscapes in the arena, but you weren't allowed access to the tracking tools used on them, or any other districts' tributes. Because what if you sent in a sponsor gift with a coded message of other tributes' locations. Wouldn't be fair, would it? At least, that's what the asshole Gamemaker Crane had said. As if sending kids to fight to the death was fair.

"She's a fuckin' idiot. An actual goddamn idiot."

For a split second, you didn't even care that he's possibly insulting your tribute. "Where?" You realised all too quickly, he was talking about his tribute.

"This girl, she's...", he groaned, slapping his forehead as he gestured to her, the one who got an eleven - Katniss, you recalled - running with an almost fluorescent orange backpack. "He was smart, he hid. And she was supposed to, but she just fucking-- she's this lucky. This goddamn lucky.", he muttered, pinching his fingers together.

"I can't find Rue."

Hey, you'd take all the help you can get. He's more familiar with this computing system, anyway.

"What, the tiny one? She's probably up in the trees or something.", he mumbled, waving you off.

"But we don't have access to those cameras."

"Yeah, I know. You just gotta keep waiting till it shows up on the big screen, I guess. Man, how the hell am I supposed to push this whole star-crossed-lovers schtick if one of them keeps trying to get herself blown up?"

Your eyes ran back to your screen, trying to scour the arena's locations for any hint of Rue. He was right, actually. She could be in the trees.

"You gonna hog that, or what?"

Eyes still on the screen, you absentmindedly passed the bottle back to him. Your blood pressure was rising with every cannon you heard.

Hands rested on your shoulders, and it shot even goddamn higher, as though it was you in the Arena again.

"It's me." Well, it's good Finnick decided to announce himself, because there was no fucking way you'd have taken your eyes off the screen for a moment, even if it was Snow himself trying to slit your throat from behind. "You find them yet?"

"I saw Thresh. I can't find Rue, we don't have access to the tree cams."

He nodded, leaning over your shoulder. "Shh. I know an override."

As silently as possible, while occassionally raising his brows (and eyes) to look around to make sure he wasn't being watched, he typed out something complex that looked almost like what you'd expect only people from Three were capable of.

"Did you find yours?"

"My boy died at the Cornucopia. My girl's still alive. She's with the other Careers.", he murmured, his eyes still focused on typing. "There. You won't get all the tree cams, 'cause they'd notice that. I've lowered the range to near the Cornucopia. She can't have gone that far."

You nodded. "Thank you, Four."

"No problem.", he muttered, squeezing your shoulders before sneaking back to his seat, seven seats to your left. You almost frantically navigated through the tree-cams, until finally, finally, you saw a flash of her hair.

"See? I toldja. All the Eleven ones do it every year. If there's trees. Never fails."

You could both hug and stab Haymitch at that moment.

◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇

"Yeah, this is weird as hell."

Your head whipped around, and you raised a brow, watching as he moved closer to you, arms crossed.

"What is?"

"No one does this shit, man. You know that, right? You'd get notified if your tribute died."

"I'm just making sure."

You watched the night sky of the Arena light up with the names of the fallen. The two of you stood in silence as the big screen shone with eleven bright announcements, Finnick's jaw clenching as the District Four boy was announced.

He inhaled deep and long, tilting his head as the screen went dim again, the cameras showing split screen shots of the faces of the thirteen remaining tributes. "You didn't ask me what I was doing here."

"I didn't really care."

He nods. "Fair. You wanna know now?" You shrugged. "I kinda figured you'd be here."

"Capitol darling, expert hacker and now psychic, too?"

"Everyone hates triple threats.", he grinned, resting his elbow on your shoulder. "I figured you'd be like me and not trust the Capitol on your first Games as a mentor. Ergo, figured you'd be here."

"How so?"

"I remember during one Hunger Games - can't remember which one, but this kid thought he was all alone, and he was going insane. And the Capitol fucking taunted him. Let him goddamn believe it. They started displaying all the dead in a list and once or twice, the other tribute was shown although they were alive."

You didn't respond. How could you? You were reeling from the new information that Heath had got a tiny display of the deceased list all to himself that you hadn't been privy to, and the Capitol had fucked with him by adding you in sporadically.

"So, yeah, I figured you might have seen that Hunger Games. It was more recent. So. No Capitol trust."

"Those were my Games."

His elbow slipped off your shoulders as his hand slipped into his hair. "Fuck. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you, uh, relive that.", he rambled, clearing his throat. How many fucking times is he going to put his foot into his mouth in front of you? He's pretty sure a hundred more.

He exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Hungry?"

"No."

"Blobcakes?"

You raised a brow, and he raised one right back. "That's what I thought. Come on, Eleven."

----

He'd never seen anyone look as delicate as you while licking the icing off a blobcake. "Man, I don't know if I'm going to keep my end of the deal up. You're just making my way look so appetizing."

"Hey, whoa, I'm being disgusting and eating it your way. You gotta do it my way."

"What, a bite with cake and icing?"

"Uh huh.", you nodded, wiping icing off the corner of your mouth with your thumb. "Go."

Begrudgingly, he took a bite of the whole thing. Whoa, okay, whoa. He'd never fucking admit that it was perfect. But it motherfucking was.

"Hey, I saw that, I saw that!", you exclaimed, pointing at his eyes.

"Saw what?"

"That! That look in your eyes. You're awe-struck! It's the golden ratio of cake : icing. You know it!", you laughed, scrunching up your nose as you jabbed your finger in the air in front of his eyes.

"It's average. It's not that great."

"Oh, please!"

"What'd your district bring to this metaphorical potluck, then?"

You shrugged. "Nothing much. It's all out, now, anyway. No one wanted it, so I snuck it all back for Rue and Thresh, so they had something to eat to remind them of home." That was a week ago.

"What was it?"

"We have this special kind of bread, y'know? Like, it's... the most delicious thing ever. We have it on birthdays and when Victors come back."

"How long's it been since that happened?"

"A good couple years, besides me."

He nodded, setting down his blobcake and leaning against the counter. "You find any sponsors yet?"

You threw the wrapper of your blobcake away, before patting your hands together, clearing any crumbs off as you accepted the glass of water he passed to you. "For Thresh, yeah. For Rue, uh...", you trailed off, rubbing the ridge of your brow.

"She's hiding. She probably will do so for the rest of the Games. They won't really see much of her potential, will they?", he reassured.

You furrowed your brows, sucking on your teeth for a moment before shaking your head. "Yeah, thanks, man.", you mumbled, attempting to shoulder past him.

"It's just the truth.", he told you, his hand on your shoulder again. "Okay? I have no reason to hurt you or 'psych you out'. We're not the ones competing."

"Can you stop doing that?"

He removed his hand from your shoulder. "What? The hand? 'Cause I'm sorry, it's insti--"

"No, asshole, I mean the whole, like... 'you and I are birds of a feather, you can trust me, soft-as-fuck-look' in your eyes! Seriously, it's getting old.'

"What's getting old? Me caring?"

"No, you acting like you do! You're Finnick Odair! It doesn't matter to you whether your tributes live or die, because if they live, you get the glory, and if they die, you get the sympathy!"

"Whoa, HEY!"

Silence. He hadn't meant to snap.

"Do NOT fucking go there."

"I'll see you around, Four."

Good that you walked away, 'cause he'd have beat you the fuck up if you'd doubled down.

◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇

Three days later.

He didn't think of what had happened between the two of you as a fight - he'd long learned that a disagreement and a full-fledged fight were vastly different - but he'd pretty much expected lack of any further conversation. Not that he wanted to talk to you and your half-baked knowledge of who he was.

But that's not to say he didn't check on you. And he just could not handle watching you take to Mr. Abernathy's methods.

"I think I'm cutting you off. Yeah?", he whispered in your ear, a hand on your shoulder to stop your inevitable jump of surprise as he gently pried the bottle off you.

"You have one.", you replied as you allowed him to drag you to the corner of the viewing room as you gestured at his glass.

"Yes. One. My first and only one of the night.", he informed, before tipping it towards the screen. "You're not checking up on them?"

"I just did. Thresh is still fine, and Rue's in an alliance with Haymitch's tribute."

He hummed, pulling you from in front of him to his side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders after pushing hair off them. "And sponsors?"

"I have enough for Thresh. I can't find any for Rue."

"Have you tried talking to the bettors?"

"What?"

He leaned his face in towards your hair, whispering once more. "It's inhumane, but you could convince them to help you out with Rue."

"Finnick. I'm not going to talk Rue up to get people who are betting on her life to put in more money, no fucking way."

He licked his lips, before sighing, placing a soft, seamless kiss on your temple. "Okay. Can I help you out at least? I know some Capitol patrons who have a thing for helping underdogs. You'll have to talk her down, though. They're the same people who bet on Johanna, when she pretended she was weak so no one would go after her."

Sighing, he relinquished his grip on his glass of champagne and watched you gulp. "Just 'cause Katniss and Rue are in an alliance, doesn't mean you and Haymitch have to share supplies, too."

◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇

Two days later.

Fifth day of the Games. His girl's doing fine. Career pack.

You? No, you're frantic. Thresh is getting herbs and knives and Rue's getting Katniss-scraps.

He doesn't come up to you, though, you who's spinning in half-arcs in your little swivel chair, eyes on the screen. He can't, not when the Capitol patrons devote such unnecessary attention to him, especially now that they're sure one of his tributes is valuable, having not been killed by the bloodbath nor by the other Careers (yet).

"What did they expect, her being trained by Finnick Odair? The fourteen year old victor himself?" They think he's flattered? They're sorely mistaken.

Yeah, well. Maybe you weren't particularly wrong about the fact that no matter if his tributes lived or died, he'd still be adored by the Capitol. It was so sickening, he'd have clawed his skin off if he could. Just to get their paws off him.

He watches from across the room as you slam your screen closed, shouldering through the crowd of patrons, bettors, mentors and gamemaker assistants alike, muttering "space, please" and "excuse me" too many times to count.

Fuck. He wished he could apply his 'not my circus, not my monkeys' motto here. But he couldn't. He'd almost made the same mistake and he'd been helped out, so.

It'd be a hard task, though. Sneaking away from the Capitol patrons would be fine, but sneaking past the Avoxes and the Peacekeepers would be a hassle. Nevertheless, he grabs your screen, tucking it under his arm, before he slips out of the viewing room as seamlessly as possible.

Now the real hard task.

He'd just have to hope the people already in the elevator were from 1, 2 or 3, so they wouldn't see him press the 11th floor after they left. That was a slim chance. The chances of that were, what? Three out of ten, excluding you and him? Phenomenal odds.

Luckily, it was goddamn Johanna Mason. District 7.

"Odair, as I live and bleed."

"Hey, Johanna." Thank fuck.

She nods, her eyes trailing down to his arm. "You're going to watch the Games in bed, eat popcorn or something? You're around Snow too much. He's rubbin' off on you."

"I'm returning this."

She raises a brow, gently gesturing for him to turn the device over, reading the huge '11' sticker on the back. "The new mentor? Really? You're all buddy-buddy now?"

"Uh huh."

"Fucking ace, man. But you know you can't visit other floors, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"No, like you can't. You'll be stopped."

"How do I--"

"There's stairs. Not the staircases, take the stairwells. Get off on your own floor, then make two rights."

He snorts, watching the elevator climb up past the floor for District 2 and get to District 3. "And you know this how?"

"You think I don't have midnight business with the other floors?"

He chuckles once again, hugging her by the shoulder. "Man, I missed you."

"Tell Eleven I said hi. And good job on keeping both her kids alive. See you next year."

He salutes, watching the doors open on the District Four floor, before disappearing to the right. And then another. And sure enough, there's a door that looks just right enough to hold an abandoned secret stairwell.

He shuts it gently behind him, before sighing. Seven more fucking floors.

◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇──◇◇──◇──◇

The thuds on your door are loud enough to elicit a frustrated groan from you, spitting out your toothpaste and gargling before slamming the bathroom door shut behind you. "I said I didn't FUCKING want dinner! No dinner, no dinner, I said no dinner!"

There's no Avox in front of you.

There's a goddamn Finnick Odair.

"Sorry, so, did you say you wanted dinner, or...?", he muses with a grin, raising a brow and showing you just why the Capitol was so obsessed with his eyes. They were his district. Ocean. Water. Beauty.

You can't exactly do anything but scoff, and he tilts his head knowingly. "Johanna says hi. And congrats."

"Johanna Mason?"

"Yeah, why? You need proof before you let me in?"

Oh, right, you hadn't even let him in.

Moving to the side, you glance at him walking in, whistling lowly. "Sweet suite.", he mumbles, flicking the end of a leaf on a potted plant near your bedside before placing the device on your bed.

"You can't be leaving this shit down there, you know?", he scolds, hands on his hips as he points at it and then you.

"Why not?"

"You don't want to know what happens? You only get the notification if your tributes have died or got sponsors if you have the goddamn device on you, do you realise?"

He flops on your bed, hands behind his head as he watches you disappear into the bathroom again, presumably to floss.

"Did you talk to the Underdog-bettors?"

A soft "mhm" gently floats out the bathroom.

"They didn't go for her?"

"No."

"Did you tell them her age?"

"I told them everything. I even used her fucking family for pity points."

Your voice sounds odd, and his head gently lifts off his arms, as he sits up. "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

He bites the inside of his cheek, flicking at the comforter mindlessly. "Hey."

"Mhm?"

Okay, that's your third 'mhm' of the night. He knows what that shit means.

"You okay?", he asks, but he's already up and stalking towards the bathroom.

You don't respond, and he knows he needs to go the fuck in. He knocks, his knuckles lingering on the wood to softly push the door open. It creaks weakly, and he tilts his head.

Hands on either side of the sink, you're looking down at it, as if it contained all the money you'd need to send Rue mentor-gifts. The tap wasn't open, but the sink wasn't dry.

Tears.

Fuck.

Now, Finnick has little to no experience comforting people. That's his biggest flaw, he'd wager. He could light up a room, but not a person.

"Hey." It's as soft as he can bear to go without sounding patronizing. It's a gossamer-thin line, and he's pretty sure he's crossing it.

You don't respond, shaking your head, and he almost, almost makes the grave mistake of thinking that's you saying you don't want him there. However, he mentally flips off that thought, and instead, reaches a hand out.

It's almost like he's taming a bear or something. But. But when his fingertips graze the skin of your shoulder as timid as the first snowflake to ever fall, you immediately move, and he's found himself in the new, unfamiliar position of holding you, your face -and tears- on his chest, and his hand in your hair.

He doesn't tell you to 'shh', he doesn't say 'it's okay', because it's goddamn not.

"Why won't they help her? And why won't they let me use some of the money for Thresh on her?"

Your voice is barely heard, constantly overshadowed by trembles and sobs and gasps.

"Sweetheart.", he breathes out, attempting to pull you to the safety of air when you buried yourself harshly into his chest, so harshly, he's half sure you're breathing in zero oxygen, just 100% tears. "Hey. You're gonna have to look at me. Yeah? Yeah?"

His thumbs rub arcs into your cheek as it slowly untethered itself from his chest, and he sighs. "There she is.", he smiles softly. He's not going to give you any illusion of Rue and Thresh's miraculous saving.

"I don't get it."

"Look, she got a seven, which is impressive for her age, but--"

"No, I don't get the whole thing! District 13 rebelled, and so we gotta send our children to this shithole to die?!"

He really wasn't prepared for a worldview analysis.

Pressing fluttery kisses to your hair and your forehead, he hums, shaking his head. "It doesn't make sense, you're right, but we're here."

"If one of them doesn't win, I'm starting a rebellion."

That was treason. He should recoil, tell you to shut the fuck up, to never goddamn say that.

But instead, he kisses lower. Your cheeks. Your nose. Your chin. "You're right. We should." He's humouring you, but Johanna's already been talking about this, grumbling, more like. He's also got one of those gut feelings, y'know? He can feel something big happen.

"I might start a rebellion either way."

"I'll back you up."

"I'm not joking!"

He takes the shove like a man. "Yeah, I know, I'm serious, too. I'll join you."

You glare at him for a moment, before shouldering past him to the bed again, turning the screen on. "I wish they both would survive."

"Two Victors?" Maybe that's the 'big thing' that he feels will happen.

"Uh huh."

"I tell you, sweetheart, that will be the day the rebellion actually starts.", he tells you, scratching at his chin before he closes the bathroom door, and eases himself back onto the bed in front of you, of the screen.

Your eyes are still red, your lip still quivering, as you navigate first to the tall grass field, to check that Thresh isn't in any immediate sort of danger, and then back to the rest of the Arena to search for Rue. You do it monotonously, as if you've already resigned yourself, and honestly? You might have a point. He won't tell you that, though.

"If you say I'm still only pretending to care, I don't know what to tell you.", he muses, and you snort, shaking your head.

"Listen, I'm not going to pretend to know what you feel. I've never... I mean, my fellow tribute in the Games was someone I never knew, and I've never personally known any of my mentees, so, what you must be going through? Unimaginable."

"I don't need pity."

"It's not pity. It's concern. It's sympathy. It's... it's caring."

You nod. "Thank you. Greatly appreciated." Sarcasm? He'll never know.

"See, you're saying that, but you're not really easing up on the comforter there, sweetheart."

Your hands, gripping the cloth like the talons of the mockingjays in the trees back in Eleven, loosen on reflex. It leaves a mark on the bed. "What do I do, Finnick?" Your voice chokes off into a tired exhale. He tries not to focus on the fact that you've just used his name for the first time.

"What's that?", he asks, tilting his head as he reaches to turn up the volume. You frown for a moment, biting your fingernail, before your brows relax in recognition, and you lean back onto the pillow, sighing.

"Her song. Four notes. They've been using that as a signal, her and Katniss."

"Why does she sing it?" Anything to get you to forget the fact that this girl could die.

You smile, softly. "She sees the end-of-day flag go up, because she's the highest up in the trees."

"'Cause she's the smallest."

"Exactly. So she whistles that, and the mockingjays carry it back. Lets us know the working day's over."

"Mockingjays? Whoa, never seen one. Thought they went extinct."

You shake your head. "They prefer staying in our District. High trees where they can hide. They don't like the electric fences, though, of course."

"What do they look like?" He's on one mission. Keep you talking. Distract you. Maybe this is how he should have approached comfort before.

---

It's been hours.

The screen's long forgotten now, though he sees a flash on your screen saying his tribute has died from trackerjack stings. He'll have to rewatch how the hell that happened. "Fuck."

"Oh. Oh, Finnick, I'm sorry.", you murmur, your hand on his arm. See, you're better at this comforting thing than he is.

"The sponsors didn't prefer her, either. Coral was, uh...", he groans, rubbing his hands over his face. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Not the strongest. Not the most charming. She was just a Career. Just there."

"Will you have to go home? To pay your respects? I think Johanna had to, I heard Haymitch talk about it."

He shakes his head, pushing some hair from your shoulder before chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Usually, yeah, that's the procedure. But, uh, not me. I just go home. I have one here, in the Capitol."

"You have a house in the Capitol. Not a home."

Yes, yes, yes! Fucking exactly! He nods, earnestly. "Yes."

Silence, as you both watch Katniss and Rue speak.

Their conversation is short, but the Capitol will eat it up.

"Do you really not want dinner?"

You shake your head, and he kisses your temple as he stands.

"Then let's just go get blobcakes."

[shysuccubusstuff]

Yandere! Caleb pt. 2

Content: Stalking + Spying + Photo taking + Controlling + Masturbation + Breeding kink + Matting press + Aftercare - Stablished relationship

Note: I just love a good obbsessed man... Have you liked him so far? I've read that some ppl think that he's scary/too much, but I believe that this type of LI is quite common in otome games (and I enjoy them quite a lot). Sorry if it's similar to the previous one, I have trouble remembering everything I write...

Yandere! Caleb, who is able to mask all his obsession upon layers and layers, always acting as if he was that sweet older brother like figure. He keeps forcing himself to restrain, even when he sees you with some other people from your age. He even has to face the fact that you had found some other guys to be with, all nice guys, of course, sadly, that wasn't enough for him. I mean, he had been with you your whole entire life, who was better than him to be your husband boyfriend?

Yandere! Caleb, who loves stalking you while taking candid pictures of you. He just loves following you around the days he's free, his brown hair being concealed by a black cap, his ears now decorated with a bunch of piercings that dangled as he moved. He knows just how much he's betting every single time he decides to do it, but he just can't stop himself from pursuing you. He makes sure to buy clothes that he would never wear with you, a bunch of extremely baggy sweaters together with loose trousers that make him look larger than he actually is. He carefully takes out a phone he bought just for this task, and he hits the small white button, the shutter of his camera going off as you were sharing a small treat with a man he soon recognised. It was Zayne, the boy that lived next door, he clenched his fists in frustration, his hands trembling from the force he did. Still, he simply kept drinking that slightly bitter coffee, looking at the photo he had taken as he smiled charmed. In that photo, Zayne was nowhere to be seen, making him smile even wider.

Yandere! Caleb who loves collecting little trinkets (from you). You don't know it, but Caleb has a few keep boxes, all filled to the brim with different elements. This hobby of his began while the two of you were children, saving them with the purpose of showing them to you when you grew up. This quickly took a turn as he began to feel his mental state decay, the small collection growing more and more each day until he had to buy several boxes, all piled up on his private room within the Fleet.

Yandere! Caleb who used the intel within the Fleet to track you down. Always following your every move through the small screen, even watching what you saw through the small virus he had planted within your phone. He loved watching the world from your perspective, even hearing how happy you were just from winning those soft plushes in the claw machine. He made sure to even take screenshots, printing them and adding them to his vast collection of candid photos.

Yandere! Caleb who keeps your photo everywhere he goes. You don't know it, but he made a small modification in the necklace you gave him, creating a small cabinet just so he could keep a picture of you within it. This picture is sometimes rotated between the many options he has, but the only thing that remains despite all the changes is a few strands of your hair. Luckily (for you) he was the one that gave you the idea, telling you one day that people used to gift a lock of their hair before the impeding parting of a loved one. So of course you gave him one, how could you not, when you could easily tell just how much Caleb wanted it?

Yandere! Caleb who uses your photos to masturbate. It's late at night and he just can't bear it anymore, he has been restraining himself from such a long time, always having to conceal his hardened member by pulling down his sweaters or jackets, always wearing black clothing that is just a bit oversized for him. But as soon as he reaches his private house, he rushes to the small wardrobe, rushing to get his hands on some of the clothes you had left a few days ago. He knows this is awful on him, masturbating with some barely worn clothes that still had your scent, but, how could he not? That day, you had spent the whole day with him, your body constantly brushing against him as he kept biting his tongue as a way to control himself. He quickly rushed to his bed, sitting down and quickly undoing his trousers together with his underwear. He quickly wrapped his hand around his erection, starting to move it up and down his shaft as he inhaled the sweet scent that was emanating from the t-shirt.

"Fuck... I love you... I love you so much... I need you... Just---... Fuck I love you, you're so fucking cute, always looking at me with those sweet eyes... I could just eat you up..." As he started to lose himself on the pleasure, he kept mumbling, his hand starting to speed up as he kept rubbing his face against the cloth, sometimes bitting it as a way to muffle some of his sounds. "I just want you to... Fuck... Just want to get you all hot and bothered because of me... I need to fuck you so bad--- I love you..." As he kept moving his hand faster, he kept whimpering, his hips bucking against his hand as he dreamt about fucking your sweet pussy, seeing you drool all over him as his tip kept hitting against that soft spot within your cunt. Soon, he came all over his hand, his warm essence staining his hand as he kept his face buried on your clothing, wishing it had been you the one he came all over.

Yandere! Caleb who makes sure to get you pregnant as soon as you allow him. Of course he wanted to become the father of your children, but he had to stop himself, biting his own tongue as a way to stop himself from fucking you against the mattress as he kept whispering into your ear, praising you as he burried his face in the crook of your neck. His attitude changed as soon as you allowed him, his cock growing while still being inside you, making your tummy bulge a bit as he started to increase the rhythm of his trusts.

"Just like that, you're doing so good for me, love... Just hold on a bit more... I'll be such a good daddy-- Provide for you, whatever you need, just take me as your husband, yeah? Just let me treat you all nice, you're so good, such a hard-working woman..." Caleb's voice resonated within your head, nails digging on his muscled back as your lower half kept receiving his powerful thrusts, making you mewl each time his dick entered, filling you to the brim and staying there for a few seconds, pressing even further as he kept kissing your forehead to keep you grounded. "Love... Just a few more minutes, promise I'll let you rest as soon as we finish, I just need to make sure to fill you up..." Caleb's rhythm became even more punishing, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix, using his own body weight to keep you pressed against the bed, ramming against you as if he had lost every single strand of restraint. Just as you were about to loose yourself, Caleb's hips finally started to quiver, his thrusts becoming more swallow as his cock started to twitch, his cum filling your womb as he pressed himself against your entrance, making sure to not move an inch until he finally ended. "You did so good, my love, let me take care of you." Caleb got away from you, leaving the room for a few minutes. This moment allowed you to breath deeply, your chest moving up and down rapidly as you tried to stabilise your own breath. Just as you kept trying to recover, Caleb's arms wrapped around you, lifting you up from the bed so he could take you to the tub that had been filled. Caleb let you lay within it, cleaning your body with the soft sponge, then moving on to massage your scalp, carefully shampooing your whole head and letting it for a few minutes. "I love you, you did so good for me... Now let me get you all warm and cozy before going to bed."

[princesssmars]

abby who definitely doesn’t have a thing for showing you off. nsfw.

you remember a certain night a while when you had started dating abby, both curled up on her couch and cozied under a blanket while watching one of your comfort movies. the man on screen was getting jealous at someone hitting on his girlfriend in a bar, and you’d passively asked her if she’d do the same for you.

“ok, be honest. if someone bc was hitting on me in front of you, how would you react?”

“i’d hope as soon as they saw me they’d stop. but i’d probably just tell them to leave you alone unless they escalate.”

“aww, you’re so cordial. so you wouldn’t punch someone in the face for me?”

“of course, but i’m definitely not throwing the first one. i like you but a night in jail is a little too extreme for me.”

you’d laughed together and averted your attention back to the movie, cuddling up closer to her side. at this point the couple had returned to their home, the man pressing the woman up into the wall as he left a collage of love bites over her neck and shoulders.

“what about that? would you do that to me?”

you could feel the woman next to you as she slightly shifted her body, suddenly jittery in her position.

“what like…leave marks on you? for other people to see?”

“yeah, then everyone would already know i’m taken. would save you some time instead of yelling at pervs.”

she let out a stunted little chuckle when you pressed a small kiss to her cheek and grabbed her hand to hold in yours. you noticed the way her eyes locked into the screen when the couples actions started getting heated, the way her chest started to stutter with her breathing.

really, you didn’t have any choice but to take advantage of her clear excitement over the prospect.

the next time you were planned to head out with your girlfriends you wore a top you knew she wouldn’t be able to resist you in, low cut with plenty of your skin on display. it was almost comical the way her eyes became the size of dinner plates when you walked out of the bedroom, strutting over to the woman who sat on the couch and was gripping her thighs so aggressively you thought she might rip her pants.

it was no surprise that only a few minutes later she had you pressed into the cushions under her, lips kissing and biting marks from your neck down to your breasts and stomach. a firm hand gripped the meat of your thigh and bringing it up to wrap around her waist, the other pushed up into your skirt and rubbing you through the fabric of your panties.

your head feels fuzzy as she grinds her fingers up into your clit the same time she bites a deep mark into the special spot on your neck, body and voice involuntarily reacting and pleading for more. you know she wants to give it to you, can tell by the way her whines reverberate each time she finds a new spot on your chest to mark and how her hips grind themselves into her arm to push herself against you even harder.

but still, she pulls away. you’re both breathing heavily, droopy eyed and ogling each other when she quickly stands up and yanks your arm to bring you to a standing position. her hands place themselves on your upper arms when your legs slightly falter and she bites her lip when you look up at her with a whine, not able to come up with the words to ask her why she’d leave you so close to the edge.

wordlessly she grabs your purse and places it in yours hands l, guiding you to the doorway before pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead. you pout before making your way to your car, plopping down in the drivers seat and gasping when you catch a glimpse of your neck and chest in the rear view mirror, shades of reds pinks and purples dusting your skin.

you aren’t given the chance to ask about it before your phone is dinging with an message from abby, the words lighting up the top of your screen.

“let everyone at the club see those, huh?”

[yearsbecomingcool]

thrill me, chill me, fulfill me | simon kalivoda

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | college au!simon x co-worker!reader

synopsis | simon has gone off to college and started working at a movie theater where he meets you. it doesn't take long for him to fall to you and one thing leads to another and he's on his knees in front of you in the office.

warnings | 18+!!!! mdni!!!, sexual content, semi-public sex, subby!simon, oral f!receiving, dom!reader, f!reader, public humiliation, sexual fantasies, mentions of piv, attempted footjob, we're getting into pet-lay territory with some of this dialogue, reader calls simon 'puppy', dry humping, and a fluffy ending.

word count | 7.1k

a/n | i love rocky horror so much and i feel like simon would love it too so all the sequences at the rocky horror screening were so much fun. i still haven't been able to go to a screening but it seems so fun. i also had to make him work at a theater because the movie theater is my happy place and i have to throw my interests in somehow!!

taglist | @slaytheusurper

Simon Kalivoda had managed to do the impossible, he graduated high school and got the fuck out of Shadyside…temporarily at least. He’d gotten into Kent State and was sad he didn’t have the grades to join Kate somewhere better but he’d take what he could get. He’d saved up enough money from his years working at the grocery store to put down a deposit for an apartment near campus and started his summer off by applying at as many places near campus as possible. The first one to call him back was a family owned movie theater by campus, they were known for hosting screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and tons of midnight movies. He quickly took the job and that’s where he met you. 

His first shift was one of the midnight shadow cast screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. He had no idea what he was in for, but you spent the first hour of your shift getting him caught up. You leaned against the concession counter, sipping on a Dr. Pepper. “All these people are gonna come in looking like they came from those cool queer clubs in New York. They’re nice but one of the biggest parts of this is making a total mess so it’s gonna be a bitch to clean but they tip great. They throw rice, newspapers, confetti, toilet paper, toast, and cards. A few people have been known to throw hot dogs and prunes too so be on the lookout for that. They bring in water guns and all kinds of shit, it’s a whole thing.”

“And Eli is okay with that?” Simon asks, slack jawed. He can’t believe the owner would be okay with patrons making such a mess.

“It’s good for business and it’s fun, he’d never admit it but I always see him go into the theater when it starts, he loooooves that shit. I’ve gone on nights off before, it is pretty fun. They have a whole ritual for virgins, people who’ve never gone to one of those midnight showings, it’s humiliating…and a little fun.”

“Did you have to do that ritual?” Simon is pretty intrigued.

“Oh yeah. I came in with my fishnets and sequin hot pants thinking I could be unnoticed but the people who run these remember everybody. They put a giant V on my forehead in red lipstick when I walked in and they pulled me and all the other ‘virgins’ up on stage. They really like the shy ones, which of course I was. They made all of us fake an orgasm and the two they liked best got pulled up for the wedding scene to be Ralph and Betty.”

Simon tilts his head like a puppy, “How’d you do?” He has a stupid little smirk on his face when he says it.

“Let’s just say I made the best Betty Monroe this town has ever seen.” He throws his head back and laughs in a way that makes you wanna kiss him.

“Laugh it up for now but next screening I’m making sure you’re off and I’ll be front and center to watch them pull you up there. Just how good of an actor are you, Simon?”

He smirks, “You’ll just have to wait for my debut.

You and Simon become friends quite quickly, you’re both around the same age and soak up movie knowledge like a sponge. Your slow shifts are spent going head to head in movie trivia and arguing over franchises and sequels. 

“There’s no way you think the Nightmare on Elm Street films are better than the Friday the 13th films, you’re full of shit Simon!”

“The only thing I’m full of is correct opinions. Jason is boring, he doesn’t ever talk. Freddy could kill him easily,” Simon retorts, pointing his twizzler at you.  

You smack the twizzler, “Bullshit! Freddy can only get people in their dreams, does Jason even sleep?”

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it soon after, he reaches up and scratches his head. “Wait, fuck, does he sleep? I think you just destroyed my whole argument here…”

“Maybe it’s a draw? If Jason can’t sleep they can’t fight…” You trail off.

“Whatever. Nightmare is still better than Friday, Freddy makes the movies. What does Jason have besides dumb teenagers having sex and getting killed with a machete?”

Before you can respond someone slaps the bell on the counter, “Shouldn’t you two be working?” It’s Eli, the owner and lead manager of the theater. He doesn’t look too amused by your bickering with Simon.

“Sorry Eli…I’ll go clean the bathroom or something…” You mutter, slipping out from behind the counter and heading for the supply closet. Simon watches you as you walk off and Eli rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers in front of Simon’s face.

“You need to be more subtle, y'know. I know she’s a pretty little thing but I didn’t hire you to stare all day, start restocking. You’re a good employee, don’t fuck it up with some silly little workplace romance. I’ve seen enough fizzle out to know how they all end, I don’t feel like losing either one of my best employees this year.” 

Simon sighs and salutes Eli, “You got it boss. I’ll stick to fantasizing about the girls on the posters instead.”

“Better,” Eli jokes before heading to his office.

As the school year was starting up along came another Rocky Horror showing. You’d pulled some strings and managed to get Simon off work that night just like you’d promised. He had freaked out over what to wear but you told him whatever he wore would be fine since you’d be doing his makeup anyway. He settled on a black blazer, black jeans, a band t-shirt, and his signature combat boots. He met you at your dorm like you insisted so you could help him get ready. He maneuvered through the halls until he’d found your room. A small whiteboard hung on the door, your name written in big blocky letters. You had a small dry erase marker hanging on the door for people to write or draw on it. Before knocking on your door Simon uncapped the marker and drew a little smiley face under your name. He knocks on your door and his eyes go wide when he sees you. You’re standing in front of him in a loose black corset that you’re holding against your chest, a pair of tiny rainbow sequin shorts, a pair of fishnets, and some platform boots. “Great timing, I needed someone to lace me up!” You pull him into your dorm room, shutting the door behind him. His eyes wander around your room, clothes spill out of the small laundry basket near your open closet door, posters you’ve taken home from the theater line your walls. You’ve got a framed poster of ‘Serial Mom’ hanging above your bed. You nod your head towards it, “Eli got me into John Waters when I started working at the theater, he gave me that framed poster to celebrate my one year anniversary of working at the theater.”

“That’s so cool of him…I can’t say I’ve ever seen Serial Mom.”

“I’ve got it on tape, we’ll watch it sometime. But for now can you lace me up?” You ask, turning your back to him. The laces of your corset hang loose down your back. His eyes wander lower than they should and he briefly admires how your ass looks in those shorts, the bottoms of your cheeks hanging out just enough for his mind to go crazy. He clears his throat and begins to pull at the laces, he doesn’t pull tight enough, feeling scared to hurt you.

“Pull harder, you won’t hurt me, promise. I just really don’t need to flash anyone tonight more than I already am,” you laugh. 

His face is flushed and his hands tremble as he pulls the strings tighter and tighter against your skin. You bend forward in a way that makes his breath get caught in his throat, “Pull as hard as you can, I’m serious.” He gulps and obeys, pulling the strings as hard as he can. You whimper softly as he does, “There we go…tie it for me.” He carefully ties the things of the corset, double knotting it just to be sure it’s secure. He takes a step back when he’s done and watches as you stand up straight, checking that it fits right. You turn back to him with a smile, “Thank you! Now let’s get you ready, yeah? Sit on the bed for me.”

Simon sits down on the bed obediently, eyes following you as you go over to your desk and rifle through your makeup drawer until you find what you’re looking for. You set a small eyeshadow palette and a few brushes on the bed next to Simon, holding a gel eyeliner pen in your hands. You stand between his legs and bend down, “I’m gonna make you pretty. Just do what I say so it doesn’t get fucked up, ‘kay?”

He nods in response, trying to keep eye contact and not let his eyes wander. 

“Look up for me, this is gonna feel weird but I won’t hurt you.” As Simon looks up you very carefully apply the black eyeliner to his waterline, his face scrunches up as he tries desperately not to blink. 

“Fuck this feels weird!” Simon exclaims, his hands balled up into fists against the comforter.

“I’m sorry! Sorry! I’ll try to speed it up, let me just…” You quickly outline about halfway under both eyes before playing the eyeliner down and reaching for your eyeshadow palette and a small brush. You smoke out the line beneath his eye before applying a soft silver shimmer to both eyes. After that you start on his top lids, you hold him by the chin as you lean towards him. “This is gonna feel awful but please don’t move.”

“You owe for this,” Simon mutters, enjoying the feeling of you holding him in place.

“Whatever you say…” You start quickly applying eyeliner to his upper waterline and he groans in discomfort.

“Oh what the fuck?! What are you doing?!” He yelps, hands reaching forward for your waist. His hands curl into the fabric of your shorts.

“Simon, stop! Fuck…just let me…can you lay down? It might make it easier on both of us.”

“I uhh…yeah…sure just uh…w-whatever you need to do…” He stumbles over his words, laying back on your twin sized bed. You climb onto him, straddling his hips. You lean over him and giggle when you look down at him, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s um…it’s fine.” He prays you don’t notice how red he is. You notice. 

You lean down towards him to finish applying the eyeliner to his waterline. His hands grip your hips and his breathing is unsteady, this having an effect on him and you love it. You’ve always been into the submissive types, a strong muscled man who takes charge has never really done it for you. The dorky guys who would do anything you said no matter what are more for you. When Simon was first hired you were instantly intrigued. You begged Eli to put him with you for his first shift and he did. He was witty enough to keep up with you but intimidated enough to let you order him around, he was just what you’d been wanting. “Close your eyes for me.” You watch as he obeys and you apply a thin line of eyeliner onto his eyelids, just barely peeking above his lash line. You smoke it out with the same black eyeshadow from before and then take a silver glitter and apply it to his inner corner. You add mascara as a final step before rolling off him, “Go see what you think.” You smile over at him as he gets up from the bed and goes over to your vanity mirror to look. His jaw drops and his eyes widen as he looks at himself in the mirror. 

“Oh shit! I look…hot?” This is the confidence he needs for the rest of the night to not fall to his knees and beg you to kiss him. In high school he’d always act more confident than he really was, he pretended he was some smooth ladies man and women would just fall to his feet. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. The most action he’d get was a few girls flirting to try and get lower prices on whatever pills they were buying off him that week. Well that’s not entirely true. He wasn’t a virgin, he’d lost his virginity when he was 16. It wasn’t anything special, a nervous hookup with a girl he met at a party. They were both nervous and it was sloppy, fine but forgettable. His hand had really been the only one to keep him company as the years went on.

You laugh and walk over to him, grabbing him by his shoulder to turn him towards you. You take a look examining his face carefully, “I think you need some blush.” You shove him down into your desk chair and look through your makeup for a shade that’ll look nice on him. He hardly needs it though after how you manhandled him. You come back over with a soft pink shade and a brush. You apply the blush, careful to not add too much. You use it almost as a contour, following his bones structure and fanning it out onto his cheeks. You turn the chair for him to look back into the mirror, “Now you look really hot.”

“Woah…I do…goddamn. The only other makeup I’ve worn before was like…green face paint in high school and some black on my eyebrows. I uh, I used to be my school's mascot. We were the witches,” he explains. 

“I can totally imagine you as a school mascot, you have that energy,” you say as you put away your makeup.

“Thanks…I think?”

“I meant that in a good way, I swear!” You say defensively as you stroll over to your closet looking for a jacket. You hold up two options for Simon to choose from, a black leather jacket and a black blazer. “Which one do you think?”

Simon thinks for a minute examining his options, if you wore the blazer you could kind of match him but the leather jacket would look cool too. “Uhh…blazer, definitely the blazer.”

“Good choice, we can match. You shove the leather jacket back into the closet and slip on the blazer. It’s longer than Simon expected, falling just above your shorts. It looks like you may as well be pantless, not that he’s complaining of course.

You sit on your bed with a handwritten list of call outs and prop instructions. You made a bag of props for you and Simon to share as well. Simon scoots the chair closer to take a look. He smiles at your messy handwriting and the stickers that adorn the sheet. The top reads ‘A Virgin’s Guide to Rocky Horror’. He’s more than happy that the blush you applied earlier conceals his actual blushing. You hand the list to him, your fingers brushing as you do. You’ve obviously touched before but every touch after you straddled him earlier makes him feel like he’s on fire. “I made it for you, it’s way too much to memorize for your first time so you can just read it off whenever it’s time.” You give him a soft smile, taking a second to admire how the eyeliner makes his blue eyes pop. 

“Thank you, seriously you didn’t have to do all this.” Simon was worried about making friends when he went off to college, it felt weird to be separated from Kate and Deena after being friends for so long. Thanks to you he didn’t need to worry anymore, you welcomed him on his first day at work like you had been friends for years.

“I know but I couldn’t have you looking stupid, could I?” You laugh, reaching for your purse. You look through it until you find your bright red lipstick, the exact one you’re wearing right now. You lean forward, signaling him to lean down. “Almost forgot…” You uncap the lipstick and draw a giant red V on his forehead. “There, look’s complete now.”

“What happened to make sure I didn’t look stupid?” He groans, leaning back in his chair.

“Hey! It’s tradition, don’t blame me. It was gonna end up on you one way or another. Just be thankful I got it over with now, yeah?”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “Can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Shut up, you’re gonna have a great time and you look hot, seriously everyone is gonna go crazy for that eyeliner. You should be thanking me honestly, if at least one person doesn’t ask for your number tonight I’ll be shocked. I mean seriously, look at you.” You motion to him.

He feels his cheeks heat up and his mouth go dry. He doesn’t know how to say he wants it to be you who asks for his number, he wants it to be you who kisses him in the theater bathroom and messes up his hair in the process. Instead he chuckles, “We’ll see.”

“Don’t let me leave disappointed, pretty boy.” You ruffle his hair playfully, he wishes you’d tug him by it and pull him into a kiss instead.

The drive to the theater is more nerve wracking than he’d like to admit. Five minutes of pure anxiety as you try to quickly explain the film to him. “Fuck it’s so sexy and fun, it changed my life when I first watched it. My parents are total conservatives, they hate anything fun and liberating, so I watched it for the first time at a friend's house. It completely changed my life. I stopped really giving a shit about what my parents and all those other conservative losers thought about me and started living for me. I’ve never looked back since.”

“I’ve kind of done the same. Shadyside was kind of a nightmare to live in. All those Sunnyvale kids judged us just for where we were born, it was fucked. I think I stopped caring just to spite them and their stuck up attitudes, y’know?”

You turn to look at him, interested in learning more. “What was Shadyside like? I mean I’ve heard all these stories over the years, it’s murder capital of the country after all…”

He parks the car and turns to you, “It was just like every other boring small town in America. Every couple of years there’d be some murders, my senior year it was Ryan Torres killing Heather Watkins and a couple other mall employees. I guess growing up like that you get a little…numb to it I guess? I know that sounds bad but as soon as one happened everyone at school would joke around about it, I guess it’s how we coped with it.” 

You nod in understanding, “I get that, the whole joking around part. My family does the same. At a certain point it’s really all you can do.”

Simon unbuckles his seat belt, “As fun as it is to talk about death with you I think we should get in line, it looks like it’s already pretty long.” He nods towards the line and you unbuckle and grab the prop bag from the backseat. You walk together towards the longline of movie goers. 

“Damn, looks like a great turn out. Are you ready to give them a show?” You joke.

He looks at you in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Did you forget about the initiation for virgins?” You giggle.

“Fuck…” He mutters. He did in fact forget.

“Oh babe you’re in for it tonight…”

As everyone trickles into the theatre Simon and the other virgins are pulled to the stage. You take a seat in the middle near the audience and put your prop bag in a seat to save it for Simon. He’s nervously holding his hands in front of him as the announcer begins to speak. “Welcome everyone to another showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” They pause as the crowd erupts into cheers. “We have some fresh virgins here to provide us with our favorite pre-show entertainment. We’ll be seeing who can fake an orgasm the best. Why don’t you all introduce yourselves to the crowd before we begin?” They pass the microphone to the girl standing closest to them, she’s dressed like Janet at the beginning of the film. Her nervousness is clear on her face. Simon is fourth in line and he puts on an act of confidence when it’s his turn, “I’m, Simon. I’m gonna win this little competition, trust me.” You raise your eyebrows at his confidence, now you really want to see what he has in store.

Finally everyone has finished introducing themselves and the mic is handed back to the host, “Now why don’t we get this started. Simon,” they point towards him as he stands in the middle of the lineup, “Why don’t you start us off since you’re so confident.” His cheeks go red with embarrassment, even with his blush on it’s clear thanks to the unrelenting glow of the spotlight. He’s really regretting his words, sure he’s always been a class clown but this audience is packed. He laughs nervously as he’s handed the microphone. “Uhh okay…”

The silence of the crowd does nothing to calm his nerves, so you decide to yell some encouragement. “C’mon baby! Give me some shower head material!” The crowd laughs but it seems to help Simon as he recognizes your voice.

He bites his lip and closes his eyes, he’ll feel better if he doesn’t look. He decides he’ll give a little build up, whimpering pathetically into the mic. He imagines you riding him, his hands on your hips as he begs you to let him come. He starts to moan into the mic, getting louder and louder before mumbling, “Oh fuck…” He moans and whines dramatically into the mic, falling to his knees and throwing his head back. He pants and whimpers as if it’s the real thing. You can feel a wet spot growing in your panties, you know he just gave you the best damn shower head material of your life. Once he’s done he stands and bows, his cheeks flushed. He hands the mic back to the presenter as everyone claps and cheers. He spots you in the crowd and teasingly blows you a kiss. 

“Well whoever is gonna be on top of him tonight is in for a treat, huh? I think that’ll be pretty tough to beat.” The rest of the virgins have their turns, none nearly as impressive as Simon. They end up choosing some girl dressed as Magenta to play Betty and of course pick Simon to play Ralph. He stays up at the front until after he’s gone up on stage for the wedding scene. You can’t help but feel a bit jealous as you watch him stand hand in hand with the other winner, she looks at him hungrily. You weren’t the only one impressed by his performance. Once their scene is over he runs back into the audience to find you. When he does you pull him down into the seat and kiss his cheek, leaving a red lip print. “You were fucking hot. I told you someone’s getting your number tonight.” 

He laughs and whispers, “They might ask for it but I’m not giving it out to just anyone.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Got your eye on someone?”

He shrugs, “I might.”

Once the movie is over you and Simon head to the local diner down the street from the theater. The winning girl had tried to approach him after the movie but you were quick to pull him away. Sure it was selfish but you couldn’t give a fuck. You wanted him for yourself even if you were too cowardly to make a move yet. You sat across from him in the booth, you shared a basket of fries together as you talked. “So? Did you have fun?” You dip your fry into the small tin of ketchup as you put your feet up next to where he sits.

He smiles, “I had a great time. The uhh,” he lowers his voice, “competition was a little embarrassing but your encouragement helped me out actually.”

“Well I had to say you definitely succeeded in giving me some shower head material so thanks for that,” you joke. 

He chokes on his sprite, “W-What-”

You stifle your laughter, “Calm down, I’m kidding! But you were pretty impressive, as a former winner myself I have to give you that.”

He smirks down at the table, clearly trying to make up his mind on something. “Am I ever gonna get to see your performance or?”

Now it’s your turn for your face to heat up in embarrassment, you drop your fry back into the basket. “Uhh…I guess you’ll have to really earn it out of me.” 

“Right here?” He cocks eyebrow and looks at you teasingly.

“What would you even do?”

He leans back and crosses his arms, looking around to make sure your section is empty. “Well…I could always get on my knees under the table. Spread your legs apart and pull down your shorts. I could tear a hole in those fishnets and maybe I could be mean and tease you through your underwear. Eventually I’d move them to the side or maybe I’d fully pull them down and eat you out and really earn it out of you.” 

Your jaw drops, you want him right here in this diner and you don’t give a fuck who sees. “W-Would you-”

“Not here. You’d be too loud,” he says smugly. 

“You sound so sure you could get me that loud,” you snap back. You move your foot off the seat and use it to kick his legs apart under the table. You slowly start to trail your boot up his leg. 

“I-I could! Y-You’d-” He yelps when the toe of your boot presses against his inner thigh. 

“I’d what, Simon?” You ask innocently. You start to move the toe of your boot towards his crotch, enjoying how he squirms in his seat. “You’re not so tough now, huh?” You lightly press the toe of your boot against his crotch, smirking as he bites his lip to stay quiet.

“You wanna get out of here?” You giggle.

He nods quickly, throwing a twenty on the table and standing up quickly. He grabs your hand and pulls you up, pushing you in front of him as he leads you to his car. As soon as you get in the car you’re on him. You kiss him hard, tugging at his hair as he leans against the console to reach you. He whines against your lips and you smirk against him, tugging harder at his hair. You love when he whines. You’re just about to move to his neck when there’s a knock on the window and the shine of a flashlight coming through. You groan as you pull away from him, “Not the fucking pigs…”

Simon sighs and turns towards the window, rolling it down for the cop standing outside the car. “Hi officer…” he says through gritted teeth.

“License and registration please,” the cop says emotionlessly. He leans his head down, looking at you, “License from you too, now.”

You both try to keep neutral faces as you look for your IDs and Simon looks for his registration, he hands them over to the cop once you’ve found them and the cop takes a look. “You know if I let you go any further I could’ve charged you both with public indecency and exposure.”

You both hang your heads shamefully, “Yes, officer. We’re very sorry,” you say.

He continues to lecture the both of you before finally letting you go. Once Simon has started to drive off back to your dorm you’re both howling with laughter. “Holy shit! Cock blocked by the pigs…can’t say that’s ever happened before!” He laughs. 

“I can’t say it’s happened to me either…the RA’s are pretty strict about late night guests so I don’t think I’ll be able to wrap this up. You think I gave you enough to manage?”

He rolls his eyes at you, “Yeah yeah, me and my hand will have a nice conversation about the way you were about to give me a footjob.” 

“Me and my shower head will have a conversation about that orgasm you faked on stage.”

“Promise?”

You nod, “Mhm, I was serious. That was some top tier shower head material, babe.”

“I tried, I really did.” He looks proud of himself.

“Oh I could tell.” 

He pulls into a parking spot outside your dorm. “So, when am I seeing you again?”

You groan and run a hand through your hair, “You’re gonna hate me but probably not till our next shift together. You work thursday?”

He nods, “Mhm, closing shift.”

You smile, “Me too, looks like I’ll be seeing you then.” 

He smiles and leans forward, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. It’s not as needy as before, it’s sweet and soft instead. You kiss him back just as soft, if you could you’d kiss him for the rest of your life. When he pulls away he’s smiling like he just had his first kiss, “I’ll be thinking of you.”

“So will I. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you Thursday.” You hop out of his car and wave goodbye as you head back up to your dorm. As soon as you get inside you’re stripping off your clothes and making a beeline for the shower. You’re lucky enough to have a detachable shower head and you put it to good use just like you promised. It doesn’t take long for you to cry out his name and hold onto the wall to stabilize yourself. You’re looking forward to the next time you’ll get your hands on him.

Thursday finally rolls around and it’s an absolute nightmare of a shift. There’s something sinister in the air that has kids vomiting, teenagers talking through movies, and best of all adults fighting at a screening of Showgirls of all movies. It’s safe to say that you and Simon don’t get much time together. You’re taking turns taking care of whatever problem pops up while the other tries to work the snack bar as quickly and efficiently as possible. It’s not till you get everyone out of the building that a slight sense of peace washes over you. You and Simon are taking your time to clean up each theater. Once you’re finally alone in the lobby with Simon you open your mouth to start a conversation but Eli interrupts before you can even get a word out. 

“I’ve got a family emergency going on. I trust you both to lock up and count the money. Don’t fuck it up, yeah?” He says quickly before tossing the keys to Simon and heading for the door. Simon runs to lock the doors behind him, finally making his way over to you. Simon leans against the counter, admiring how you look in the outfit you chose today. You’re grateful there’s no uniform and that the dress code is so relaxed. You’re in a black sweater and a black skirt that sits just above your knee. Simon has spent his whole shift imagining getting down on his knees and hiking it up to eat you out. If he had a little less self control he might’ve pulled you into the supply closet to lift it up and get a peek at what panties you were wearing that night.

“We’re finally fucking alone…” He mutters, taking his time as he looks you up and down.

“This is close to being the worst shift I’ve ever worked,” You groan, leaning forward against the counter.

“Well…since we have the keys to the office do you wanna go watch those guys fighting from earlier?”

Your eyes light up with excitement, a wide grin spreading across your face. “Oh hell yes! Let me grab some popcorn first, they looked pretty bloody getting escorted out so I know this is gonna be some good shit!” You grab a small tub and fill it with popcorn, slathering it in butter. You walk with Simon to the office, making yourselves comfortable on some rolly chairs. You watch as Simon figures out how to reverse the cameras, going back until he finds right before the fight starts. The film played on the big screen when a man leaned over to a woman to say something, the man in the row behind him threw a handful of popcorn at them, a valid reaction to someone talking during a movie. It doesn’t take long for the man sitting behind the couple to drag the other guy out of his seat, a fight breaking out instantaneously, “Goddamn!” Simon grabs the popcorn bucket from your hands, spilling butter onto your exposed legs in the process.

You groan,  “Simon you got butter all over my legs, what the hell?!” You reach for a napkin but he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

He looks at you with a smirk, “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up.” You watch as he pauses the camera footage and gets out of his chair, sinking to his knees in front of you. 

“What the hell are you-”

He cuts you off by spreading your thighs, “I told you, I’m gonna clean you up.” You watch with wide eyes as he starts by licking the butter that splashed onto your knees, he’s thorough about it, making sure he gets every last bit of it. He slowly moves his way up your legs as you watch, biting your lower lip softly. “Pull your skirt back.”

You mindlessly do as he says, spreading your legs wider instinctively. He can see your underwear now, plain black cotton panties with a lace edge, a small white flower sewn onto the front. He licks up your thighs, getting closer and closer to your core as he cleans you up. Soon you can feel his breath against your core, he turns his head to kiss your inner thighs. What starts as soft kisses quickly turns into him leaving an array of hickeys on your inner thighs. He’s marking you possessively. You reach down and grab him by his hair, pulling him out from between your thighs. He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed. “Let me take my skirt off first, I didn’t know you’d be so…eager.” You stand from the chair and push your left foot forward, “Wanna take my shoes off for me, puppy?”

He nods and begins to unzip your boots, helping you remove them carefully, setting them aside. He watches as you unzip your skirt and let it fall down to the floor, you step out of it and watch as he picks it up and folds it carefully, setting it next to your shoes. You sit back down, spreading your legs for him, sitting on the edge of the chair. You giggle as he pulls you forward by the chair. He starts to place soft kisses on your hips, smiling shamelessly as he does. “You’re so fucking beautiful, I couldn’t stop thinking about you for my whole shift. You know that?”

You blush like a schoolgirl, “You’re full of it…”

“I’m serious. Let me worship you, please. You deserve it…” He pleads.

“I’ll allow it…I guess…” You mutter sarcastically, leaning your head back as you watch him.

He carefully bites down on your waistband, trying to pull down your panties. You lift your hips to help him as you watch in amusement. You look down at him with your mouth agape as you watch him tuck the pair into his pocket.

“I’m gonna need those back y’know,” you cross your arms over your chest.

“Not happening, sorry. Maybe I wanna start a collection,” he teases.

“Are you always this bratty?”

He pretends to think about it, “Maybe.”

“Prick.”

He shoves his head back between your thighs, you sigh as you feel his warm breath against your now exposed cunt. His movements are slow and teasing as he places a kiss on your clit before sucking on it, pulling away and giggling at how your hands curl against the chair. He leans down to lick up your slit, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit. You whine, your eyes fluttering. It’s been too long since someone besides yourself has touched you. He brings a hand up to hold your hips steady, his other hand coming up to your folds. He spreads you open, teasing your slit with his tongue as he reaches up to pinch your clit. He chuckles to himself when you gasp, huffing in pain and annoyance at his teasing action. He pushes his middle and ring finger inside of you, scissoring them to spread you open as he leans forward and takes your clit into his mouth. He’s better at this than you could’ve imagined, pleasure washing over you as he pumps his fingers inside of you, curling them as he works to push deeper and deeper.

“Jesus fuck Simon, guess there wasn’t much else to do in Shadyside huh?” You joke breathlessly, a whimper escaping your lips directly after. You’re a mess from his touch, you can feel him smirk against you. He is pretty proud of his skills.

He starts to push his fingers deeper within you until he’s hitting just the right spot with every curl of his fingers. He pulls away from your clit, blowing on it, loving how it makes you squirm. You’re so responsive you’re driving him insane. He can’t help when he parts his thighs and settles his crotch against your leg. He starts to hump your leg like a bitch in heat as he returns to sucking your clit. The sight alone is enough to make your eyes roll back. You can’t believe how pathetic he’s making himself without even trying. You wanna drag him by his hair and make him your bitch, keep him on his knees in your dorm for your own entertainment. He whimpers and whines pathetically against your clit as he ruts against you, matching the pace of his fingers. You reach down to pull his face closer against your clit, moaning his name softly as you feel him whine against you. If this is on tape you want a copy. You’d play it till it fell apart and became unwatchable. He nips at your inner thighs before returning his attention back where you need it most. He pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean, before diving back in headfirst. He shoves his tongue inside of you, picking back up where he left off. He eats pussy like a man starved, lapping up every bit he can get, curling his tongue to find the spot you need most. With how his nose presses against your clit you can’t take much more, holding his hair as tight as you can as your hips buck against his face. You whimper his name, a string of curses leaving your lips as you come. He works you through it, pulling back to let you catch your breath. A smug smile adorns his face as he looks at you, fucked out and panting.

“Gotta clean you up…” He mumbles, leaning back in to clean the cum off your thighs. He continues humping your leg as he does, mumbling your name and whimpering every now and then. He’s so desperate for it that you can’t help yourself from helping him out, bouncing your leg in sync with his thrusts. It doesn’t take long before he’s a panting mess just like you. He’s made a mess of his briefs and he couldn’t care less. He rests his head on your knee, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Can we do this all the time? Not hooking up at work…but just like hooking up…and going on dates? Fuck…I really want you to be mine, I know if I don’t ask now someone else will try to swoop in and-”

You cut him off, “Yes Simon, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

He beams up at you, lifting himself up to kiss you, cupping your face. You can taste yourself on his tongue but with how he’s kissing you it doesn’t matter. You pull him closer by his hair, it’s as if you’re trying to melt into his touch completely. You’re both putty beneath one another. When he pulls away he smiles at you with flushed cheeks.

Your eyes go wide in realization, “Simon.”

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding lovesick.

“We need to finish closing.”

“Oh shit!” He stands up and grabs your skirt off the floor and throws it at you. “Get dressed, I’m gonna finish cleaning the lobby, you count the money and I’ll recount it after!” He runs out of the office and back to where the two of you had been cleaning before. You laugh to yourself and redress, heading to the bathroom to wash your hands before going back and counting the money. Simon comes in and recounts when he’s done, before locking up the safe and heading to the break room to grab his things. You stand by the front doors, smiling to yourself as he jogs over, keys in hand. 

“I think we’re the best closers Eli has ever had!” He beams as he goes to set the alarm.

“Probably his only closers to fuck around in the office,” you scoff. 

Simon unlocks the door for you, opening it and letting you walk ahead of him to the next set of doors. He’s quick to relock the door before doing the same with the next set. “The other closers probably use the break room for that…or the bathrooms.”

“As hot as that was you’re never eating me out in the bathrooms, I’ve seen too much shit to ever let that happen in there.”

“Fair enough…” He walks you to your car, his arm around your waist. He presses you against the driver side door and kisses you for the last time that night. “On a night we’re both off I’ll take you on a real date, promise.” 

“I’ll hold you to it,” you smile, leaning your head against his.

“You drive safe.”

“I will if you do,” you retort.

He rolls his eyes and pulls away from you, “I better see you alive and well for your next shift.”

“I’ll do my best, boss.” You slip into your car and lean your head against the headrest. You smile to yourself until you realize Simon still has your underwear. “Oh goddammit!”

[millerskitty]

Running If You Call My Name

❥ dbf!joel / f!reader x joel miller

❥ (18+) nsfw

❥ reader insert

❥ medium burn, no outbreak au. some timelines are changed to fit the story.

dividers by @/saradika !

summary: you are a twenty five year old woman who lives with your father in austin, tx. you’ve been good friends with the millers for years, but in the past few months you’ve begun to see joel in a new light and it’s disrupting your life.

warnings: brief mention of parent loss, grief, loneliness and sexual harassment (by an inconsequential coworker) (pls let me know if i forgot anything — this is my first fic)

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

Chapter 1

That summer had been a scorcher. It was routine to shimmy out of your business casual and throw on a tank top and shorts each day after work. You let your hair down from its clip and let it fall naturally.

It was Friday evening and your father was out grilling in the back. Corn on the cob, fajitas and sausage were on the grill, making the air smokey and delicious. You knew there would be a big bowl of potato salad in the fridge and deviled eggs on the shelf above it. You stepped out of the glass sliding door to join the chef.

“How was work, doll?” Your father asked, sliding up his sunglasses to greet you.

You approached him for a big bear hug. He was damp with sweat from the hard work of grilling in the heat. “Hey Pop. Work was work.” You said, going over to a pool chair and reclining it so you could get some sun. “Are the Millers coming over?

“‘Course, Joel’s taking Sarah to pick out some gear for her softball camp. She leaves tomorrow.”

“Oh cool, and how was your day off?” You lathered some sun screen on your arms, chest, and stomach. The smell of chlorine coming off the pool was met with the barbecue smell. It was a nostalgic combination, reminding you of the two and a half decade’s worth of memories made in your backyard.

“All good, changed the oil on the truck, decided to grill for Sarah’s last day at home.”

The Millers usually came over when Pop was grilling. You wished you’d made a cake for Sarah’s last night in town.

“I made her some of that pink salad she loves.” He seemed to read your mind.

You lied back, closing your eyes and clearing your thoughts for half an hour. Your peace was interrupted by the sound of cicadas buzzing louder to compete with the sound of a truck pulling into your driveway. Joel and Sarah must have come straight over from shopping instead of walking down the street to your home from theirs. There was a flutter in your stomach when you’d heard Pop answer the front door and greet them, Joel’s booming voice asking where you were.

It was only a few moments before you’d heard the glass sliding door open and Sarah popped over to you.

“Hey Bug.” You said, looking up at her with a smile.

“Oh we’re sunbathing, huh? Let me get changed, be right back.” She said, turning on her heel with her backpack over her shoulder.

You loved that girl to death, she’d been in your life for the past decade. Ever since she and Joel had moved down the street, they’d become a part of your life. Joel and Pop hit it off when Joel had noticed Pop trying to fix a gutter on his own.

Pop was cursing up a storm when he’d failed to secure the gutter and it all toppled down. Joel had been outside sitting on the tailgate of his pickup truck that evening when he’d seen Pop and jogged over to help. It had taken him a fraction of the time to get it right. Pop was impressed and slightly embarrassed, but he thanked Joel with a cold beer and the rest was history.

Life had become less lonely with the Millers around. Before they’d moved down the street it was mostly just you and Pop. Your mother passed away when you were just a toddler. She was sick and it almost killed Pop when he couldn’t do anything to save her. After a few years overshadowed by grief he’d turned his life around and became everything you needed from a mother and a father.

You were fifteen when you’d started to babysit six year old Sarah for Joel. Now ten years later, at twenty-five and sixteen you were very much bonded. You’d been there for Sarah when she’d come out as a lesbian. It took Joel by surprise, but he embraced his daughter and her choices.

You felt a pang of guilt as she took her spot beside you by the pool. Your friend would probably get the ick if you’d mentioned that you maybe, sort of, kind of had a crush on Joel. Your fathers sat beside the grill, just out of earshot, nursing two cold beers and chatting. You had to fight the urge to look back at Joel. The opportunity to get up and cross paths with him would come when the food was ready.

The truth was you’d inadvertently developed a crush on Joel Miller. It felt sort of twisted, he was twelve years your senior, almost forty years old. Not exactly old enough to be your father, but still a noticeable age gap nonetheless.

You’d asked him for guitar lessons last Winter and he obliged. He took you to a music store and you picked out an acoustic guitar. He was excited to pass down the skill to at least one other person. Sarah was never interested, what she really cared about was competing in sports. You’d gone over to their home on weekends and practiced, Joel moved your fingers patiently back to their position when you’d messed up. His large, callused hands landed and held the strings down with ease. He’d tried to make you commit to developing your own calluses to improve your skill.

By the end of Winter you’d learned how to play a handful of songs, mostly dad rock that Joel loved and knew by heart. He would smile so bright when you’d finally get it right. You did everything in your power to get him to flash his teeth and celebrate your little victories.

“That’s it, Darlin, those fingers ain't just for clickin’ and clackin’ on a keyboard now.” He’d chuckled.

You had been drunk on his praise and your shared laughter one evening when you leapt up from your seat and onto Joel's lap, throwing your arms around his neck. His arms wrapped around your waist and you pulled your head back, coming face to face with him. His breath was warm on your lips and you swore there was something in his eyes. It flashed and faded as quickly as it had appeared.

You both dropped the embrace and Joel cleared his throat, helping you pack up for the night. Tears of embarrassment stung your eyes as you silently gathered your things and went home without another word.

You knew in that moment that you were well and truly fucked. As it would happen, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joel from that moment on. You tried to temper your feelings. You mostly doubted that he’d felt what you felt in that moment. The spark, the fear and the desire to cross the line. But the gleam in his eye, the way he almost leaned forward then hesitated replayed in your mind.

You’d stopped responding to the guys you were matched with on dating apps. You’d lost interest in anyone other than Joel. You’d imagined all the ways that evening could have gone. He could have become upset that you’d crossed his boundaries, but he didn’t. He could have closed the gap between you and pressed his lips to yours, but he didn’t. And you hadn’t spoken of that incident since it happened, two seasons ago.

“Can you two go in and grab the potato salad and eggs from the fridge?” Pop had asked you and Joel, tearing you away from your thoughts.

“Yeah, no problem.” Joel said, opening the sliding door and motioning for you to head in first.

Your skin prickled when you sensed his eyes skating over your body from behind as you opened the fridge.

“Pop made pink salad for Sarah,” you said, grabbing the bowl of potato salad and turning to face Joel.

“She’s gonna go nuts.” He said grinning, “How’ve you been, kid?”

“Not a kid, Joel.” You huffed. “I’m a quarter of a century old.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He took the deviled eggs from the shelf in the fridge and followed you out to the back.

~

After the barbecue, Pop had made a run to the gas station for more beer and Joel made his way to the kitchen to help you clean up while Sarah took a dip in the pool.

“How’s Angel treating you?” Joel asked, drying off the wet dishes from the rack.

“She’s good, but I’ve been neglecting her a bit lately.” You said, speaking of your six string acoustic guitar. An image of that moment in Joel’s garage flashed through your mind and you blushed.

“That’s a shame, what’s been keeping you too busy to play?” He knew where your dishes belonged, putting them away in the cabinets and drawers as he spoke.

“Work, mostly. This guy at the office has been bugging me to go out on a date with him, it’s borderline sexual harassment.” You huffed, wiping down the inside of the sink.

“Well that’s just not right. You should tell the boss.” Joel said, his voice stern.

“He’s the boss’s nephew.” You turned and saw Joel’s jaw clenched. Your stomach flipped. You hadn’t meant to strike a nerve.

“Shouldn’t matter, he's a punk. What’s his name?”

“Easy, cowboy.” You said, stepping closer to him. “Nothing’s gonna happen, he’s just overly confident.”

“Tell him your friend Joel wants to talk.” This time he was grinning, drying off a glass bowl. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the tanned skin on his muscular arms.

You were staring until you heard the screen door pop open, then the front door creaked open as Pop appeared just in time for you and Joel to put some space between the two of you. You finished wiping down the counter and Joel rejoined your dad in the backyard.

You poked your head out the door and called out, “Pop don’t forget we’re going to go get my car fixed in the morning.”

“Shit, babe, I’m sorry I forgot. I have a work thing in Odessa, I'm gonna be out all weekend.” He said sympathetically. “You’re a big girl, you can go by yourself.”

“I’m not afraid of going alone, silly. I’m afraid that they’re gonna overcharge me cause’ I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“I’ll take her, I won’t let that happen.” Joel said, pressing a bottle of Budweiser to his lips.

“See, no one would dare bullshit our Joel, here.” Pop grinned. He was giddy and buzzed.

“Alright, nine-thirty sound good to you?” You asked, trying not to sound excited.

“Sure. I’ll pick you up.”

Chapter 2

[lvve-talks]

ghost of an angel 🐚 𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

tw: mentions of blood and death

The Art that came back from the Hunger Games was not your Art.

Sure, he looked just as beautiful despite a mottling of new scars across his skin that lacked some of its sunkissed glow. His eyes were still ocean blue save for that one curious speck of warm brown. But they were haunted.

He stared through people nowadays instead of at them. You rarely saw that glimmering smile and the last time you remember hearing his true laugh instead of a strained sort of performance of his laugh was the day of the reaping, before he was stolen from you.

Of course, he was prepared. He was trained for this all his life, just like so many others from District Four. He was labelled a career, teamed up with the ruthless kids of One and Two. But he was never like them, not really, and stabbing and hacking at dummies is not the same as watching the light leave a person’s eyes, their blood spattering your face.

You saw the difference in him after that first kill, unable to tear your eyes from the screen every time his mop of blond curls appeared. He was quick. Ruthless, but merciful. He knew what he had to do and did nothing else. He refused to perform.

You remembered the way he speared through the throat of the wailing girl from Six as the dark haired boy from One tried to draw out her death for the cameras. He showed her mercy, put her out of her misery.

Nowadays, he almost seemed like a ghost. The ghost of your angel, haunting the Victor’s Village, the marina, the wetlands, all the old places you used to frequent together.

The first few times you went to find him in his new home in the Village and he wasn’t there, you panicked. But then you’d find him standing knee deep in the marsh, unmoving, or staring out into the ocean like he was ready to walk right in and let the waves swallow him up.

The first time he came to you after a nightmare, it was the middle of the night. You awoke to a frantic tapping on your window, nearly drowned out by the downpour of rain and the rumble of thunder. He was soaked to the bone as you let him climb inside, his teeth chattering as he explained that he couldn’t sleep without seeing all of those horrible things that happened in the arena, all of the eyes of the kids he killed staring right back at him.

You could understand, to an extent. You were plagued with visions of him dying terrible, gruesome deaths each night when he was gone, but truly experiencing it, you could never imagine. So you brought him some of your father’s old clothes to change into and you let him slip under your covers and you held him tightly to you all night long. Although he woke you several times whimpering or mumbling something along the lines of “No! Run!” he said it was the best night of sleep he’d ever had.

You spent more nights than not with him now, his bed at the Village much bigger for the both of you than your rickety little one in your parents’ house. You spent weekends strolling along the beaches, letting him weave grasses into your hair. You let him remain mostly silent for as long as he needed, just happy that you had him back at all. Most people who knew tributes weren’t so lucky.

You saw more of his mentor, Tashi, nowadays. She said he was healing, but it would take time. Even she, who was known for her ruthlessness in the arena at 15 before getting maimed in the final battle, said she’s still healing. “That arena.. it rewires your mind. No one ever comes back the same. But he’ll live, he’ll grow, he’ll heal. We all do,” she said in that familiar tone somehow soft and gruff together. She wasn’t much older than either of us were, but she still seemed so much wiser.

You finally got up the courage to ask him one day, when he had begun talking more, what he saw when he looked so wistfully out into the horizon. “What do you see out there?” you asked so softly, watching his eyes stare right at that line where sea met sky.

“I wonder if there’s more out there than… this,” he sighed in return, never looking away from the building and crashing waves. “I wonder if I could swim long enough or sail far enough if there’d be a world that’s kinder. That doesn’t force its people to play deadly games for a time long past.”

It wasn’t an unheard of sentiment, but it was a dangerous one. Before Four became a Career district, before we had the favor of the Capitol, people tried escaping that way. Boats were stolen, stacked with supplies collected over months and months. Those who made it past the horizon never came back. Those who were caught were hanged.

You rest your head on his shoulder, heart beating a little quicker as you tried to gauge how serious he was. “There could be,” you sighed, just as wistfully. “Somewhere on this planet there could be people who live their lives unafraid and carefree.”

You look up to see his eyes closed now, almost like he’s dreaming of it. “Where they don’t have to fear their children will be ripped away from them and sent away to die,” he said in return and you didn’t miss the bitterness of it. How dangerous it sounded coming out of his mouth.

You didn’t ask again, but you did keep a more careful eye on him. Even in Career districts, those ideas were not taken kindly to.

Sometimes at night he’d still wake with a start, thrashing and screaming from some arena horror that still haunted him. You always asked if he wanted to talk about it. Usually he’d say no, he’d get up and open the window and let the briney breeze wash through the room. He said it helped to remind him where he was.

But one night when you asked, before he even had the chance to rise, he broke down into sobs. He told you about the mutts that chased him through his dreams and the way he’d envision killing a tribute just to roll them over and find your face staring blankly back at him. He told you about the dreams where he’d be swimming through the sea when the salt suddenly turned metallic and he realized he was swimming through an ocean of blood. He told you about the rare times he’d find himself back on the reaping stage just to hear his own name be called again and watch a little version of the both of you walk up the steps with nothing he could do. He clung to you tighter after that, and you never never let go.

You found yourself wondering if he’d ever be like he was Before again. The easy way his smile spread his lips, how his laugh slipped out without a care. If his eyes would ever sparkle like the sun on the waves instead of all of the light being sucked into that chasm in his spirit. You still loved him of course, you’d never be able to stop doing that. But sometimes you missed him. Your Art. The one the Capitol stole and cut down into little pieces of what he once was.

Other times, you did see moments of him peeking through the cracks. When you’re laying out on the beach, Art holding you close to him as the sun warmed your skin. You peppered his face with kisses, just because you were lucky enough to still be able to do that. And he smiled. That dazzling smile that you hadn’t seen in so long.

On good days, you dreamt of him chasing you down the sand and laughing that unforgettably free laugh, the sun making his hair look like a golden halo. You’d wake to that very sun rising in the window, your angel tucked up against you. Still. Quiet. Peaceful. He looked less like the ghost then; alive and kissed by the sun once more and here with you.

[dokries]

click click!

pairing: lee seokmin (dokyeom) x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 505

warnings: none!

author note: hi :) i’m alive !!! just some seokmin fluff but i hope you enjoy reading ‎♡

masterlist

“seokmin, get back here!”

despite your call, your boyfriend continues to speed away from you, clutching his phone close to his chest.

“no! you said you were going to delete everything!” he exclaims back, almost in horror of just the thought of his hard work being gone.

“i didn’t say that!” you huff back, climbing over the couch to get to him faster.

seokmin had been showing you a cute video he got of a puppy the other day (with permission from the owner of course, even if it was awkward to ask) and right before he exited out of his gallery, you saw a familiar face—your face.

you squinted, asking him hesitantly why exactly he had over two hundred pictures of you and he froze up, giving you the perfect opportunity to open up the album of…well, just you.

most of them were ones you’d never seen before, and seokmin almost always showed you the pictures he took of you, even if they were candid—or so you had thought before seeing all of these.

there were some from the trip the two of you took to the beach during the summer, both of your birthdays, and even…yesterday? he took photos of you yesterday?!

you click on the most recent ones, recognizing the back of your body as you walked in front of him on the way back to your place after stopping by the convenience store for ice cream, since seokmin wanted some.

you hadn’t even registered him taking these, and suddenly it made sense why he would be quiet sometimes when you were together, giving you a sweet smile if you asked before changing the topic to something else—he was always taking pictures and saving your time together so he could look back on it.

right now though, seokmin’s pout once you corner him is the only thing on your mind as he looks at you pitifully.

“please…i’m sorry for not telling you about these,” he mutters, looking away once you make eye contact. “i just thought you looked really nice and wanted to remember it, that’s all.”

your heart melts a little as you respond, taking his free hand in yours softly. “i’m not mad at you. i’m just…surprised at how sweet you can still be, despite knowing how you already are.”

seokmin lights up but looks at you shyly. “it’s really not that big of a deal! i’m just glad you like them.”

you giggle and he smiles back at you, kissing you gently on the cheek before sitting back down on the couch, taking your interlocked hand with him so you sit right next to him, like you always have.

“do you wanna see my favourite ones?” he asks, already scanning his phone screen for the ones in his mind, and you can’t help but let out a laugh.

“i would love to.”

the grin you get back makes the rest of your day so much brighter than you thought it would have been, even with seokmin by your side.

[rookie-love-7a19]

Could Get Messy

Summary: A close call makes Tim and Y/N reevaluate things.

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Y/N

Warning: Explicit. Smut. Vaginal fingering. Protected PinV sex. Slight implied age gap. Slight power imbalance. (Tim is the reader's T.O. But there are no dom/sub leanings in this fic. Maybe another time. 😉 No use of coercion or anything similar.) Bit of angst. Fluff.

Word Count: 3,050

A/N: Okay, so this is the very first fic I'm writing for the Rookie, and therefore, also my first fic I'm writing for Tim Bradford. Be gentle. 😁 At some point, if I get enough interest, I'll start a tag list and a Master List for Rookie fics. But for now, I'm just kind of seeing what the interest is like. 😊 Hope you enjoy!

The noisy cacophony of the Mid-Wilshire station was muted as Y/N wandered down the hallway away from the buzz of the bullpen. As she’d changed out of her uniform and showered, she’d thought and thought about what she might say to Tim. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through right now, and never wanted to find out. 

She approached the room where he sat quietly, his back ramrod straight, arms crossed over his chest. His blue eyes stared intensely at the opposite wall, obviously not taking in anything in front of him. She knocked gently on the doorframe, not wanting to startle him, but he simply turned his head slowly to look at her.

“Hi.” She said as she moved into the room. “I thought I’d check in before I left. Do you need anything?”

His jaw clenched and he shook his head. “No. I’m fine. Just waiting for Sergeant Elias.”

Y/N nodded, cringing internally at the name of the IA officer who was known for his hard questions and cold demeanor. “Well, I’m sure everything will be fine. It was a clean shoot, Tim. You did everything right. That’s what I put in my reports.” She hesitated. “You saved my life.”

He stared at her without blinking. “Yeah.” He said quietly. 

Y/N opened her mouth to say more, though what that was going to be, she wasn’t sure. What could she say? Thank you? I’m sorry? I know it’s tearing you apart that you ended the life of a nineteen year old kid. You had no other choice. If you didn’t take the shot, I’d be dead. 

Maybe she would have said all of that, or maybe none of it, but before she had the chance to decide, Nolan walked in. He paused, looking back and forth between them. His voice was steady and reassuring, the way it always was during a crisis. 

“Hey Tim, I’m here as your Union rep, the Sergeant is right behind me. Y/N you can’t be here.”

She nodded. “Yeah, of course.” She turned back to Tim. “I’ll see you. Let…let me know if you need anything.”

Tim nodded once, brusquely, and she turned to leave, but the door was suddenly blocked by Sergeant Elias and Sergeant Grey. She felt slightly cowed by the two very large men that outranked her so completely. But she raised her chin as Sergeant Elias turned his cold gray stare in her direction.

“Officer Y/L/N, is there a reason you’re in here conferring with your T.O?”

Y/N shook her head. “I wasn’t conferring, sir. Just offering him my support and thanking him for saving my life. You know, the shooter was point blank range from my face and his finger was on the trigger. If Sergeant Bradford hadn’t taken the shot, you’d all be scraping my brains from that warehouse wall.”

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Nolan wince at her harsh visual, and Sergeant Grey was scowling. Sergeant Elias gave a grim, humorless smile. 

“Thank you for that dramatic replay of the day’s events, Officer. Am I right in assuming you’ve already given your statement?”

Y/N nodded and the Sergeant dropped his fake smile. “Then we don’t need to hear them again. You are dismissed.”

Both Sergeants moved out of the doorway and Y/N beat a quick retreat past them and out of the building.

***

Later that night Y/N sat in front of her TV, not actually ingesting any of the news that was on the screen. Today was the closest she’d ever come to being dead, and she was having a hard time getting over it. She supposed it was probably not something a person just “got over” and she shouldn’t try. She’d been ordered to see the police psychiatrist, and she’d make the most of those meetings to try and work through it.

She was more worried about Tim and whether he’d be cleared of the shooting. Her mind kept alternating back and forth. One minute she was sure he'd be cleared (how could he not?) and the next she was terrified he wouldn’t be. 

But no, she shook her head again, he’d done everything right, Grey would have his back and so would Nolan. That had to count for something.

As she lay there on the couch, with her thoughts swinging wildly back and forth, there was a sudden pounding on her door. She jumped up and ran to it; when she yanked it open, Tim was on the other side.

“What the hell, Boot, did you even look to see who it was? What if I was a serial killer?” He asked immediately, with his scowl firmly in place.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re not. What are you doing here? How did everything go? Have they cleared you?”

Tim shook his head. “No, not yet. They finished their questioning and sent me home. I should hear by tomorrow. And I’m still not finished reprimanding you for opening your door before you were sure it was safe to do so.”

Slight annoyance flared in Y/N’s belly. “We’re not on duty, so you're not my T.O. right now. You can’t reprimand me for how I behave in my own home.”

Tim’s scowl got deeper. “First of all, I’m always your T.O. and second, I’m warning you that what you just did was dangerous. What was the point of saving your life today if you’re just gonna be stupid and throw it away the first chance you get?”

Y/N felt her annoyance dissolving, as she saw the flicker of fear and sadness enter Tim’s soft blue gaze. 

She nodded. “You’re right, sir. I’m sorry. I usually check, my mind was just….elsewhere.”

Tim exhaled deeply and Y/N realized they were still standing in the open doorway. She stepped back. “Come in.”

He stepped through into her living room, and she closed the door behind him. He was out of uniform, wearing black jeans and a dark blue t-shirt under a white hoodie. 

It was the first time he’d been in her house, and the informal nature of everything, both of them out of uniform, the soft, warm lighting of her living room, the lack of radio chatter and traffic noise in the background, was amplifying the strong pull that had existed between them since day one. 

Her fellow rookies had teased her for ending up with the legendary Tim Bradford as her Training Officer. He was renowned for being an exemplary T.O., but also for being very hard on his rookies and not giving an inch. 

But she’d been just fine with that; she’d rather be trained by someone who was hard on her but didn’t miss anything, than be trained by someone who went easy on her and left her feeling unprepared. Being a cop was a tough calling, and if she wasn’t up to it, she’d rather she find out quickly.

No, his training methods hadn’t been the problem. The problem had been the immediate attraction she’d felt to him. It wasn’t that strange she supposed - the man was gorgeous, sexy as hell, and a damn good cop - she was sure she was hardly the only woman at Mid-Wilshire who had those kinds of feelings towards him. 

But she was the only one who had to ride next to him all day, every day. She was the only one who fought alongside him, constantly watching him risk his life to keep the city safe. It was a daily struggle to keep her distance from him, to not just lean forwards sometimes and press her lips to his. His smiles were rare, but they filled her with sunshine when they actually appeared and made her want to wrap her arms around him.

She knew she was fully in love with her T.O. which was definitely a problem. 

And now, here he was, out of uniform, in her living room, looking at her in a way that had her stomach turning somersaults.

His gaze was heated and possessive. She couldn't hold it very long, glancing down at her carpet and swallowing convulsively. The silence was thick with tension and Y/N was wringing her hands.

She looked towards her little kitchen, lifting a hand in that direction. “Do you want a, uh, a coffee or something? A beer?”

“No.” Tim said roughly and his tone brought her eyes back to him. He stepped a little closer. “You said to tell you if I needed anything.”

Y/N nodded and cleared her throat. “Yeah, of course. What do you need?”

Tim's jaw clenched tightly before he reached out to cup her cheeks in both hands. 

“This.” 

His mouth landed on hers softly, just sipping at her lips. A sound escaped the back of her throat, half surprise, half need. Tim groaned and tightened his grip. 

His tongue reached out to press gently against her lips and she happily opened up for him, melting against his hard body and gripping the edges of his open hoodie.

He swept inside, deepening the kiss, and making a shiver run from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. His hands slipped down over her shoulders, dropping to her waist and squeezing into her flesh there.

He slanted his mouth over hers again and again, swallowing down all of her little mewls of need. He backed her up slowly until she was pressed against her living room wall. 

He pushed his knee between her legs, before pinning her lower body to the wall with his hips. He pulled away from her mouth and both of them were left panting. 

Y/N opened her eyes, and was immediately and completely lost in the ferocious desire stamped across his features. He lifted a hand to run his thumb across her kiss-swollen lips. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I shouldn't be here, we shouldn't be doing this.” She saw the doubt slip into his gaze and she shook her head, denying it. 

He sighed and dropped his forehead to hers. “But I was a millisecond away from losing you today.” He closed his eyes and then buried his face in the hair that fell over her shoulder. “I can't fucking lose you.”

Y/N felt tears prick the backs of her eyes. She pushed her hands under his hoodie, so she could wrap her arms around him tightly.

“You didn't though. You didn't lose me.” She pressed light kisses along the strong column of his neck. “You won't lose me.”

He nodded and pulled back a little, catching her gaze. She was happy to see the doubt receding and the heat increasing.

“I can go, if you want.” He whispered as he tilted his head, and his mouth attached to her pulse point. 

She shook her head vehemently and pushed the hoodie from his shoulders. “Don't you dare.”

He slipped his hands up under her shirt and over her ribcage, before sighing. “This could get messy, you know. We're breaking about a hundred rules here.” His thumbs brushed against the underside of her breasts. “We should take a step back. Reassess.”

Even as he said it, he pressed his hips more firmly into her and she could feel the hard length of him against her inner thigh. His mouth trailed hot and wet over her collarbone. 

“Yeah,” she whispered absently, “yeah, reassess. Good.” 

She pulled his t-shirt up over his head, biting her lip as she finally got her hands on his warm, taut skin. She ran her fingertips down over his stomach, making the muscles tighten beneath her touch. She groaned as she looked at him, letting her fingers seek out and trail over the small scars that marred his otherwise perfect torso. 

He reached for her belt and Y/N let her head thump back against the wall. He unbuckled it and unzipped her jeans. He lifted one hand to cup her breast through her bra, while his other slipped into her jeans and past her panties. 

His long middle finger slipped between her folds to gently brush against her clit. Y/N gasped and gripped his wrist as he groaned. 

“Fuck, baby, you're so soaked. Is this all for me?”

She nodded erratically. “All, always for you.” She moaned.

He pushed her bra up and out of the way so he could dip his head and suck one of her pebbled nipples into his mouth, making her cry out. 

“Tim, oh god!” 

She buried her fingers in his hair, keeping him pressed against her. His tongue flicked across the aching bud quickly, before letting his teeth nip and pull on it. 

He let his thumb take over the sharp circles on her clit as his forefinger and middle finger slid through her slick to sink deep into her body, curling just right to press against her sweet spot. 

Her hips thrust forward and she bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming. The bite brought out a harsh groan from Tim and seemed to rip away the last bit of his remaining hesitancy.

He quickly pulled his hand away from her so that he could push down her jeans, and panties. She kicked them off while he pulled her t-shirt and bra off.

She fiddled with his belt buckle, becoming increasingly frustrated when she couldn't get it open. Finally he just playfully slapped her hands aside to do it for her. 

When his belt and zipper were open, she pushed his jeans down, cupping him through his underwear, and biting her lip at the size of him. He hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband and pushed them over his hips. 

Y/N felt her mouth water at the sight of his huge cock resting against his stomach. She tentatively reached out and wrapped her hand around him. He was so silky and warm, and hard as a rock. 

“Damn, Y/N, you have no idea how often I've imagined this exact scenario.”

He lifted her easily and she wrapped her legs around his waist. 

“Bedroom?” He croaked out and she nodded, pointing towards the room.

He slammed his mouth down on hers as he carried her into her room, sucking the air from her lungs and leaving them both disoriented. As he walked further into the room, he bumped into the bed and sent them both toppling down onto it. 

Laughter erupted from both of them, which slowly turned back into gentle kisses. Tim pulled them both more fully onto the bed, kissing up and down Y/N’s neck and throat. When they were fully settled, and Y/N's body was covered head to toe with his, he pulled back slightly to stare down at her. 

“I don't know what's gonna come tomorrow, and maybe I'm being a selfish ass by being here, by lying here with you.”

Y/N shook her head and opened her mouth to deny it, but he pressed a finger to her lips. 

“But as long as you want me here, I can't make myself leave. I told you I've dreamed of this, imagined you like this a thousand times.” He shook his head. “But that's a lie, cause nothing I've imagined could ever have compared to this.”

He kissed her slowly and deeply, stamping her as his alone. He pulled back to kiss along her jaw and whisper in her ear. “Do you have condoms nearby? I don't really wanna make a run to CVS right now.”

She giggled, punch drunk on him. “Top drawer.”

He nodded and pulled it open. He found one of the foil packets and ripped it open with his teeth before rolling it down his length.

Then he took himself in one hand and slid his smooth, thick cock through her slick before slowly sinking into her with a harsh groan.

“God, baby, you're so fucking perfect. So tight and slick and warm. Never could have imagined this kind of perfect.” He reiterated.

Y/N pushed her head back into the pillows and pressed her nails into his shoulder blades as she arched into him. He began to move inside her, slowly pushing in and out, giving her time to adjust to him, but going slightly deeper with every gentle thrust. 

But she was desperate for more. “Tim, oh god, please, I need you harder, faster.” She begged.

He grunted his capitulation and began to rocket his hips into her, their bodies slapping together. She met his every thrust eagerly, always desperate for more of him, to feel him sink ever deeper into her. 

She wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to press him into her like a brand. She wanted to tattoo his fingerprints onto her skin, so she'd never lose the feeling of him gripping her so tight.

“I'm so close.” She whispered into his ear as he buried his face in her neck. 

“I know baby, me too.” He groaned. 

His hips increased their pace, the head of his cock dragging over her sweet spot again and again until the coil in her belly finally sprung free and she shouted her release. Tim's hips faltered slightly as her clenching heat sent him over as well. 

They laid still for a long time, sweat glistening, breaths panting and hot against each other's skin. 

Finally Tim rolled off of her, pulling the condom off and tossing it in the waste basket beside the bed. He got up and wandered into her ensuite, coming back with a warm cloth that he used to clean her up. When he was finished, he threw the cloth in the hamper and came back to lay beside her. 

He stretched out on his side and pulled her back against his chest. He tucked the blanket around them and rested his chin on the crown of her head. His arm was like a warm, iron band around her waist, keeping her close and safe.

He spoke softly, repeating his warning from earlier. “Things might get messy tomorrow, baby. But whatever happens…I'll never regret this.” He paused a beat and when he spoke, his voice was hesitant. “You?”

Y/N shook her head as she snuggled herself more deeply into his arms. “No, never.” 

[em1989ts]

𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫

five hargreeves x reader

masterlist

word count: 1.7k

summary: when most of his siblings don't make it back to the alley in time to go back to 2019, five is livid. but when you don't make it back in time, he gets worried about what might've happened to you. (idea based on this request)

author's note: i've had a lot of essays to write recently but this request sparked some inspiration so i took a break lol, i've been working here and there on some other works so hopefully i can put a couple more out soon! thanks sm for the request, inbox is still open, and hope you enjoy! *not proofread*

You didn’t show up. 

He waited for you. He waited to see you run around the corner into the alleyway at the last moment, just in time to make it back to 2019. 

He was already extremely disappointed in his family for not meeting such a simple deadline, an opportunity that he worked so hard for. He wanted to be done with killing, it was a part of him he wanted to leave in his past. But as a man who puts the ones he loves before anything else, he gruesomely assassinated a boardroom full of people just to have a chance at returning them to their normal lives in the correct timeline. 

But when you still didn’t show up even after the time he specifically told you, his mind began to assume the worst. He knew you were responsible, he thought you were more than capable of understanding the severity of the deadline. He also knew there was nothing holding you back here. As far as he knew, you had been living alone in an apartment above a diner, no roommates, not even a pet, just taking shift after shift as a waitress to get by in this new timeline, waiting for him to return. He knew you barely talked to anyone in the few months you were left alone here, so you couldn’t have gotten held up with goodbyes. 

As he stomped up the stairs, exhausted from his rant outside in the alley, his aggravated mind continued to theorize the possibilities of your absence. Luther agitated him even further as he trailed behind him up to Elliot’s apartment, already waiting for Five to immediately hand him the next plan. Without another word to his nagging brother, Five made a beeline for one of Elliot’s many guestrooms and locked the door quickly, leaving a worrisome Luther behind. 

Five began pacing angrily, shoulders hunched and hands deep in the pockets of his shorts, chest rapidly rising with every panicked breath. 

“Five?” Luther knocked gently, not wanting to upset his brother further, “Why don’t we just go look for them, they probably got held up somewhere, or they could be in trouble.” 

Of course they were in trouble, his family always manages to fuck up the simplist things. They could never go a day without getting themselves into the most outrageous conundrums possible. They were so careless, yet so selfish. He sacrificed everything, worked and struggled for his entire life, just to save their sorry asses and what does he get? Blame and fault. 

All their problems, blamed on him. It was his fault they got stuck here in the first place, they said. Instead of a thank you, all he received in return from his lifetime of fighting for their lives was utter ungratefulness. 

He thought you were different. 

You were the only one who showed him any signs of appreciation. You trusted him, you thanked him, you made him feel like everything he did meant something, you made him feel like he mattered. 

And that’s what he loved about you. 

So he couldn’t see why you wouldn’t be there. 

Luther was right, something bad must’ve happened to you. The handler, the remaining swedes, something must’ve deliberately tried to fuck up this plan for him. Someone tried to take you away from him. 

His blood was boiling, he knew you were strong on your own, you were independent, you could put up a fight. So what the hell could’ve stopped you? 

~~~ 

You thought you still had time. 

The screen of your watch, synchronised perfectly with Five’s, was completely smashed in, making it impossible to tell the time. Tiny shards of glass fell from your wrist as you ran through downtown Dallas. Bloody, scraped up knees stinging in the wind as you quickly turned the corner into the alley behind Commerce and Knox. 

Your face dropped as you slowed to a stop, noting the absence of the family. 

They couldn’t have left without you, could they? 

As you walked further into the alley, you noticed a large stain of bile covering the concrete, with a groaning Klaus rolling around right next to it. 

Seeing the familiar face gave you a little hope now that you weren’t alone, as you walked over to him and knelt by his side.

“You okay?” you asked, watching him roll over to face you. 

“Oh Y/N!” he said with a groggy yet excited voice, “You sweet angel, you’re alive!”

You held out a firm hand and helped him sit up, trying to ignore the pungent smell, “Yeah I ran into a bit of trouble, where is everybody?” 

“Oh, Five and Luther were the only ones here, but they left a few minutes ago,” he said, referring to the door at the end of the alley that led to the stairwell. 

You helped him stand up with the strength you had left, still a little roughed up from your fight. He wandered off back towards the street while you headed upstairs. 

Once you made it up to the floor where Elliot’s apartment was, you thought your knees were going to buckle with every step you took. When you knocked, Luther was the one who answered the door, looking absolutely relieved to see you. 

“Oh my god, you’re okay,” he moved aside to let you walk inside, “Five’s uh, a little pissed right now so maybe-” 

You walked away towards the shut bedroom door, leaving Luther in the kitchen. 

Stopping in front of the door, you could hear his footsteps going back and forth. 

You sighed as you gently knocked, “Five?” 

The footsteps stopped abruptly, until you heard him walk over and unlock the door, before resuming the back and forth routine. 

You let yourself in and shut the door behind you, leaning against it as you watched him. 

His stare remained on his shoes, not bothering to look up at you. 

His mind was racing, you could tell. It was easy to imagine how frustrated he was, with only two out of six people showing up at the right time. You had no idea what happened to Diego, Allison, and Vanya, you could only account for your own absence, but that would have to wait until he was calm enough to listen. 

Once he stopped pacing, he stayed facing away from you, not bothering to look up. 

“Where the hell were you?” 

Before you could answer, he cut you off, “No, no, it doesn’t even matter anymore, does it? We had one chance, Y/N. ONE chance, to get back home and have everything back to normal again, and now you, and my braindead siblings fucked it up. I thought you were better than this, really. I thought you were actually reliable, I thought I could count on you to be there so we could go home, but I was wrong. Now I’m going to ask one more time, what the hell were you so busy doing that you couldn’t make it to the alley on time?”

He hadn’t gone off on you like that, ever. 

Sure, you’ve seen him get angry from time to time and you’d let him rant to you. You’d always be there to listen to him when he needed to let off a little steam. The Handler bothered him, the Commission stressed him out, his brothers pissed him off, but never you. This was the first time he’d really directed his anger towards you.

You looked at him, his chest heaving heavily, his face flushed red, but his expression confused you. His face displayed his typical scrunched brows, his clenched jaw, but his eyes were hurt, telling you the secret of how he really felt. 

The more you stared at each other, the more realization set into him. He noticed the bruise starting to form around your eye, the reminisce of swiped dried blood under your nose, and slowly, his furious expression turned fully into concern. 

You sighed, breaking the eye contact, “I was on my way here when I bumped into one of the Swedes. I didn’t even mean to start anything, he just saw me and went totally insane. He was by himself so I think I have a good guess as to what happened.” 

You felt like shit, physically and emotionally. The Swede caught you off guard when you ran into him, all the anger and grief he held after he had just killed his brother at Allison’s house was taken out on you. You were sore and tired, and you felt even worse about letting down Five. 

He walked over to you, holding your hand, carefully walking you over and sitting you down on the bed sitting in the middle of the room. 

“I’m sorry,” he looked at your face and felt so guilty. How could he be so harsh on the one person who did their best to be there for him? “Me too,” you said softly, reaching out to comb your fingers through his hair. It always seemed to get a little messy when he got upset. 

“No, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, It’s just-” he paused, “When you didn’t show up I thought-” 

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek gently in your palm, “I’m fine, and this isn’t the end, okay? We’ll figure something out, we always do.” 

He leaned into your hand, his eyes no longer glaring but looking at you so warmly. He didn’t deserve you. You made him feel like time wasn’t bearing down on him, like it wasn’t wasting away at every moment he wasn’t fighting for his life. You were so patient with him, helping him stay in the moment, allowing him to think of new plans without the pressure of his siblings.

As he sat there with you, his mind relaxed just enough to come up with another plan that was so crazy it might just work. The lightbulb flashed in his eyes as he gave you a quick kiss, before he moved to clean up your wounds and begin his next idea to save the world. 

~~~

author's note: i just wanted to note i started writing this in my hotel room in nyc (for some reason hotels are my favorite place to write lol)

also i'm still very confused by taglists so i'm just going to tag people who have asked previously to be tagged and copy and paste it for every work i upload, if you want to be added or removed please let me know :)

tags: @misakiisstupid @lveegsoi @groovydazephantom @tremendoushearttaco @spidermansfangirl @madscamp02 @beanzwritez 

~~~

[heizours]

CHARACTER BANNERS

summary. when you do not plan to pull for their character banner

tags. gn! reader, grammatical mistakes may occur

cw. one mention of 'die' (dottore), petty and sulky genshin men (all of them i may say)

feat. xiao, itto, dottore, venti, scaramouche

note. the head picture is how i imagine their reaction ☠️

< back to event m.list

INTRO.

Recently, you've been saving up primogems for an upcoming new character banner that Hoyoverse is planning to release in the next version of the game.

Gosh you were so excited!

It's not like you wanted to pull for the character just because she was attractive. Definitely not.

Even if it takes a lot of time to earn those gems, you were willing to go through it as long as the system better give you that character you are pulling for.

"I can't wait to pull for Navia!"

You squealed in excitement, logging in the game as her banner awaits for you, ignorant of a certain chatacter just eavesdropping around the system.

XIAO.

Xiao's banner was having a rerun along with the release of Navia's, and while he may not brag it out loud, he had some silent expectations that you were going to pull for him again.

After all, he is proud to be your first five star chatacter, and ever since then he has been on your team and never removed.

To hear you say that you're going to pull for Navia instead of him made him grunt quietly as he let out a quiet huff behind the screen.

"...Well, she is a good character" he admitted while grumbling under his breath, crossing his arms by now as he watched you pull and pull for Navia's banner, only getting the four stars but no sign of a five star yet.

Is he...sulking? oh yes, Xiao believes so as there was a tiny slight pout on his as he looked away, trying his best to not be affected by the fact that Navia might show up at your screen anytime now.

So while you're at it, better save some primos to pull for his rerun banner too, you wouldn't want a sulking Xiao, right?

ITTO.

After pulling a few strings and fails in the wishing system, Itto was celebrating his victory after ensuring that his banner would have a rerun.

However, that satisfaction immediately crumbled down the moment he heard you saying that you are pulling for Navia instead for him again.

What makes it even worse, is he felt confident that you were going to pick him, and now...he doesn't know if he should throw a tantrum about it or blame the system that he had a rerun the same time with a new character.

"What?! Hey, what about me?" He yelled out from behind the screen, which of course you couldn't hear, as Itto let out a dramatic gasp by the revelation.

Is he making this a big deal? Yes, Itto is making this a big deal, because after all Navia is also a geo character, of course he would somehow feel intimidated that she would take his place in your team.

Best believe that when you are finish with your pulls, don't be surprised that he would not budge leaving your team— trying to replace him with Navia, even if you are already clicking the remove button!

DOTTORE.

The doctor was confident that you were saving up those primogems for him considering that his banner hasn't been released yet, nor the gaming system haven't made any announcement about his builds, constellation, marketing drip, etc.

Imagine his reaction when he overheard that you were pulling for Navia, and those primogems for her and not his. He could not hide the disbelief that crossed over his face.

He'll recover shortly after, and just laughed it off strainly as we watched you spending every gem you had saved on Navia's banner, no sign of the blondie woman yet showing up on your screen.

"And here, I thought I was what you are waiting for" He mumbled under his breath, gritting his teeth slightly in the process, keeping a forced smile on his face.

He would rather die than admit it, but this revelation had left a big wound on his pride, and he is a millisecond away of just straight up disrupting the system's controls if it means you get to play him.

Of course that would take some time, but he hopes that you're just as amused as him if he keeps joining you on doing your quests out of nowhere that doesn't even involve him in the first place ;)

VENTI.

It took so long for Venti to finally have this moment again, and he was more than glad to show up on your screen, on your first pull, on his rerun banner.

One second he was smiling and all giddy, but as you dropped the statement that you are pulling for Navia like a bomb, his smile freezed, his whole body freezed as he sweatdropped.

Not just freezed, you know those kind of special effects in an anime series when a character messes something up, does something awkward or expected something but gets embarass instead, and suddenly they turn into a whole block of ice? Yeah, something like that.

"..Oh, right her! I've heard a lot about her!" He stated, trying to keep up with his cheerful-go-to persona, as Venti awkwardly scratched the side of his neck while watching you spend those gems on her banner, still no luck of the five star geo character.

He failed to continue showing jolly facade, because now he is sulking at the corner as if it is the end of the world, almost as if a big tub of water was dunk upon him.

Please forgive him if he'll be out of character and maybe acting a little petty on your end for the next few hours or days while playing the game. It's not his fault you didn't also pulled on his rerun!

SCARAMOUCHE/WANDERER.

Scaramouche carries himself with such confidence and prides himself being a part of your team after you pulled on his first banner.

He was smirking with boldness, and eyes closed in satisfaction as he awaits and is all ready for you to pull on his rerun this time. That is until his mouth twitched downward, as he opens his eyes in suspicion right after he heard that you were pulling instead for Navia.

He could not hide the displeased expression painted on his face, as he continues to watch you behind the screen, spend all the primogems you saved up only for her, and like an open book— he doesn't even realized that he is scowling. So far, you're only getting the four stars.

"What about me?" He mumbled under his breath, as he scoffed lightly and by now instead of continuing to frown, there was a slight pout forming on his lips, as he huffed and turned his head away, facing a corner refusing to watch further your pulls on the geo character.

He rejects to believe that he is mopping about as something as this, but his actions says otherwise. He doesn't even know why is so affected by this.

Whether you get Navia or not, make sure you also give him the attention he seeks! We wouldn't want a petty Wanderer disrupting your team's gameplay, no?

[wlwsoccerfics]

The Academy is calling(MaryEarpsXTeenDaughter)

A/N: you Guys asked for more Mary with r as her daughter. So Here it is. Reader is 14 in this and plays her first game at Arsenal academy. Please read the First Part so it makes sense. also it's a bit short.

Warning: injury

Summary: your aunties are all coming to watch your First Game for the Arsenal academy.

You moved to London a few months ago. Because you got an offer to play for the Arsenal academy. It has been two years since you started working on becoming a great Goalkeeper. You are able to walk without braces now. And your legs have gotten strong enough to make it through the 45 minutes of a half time. And then you recharge during the half time break.

Good thing you didn't have to run as much as the other Players because that for sure would always be an issue. But you made it work.

You stood between the Goal Posts for Arsenal when your Arsenal U16 was playing against the Manchester City U16 team. Your aunties from Arsenal were there. Your moms teammates and your aunties from Manchester United were also there to watch you. Yes your Mom was back playing for them. Millie B And Lucy were also there. And you lived with Beth now. Since she was one of your godmothers. Lucy was the other one. She still complained that You didn't Play for chelsea, cause that was the right side of london. You saved the First four Shots on target.

"that's my Girl!" Your Mom stated proudly.

"my goddaughter is so talented!" Lucy said.

"hell yes! Goalkeeping must be in your blood, Mary!"Millie answered. Your Mom was so proud of you.

Everything was fine until one of the Manchester City Girls basically tackled you to the ground. And you hit your head on the Goalpost, lying on the floor unconcious.

"oh my god!" Beth said and looked at you, lying there. Not moving. The Game was stopped of course and the medics ran over.

"please wake up, Angel!" Your Mom whispered out to herself. Millie Turner and Tooney gently rubbing her back and trying to calm her down so she won't jump over the barrier and onto the field.

It didn't take long for the medics to load you into the ambulance. Your Mom and Beth went to the hospital with you. Your aunties were waiting for more information from your Mom or Beth.

After you thankfully managed to wake up again and the doctors ran some tests. You had a concussion but you were fine otherwise.

"you still need to rest for the next two weeks, y/n!" The doctor told you.

"okay." You just said. The headache was killing you. It hurt like hell.

"i will make sure she rests, doctor." Your Mom said softly.

"i am gonna pick the two of you up tomorrow. Steph is bringing over some of your clothes in a few." Beth replied.

"thanks auntie Beth." You told her and offered her a small smile. Letting out a small yawn. Slowly closing your eyes.

Falling asleep. You had to be woken up every hour though. Something you didn't enjoy at all. But your Mom cuddled you all night.

The next day you were allowed to leave and your aunt Beth indeed pick you and your Mom up.

"how are you feeling kiddo?" She wanted to know.

"Like i have hit my head ." You said with a soft chuckle. Sighing softly.

"which is why you gonna need some more rest and No Screen time for 48 more hours, doctors Order!" Your Mom told you.

When you reached Home Steph and Beth cooked some food while your mom cuddled you on the Couch.

"i Love you so very much, sweet Girl. And i am so proud of you. Your First Game yesterday was just amazing." Your Mom told your whole gently stroking your head.

"means alot to me Mom. I am really upset though that i have to take a break already!" You admitted.

"you gonna come back stronger kid." Your Mom let you know. Smiling softly at you. You smiled back.

"i appreciate you saying that, Mom ." You whispered out and closed your eyes. Falling asleep again.

"we will be at her next Game for sure. She is very talented!" Your aunt Steph answered.

"agreed! We are very proud of her!" Your auntie Beth said.

"thank you for everything the two of you do for her when i am not here." Your Mom told them.

In fact three weeks later all your aunties were back to watching you Play and having a Clean sheet.

You played really well and half a year later you got your first call Up for the U16 national team. Your Mom and your aunties couldn't be more proud. Your Mom even cried Happy tears.