#have tomorrow off i think...but then i work 3 days in a row —

[face-breaker]

the best thing this hell site ever implemented was post auto saving —

[corinneistherainbowsign]

having one day off work and one day on work and the next day off work is doing fantastic things to my psyche

[friiday-thirteenth]

.

[zemnarihah]

i get off work in an hour :)

[lotusunique]

Nights Like This

Armando Aretas x Fem! Reader

Mkay so while yall wait on this pt.3 of The engagement, ima give yall this lil story I been working on! Im ngl I did cut it in half this was long as HELL! So enjoy ❤️

“We should go out tomorrow night. We never do that anymore.", Kelly says grabbing her purse. "Yeah because you and your man are always boo'd up somewhere. Marcus isn't allowed out too many times in a row or Theresa will kick his ass. Mike is happily married now. And I refuse to be a third wheel on you two’s date" I explain.

“So why don't you invite Armando out.", She looks over to Armando who's looking through a case file. Since he helped take down McGrath and saved Callie, Mike tried to sort out a deal for him. He'll work out his sentence, here at AMMO, being apart of the tactical weapons team.

"Um absolutely not. He literally doesn’t know I exist in that way", I groan. "That’s not true. You just gotta make yourself known. Plus he’s kinda a dick. I don't know why you like him anyway.?”,she says damn

near screaming my secret. "Um firstly, shut up. What you wanna tell the whole world my secret?", I shush her. That’s all I fucking need. For Armando to find out I like him or WORSE. Mike and Marcus could find out. I’d never live it down.

"Invite him out or l'm gonna shout it from the rooftops.", Kelly gives an evil smirk.

"Shout what from the rooftops?", Mike looks over to us. "Oh nothing just that Y/n li-", you elbow her in the side. "That Y/n is going out with Kelly and Dorn tomorrow night", you give a tight lipped smile. "I'm so excited I could scream", Kelly smiles.

"Y'all weird as hell man", Mike says just giving the two of you a glance. Kelly lets out a laugh before nodding towards Armando's seat. "No.",you give a stern look.

"Yes!", kelly says seriously. "Fine. I'll do it before I leave later.", you give in, not wanting to discuss it any further.

- Later-

"I'm out, don't stay too long okay", Kelly says patting your shoulder before heading out, quickly shooting a glance over at Armando, signaling you to talk to him.

She heads out, the door closing, being a deafening reminder of how quiet it is since you and Armando are the only ones in the office. The dim lights giving an Erie feel. "Breathe Y/n. Now's the time to go talk to him", You think to yourself.

"Hey."you walk over to him. He looks up at you with a stare that says "what do you want". "Well I just thought that since it's just me and you tonight, we could at least conversate so it won't be absolutely boring", You sit on his desk.

"What do we have to talk about?", He says with that accent that just drives you crazy.

"Well I do technically have something to ask you", You say looking down at him. "There it is", he flashes a smile. "Stop", You roll your eyes.

"Mkay shoot.", He crosses his arms with a smirk.

"Please come with me tomorrow night. Kelly wants me to go out with her and Dorn. And I really don't wanna third wheel.", you plead.

“What’s in it for me?”, he looks up at you, placing the pen in between his plump lips. “What do you want?”,you ask, staring right down at his lips.

“What’re you offering?”, he asks, moving his rolling chair to where he’s sitting in between your legs,staring up at you with this smirk on his face like he just knows what he’s doing to you.

“I..I..uh”,your breath starts to hitch. “Use your words hermosa.”, he glances up at you through low eyes.

He has to know what he’s doing to you right? The only option is to match his energy, even though it’s all a front.

“Mister Aretas, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”,you snap out of whatever shy shit you just had going on.

“And if I was?”,He traces his finger up your exposed leg. Today was the perfect day to wear a pencil skirt.

The sound of the glass doors creaking open surprises you, causing you to move off the desk swiftly as possible.

“Sorry, I left my house keys”,Marcus walks in, not looking at the two of you.

“Hollup…it’s real dark in here. What yall in here-“,he looks between the two of you. “Nothing we were just talking”,you say quickly. Marcus looks over at Armando who has a condescending smirk upon his face. “Oh okay”,Marcus laughs. “It’s not like that Marcus”,You bury your head in your hands with a laugh.

“Look that ain’t nun of my business. Just make sure you use that latex. Cause you don’t wanna get that I’m late Text!”,he says before dapping Armando up. “What is HAPPENING”, you internally scream to yourself.

Marcus quickly makes his exit, leaving you and Armando to discuss what just happened. “That was embarrassing”,you groan. “It was hilarious”,he laughs. “No it wasn’t”, you lean against the door. “I’ll go with you. I’ve got something to handle before hand though,so I’ll meet you there”,he smiles over at you.

“Okay great. I’m gonna go home. Be safe. I’ll see you tomorrow”,you nervously grab your things before heading out to your car.

[cupcakeinat0r]

A Nerdy Middle-aged loser Miguel with a dad bod who teaches your genetics class

Head Canons!

Professor O’Hara was an intimidating man, to say the least. Despite his menacing exterior, he came highly recommended and sought after as a professor due to his ability to clearly get the material across. At times, it felt cutthroat, but he only meant well. He was just very passionate about his job and wanted everyone to learn.

You didn’t think he was scary at all. In fact, that first day of lecture, you new you were doomed. All you saw was a poor, misunderstood, teddy bear of a man. You thought it was so endearing how his glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose, or how he filled out his button ups and vests: equal parts of muscle and squish <3

n you totally stared at his huge butt and dick print oops what I didn’t say that what-

Professor O’Hara who’s scowl would melt away when you’d hurry into class, completely dismissing that fact that you were late. People who had him previously would be so confused that the Miguel O’Hara is stumbling on his own words during a lecture. Little did they know that it was because you, his very pretty and very eager student, was sitting front row and center. You’d fix your hair or apply lip gloss hoping you’d get his attention, and you succeeded.

Professor O’Hara thought you were so cute. He loved the way you dressed, the way you’d raise your hand and ask such good questions, the way you took notes, making them look equally as adorable as you. It didn’t help that you were a total ace in his class. Your brains n beauty were going straight to both of his heads……..

Professor O’Hara who although was naturally pretty distant and quiet with students, was trying very hard to be vocal with you, making sure to let you know when you were doing good. “Good job today, Mama.” “Thank you for being so involved in class today, mama, I appreciate it.” “Aye, Mama, make sure you get some sleep before the quiz tomorrow, mkay?” “Have a safe weekend, mama, and please, if you need anything, you have my email. It doesn’t matter what time it is.” and if he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud, he’d definitely leave notes for you when handing back your work <3

Professor O’Hara who now wakes up earlier and takes longer to get ready in the morning. For you. He would put on his most expensive cologne knowing you liked to ask for help. You’d smell it every time he bent over your desk behind you, enough so that the timbre of his low voice tickled your ear and his belly just barely grazing your back.

Professor O’Hara who was developing his own crush on you, even though it was definitely wrong. Besides, you were a model. He was convinced that even if he were a student, he wouldn’t have a chance with you.

Professor O’Hara who always felt his eyes gravitating toward you in the mass of seats when lecturing, as if he forgot what you looked like and needed to see your face again. You’d tilt your head n give him a smile each time he did, as if telling him you’re following along, and this rattled him. He’d smile back right before shying away from your gaze, clearing his throat and starting wherever he left off on in his lesson. You thought that was cute.

Professor O’Hara who was always there for you when you were troubled, his office becoming a place you frequented for comfort. He was a great ear, elbows on his knees and brows furrowed as he listened to your trials and tribulations. Pobrecita preciosa. He hated seeing you this way. His bear hugs always seemed to make the troubles go away.

Professor O’Hara who would praise you after seeing all the work you put into his class. Anytime you were stressed, he’d take you some place other than his office to relax, maybe buy you some tea or your favorite pastry. He’d take those opportunities to learn more about you, asking you in a gentle, sweet tone about your other studies, your goals, your life etc. he’d hopelessly fall for you even more when watching you speak about things you were passionate about, seeing how your eyes sparkled. He’d try to keep his composure by maintaining a stoic expression, but a small smile would crack every time. He was a melting mess.

Professor O’Hara who would keep all your assignments and reread them at home since you liked to leave him little notes like, “ So lucky to have you as a professor” “Amazing class today!” “Looking forward to our tutoring sesh tmw<3”, the curvy letters of your pretty hand writing feeding into his desires for you, those same desires going from wholesome to more lustful.

Professor O’Hara, who’s walls you break down with your kindness, intelligence, humility, and beauty. He’d play with your hair during tutoring sessions, buy you things that reminded him of you, call you ‘mama’ when no one else was around. He loved the way you knit your brows together telling him he shouldn’t be spending money on you as he’s already doing so much for you already, to which he replies, “You deserve it, and more, mama”.

Professor O’Hara who, when you stay after class to help him clean (because you volunteered to, otherwise, Miguel would never let you lift even a finger because you’re a princess), instead of picking up stray mechanical pencils, he would imagine you picking up stranded toys in the living room. He’d imagine what it’s like living life with you, having a life with you, then immediately shoo those absurd thoughts away after realizing he’s falling for you after only months of knowing you.

Professor O’Hara who genuinely cares about your well-being, wants to see you succeed and get everything you want and deserve. Who wants the absolute best for you.

A/n: Just some hcs before I continue the story…. I won’t edge y’all for long so just bear w meeeeee <3333

Tags <3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @maomaimao @pomakori @rxckstarss @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @ce3stvu @m4dyy @kaidxra

Want more DadBod!Miguel? Here’s my master list, bae!!!

[chukys-mouthguard]

#21 fluff for Matt Rempe please :)

Prompt: “You’re the only one I have opened up to like this.”

“Did it hurt?”

You hand hesitantly moving to touch the black and blue mark that had found its place on Matt’s eye, trying not to inflict any more pain on him.

“When I fell from heaven? Nah, it wasn’t too hard of a fall.”

Rolling your eyes at him, he couldn’t help but laugh. His humor the one thing you could always count on, no matter the situation.

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious.”

“Well I sure think so!”

The two of you sat in Matt’s apartment as you’d put in your doctor cap and attempted to help his newly acquired battle scars from yet another fight. To be honest you didn’t know how he was still actively participating in the fights. His face surely couldn’t take another punch after 3 fights in a row.

“I mean, sure it hurts. It definitely doesn’t feel good. But, I kind of signed up for this you know?”

Walking the first aid kit back to the bathroom, you’d someone scoffed at his words. “Mmm, signed up for that? I disagree. I don’t know if anyone signs up for that.”

While he understood what you meant, he disagreed. Matt always knew he wasn’t going to be the next Crosby or Ovechkin. And because of that, he had to excel in other areas.

He sighed as you rejoined him on the couch, his demeanor now changing as he seemed exhausted. His body finally waving the white flag that it needed a break.

“I just, I love hockey. So much. And, I know that I’m not the greatest skater, I’m not scoring 80 goals a season, hell I probably won’t even play 80 minutes a season. But I know that I can support the guys who can do those things. And maybe that’s through fighting. Sure, I don’t necessarily love getting my face bashed in. But I’m willing to get punched in the face, if that means getting to put on that jersey and play in a place like Madison Square Garden.”

The emotion in his voice almost bringing you to tears, you knew how much he loved the sport. But hearing him talk about it like this, hearing him be vulnerable and not the joking goof ball he normally was. It was refreshing. For him to just be Matt Rempe, a normal 21 year old guy who is working his butt off to make a name for himself.

“I love that, every single thing you said. And I wish more people got to see this side of you. Because this I’m sure is more meaningful to people. Your love and passion for the sport, I’m sure your teammates would love to hear you talk like this too.”

He shyly laughed as he tried to climb off his sappy soapbox.

“You’re the only one I’ve opened up to like this.”

His fingers intertwined with yours as he leaned in to give you a kiss. A thank you for being by his side and supporting him through it all. And for putting up with him on days he looked like he’d been in a horrific bar fight.

“Well, I’m honored that you opened up to me. Now, let’s get you into bed, I have a feeling someone is definitely sleeping in tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah, please don’t wake me until at least 7pm.”

[miguelhugger2099]

Omg first off LOVE!!! your wiring literally *chef’s kiss* imagine Miguel x reader suggestive smut where they’ve been both super busy and haven’t had time for each other and tension has been building up to this point.

Worth the Wait

nonie im gonna sob. not only was i so excited to see you be my first ask, this is also my first ever written smut!! aaaa im so nervous so please have mercy !! i jumped on my laptop as soon as i saw this and its so late right now haha im a little tired but i didnt want you to wait at all !! im not sure if i wrote too much or too little lol regardless i really hope you enjoy and if not i'm more than happy to make something else and thank you sososo much for the compliment <3333 the ask wasnt specified if it was fem!reader or not so i made it gn!reader just in case <3 Miguel x GN!Reader, Smut, too embarrassed to proofread it, Word Count: 3,681

“Hey, Miguel, do you think you could stay late tonight? Boss wants you in the lab for testing.” A short woman popped her head in his room, her hair neatly tucked in a high bun. Miguel stopped his pacing in his office, his glasses lifted on his head using it as a headband to pull back his fringe. He placed the beakers in his hands down and took off his gloves while ruby eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. He was supposed to leave in a couple minutes.

Miguel’s eyebrows scrunched up, tsking under his breath and turning to look at the woman. “Can’t someone else be there? Peter can oversee it instead.” He pleaded, exasperated. She gave him a sympathetic look and sighed.

“Sorry, Miguel. He specifically asked for you.” Not wanting to be the bearer of bad news anymore, she slipped out the door and shut it behind her, leaving Miguel to groan and slump his shoulders. He stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, breathing in and out to calm his anger. It seemed like these days all he ever did was overtime at work. He fiddled with the golden band around his left ring finger, his other hand twirling it mindlessly for some comfort and also a silent apology to you.

His heart ached as he made his way to his desk, picking up his phone and dialing your number. He licked his lips while he brought the phone up to his ear. Miguel wasn’t prepared to hear your voice, happy and hopeful and only be met with disappointment.

“Miggy?” You answer happily. A small smile forms on Miguel’s face.

“H-hey, baby. You doing alright?” He asked, taking a seat on his swivel chair and leaning back to stare at the photo of you two on his desktop.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m finishing up dinner. Are you on your way home?”

Miguel’s smile dropped a bit, realizing once more why he had called in the first place. “Um, about that, mi corazón. I have to–”

“You have to stay the night, don’t you?” You cut him off, disappointment evident in your voice. Miguel’s heart clenched at the sound.

“I…I do. Believe me, I don’t have a choice or I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

“It’s okay, really. I’m not mad or anything. This month has been hectic for both of us. I just… I just miss you is all.” You speak softly over the phone. He missed you more. He wanted to be there.

“Lo siento, bebé. You know how much I hate being away from you.” He apologized. “How about tomorrow, huh? I have off. We can go out and get a drink. Or maybe stay home? I know how much you love my cooking.” He offered, his heart beating faster at the thought of spending time with you again. That feeling sank when he heard you let out a quick puff of air in annoyance.

“I can’t. I’m working this weekend. Six days in a row,” You rolled your eyes just thinking about it. Your job always had a way of pushing your buttons. Miguel’s jaw clenched as he heard you. Miguel never really liked this recent event of work taking up his time from seeing you. He hated it even more when your job took you away from him. “God, I really thought we’d have tonight together at least.”

Miguel was quick to reassure you. “Hey, hey. Listen. We’ll have a day together. Eventually there’ll be a day for just us–all about us, I promise.”

When Miguel had arrived home, it could barely be even classified as night time with the way the sun had been peeking through the horizon. He dragged his body through the door, a cold home awaiting him. After kicking off his shoes, he dumped his coat and bag on the floor and made his way to the kitchen, eating the leftovers of the dinner you two were supposed to eat together before trudging back to bed. He saw you lying there on your side and he felt exhaustion drag him down.

Miguel slipped in under the covers beside you after striping himself of his clothes, leaving him in his underwear and slipped his arm around you. He pressed your body flushed against his, Miguel’s larger body enveloping yours protectively. His nose buried itself in your neck, his lips grazing your shoulder. His hand rubbed your stomach and then slid up to rub up and down your waist. Sneakily, he ran his hand under your shirt while his lips left small kisses on your neck and shoulder. You stirred awake as you felt the sudden touch of someone else.

Miguel felt you move so he pulled you tighter to him, keeping you caged in that position. “Mig…?” You called out sleepily. You felt something poke you from behind and groaned. Miguel continued to kiss your neck, his teeth coming out to gently nip at the skin making you shiver. He simply hummed his response.

“‘M home.” He murmured. He slowly turned you on your back, towering over you slightly with your leg between his. Miguel’s arm rested by your head while his attacks became more intimate. You leaned your head back, allowing him more access and his other hand on your hip squeezed you in appreciation. You bent your leg up on the bed slightly, your knee caressing his growing bulge in his boxers. Miguel let out a low groan, his hips grinding on you for some friction.

Your hands finally reached up to his hair, curling your fingers around his soft wavy brown locks. Miguel took this as an opportunity to capture your lips with his, muting the soft moans you were letting out. His own knee spread your legs apart, rubbing in between them to add to your pleasure. You felt a jolt of pleasure run down your spine, bucking your hips up instinctively. Miguel sighed against you, his hand on that had been gripping your hip, moved down to the hem of your pajama pants. He teasingly pulled it down, letting it snap back to your body and making you whine. You felt him grin through your kiss. Cheeky bastard.

Before he could ease his hand down your pants, your alarm had blared through the room, shocking the both of you and separating yourselves off each other. Miguel scowled while you clambered up to grab your phone. “The hell was that?” He grunted, displeased with being interrupted. You fumbled with turning it off, placing a hand on your chest to calm your fast beating heart.

“My alarm. I have a morning shift.” You moaned, tossing your phone back on the counter and standing up from the bed. Miguel blinked twice before getting up with you. He reached out his hand to grab yours in an attempt to stop you.

“Woah, woah, hey–what’s the rush?” He asked, turning you around and cupping your cheek. “We can at least have these couple minutes, can’t we?” His voice dropped an octave, leaning down to press a kiss on your cheek. Miguel tried to kiss downwards but you stopped him, albeit unwillingly.

“Amor, you know damn well how Nueva York’s traffic is in the morning. I’m not gonna be late and get my ass in trouble ‘cause you can’t keep it in your pants.” You slipped from his arms with a playful roll of your eyes and walked to the kitchen. Miguel scoffed, slightly offended, his eyes watching you walk away and looking down at your ass.

“Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying it.” He grumbled, looking down at the tent in his boxers wondering what to do with it now.

For the next week, it had been nothing but just pure torture. With the month making you and Miguel work away from each other, this week was stretching that limit. When Miguel worked in the morning, you’d work at night and vice versa. Each time without fail, you managed to slip in a few teasing touches. Waking up Miguel by sitting on his lap and peppering kisses on his cheeks with his hands grinding your hips down on his hardening cock. Miguel cupping your ass and giving it a squeeze when you came home from work while he was on his way out. Both of you were on the brink of breaking by this point. These small acts were supposed to tame the fire within you, not burn it brighter.

Eventually, it was finally your day off after a long weekend. A break from customer service and passing out as soon as you got home. Miguel had work today but he texted earlier that he’d get off on the hour he was supposed to this time around. You felt bad. He’d been working so hard and today had been no different. He took a shift earlier than usual so he could come home earlier without anyone being there to suddenly ask for him to stay. Lord knows he’s pushing those forty hours into overtime.

From the bedroom, you heard the door open, keys jingling as it was turned to unlock it. You got up from the bed and peered out the door, seeing Miguel kicking off his shoes and coat while tossing his bag carelessly on the living room chair. “Welcome home.” You greeted him. He dragged his feet closer to you with his head down, the top buttons on his white button up were popped open, exposing a glimpse of his collarbone. Miguel immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for a comforting hug. You followed suit, hugging him back since you sensed he probably had a rough day. He hummed in response, settling for resting his chin on your head. You stayed like that for a while just holding one another until you felt his hand run under your shirt to feel your soft skin against his calloused hands. They continued up and up your spine until your shirt was lifting up with him. “Miguel.”

“What?” He grumbled. One hand slid down under your pants, getting a quick feel of your ass and pulling your pelvis to him. You gasped and tightened your hold around him, feeling the warmth of arousal ignite in your stomach. “I need to have you. I can’t wait any longer.” His soft touching became more possessive, roughly grabbing your ass and tugging on your shirt and pants.

“Miguel.” You repeated his name, this time in a whimper. Your own hands slipped down his collared shirt and lightly scratched your nails on his large back which made him shiver. He pulled back and you saw his eyes hazed with desire, pupils blown wide.

“Please…” He whispered, his lips brushing up against yours. Your hands fell to his buttoned shirt as you looked up at him. Your heart raced in your chest–the sheer want of having you all to himself finally after weeks was too good to pass up. You nodded and the pleading look on Miguel’s face dropped as he immediately bent down to kiss you. You let out a squeak of surprise between his lips right before giving into his needs and kissing him back.

He tugged your pants down to your ankles before lifting you out of the puddle of clothes and bringing you to the bed. Once you were laid on top, you watched Miguel fumble with his belt. His large hands quickly unhooked the metal making it chime and the soft zipping sound of the leather sliding out his belt loops. He practically ripped himself free from his clothes, not even unbuttoning his shirt and just lifted it up and off his torso. You saw his girthy length, standing tall and proud with a slight red color tinged at his tip while the rest of him was a slighter darker color than his skin. His tip was already oozing with precum. A sight you had always welcomed. It became clear to you that Miguel had been thinking about this for a while–maybe all day. Miguel crawled on top of you, helping you out of your shirt and underwear and kissing you again while his hands roamed your body.

“I’ve waited so long. Did you miss me like how I missed you, cariño?” He sighed between your lips. Your hands clutched his shoulders, one leg hooking around his waist.

“Always.” You whimpered back.

“On your knees. Now.” He growled. You felt your heart skip a beat, another heartbeat going straight to your core. Stumbling, you got off your back and got on your hands and knees like Miguel wanted. This position has always made you flustered. It was both embarrassing and exhilarating not seeing what Miguel could do to you, or even get to put your hands on him–solely relying on feeling.

Perfect timing, his hands met your ass, grabbing them and massaging them. “So perfect,” He murmured. His finger grazed your aching hole where you were the most sensitive, purposefully teasing the nerves on your body. He took pleasure in the way you writhed beneath him, succumbing to his hand. His thick cock rubbed up against you, smearing his leaking fluid on you for even better access. Then ever so slowly, gliding in his fat weeping tip inside and penetrating your walls.

You both moaned in unison. The feeling of being stuffed was like finally feeling that last puzzle piece snap in place. “Uff, fuck–I’ve missed you,” He groaned, his breath shaking as he leaned over your body. His one hand held the headboard in front of him while his other hand held the plushness of your hip tightly. Miguel’s body was shaking as he entered you slowly, stretching you out after a long time of not seeing each other like this. You whimpered, falling from your hands onto your elbows as you shook with him. “Ease up, cariño, así es.” He praised, leaning back to watch his cock disappear inside you. His pride swelled at how easily he seemed to slide in you even after so long, his mouth curling into a sly smirk.

“Mi–guel…” You choked out a moan. You whined and gripped the pillow underneath your head tightly in your fists. You had forgotten just how huge Miguel was, his covered bulge was nothing compared to the real thing. Panting, you heard your heartbeat in your ears, turning your head to rest your cheek on the pillow.

Miguel’s hand left the headboard by this point, choosing instead to rest on your back, running down the curve of your spine to press your head down. You whimpered and clenched around him which made him let out a string of curses under his breath. You felt him push himself to the hilt, his balls gently smacking against the curve of your ass. He groaned, his hand on your head gripped your hair to still himself from pounding you immediately. The two of you stood there, breathing heavily while you felt each other. You could feel him throbbing inside you, twitching ever so softly. Miguel bit his lip to hinder himself from cumming on the spot with your walls convulsing around him, weakly attempting to suck him in deeper.

You wiggled your hips, bucking them back against Miguel with a pathetic whine. “M-move…plea–” You got cut off when Miguel slipped out of you, and then he slammed back inside making you scream and shake. He then began a steady pace, enough for movement but not as quick as you wanted. Still, you mewled and clutched at the sheets while his cock was ravaging your guts. The hand on your hip wrapped around your lower stomach, his bicep flexing as he held your weight up to fuck your from behind.

“Too long. It’s been too fucking long since I’ve fucked this needy hole properly.” Miguel sighed, huffing with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes rolled back and your jaw slacked open. Skin slapping echoed in the room along with the wet smack of sweat between your bodies. It was a symphony of lust and desire. An aching instinct to be reunited like this. You pleaded for more–a little quicker, a little harder– and Miguel who loved you so much didn’t want to deny either of you this ecstasy. He then used both hands to grab onto your hips and started to drag your body back and forth on his dick, drilling himself in you like a toy. Miguel used up all his frustrations of not being able to see you all this time, his eyes drinking in your writhing form while he bucked into you abandonly.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck–Miguel…!” You squealed, involuntarily squeezing him which made me grunt and buck his hips faster. You babbled nonsense while your core bubbled up the feeling of an orgasm. You screwed your eyes shut as you allowed Miguel to hump against you. He leaned over you again, pressing kisses on your back, murmuring things you could barely hear over the sound of your own moans.

Suddenly, Miguel had pulled out again leaving you feeling empty and light headed while the feeling of an impending orgasm disappeared. He let go of you, your hips bouncing on the bed without the support of his strength holding you up. You opened up your eyes, glazed with pleasure and shakily tried to look behind you. Before you could, Miguel took your body and flipped you on your back. It all happened quickly before you could even register what was happening. He took your legs and tugged your body closer to him like a ragdoll. He spread them wide then pressed them up against your chest. You lolled your head up and you saw his fringe had fallen to his forehead, sticking to it with his sweat. His chest was heaving up and down, the glow of the moonlight highlighting the carvings of his muscles perfectly–it made your breath hitch.

Miguel then loomed over you, nuzzling his head into your neck again. You leaned your head to the side making him gain more access to you. His teeth bit your soft flesh, his lips suckling your skin to leave tiny bruises along the side. “Ah–” You squirmed and gasped when you felt Miguel slide back into you again. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, your hand running through his already messy hair. You pressed his head closer, your eyes opening up hazily to stare at the ceiling while Miguel starts his pace again.

“So tight, just f’me, hm? You have no idea how much–” He moaned in between speaking, the lust clouding his mind. “H-how much I needed you. I should’ve just brought you to work, bend you over my desk and fuck you however long I want,” He shuddered at the thought, his hips stuttering while you whimpered and arched your back off the bed. “Oh, you like that?” He grinned, his voice oozing with arrogance. You nodded, your eyes shutting closed again and desperately lifting your hips to match his thrusting.

“Next time, bebé, next time. I promise. You’re doing so, so, good. You feel so good.” He slurred softly, his hips snapped harder, his cock twitching and swelling inside you.

“Mig–Mig–I can’t,” You moaned, your screams getting louder the harder Miguel went. “Oh, god, Miguel!” Miguel kissed you, swallowing all your moans while he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Your eyes rolled back and your legs wrapped around his waist the moment he let go of your thighs. His hands traveled around your body, feeling the shape of your silhouette back into his memory. He grabbed at anything he could hold onto before curling around your ass for a small squeeze.

He pulled away from the kiss, breaths mingling for a moment until Miguel rested his forehead on your shoulder. Your hands raked down his back and you dug your nails into his giant back, leaving streaks of red in their wake from scratching him. He moaned from it–the pain only adding to his pleasure-fueled mind. Miguel peppered kisses on your shoulder, making his way down to your chest.

“Miguel, I’m so close–so, so close…” You whimpered.

“I know, ángel, me… me too. Solo enfocate en mí, hm? Just let me have you.” He pleaded, his rough moans turning into whimpering as he neared his end. You responded with a weak ‘uh-huh’ then clinging onto Miguel for support.

He murmured in a jumble of Spanish and English, his breath hot on your neck while you screamed and pleaded for more, how good it felt, anything to get both of you going. Miguel lifted your lower half up, relentlessly pounding into you while he cursed lowly, burying his head in your shoulder again. You felt the bubble in your abdomen about to snap.

“Miguel, I–!” You tried warning him but instead the waves of your orgasm flooded your body, cumming on Miguel and making a mess between your legs. You twitched around him, milking his cock for all it’s worth. Your legs shook until you went limp, fucked out of your mind. Miguel whined, speeding up to catch his own release.

“Fuck–!” He moaned, feeling his cock pump out his creamy fat load inside you, painting your walls white. Miguel’s entire body tensed up, stilling up against you while he slowly came down from the high. His strokes gradually slowed down, pumping the final ropes of cum, while he softened inside you, huffing and puffing with you. He shakily but carefully pulled out of you after a few moments. You whimpered when he completely left you with a soft wet shlick.

Miguel fell beside you, exhausted and spent. Still, he reached for you, bringing your shivering body in his arms. You curled yourself in his chest weakly, feeling his hand play with your hair. He kissed your forehead, basking in each other's afterglow. He brought the covers up over you two for some extra warmth.

“I’ll…get us cleaned up in the morning…” He huffed with a tired smile. You grunted in response, too numb to speak but satisfied nonetheless.

can you tell this is my first smut? hahaaaa dontanswerthatillcry

[hwallazia]

LOVE LANGUAGE – 정우영 & 최산

synopsis . in which after a long, tiring day at work, all you want to do is come home to your boyfriends and cuddle with them. of course they fulfill your wish, but with something more. a little surprise for you.

pairing . jung wooyoung & choi san & fem! reader

genre . smut but the fluffiest (still, mdni!), slice of life, comfort, polyamorous relationship, non idol!au.

word count . 2,8k

DISCLAIMER! softest doms! woosan (like fr they’re devoted to yn), sub! reader, fingering, begging, sooo much praise, dirty talk, suggestive language, nicknames (baby, princess, darling, good girl, & more), sweetest touches, just the three of them being stupidly in love and woosan being the best boyfriends ever <3

NIC’S NOTES i know all the smut one shots or drabbles i’ve written have the same tags. it’s just that i can’t bring myself to write idk something more hardcore? ㅠㅅㅠ i just write whatever comes to my head but with my preferences, which is vanilla sex essentially with a looot of nicknames and praise. next time i’ll try to do something a bit rougher and more passionate. ♡

You’re having a hard day.

You’ve already lost count of how long your boss has been talking to you, reminding you how much he hates mistakes in a company like his. His eyebrows furrowed together as a sign of frustration. You’ve honestly forgotten what you had originally started talking about. The more the man continued speaking, the more entangled you became with his words. After being scolded by your superior, you sit down in your desk chair and take a sip of your already lukewarm coffee. A gesture of disgust curves your lips

You sigh, leaning back in your seat. It’s too much to bear for it being eight-thirty in the morning, you repeatedly think about how much you want to yell at your boss to fuck off. He’s had you like this for weeks, busy with projects that don’t even concern you, but rather the other team his stepdaughter is on.

Of course, he wouldn’t make her work like he makes you work. Baggy eyes? In her lover’s daughter's eyes? Over his dead body. Your blood boiled every time you scanned her carefully every time she entered a room, almost always surrounded by three girls who followed her like fans, more like stalkers you think, smiling as if she was a celebrity, while you were trapped at your desk, doing her job.

You remember that time when you deigned to complain to your boss about this situation. “You get paid to work, not to complain. Go back to your desk” were the only words he said to you. Choking with all your strength the desire to suffocate him with your own hands, you replied with a “Yes, sir” with your hurt pride held high.

At some point in the morning, Miss Everybody-loves-me walks by your desk, her finger pressing to the surface of it as it runs over it, collecting dust particles from her fingertips. In her other hand resting her Starbucks drink.

“New project?” She says, showing a row of white, perfectly arranged teeth.

You shake your head, “It's the same one from the other day,” You reply, “Yesterday.” A tone of annoyance highlighted in your voice.

She nods repeatedly as if she understands you, as if she is being empathetic with you. Hypocrite. “My bad. I really thought you’d have it ready by today. You know, because the executive meeting is tomorrow and—.”

“Yes,” You say loudly. Of course you already know that you have to have it ready for tomorrow, it’s for that same reason that you haven’t been sleeping properly the last few days. Because you’re busy doing the work of the bitch who was in front of you, talking to you, “Yes, yes. I already know that piece of information. Thank you.”

“Just stopping by to remind you.” A giggle slips past her lips, the desire to want to smack her growing bigger and bigger, “Keep up the good work! Bye.”

She presses her longest fingers against her lips and then peels them away, sending you a flying kiss. You’re grateful she left, you can’t hold back the urge to finally shut her up with a good smack on that stupid smile of hers. A low “shit” escapes your lips as you watch her turn around and face your desk again, still not leaving you alone. “Oh, by the way. I hope you liked the coffee. Before I left my place, I saw that there was still that cup of coffee that I hadn't finished a few days ago. Four days have passed? I don’t know, nor do I remember. Anyway, bye.”

You finally watch as her anatomy disappears as she walks further. You turn and bitterly scan the coffee mug resting on a small oak table not too far from you. Your fingers hold the mug’s handle and throw it right into the trash. You want to scream at this exact moment, and the only way you find to relieve your miserable morning anger a little is to scream into the sleeve of your blazer.

The morning passes with difficulty and you smile for the first time today when you take a quick look at your watch and realize there are only two minutes left until you finish your workday. You had successfully completed the project and its presentation for the meeting you have the next day. At least your day was productive—after all.

Those are the longest two minutes of your life, but when they are finally over, you almost run towards the exit of the large building in which you’ve spent almost eleven hours of your day locked up.

In the blink of an eye, you’re already parking your car in the garage of the apartment where you live with your other two boyfriends. You know they were already home, probably cooking, watching a movie, or playing. As usual.

In about five minutes you’re already inserting your key, the sound of the locks and their mechanism working correctly to unlock the door being the only thing you could hear. Once the door is wide open, you cross the threshold and kick off your heels which have trapped your feet from a long day at work. You feel like you’re floating when you finally touch the warm floor of your apartment, and you trudge to your room, finding San leaning against the bed’s headboard, smiling at finally seeing you after a long day. A book resting on his right palm and his glasses decorating his beautiful face. The sigh that leaves your lips is inevitable. A soft smile is placed on your lips.

“Sannie.” You murmur, your arms outstretched for him to wrap you in a hug as you walk towards him.

“My love,” he crawls to the edge of the bed where he reciprocates your hug.

Your cheek resting against his flat chest, his hand gently caressing your hair. Through your nostrils, you can perceive the combination of that lavender shampoo you bought him a few months ago and soap. He smells so good, you thought to yourself. Him cooing at you like you were a baby is an image you want to keep in your head forever. You swear you can give into his arms as the tiredness starts affecting you.

You manage to hear the sound of a door opening. Then you turn round and find your other lover, Wooyoung, his hand drying his damp hair with the help of a small towel. However, you can’t see him, because your eyes have closed involuntarily while you enjoyed San's loving hug.

His eyes shine when he sees your figure. “There’s my girl.” He approaches you and San. His lips make contact with your other cheek.

Finally separating from San, they can ask you how your day was.

You sigh to look them in the eyes. “Terrible. Everything was so overwhelming today.” You pause, “Too much paperwork, too much.” You repeat it a second time, this time even more exhausted.

“Mm,” San murmurs, “Do you want to talk about that?”

“Not really. I just want—”

Wooyoung interrupts you to say, “Did that bitch have anything to do with it?” He says referring to Bora.

A loud gasp leaves your lips as you remember that she’s also been part of your day, “You have no idea what she did to me today,” You tell him what happened with your coffee. A soft giggle comes from San, the same person you just denied wanting to talk about your day.

“That bitch. How dare she?” San lets out an annoyed ‘mhm’ when he hears him speak. Your chivalrous San never uses that kind of insult to refer to women. He never actually insults women, “What? She deserves it. Look what she did to your girl today!”

“Our.” You correct him, a smile decorating his lips as he hears you say that.

“Yes, that. Ours.” You cup his chin and pull him to your lips to place a kiss on his cheek. His smile growing even bigger as San shakes his head at him.

A sigh leaves your lips, “To be honest, I just want to take a bath in the tub.”

“With bubbles?”

“And massages?” San adds after Wooyoung.

You can’t contain your smile, your boys’ hearts melting at the sight of you, “You guys want to bathe me? Really?”

“As if we haven’t seen you naked already,” Wooyoung speaks, your palm crashing against his side in a poor attempt to hide your embarrassment.

Your boyfriends guide you to their spacious bathroom. San heading to the bathtub while Wooyoung rummages through the drawers, looking for the bubbles he mentioned to you a few minutes ago. Your body collapses in slow motion against the cold porcelain of the tub, San holding you securely in his arms like a baby.

“You’re home now. You don’t have to worry about anything else, okay?” He places a quick kiss on your forehead, “Let us take care of the rest.”

Tiredness barely allows you to give him one of those smiles that your boyfriend falls in love with so much, “Found ’em!” You turn to meet Wooyoung with a victorious smile on his lips.

It takes several minutes for the tub to fill almost completely. When it does, Wooyoung undresses in a flash and climbs into the bathtub, keeping you company. San was still sitting behind you on the wide edge, his hands working your scalp so you don’t even have to worry about washing your hair.

You hum under his touch, your body gradually relaxing. Meanwhile, Wooyoung starts putting bath bombs of your favorite scents. The delicious aroma of vanilla and coconut invading your senses.

You feel San’s laborious hands leave your hair and subtly dry it with a towel. Now his hands move down to focus on your shoulders, his fingers exerting gentle pressure against your skin. Again, you hum as you felt him work that area.

“We know how hard you work every day. And how hard you try, and we love you so much for that.” You’ve already lost count of how many kisses San has pressed against your forehead, “That’s why we want to take care of you,” He paused briefly, “Tonight and always.”

A genuine smile forms on your lips. You really had no idea what you’d done to deserve two great boyfriends, so caring and affectionate. Your love for them can’t be described in words and neither can theirs for you. You melt after hearing their words, only being able to utter a soft ‘thank you’, hoping they understand that that ‘thank you’ was much more than the meaning of the word itself.

Wooyoung’s hand brushing against your skin as it goes down is what takes you away from the sweet words of the man behind you, his eyes never disconnecting from your gaze. You finally understand the way your boyfriends want to pamper you. And you’re not against their intentions at all.

“Just relax, my love.” Wooyoung whispers, “I’ll make you feel so good.”

Heat flushes through you as he drags his hand even lower, your legs unconsciously opening a little more, your cheeks turning a cute red. You hum when his fingers caress your folds softly, leaning your head against San’s forearm.

“Young-ah,” His name is nothing more than a simple breath of air in the silent bathroom, “Please.”

“What is it, princess?” San’s low voice resonates inside your ears, “Tell us what you want.”

“P-please,” You beg, “Touch me.”

“I am touching you, love.”

You let out a minimal desperate pant. “Come on. Don’t tease, Woo”

“I’m not teasing, babe. I’m just doing want you’re telling me to do, aren’t I?” He scoffs. Your hips slightly rocking against his hand looking for some friction.

You let out a long sigh and with that your last trace of bashfulness, “Please. Put your fingers inside me, Woo. Please.” You give him your best doe-eyes, you know it worked when he emits a 'fuck' under his breath. 

Wooyoung dips his middle finger into your heat, the sound of your stickiness being drowned out by the warm water, how wet your cunt is being a secret between your boyfriend and his fingers. Thanks to the habit of doing this almost every week, he now knows where to touch, when to increase his pace, and above all, how to drive you crazy with just his long phalanges.

You don’t know when your eyes closed, but you know it was because of the satisfaction that was overtaking you. You unconsciously raise your hips in an attempt to get his fingers even deeper into you. 

For a moment you think San was enjoying the view in front of him with fierce eyes, hungry for you. You imagine him lightly pumping his cock behind you, a sight for sore eyes.

That is until you feel a pair of hands rest on your breasts, skilled fingers touching your nipples, varying in a pattern of touching and pinching them.

“I’m—” You can’t even formulate a coherent word, everything just being overwhelming in a good way, a very good way. 

Wooyoung hits the soft, right spot and you tremble beneath him, your back arching beautifully. Your lips vocalize a precious moan, “Wooyoung, baby. Don't stop.”

“Fuck, your moans are so pretty,” San says as he reclines and attaches his lips to the side of your neck, leaving cute lovebites that will surely turn purple by tomorrow morning. You’ll have to take care of that, but later. Right now you’re trying to hold onto the last piece of sanity you have left.

“Definitely our favorite sound,” Wooyoung replies, his fingers pumping into you faster, “Are you close, my love? Gonna cum on my fingers?”

His husky voice just pushes you even closer to the edge, “Yes, yes!” San sucks sharply in the right place as you cum. A long moan leaves your lips as you tremble beneath Wooyoung, him helping you ride your orgasm the best way possible.

Your eyes shut the moment you come. A few seconds later, you feel movement in the waters, as if someone has left and entered again. You think it’s Wooyoung, who came out to get a towel and dry you off, but when you feel a hand, different from the one that had been touching you until a few seconds ago, caressing your inner thighs you open your eyes meeting San’s.

“Hi, beautiful.” He admires your blissed-out expression for a moment, “Can you give us another one?”

You whimper, trying to hold yourself together, “I-I don’t know, Sannie,” You try to say “no” since you’re still sensitive and kind of overstimulated, but you just don’t want to admit it. Somehow you turn to your shy self again. It only lasts a few seconds though. His fingers make their way into your arousal and a hot, loud moan escapes from your lips.

He starts pumping his fingers into you at a fast pace, barely bearable for you. His movements cause you pleasure and pain at the same time, after all, you haven’t fully recovered from your previous orgasm and your boyfriend is already pushing you toward the abyss of pleasure again.

“Oh, princess,” He murmurs with the sweetest voice, “You’re being such a good girl for us.”

Wooyoung now is occupying the sit San was in, behind you. He reclines and murmurs right into your ear, “Come for us, darling. Just let it go. We’ve got you.” His voice is so unrecognizable, so fucking deep.

Your visual field begins to be covered by small black dots that get bigger and smaller, overstimulation causing this effect. Your body trembles in a sudden rush of heat, finally releasing into the now lukewarm water with a loud, long moan that sounds more like a cry. The small tears caused by pleasure slide beautifully down your cheek, dripping down your chin and mingling in the water. Your body feeling as if a fresh wave of water has washed over it.

“Mm,” San starts, “The only bad thing about doing this in the tub is that I can’t taste you, but honestly seeing your face as you come undone for us is more than enough.” He presses a kiss against your slightly open lips. Your blissed-out gaze making them fall even more in love with you.

“I... I love you both, so much. Thank you for doing this for me.”

“You deserve to be loved and pampered for everything you do for yourself and us every day. You’re amazing and we’re so proud of you.” Wooyoung mentions.

If you had the strength to cry right now, you would. However, sleep is taking you over so you can only mutter, “You both mean everything to me.”

You really have no idea when you fell asleep, but it’s okay. You know perfectly well that your boyfriends are going to set everything up and snuggle you in bed.

Wooyoung watches as San sees you with all the tenderness in the world. He was about to tease him saying that he was going to scare you if he kept looking at you so intensely, when he heard a cute, low snore.

“Did she fall asleep?” Wooyoung asks.

“Like an angel.” San replies, still admiring you.

“Well, let’s get her into a pair of pijamas so we can cuddle with her in bed.”

They both dry themselves off before taking you out of the tub. Seeing you so adorable and soundly asleep makes them share one of those looks of theirs. 

Yes, they have a big, painful boner with no relief, but tonight was all about you, so they decided to put their needs aside and focus on you and making you feel good, loved and important. Because you are, because they’re willing to give their lives for you if they had to. 

Because you’re their everything and they love you more than the word itself could mean. 

| masterlist

[puckinghischier]

i come to you with a blurb thats been in my head because i desperately need it rn 😭

like,,, idk if its been said before BUT imagine nico helping you study!! youre taking your master's or maybe you're finishing up a long degree! regardless, he's ready to help you with your flashcards and notes and books and he gives you a lil smooch and a chocolate when you get one right! but he's very serious about it being just one kiss!! you have to study after all!! but.....maybeeee....sometimes...he'll add in another and another and another just because you look so cute when youre focused <3 and when he feels you getting tired or burnt out after it all, he obviously gives the best cuddles!

“baby, just one more question, and then you get 10 minutes of couch cuddles until we start the next unit,” nico would encourage you, knowing how frustrated and tired you’re becoming.

“nico i don’t want to do anymore tonight, we’ve been at it for three hours already. can’t we just called it quits after this last question?” you’d whine, ready to just drop out altogether, tired of spending every free moment you have doing homework.

he knows he shouldn’t have caved earlier, letting himself get too carried away when he decided to give you three kisses instead of one when you managed to get ten questions right in a row. the result was a thirty minute make out session that neither of you wanted to cut short, but he fought tooth and nail to get you back on track.

he mulls the thought over, knowing you’re getting antsy and ready to pack everything up for the night, but also knowing how much you’ve been stressing over this test and wanting to help you go into it as confident as you can.

“give me five more questions and we’ll call it a night, deal?” he tries to compromise with you, knowing you’ll complain all day tomorrow if you quit right now.

you roll your eyes and groan at him, throwing a silent fit with the look on your face.

“okay, five more questions then we put everything away and i’ll lay with you on the couch and rub your back while we watch dancing with the stars reruns,” he offers, using your current fixation show against you.

you perk up at the offer, always having to beg and plead for him to even watch one episode with you because ‘why would i want to watch a bunch of washed up celebrities do ballroom dances poorly?’

“deal,” you decide to agree to his terms, readying yourself for a night of cuddles and ripped men with no shirts on.

chuckling, nico picks your flash cards back up and goes through the next five questions with you, smiling proudly when you get all five right.

“eeek! okay, now hurry up and help me clean the couch off, we have a rumba to watch!!” you’d cheer, excited to finally relax with your study buddy.

once the materials are all out of sight and you’re pressed against nico on the couch, you find yourself drifting off to sleep sooner than you wanted, your brain tired after all of thinking you made it do.

“what if i wake up tomorrow and forget everything we just went over,” you mumble into nico’s chest, feeling the rumbles of laughter that erupt at your question.

“baby, i don’t think you’re gonna forget everything. you’ll remember why bruno only gave derek and his partner an 8 instead of a 10,” he jokes, upset that he’s actually managed to get partially invested in this show.

“maybe if they converted the material into judges speeches delivered by bruno tonioli, then i wouldn’t even have to study. the initial delivery would be enough to stick in my brain for forever,” you groggily replied, nuzzling your head further into nico’s chest.

he shook his head and rolled his eyes at you, even though you couldn’t see him because yours were already closed. he knows you’re the smartest person he’s ever met, and you’ll do fine on this test and all of the future ones you have to take.

but he won’t ever let you forget that he helped, claiming he should get his own form of rewards for doing half of the work with you.

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Heart Full of You

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: When Spencer goes to pick Henry up from school for JJ, he doesn't expect to fall head-over-heels for his teacher

Warnings: Mentions of guns, I think that's it?

Word Count: 4541

Author's Note: I don't really like the ending I have here, but I'd LOVE to continue writing this universe, I have so many ideas!

“Fate shuffles the cards and we play.” ~Arthur Schopenhauer

~

Spencer walked through the doors of Henry and Jack’s school and headed toward the theater. JJ and Hotch had signed the boys up for the school district’s musical and had asked Spencer to pick them up. JJ and Will had their Thursday date night, and Hotch was stuck in the office. Spencer was more than happy to agree. He slipped into the auditorium and took a seat at the back, since he was still pretty early. 

He saw a younger woman, probably in her early 20s, at the front of the auditorium with a clipboard and tape measure. She was presumably taking the students’ measurements for costumes while the instructor up on the stage led the children through the dance steps. The man he knew to be one of the high school teachers sat in the middle of the front row, making notes in a book. 

The dance instructor clapped as the song ended. “Okay, everyone, that’s the choreo for the day. I’ll turn you over to Mr. Meadows.” She nodded to the teacher in the front row. 

“Thank you Miss (Y/N). Take a water break, everyone, we’re back in five.”

A small chorus of “thank you five” was heard from the older students as the kids dispersed off the stage. The woman, Miss (Y/N) as Mr. Meadows had called her, hopped off the stage with ease and joined the younger woman who was taking a high schooler’s measurements. 

“Okay, folks, let’s bring it back!” Mr. Meadows called. “Take your seats, please. I won’t keep you too much longer, I just want to go over today’s notes.” Spencer noticed the monotonous tone of his voice and the elementary schoolers’ attentions already fading. “First, I need my principles, minus Jack and Red, right at 3 tomorrow. Do not be late. Evan, that means you. We have vocal work to do with Ms. (Y/N) and I do not want to waste her time. The rest of my high school cast, 3:30. Next, principles, do your linework. The sooner you start, the easier things will be later. Finally, my junior cast, don’t forget to see Ms. (Y/N) and Ms. Addi with your grown-up before you leave. And with that, I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

Henry ran over to Spencer, his overly large backpack thumping against his back. Jack walked behind him, dragging his bag behind him. 

“Uncle Spencer!”

“Hey, kiddos!” Spencer said, kneeling down to catch the incoming Henry in a hug. Before he knew what was happening, Henry was dragging him towards the two women at the front of the auditorium. 

“Miss (Y/N)!”

“Hey, Henry! Hi, Jack! You boys find your grownups?” the dance instructor asked him. Her clothes reminded Spencer of the teacher on that Magic School Bus show Henry liked. Her pants were covered in music notes and she wore large, dangle feather earrings.

Henry nodded. “Uh-huh! This is my Uncle Spencer!”

You looked at Spencer and smiled. “Well, while I talk to your uncle, why don’t you go let Miss Addi take your measurements for your costume?”

Once Henry bounded over to the young woman with a clipboard, Jack following close behind, Spencer said, “Uh, my name’s Spencer Reid. I’m an authorized pick-up for both Henry Lamontagne and Jack Hotchner. I’ll be bringing him home today, too.”

“Uh, Hotchner, Hotchner,” you muttered under your breath, flipping through the clipboard in your hands. “Ah, here he is. I just need your signature next to both children’s names, Mr. Reid.”

“Oh, uh, of course.” He took the clipboard and pen from you. “So, are you new to the district? I don’t remember seeing you around before.”

“Oh, no,” you said with a laugh. “No, I’m here on a volunteer basis, technically. Been working with the theater department for six years, but I’m not on their payroll. I actually work-”

“Can we go get pizza now?” Henry asked Spencer, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. 

“Ooh, a pizza party? You must be the fun uncle,” you said. 

Spencer’s face flushed and cleared his throat. “Uh, s-sure, Henry. We’ll get it on the way home.”

“Bye, Miss (Y/N)!” Henry said, wildly waving his arm. 

“Bye, Henry, bye Jack. I’ll see you boys on Monday.”

Spencer watched you for just a moment longer as another child and her guardian approached you. 

~

The team was reviewing a local case. 3 women were killed, all dressed in period clothing. 

“You think he’s making them look like Jack the Ripper’s victims? I mean, their throats are slashed and they’re dressed in Victorian clothing.” Morgan suggested. “And we know the victims are low-risk, victims of opportunity.”

“I don’t know,” Reid muttered, scrutinizing the crime scene photos. “Something about the clothes feels off.”

“The clothes are the key. Something about them will lead us to him,” Rossi said.

“Reid, you and Callahan look into the clothing more. Dave, you and Morgan go to the latest crime scene. JJ, you’re with me. We need to build a geological profile.” After Hotch gave the assignments, the team dispersed. Spencer and Kate Callahan stayed in the briefing room, looking over the photos. 

“What if we have an expert look at the clothes?” Kate suggested. “See if anything sticks out to them? There’s a professor at the university that’s known for her dissertation on historical clothing.”

~

“Now, if you look at contemporary theater, you’ll notice huge differences in how typical gender roles are portrayed. Unlike the standard Golden Age piece, women are given more agency and more purpose in the story besides furthering the objective of the man. For example, West Side Story versus Hairspray. Even though both shows center on a woman, it’s Tracy’s will that drives the plot of Hairspray whereas Maria’s will does not drive West Side Story. This goes back to our discussion earlier in the semester regarding protagonists. However, we do see a shift during the Golden Age, in that women are beginning to be fleshed out as characters. Compare the women in Allegro to the women in Gypsy. As we progress through to the contemporary age, we begin to see more female-led shows take stage.” You glanced at your watch and sighed. “And that is where we will pick up next class. Please remember to read chapters 13 and 14 in your text. If you have any questions, you know where to find me.”

Your class gathered their belongings and slowly made their way out of the room. You were tucking your own belongings into your bag when you felt someone approach the desk. 

“Office hours are at- Oh, hello.” When you looked up, a woman was standing in front of you, presenting an FBI badge. 

“Dr. (L/N), my name is SSA Kate Callahan, and this is my partner Dr. Spencer Reid.” Standing behind her was a man you recognized from the school. He was the uncle Henry Lamontagne talked about all the time. “We were hoping you’d be willing to give us your professional opinion on some clothing pieces.”

“Oh, well, uh, sure. Let me just email my next class and let them know it’s canceled.” 

As you pulled your laptop out from your bag, Agent Callahan asked, “Don’t you have a TA that could take over?”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m a professor in the theatre department. I’m lucky I have my own workshop and somewhat of a budget during show season.” You typed up a quick email to your next class and sent it. “I usually work in my shop instead of my office, but-”

“Wherever is most comfortable for you,” Agent Callahan said. “We have some pictures that are… well, gruesome.”

You nodded. “Well, then, to the dungeons it is.” At the concerned look the agents gave each other, you said, “My workshop is in the basement. My students affectionately christened it the dungeons a few years ago. I hope you don’t mind a few sets of stairs.”

“Lead the way,” Dr. Reid said. 

Getting down to the costume shop was like a quest on its own. Not only did you have to trudge down several staircases from the classroom floors, but then you had to use your ID to take the elevator the rest of the way down. When you finally reached the basement, you dug your key hoop out of your bag and flicked through it. The key to the main portion of your shop was attached to a Phantom of the Opera keychain. 

You unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Welcome to my shop. Feel free to sit wherever you can. If there’s stuff on a chair, just set it on a workbench.” As you set your bag down at the desk in the corner, Spencer looked around the room. It could be accurately described as organized chaos. While the work benches were covered in fabrics, thread, and many other things Spencer didn’t know the names of, everywhere else was meticulously organized. Bins and drawers were labeled, and not a thing seemed out of place. Spencer looked at the dress hanging on a mannequin and couldn't think of it as anything other than a work of art. There was elaborate beading on the bodice and embroidery on the skirt.

“So, what can I help you with?” you asked as Kate and Spencer got settled. 

“We were hoping you could tell us about the outfits in these pictures,” Spencer said, pulling a file out from his satchel. “Fair warning, it’s not pleasant.”

You shrugged. “I grew up with a mom obsessed with crime shows and police procedurals. Pictures won’t bother me.” 

Spencer handed you the file folder. “We think he’s dressing them up like Jack the Ripper’s victims.”

You hummed as you looked through the pictures. “Any idea what kind of fabric was used?”

“Why does that matter?” Kate asked.

“Well, cotton was a luxury in Victorian London,” you explained. “Most common folk wore linen or wool, because it was what they could afford. It was also common to patch up clothing with fabric found around the house rather than replace a shirt or a pair of trousers.” You grabbed a magnifier from your desk and looked closer at one of the photos. 

“Do you see something?” Spencer asked as you moved to another picture. 

“I’m not sure,” you said. 

“Well, what is your gut telling you?” Callahan asked. 

You pointed toward a small section of embroidery through the magnifier. “This stitching along the underside of the skirt. It’s on all of them.”

Kate’s eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a signature. Us designers like to add some sort of signature or tell into all our pieces. A secret way of letting the world know the piece is ours.” You reached across the desk and grabbed a piece of fabric. When you unfolded it, they saw it was a shirt. You held the edge of the sleeve out for the agents to see. “For example, I use a treble clef as mine. My mentor would include Mickey Mouse heads because she was a huge Disney fan. Other people just find creative ways to embroider their initials onto it in a way that just looks like an artistic choice.” 

“So, if we can find out whose signature it is, it can lead us to the origin of the outfits,” Spencer said. 

“I’ll call Garcia, see what she can find.” Callahan said.

“Oh, we don’t get cell service down here, you might need to go back upstairs,” you told her. She nodded and stepped out of the workshop. You cleared your throat. “It’s, uh, it’s nice to see you again, Dr. Reid.”

“You, too,” Spencer said with a small smile. “So, this is where you actually work, huh?”

You gave a small laugh. “Yep. Start of this semester was 7 years.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks. So-”

“Reid. Hotch wants us back. Rossi and Morgan might have something. Thank you for your help, Dr. (L/N).”

“Of course. Happy to help.”

After Callahan and Reid left the costume shop, Kate said, “Okay, spill. The energy in there was really weird. Why didn’t you tell me you knew her?”

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh, I didn’t know I knew her.” At Kate's questioning look, he explained, “I met her through my godson. She volunteers at his school and goes by her first name there.”

“Uh-huh. And the awkwardness?”

“When have you known me to not be awkward, Callahan?”

Kate hummed, but dropped it.

~

You were humming along to the soundtrack you had playing, measuring a drape of fabric on your dress form, pins sticking out from your mouth. You glanced from your notebook with your measurements and pattern sketch to the fabric. You pinned a piece of the cloth up when you heard a knock at the door to your shop. 

“Come in,” you said, your voice muffled from the pins. You stuck them back in the pin cushion on your wrist before standing up and dusting off your pants. “Oh, Dr. Reid! How can I help you?”

“You, um, you can call me Spencer,” he said. “I uh, I wanted to stop by and tell you we caught the guy,” Spencer said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “We-we couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure you would have figured it out anyway. The BAU seems to be good at that kind of thing.”

Spencer gave a small laugh. “Yes, but your help enabled us to track him down without any more lives lost.” So, what are you working on?”

“Oh, I’m making one of Eponine’s dresses. We’re doing Les Mis this semester. I have Cosette’s dress on Cordelia over there.”

“Who?”

“Oh, sorry. The dress form. We named them after Shakespearian women. It’s just a fun little thing we do here. That’s Cordelia, this one by me is Rosalind.”

Spencer smiled. You know, maybe you could tell me more about what exactly your job is at dinner?” Before you could answer, Spencer said, “Obviously, you don’t have to, I’m not trying to force you into anything, I-”

“Spencer,” you said, holding your hand up to calm him. “I’d love to go out with you. Here-” You walked over to your desk and shuffled papers around. “Aha!” You grabbed a pen and scribbled something down. “My personal number. That way we can, you know, figure out something that works with both our schedules. I’m sure yours is even crazier and more unpredictable than mine.”

The smile you gave Spencer lit a warmth in his chest that he didn’t think he would ever get tired of. 

~

“Pretty Boy! Tonight, drinks on me.”

“Oh, uh, no thanks, Morgan.”

“No, no, no, you can’t just stay in when we finally have a Friday night off. You’re coming.”

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to- I mean, I don’t, but it’s not just that. I, um, I already have plans.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll see you all on Monday.” He grabbed his satchel and rushed out of the BAU office. 

Morgan’s brow furrowed as he watched Spencer’s retreating form. 

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked. 

“Remember the last time Reid was this jittery and secretive?”

She sighed. “You know I do.”

“What happened last time?” Kate asked. 

“Maeve,” Garcia answered, her voice just above a whisper. 

“We have to find out what’s going on with him,” Derek decided.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary-”

“Let’s follow him,” Garcia cut Kate off. “See where he’s going, what he’s up to.”

~

“That can’t be true!” Spencer laughed. “There’s no way!”

You were laughing too. “I’m serious! I stapled the sleeve of my sweater to the set piece we were building and I didn’t notice until we were ready to lift it into place! They wouldn’t let me in the wood shop after that.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling the whole night. You were funny, smart, and everything he could hope for. 

“So, how did you end up working with the school district?”

“My niece,” you explained. “Her senior year, their regular choreographer went on maternity leave. The district said if they couldn’t find someone to fill the role, they would cut the play. Julia called me melting down over it, begging me to volunteer. And, you know, I’ve never been able to say no to my nieces and nephews. After that production, we found out that the choreographer was quitting to be a stay-at-home mom, so I agreed to be the regular choreographer on a volunteer basis. Then the next year, their costume connections fell through. I worked through the university to provide costumes, which is how the internship program started. This year, I’m just filling in on vocal directing while the choir director is out on medical leave. And Into the Woods is one of my favorites to sing anyway. So, what about you? How’d you end up working for the FBI?”

While Spencer told you about going to college at 12 and meeting Gideon, Morgan, Garcia, and JJ were sitting at a nearby table, hiding behind menus. 

“Who is she?” Garcia asked, trying to get a better look at you. Your back was to their table.

“I don’t know. Never seen her before.”

JJ squinted. “Something about her seems familiar.”

Before they could do more digging, a waiter came over to take their orders. When the waiter left, Spencer’s table was empty. 

“Where did they-”

Spencer walked up to their table, arms crossed against his chest. “Really, guys? Did you think you were being discreet?”

“Kid, look-”

“You were being all secretive, we were worried about you!” Garcia cut in.

Spencer sighed and dropped his arms. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. I just- We’re all so in each other’s business, and this is so new I-”

“You wanted to keep it to yourself,” JJ said. “We get it. Looks like she’s coming back from the bathroom. We’ll get out of your hair.”

“But-”

“Come on, Pen. I’m sure he’ll tell us all about it on Monday. Right, Spence?”

Spencer smiled. “Sure, Jayje.”

~

Phone calls with your family always stressed you out. It wasn’t that you had issues with your family, it was just that they always seemed to be up in your business. And that held true for your monthly family dinner.

“(Y/N/N), I’m telling you, you’d get along great with this guy,” your older sister, Maria, said. You were over at her house for dinner, your parents and other two siblings video-calling from their respective locations. “I know you feel like ‘the universe and fate will align’ and introduce you to your soulmate or some shit, but that’s not really how the world works.”

You sighed. “Maria-”

“Come on, you haven’t dated anyone since college!”

“Because I haven’t had any interest. Liz, back me up here,” you said to your younger sister, who was feeding her twin toddlers. 

“What?”

You shook your head. “Never mind. Can we just change the subject, please? Tommy, how’s school going?” you asked your younger brother, the youngest in the family. You could tell he was only half paying attention from his dorm room. “What classes are you taking this semester?”

“Maria’s right, sweetheart,” your mother said. “How will you ever meet someone without putting yourself out there?”

“Ma-”

“I mean, you’re not getting any younger-”

“I have a boyfriend, okay, Ma? I don’t need your help!”

Your family fell silent. 

“You have a boyfriend?” Liz was the first to speak. “What’s his name? Where did you meet? How long have you been together? How-”

“Elizabeth, let her breathe!” your father said with a laugh. “We’re happy for you, pumpkin. Tell us about him. At your pace, of course.”

You smiled and told them about Spencer. Only after promising to bring him to the next real family dinner did they relent and change the subject, pestering your little brother about his college classes.

~

You and Spencer were a damn near perfect match. After that first date, the two of you barely went a day without calling or texting each other. When he was in town and not across the country on a case, he would bring you lunch. You’d frequently stay over at each others’ apartments. Months into your relationship, you knew each other better than yourselves.

Which is why, when you didn’t answer your phone on a Saturday afternoon when the team got back from a case, Spencer was concerned. He made his way to your apartment and fished the spare key you’d given him out of his pocket. He pushed your door open.

“(Y/N)? Love?” He walked into your apartment, which was unusually messy. Scraps of fabric were littered around the room, and music was blasting from your home office. “(Y/N)?”

You came rushing out of your kitchen, your hair a wild mess and your oversized pajama top drooping from your shoulder. You skidded to a halt. 

“Spencer! What are you doing here?”

“We just got in from the case. I tried calling-”

“You did?”

“-to see if you wanted to grab dinner.” You pulled your phone from your sweatpants pocket and saw the 3 missed calls from Spencer. “Are you okay? What’s going on? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

You sighed. “I haven’t. I’ve been working nonstop. I need to make the mask for the Wolf, the Witch's coat, and Enjolras and the other revolutionary’s waistcoats, and my sister asked me to make a dress for her coworker’s daughter’s quinceanera and-”

“Whoa, whoa, hey. Breathe.” He cupped your face in his hands. “You need to stop working yourself so hard,” he said, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb. 

“Says the man who overworked himself so much he developed chronic migraines.” At his raised eyebrow, you said, “Sorry.”

He smiled softly and kissed your forehead. “Why don’t you let me help you out a bit? Give me instructions, I’m a quick learner.”

You reached up and pulled his hands from your face. “Spencer. As much as I absolutely treasure and adore you, the thought of you seeing the absolute disaster that is my home workshop right now is literally the most terrifying thing I can imagine. More terrifying than you meeting my family. Which, by the way, my mom is insistent that you come to Thanksgiving this year.” You yawned and leaned your head against his chest. 

“We can talk about that later.” He kissed the top of your head. “How about now, into bed? You’re dead on your feet, love.” When you only nodded, Spencer led you to your bedroom. 

After getting you settled in your bed, Spencer went to stand up. You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Stay,” you mumbled, tugging him towards your bed.

The next morning, Spencer walked into the round-table room late. 

“Well, look who’s wearing the same clothes,” Derek said. “Fun night?”

“Shut up, Morgan,” Spencer said, taking a sip of his coffee. 

Hotch looked over Reid before saying, “As I was saying, Indianapolis needs us to write up a consult. Garcia is passing around the case file.”

~

Spencer was filling out paperwork at his desk when his phone started ringing. “Dr. Spencer Reid.” He froze as he heard the person on the other end of the line. “Oh- oh my god. Yeah, yeah, no, I’ll be right there. Uh, thank you.” He slammed the phone down and started gathering his belongings. 

“What’s wrong, Reid?” JJ asked, watching Spencer cram a folder into his satchel.

“(Y/N)’s at the police station.”

You were walking home from the fabric supply store when a young man stopped you. He couldn’t have been older than 20. He pulled a gun and pointed it at you. 

“Give me your purse,” he said. You saw the way his hand was wavering.

You straightened up. “No.”

“You-you can’t say no! I-I have a gun!”

You just blinked at the man- practically a boy. Then you kicked him in the groin, causing him to drop the gun as his hands flew to cup his injury. You pressed your foot on top of the gun, preventing him from picking it back up, then you dialed the police. 

They brought you to the station to give a statement. You were sitting next to one of the detective’s desks when Spencer ran in. 

“(Y/N)! Are you okay? What happened?”

The detective nodded at you and gestured toward where Reid had come from, indicating you were free to go. 

You shrugged at Spencer. “Some punk-ass kid tried to mug me. Had a gun and everything.”

“What?”

“It’s fine, I knew he wasn’t gonna go through with it.”

“How could you possibly have known that?”

“Spence, I’m from Philly. It’s not the first time someone’s tried to mug me at gunpoint.”

His eyes went wide as saucers. “That doesn’t make it better!”

You smiled and kissed Spencer’s cheek before taking his hand. “I’m fine. Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Of course, (Y/N). I love you.” Your smile widened as Spencer’s face started to pale. “I mean, uh-”

“I love you too, Spence. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

~

“Okay, closing night,” Mr. Meadows said, addressing the students, all in their brightly colored costumes. “I’m incredibly proud of all of you for making it this far. This is our last show, you’ve all done great so far. Go out there and give them one last show to remember. Now, before we get in places, Ms. (Y/N) is going to lead you through a vocal warm-up.”

“Thanks, Mr. Meadows,” you said, taking your spot in front of the group. “Okay, guys, you know the drill. Repeat after me, then all together.” You took a deep breath before leading, “To sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock, in a pestilential prison with a lifelong lock, awaiting the sensation of a short sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block.”

After the cast ran through their warm-up, you said, “I’m so proud of all of you. Go out there and break legs. I’ll see you all after at intermission.” You waved before slipping from backstage, making your way to the lobby. 

It wasn’t often that you got to just sit and enjoy the hard work your students put in, but one of your interns was staying backstage in case of any costume emergencies. You spotted Spencer in the crowd and wove through everyone to get to him. With him were Henry’s parents, Jack’s father and aunt, as well as the rest of the BAU team. 

“Hey,” Spencer said, grabbing your hand and giving you a quick kiss. “Glad you could join us.”

“Me, too,” you said as you slowly made your way into the auditorium to find your seats. “It’s gonna be nice to just enjoy the show for once.”

As the show began, you felt Spencer looking at you.

"What?" you whispered.

"Nothing. The costumes are beautiful. You're an artist."

Your cheeks flushed at his words. You took his hand in yours and rested your head on his shoulder.

Like Cinderella and her prince, Spencer was your happily ever after.

[lucysgraybird]

modern!university!coriolanus x fem!reader. part 2 here, part 3 here

notes: this is not set in panem -- if you're looking for a vibe, think harvard/uchicago/any of the old-guard, upper echelon US universities. i have another part in the works that i'll post tomorrow or thursday. also i promise that they both have some crazy in them . It will appear in later parts

“Please remember that I cannot accept late work for this essay,” your professor says as everyone packs up. “The deadline is the deadline for work for the semester, so everything has to be submitted by then. This includes any outstanding work you might have.”

She shoots a look at a boy in the front row when she says that, and he bows his head.

“Have a wonderful weekend, and I'll see you all Monday.”

You shove your laptop in your bag, sling it across your body, and make a beeline for the exit. This is your last class of the day and you have no intention of spending any more time in a lecture hall than you have to. Just as you're about to leave the building, someone catches you by the shoulder and pulls you back.

“Excuse you,” you mutter, turning to see who would do something so…well, to put it diplomatically, bold.

There stands a boy with a shock of hair so blonde it's nearly white and eyes so blue they're nearly translucent. It would be eerie if he didn't wear it well: angular and bright, it's like he's been carved from the purest block of ice. His pale features are offset by the rich ruby of his sweater. He looks royal, though you'd think a prince wouldn't go around grabbing girls by their arms.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I've been wanting to talk to you for weeks, but you always fly out of the building and I didn't want to miss you this time.”

“Talk to me? About what?”

God willing, not about some group project that had slipped your mind. You're so careful about organization, but sometimes things slip through the cracks.

“Would you like to go out with me?”

“Who are you?”

His eyebrows (the only dark thing on his face) twitch, and you wonder if he's so arrogant as to assume you'd know who he is. He doesn't say anything, though, just extending a hand to you.

“Coriolanus Snow. Pleasure.”

You shake his hand, finding the official-ness of it a little odd. When you open your mouth to introduce yourself, he stops you.

“I realize this is going to sound…odd, but I do know who you are. You're the only person I listen to in that insipid class.”

“Oh.”

Because honestly, what are you supposed to say to that?

“Let me take you to dinner, please,” Coriolanus says. “At least for the conversation.”

Your pause must spur him on, because he continues, “And you're gorgeous. Honestly, you caught my eye before you even started speaking, and then…well.”

He's very forward, but it doesn't come off as desperate. He carries himself with such a confident air that if he hadn't tried to be suave, it would've been more awkward.

You allow yourself to be flattered, offering him a soft laugh. His poise must be a front, at least a little, and you can put up a façade too.

“Why, thank you, Coriolanus. I'd love to go out with you, but I'm so busy with finals coming up…”

This is partly true – you're taking the maximum number of credits your advisor would let you, which is over the credit load the school has set, so you have a good deal of work to do. However, you're not above playing a little hard-to-get, especially if you are interested in the person. Half the fun of a hunt is the chase.

“All the more reason to go out. I know a spot if you're free tonight – one more bit of fun before hitting the books?”

“What kind of fun, Mr. Snow?”

“Well, we'll see where the night takes us, if that's a yes.”

It can't hurt, right?

“It's a yes. I'll text you my address?” You extend your phone to him, a delicate smile gracing your lips.

“Perfect,” he says, putting in his number. “I'll pick you up at 7:30. Wear something nice.”

“Where are we going?”

“A surprise, but it's very classy. You'll love it.”

You can't wait to look this guy up when you get home. “I'm looking forward to it. See you tonight."

“See you tonight.”

—

“Classy” is an unhelpful dress code, you're discovering. It refers to such a range of places, so you're left to take a guess and hope you don't make some sort of grave faux pas. You're limited in being overdressed as a university student, so you select the nicest thing you brought from home. It's a wine-coloured dress that skims just the middle of your calves, with a cowl at the neck and a sweeping back that shows a tasteful (yet tempting, you hope) amount of skin. With a thin necklace and some earrings, you could fit in at most “nice” restaurants that would be appropriate for a first date with a nigh-stranger.

At 7:25, you slip on your coat and heels and head down to the lobby of your apartment building. Something tells you that Coriolanus has a tendency towards extreme punctuality, so you'd rather not keep him waiting a moment.

Just as you suspected, at 7:30 exactly the silhouette of a tall man appears at your door and your phone buzzes with a text.

Coriolanus Snow: I'm here.

When you open the door, he is, indeed, there, holding a bouquet of white roses and wearing a red vest and slacks with a white dress shirt. He is nothing if not coordinated, you suppose.

“Ah,” he says. “Hello. These are for you.”

It is a lovely gesture, and it garners a genuine blush from you while you accept the bouquet. “Thank you. They're gorgeous. I didn't even know they made white roses.”

He offers his elbow to you, which you accept. Though it's odd, there's something sweet about his anachronistic nature. You, like any college girl, have had many a bad first date, and it's pleasant to have one with a man who is, at the least, polite.

“My grandmother grows them. I dropped by and picked these up on my way here. You look wonderful, by the way.”

“Oh! Thank you. I wasn't quite sure what to wear because I don't know where we're going, so I'm glad I chose well.” You glance over at his outfit. “We match, sort of.”

“So we do.”

He smiles in a way that's almost indescribable – it's not quite aloof, though it has some of the same calculation behind it. It actually feels incredibly personal, and sets your heart racing. Why this boy gets under your skin the way he does – the way no one has before – is something you have yet to discover.

Your walk with him ends at a black car, for which he opens the back door and allows you to climb in before following you. A scan of social media earlier had turned up tragically few results, and every single thing Coriolanus does makes you more curious about him. He settles next to you.

“So are you a polisci major, or are you just taking the one class?” You ask, unwilling to let silence be for more than a moment.

“Polisci and philosophy,” he replies. “My goal is law school directly after college, and then politics.”

“I should've guessed,” you say.

“Oh?”

“Not in a bad way. Just…you're very smooth. Well-spoken, attractive, all of that. You'd do well in politics.”

The corners of his lips turn in a slight smile. “You think I'm attractive?”

You laugh. “I certainly do, Coriolanus. I do have standards, you know.”

“Then I'm very glad I'm meeting them. Are you looking to do politics too, then, or…?”

“Honestly, not right now. I think I might stick to academia for a while. I don't have the stomach for pandering that you have to have for politics.”

“It's my least favourite part, honestly. I did some work for a senator last summer and the endless word-parsing drove me insane. No one ever says what they mean.”

“Right. The image of it all is fun, though. Like playing a character. But you don't have to do politics to do that.”

Coriolanus nudges his knee against yours. “Are you putting on an image for me right now?”

“A lady never tells. Are you putting on one for me?”

When you turn, he's a lot closer than you expected. You can see the spires in his irises, like cracked moonstones, and can smell his cologne: whiskey and spice and something woody, clean.

“You'll just have to find out,” he says, his voice low in his chest. It's said as a secret – there's no one else in the car, but it's as though if he says it too loud the leather of the seats might remember. These words were for your ears only, the rumble meant to coast across just your skin, and you shudder.

[latenightreadingpdf]

Hidden in Plain Sight (2) - Dave Lizewski

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖⋆ Part 1 ⋆˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖⋆ Part 3 ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: When Y/S/N saves Kick-Ass from a dangerous situation, he becomes obsessed with trying to uncover her true identity. Little does he know, Y/S/N is a girl from his school who secretly has a crush on him as well. As they patrol together, their worlds collide in ways neither expected, leading to a surprising revelation about who's really behind the mask.

Y/S/N - Your superhero name

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Monday couldn’t have come fast enough. Dave was jittery with excitement and nerves as he met up with Todd and Marty outside school. Clutching his hastily scribbled list of suspects, he gave the rundown.

"Alright, guys, these are the girls who could be her. We’ll watch them, check out their voices, see if anything clicks. If one looks even a little familiar from the other night, I’ll try to talk to her after class."

Todd smirked, looking over the list. "You’re gonna stare down all these girls and hope one of them gives you a hint?”

"Exactly," Dave nodded, grinning. "This’ll work. It has to.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

In first period, Dave’s mission began. The first girl on the list, Emily Sanders, sat two rows ahead of him. He stared at her intently, trying to imagine her face under Y/S/N’s mask. She had dark hair, like Y/S/N, but she looked over her shoulder at him with a disgusted expression and promptly switched seats.

Strike one.

In the next class, he focused on Lisa Connelly, suspect number two. Every time she moved or talked, Dave leaned a little closer, hoping to catch some flash of familiarity. Eventually, Lisa’s friend whispered something to her, and she gave Dave a strange look before moving to a different part of the room.

Strike two.

The third girl, Brianna Torres, noticed his staring almost immediately. After class, he mustered up the courage to talk to her, but she barely let him get a word in before brushing past him, muttering, “Creep.”

At the end of the day, Dave regrouped with Todd and Marty as they walked home, pulling out his list with a sigh. “I crossed three off today,” he said, folding the list back up.

Todd nodded. “Marty and I managed to cross one off too. I guess she’s not Susie. That leaves… what, three?”

Dave nodded, relieved. "Right. We’ll hit those three tomorrow. We’re close, I can feel it.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

That night, he suited up in his Kick-Ass costume, the mask and jumpsuit a comfort now as he headed out on patrol. The list was still gnawing at the back of his mind, though, as he roamed the city streets, keeping an eye out for any sign of trouble—or maybe even a glimpse of Y/S/N.

And just like clockwork, her voice called out from behind him.

“Hey, Kick-Ass.”

He whirled around, trying not to look as startled as he felt, hands suddenly sweaty under his gloves. “H—hey,” he managed, aiming for casual but landing somewhere between awkward and shaky.

She walked up beside him, giving him a friendly nod as they began to patrol together in easy silence.

After a bit of small talk about superhero stuff, he started throwing out questions, subtle but probing, hoping they’d reveal something about her identity. But she sidestepped each one with a smooth answer, too clever to let anything slip.

Eventually, a small lull fell over the conversation. Dave’s mind raced, wanting to ask something—anything—that would get him closer to figuring out who she was. Then, before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “So, uh… how’s it going with that Dave guy from your school?”

She let out a soft laugh behind her mask. “Oh, that? You don’t want to hear about my dumb crush.”

“No!” he said, maybe a bit too loudly, his voice cracking as he stumbled to recover. “I mean, I want to help. You know… give some advice, or whatever.”

She glanced at him, the amusement clear in her eyes even with her mask on. “Alright. I mean, I’d love some advice, but… I don’t think he likes me back anyway.”

“What? No way! You’re—you’re amazing! Like, I don’t think anyone wouldn’t like you,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could think.

“Thanks,” she replied softly. Then her voice took on a more teasing tone, as if she knew something he didn’t. “But it doesn’t help that he’s been staring at a bunch of other girls in class. It’s like he doesn’t even notice me.”

Dave swallowed, the heat rising to his cheeks. “Oh… uh… really?”

“Mhm,” she said, and there was a smile in her tone. “I sit near him in calculus. Not that I pay much attention—I’m usually too busy looking at him to focus on anything else.”

His mind spun as he absorbed her words. Calculus… that narrowed it down a lot. And then it hit him. Y/N. She sat right near him in calculus. His heart nearly skipped a beat.

Holy crap, it’s Y/N! How did I not figure this out sooner?

As the realization sank in, his nerves took over. He didn’t know what came over him, but he started stumbling over his words, trying to come up with a quick excuse. “Uh—um, yeah, s-sorry I’ve got to go… um… feed my cat! Yeah, feed my cat. She’s probably hungry. But uh… you should talk to Dave! To see if he likes you back.”

Before she could respond, he took off running, practically tripping over his feet in his rush to get away. “I’ll, uh, see you around!”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When he got home, Dave immediately grabbed his phone, texting Todd and Marty.

Dave: Guys… I figured out who Y/S/N is.

Todd: Seriously? Who?

Dave: Y/N. You know, the Y/N from our calc class.

Marty: No way. Isn’t she, like, super hot?

Todd: Dude, how the hell did you manage to get someone like her into you? That’s insane.

Dave rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the goofy grin on his face. After shutting off his phone, he lay in bed, his mind spinning. He’d done it. He’d actually figured out who Y/S/N was. And more than that… she liked him, even when he was just awkward, nerdy Dave.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm down, but sleep wouldn’t come. All he could think about was Y/N—her laugh, her teasing, and, most of all, the fact that she was hiding right under his nose all along.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The next morning, Dave woke up with a renewed sense of purpose—and anxiety. Today, he was going to talk to Y/N. For once, he put a bit more effort into his appearance, doing his hair carefully and choosing an outfit that looked cooler than his usual. He even checked himself in the mirror before leaving, feeling oddly confident.

As soon as he got to school, he found Todd and Marty, who were waiting to discuss the plan.

“So, how are you gonna talk to her?” Todd asked, nudging him.

“Yeah, like, you actually need to have a game plan,” Marty added.

Before he could answer, Todd’s eyes widened, and he slapped Dave’s shoulder. “Dude, there she is! At her locker. Right now.”

Dave’s stomach did a nervous flip as he looked over to see Y/N grabbing her books from her locker. She looked effortlessly perfect, and he suddenly felt like he had no idea what he was doing.

“Holy shit, what do I even say?” he muttered, feeling himself start to freak out.

“Just go talk to her!” Todd whisper-shouted, nudging him forward.

But as they all panicked in silence, Y/N shut her locker and walked away toward her class. The three of them deflated, watching her go.

“Damn it!” Dave sighed, running a hand over his face.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

By the time calculus class rolled around, Dave was still on edge. When he walked in, he saw Y/N already seated and scrolling through her phone. He’d been planning all morning to talk to her before class, but now that she was right there, the nerves came rushing back. He chickened out and went straight to his seat, cursing himself internally.

But damn, she looked good.

Throughout the class, he found himself glancing her way, completely forgetting where he was. It was like she was the only person in the room, and every time she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear or shifted in her seat, he’d find himself staring all over again.

When the bell rang, Dave started gathering his stuff, still kicking himself for not making a move. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone approaching him. He looked up, and his heart nearly stopped.

It was her.

“Hey, Dave,” Y/N said with a sweet smile, her voice soft.

“H-hey, Y/N. What’s up?” he replied, hoping he sounded calm.

She looked a little shy, almost as if she were working up the courage to ask him something. “Um, I’m not doing too well in this class, and the teacher mentioned you’re, like, the best in here. I was hoping you could maybe… tutor me?”

His mind raced. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. He managed to nod, practically shouting, “Uh, y-yeah, of course!”

Y/N giggled, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small piece of paper. “Perfect! Here’s my number. Just text me when you’re free to help.”

She flashed him another smile, thanking him one more time before turning to walk away, a subtle smirk playing at her lips. Dave stared after her, feeling like he’d just ascended to another dimension. He could still smell a hint of her perfume lingering in the air around him, and he was left completely dazed.

Oh god, he thought, staring down at the paper in his hand. I’m so screwed.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

At lunch, Dave clutched the small piece of paper with Y/N’s number in his hand like it was a lifeline. He spotted Todd and Marty at their usual table and dropped into his seat, quieter than usual.

Todd noticed immediately, squinting at him. “Dude, what’s with you? You look… weird.”

Dave took a deep breath and held up the paper. “I got Y/N’s number.”

Both Todd and Marty’s eyes went wide, and they immediately broke out into grins.

“Are you serious?!” Todd said, practically jumping up from his seat.

“It’s not like that!” Dave blurted, trying to stay calm. “She just wants me to tutor her in calc. She thinks I’m good at it or something.”

“Still, that’s her number, man!” Marty elbowed him. “So, what’s your plan? Are you going to flirt with her? Sit super close? Or maybe pull the classic ‘oh no, I forgot my textbook’ move?”

Dave groaned. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I’ll probably just wing it.”

Marty rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause that always works out so well for you.”

“Come on, man!” Dave gave him a slap on the arm. “I’m not that bad at talking to her.”

The boys kept laughing, teasing him over possible things he could say, until eventually they switched to discussing a new comic that had just come out. But while Todd and Marty debated storylines, Dave couldn’t concentrate. His mind was on Y/N—and what he was actually supposed to text her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As soon as Dave got home from school, he went straight to his room, staring down at his phone, crafting the perfect text. His thumbs hovered over the screen before he finally typed:

"Hello, it’s Dave Lizewski from calculus class. Can’t wait to start tutoring you! Are you available after school tomorrow?"

He cringed, instantly deleting it. No, way too eager.

He tried again.

"Hey Y/N, it’s Dave from calc. Did you want to meet up tomorrow after school for tutoring?"

This time, it seemed more casual. He read it over about twenty times, taking a deep breath before finally hitting send. To his surprise, Y/N’s reply came back almost immediately.

Y/N: Hey Dave :) After school works for me. I’ll meet you in the library?

Dave grinned, typing back, “Yeah, sounds good.”

He set his phone down, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. He couldn’t believe it was happening; he was actually going to meet up with Y/N outside of class. But just as he started to relax, he remembered something else—Kick-Ass was due out on the streets tonight, too. And he’d almost definitely run into Y/S/N. Or, well, Y/N.

He let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing his suit and getting ready. How am I supposed to keep this whole thing a secret while tutoring her and fighting crime with her alter ego?

Little did he know, Y/N had already figured it out.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N ~ I got a little carried away while writing so now there’s going to be a part 3

[moonpascal]

Not Again

summary: spiderman ends up on your fire escape…again

warnings: mentions of blood, 18+ reader and peter parker, language, possibly ooc, lots of dialogue, idk what else

any peter parker x f!reader l wc: 780 (thought it was longer)

a/n: rewrote this at least 20 times and this version i’m at least ok with more than the others. considering it’s been in my drafts forever. still new at writing and suck ass at being descriptive as i want to be. hopefully it’s enjoyable, if so leave a like, comment or reblog <3

“I really am sorry for showing up two nights in a row” Spiderman sighed.  

“Ya sure I bet you are, especially after I told you I don’t have a first aid kit or know jack shit about what I'm doing,” you grumbled. It was too late or too early—who the hell knows. All you knew was that you had work in the morning, and poorly assessing the Spiderman was not on your to-do list. 

Lightly dabbing the washcloth against the exposed areas of the suit, careful not to apply too much pressure, but no matter how delicate you were it didn't take the pain away. 

How he managed to land on your fire escape yesterday and to purposely come again tonight was beyond you. Why couldn’t he land somewhere who was a nurse or owned a damn first aid kit! Even though tonight’s assets are not as roughed up as yesterdays. From what you could see, it seems like he healed a bit.

“Just a tip, but you should learn to dodge when someone is coming at you,” you smirked trying to lighten the mood. Being up this early made you delirious when it’s this late at night; anything and everything is funny when it’s two in the morning. He must think you’re pretty funny when he huffs and his shoulders shake a bit before groaning at the movement.

“I got a tip for you and it’s pink.” Heat instantly rushes to your face, the shock evident when you pause. You quirk an eyebrow at him, “That mask confidence really gettin to you, or did you get hit in the head too many times today?”

“Bit of both, I watched this streamer guy and he said it. I’ve been itching to say it.” If he had the mask off you might think he’s smirking at you. But all you get to see is the white lens’s from the suit adjusting looking at you. 

“I’m not surprised, you seem like someone who watches streamers.” He scoffs as you start wringing out the last of the blood from what was a white cloth. There's no point in keeping it now. Sliding out of the dining chair, grabbing the bowl and littered trash accumulated around you guys.

“I do appreciate your help and that I landed on your fire escape.” 

“My sleep says otherwise. How did you end up on mine of all places in the first place?” It’s been running marathons in your head since yesterday's incident. The apartment balcony looked like everyone else’s -plain- and in between levels, not even the top floor. 

“Web snapped, ran out of web fluid last minute,” he shrugged, as if that’s the most normal thing in the world. Web fluid? Like it comes out of him- eww gross—not even gonna think about it. 

Glancing at the stove, the green glow of the clock saying it was indeed time to go back to bed. Having to be up in a few hours for a stupid meeting, that you didn’t have to be there for only to be the office bitch- which isn’t even your job- but it paid wellish. At least enough to afford this place.  

“I’m glad I could be of assistance spidey, you're welcome to my couch, but I’m going to head to bed. I have a long day tomorrow.”

He shifts in the chair before slowly standing up gripping his side. He starts limping towards the window, and groans as he opens the stubborn thing. “See you tomorrow night, my guardian angel.”

“No sir, I won’t be here tomorrow night,”you laughed. Turning all the lights off till you got close to him. You could feel his shock just staring at you even if the mask hid his expression. It’s almost too easy to read him like this. 

“And why not?” He questioned with a hint of too much sass. Popping his hip out and placing his hand there. 

“I’m started to suspect you’re getting hurt on purpose to see me,” you copy his pose with just enough dramatics. “Anyways I have a date,” you shrugged. First one in a while at that and a girl has needs that’ll hopefully be fulfilled, but it’s best not to get your hopes up too high. 

“A date? At 2 in the morning?” 

“Yeah if it ends well,” you smirk. He drops his pose before not so gracefully trying to get out the window. 

“Oh yeah makes sense, right well enjoy your date,” he stutters before slamming the window shut, enough to shake the pictures you have hanging on the wall. 

You sigh, latching the lock and trudging back to the comfort of your bed. 

[mimasroom2]

Accelerating fury pt 2

Pt 1 :3

HELLOOOOO! Here is part 2!! :3. Sorry it took me so long,, I’ve been helping my friend set up an Etsy shop + I have work. Btw!! We WILL find out exactly what Ellie did for the judges once the games start😉… I hope this doesn’t feel like I skipped over some things. I wanted to focus more on the important stuff rather than providing every detail like I tend to do.. like just get to the damn hunger games already fuck🙄

C/w: Same c/ws as the first one. Reader dissociates for a little bit. Twice. Ellie is more of a bitch oooooohhhh. Mention of suicide in literally 3 sentences near the end,, it’s SUPER minor.

U guys know the drill,, the dress I included is the one the reader wears during the interviews.

W/c: 4.7k

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

The day was going well. You and Jesse switched places for training, although he did give you a weird look when you mentioned you taught Ellie how to make a fire. That night you have dinner with all four of your new friends: Jesse, Tommy, Maria, and Dina. You discuss what skill to show off to the gamemakers tomorrow with Tommy after you all eat. He was glad to hear about how the training went, especially because this is around the time tributes usually start acting alone. This being said, Tommy thinks it’s best you and Jesse don’t know what the other is planning.

“So you’re tellin’ me you jus’ played footsies with the cute girl and showed her a skill you already know? That more than half the tributes already know??” He leans against the wall of the hallway that you two are talking alone in. He’s glaring down at you as if it’s his own life at risk.

“Tommy, I wasn’t playing footsies. I literally didn’t even touch her.” You roll your eyes.

“Not what I meant.” He shakes his head.

“And besides, I figured out how to tread silently on different terrain all by myself.” You cross your arms and smirk proudly.

He perks up at this, holding his hand out in a ‘stop’ motion. “Woah woah woah, hold yer damn horses. You mean all terrain?”

“Pshh, no, of course not. You can’t be silent on broken glass.” You tap your head, as if to say ‘duh’. “But yeah, most of them.”

“Use that.” He smiles and pats your head how all dads do.

“But that’s lame. There’s gonna be people throwing axes and carving tools. They’re gonna give them a good score and not me and then I’m not gonna get sponsored.” You play it off like you’re just pouting, but you are actually starting to get scared. I mean, it’s life and death.

“But you can’t do any of that. Use what you can and you will not regret it. Trust me.”

~

A few hours later, you and Jesse are sitting side by side again outside the training center. This time, Ellie’s there early, and her mentor is scolding her. She’s probably getting the same lecture you got, bumping coochies or whatever the hell Tommy said. Once she’s done getting scolded she looks around the room and makes eye contact with you. She smiles slightly, but doesn’t wave or anything.

Once everyone is there, the head trainer comes out. “Alright. We gotta lot of you to get through, and if we want these results for the sponsors this evening, we better get moving. District 1 male tribute, you are up.”

You look up a few rows ahead of you, and see Ellie fidgeting with her fingers. What kind of skill would she even have? She’s not a career, but if she does well they might boost her score because of that. She didn’t know how to make a fire before she met you. She was playing around with that pocket knife, maybe that’s it? You didn’t really pay any more attention to her once you figured out your terrain thing.

Ellie was the fourth one of all the tributes to go in. She actually looked nervous as she stepped inside. It’s completely soundproof in there, so if you wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to hear anything even if you tried. You look at Jesse and he smiles slightly. A little weary. Maybe after the scores are announced he’ll tell you what he does in there.

After about 15 minutes or so, Ellie comes back out, wiping the fake blood they use off her face. It scared you at first, but after the first tribute went in, the head trainer told you all the gamemakers added it to be more realistic. If by realistic they mean inhumane, then yeah. Sure. You wave her over to talk to you as she heads over to the exit.

She leans over and whispers, “Only had one skill to show off. Don’t know if they understood it.. but uh, we’ll see.” She gives you a goofy grin that’s slightly too big, and two thumbs up, before walking off.

What does she mean ‘don’t know if they understood it?’ If she used her little knife, wouldn’t they have seen it? The gamemakers have been known to not pay attention to the tributes fairly often, but who wouldn’t stop and stare at Ellie. She did walk out with that weird fake blood on her, after all.

Before you know it, it’s Jesse’s turn. He stands up and gives you one of his small smiles as he heads into the room. You don’t want to, but your mind always ends up drifting back to Ellie. You wondered how she was going to act in the arena. Would she still talk to you like how she does now? Without caring what the careers and rest of the tributes think? You guys haven’t even talked about the games, and what you were going to do in them. It seemed almost rude to you. What’s the point in talking about alliances now? And why would she choose you? She’d be much better off with virtually anybody else..

Suddenly, the same girl pops her head out and calls your name. You silently curse yourself. All this thinking about Ellie has got you too worked up. You needed to focus and calm down if you wanted to show off your skill correctly. You take a deep breath and walk inside.

You had requested different types of terrain, and you saw them all laid out in little boxes on the floor. They were basically built like sand boxes; there was actual sand in the first one, and then grass, and then they kept going up in difficulty, all the way up to the broken glass you were talking about that you knew was going to crunch.

You walk up to where the gamemakers are. There’s a forcefield but you know they can still hear you. You raise your voice a little, “Uhm, hey. I’m not doing this again, so… if you miss it, you miss it.” You shrug at them. Better that they know you’re starting so they don’t miss it. You plan on them not hearing anything.

You check to make sure your shoes are all good. They’re nothing special, just the ones they give you for training. You start on the sand. It’s easy, you just hop a little so you don’t sink in, and you’re good. No noise. Next you try the grass. Again, no noise.

Okay, now it was really time to show off. The next one is snow. They made it the kind that creaks and sinks in a little, so you have to go slow on this one. You step heel to toe, and try to make your steps as flat as possible, so your weight is distributed. You pause, making sure the snow moves slowly under your foot. You decide to take shorter steps, instead of the long ones you used on the sand. Rinse and repeat. No sound.

You glance up at the gamemakers, and they seem a little intrigued. Well, little isn’t good enough. You move onto dried leaves over cement. Any child would go crazy over this. You bend your knees slightly, like you’re skiing. You basically use the same method as the snow. It doesn’t take as long, and no sound was made. You hear a quiet murmur from the gamemakers. Fuck yeah.

You go through a couple more. Things like gravel, mud, a wooden deck, and metal grates. And then you get to the glass. The shoes they gave you are tough enough that no glass will come through and cut you, but that’s not what you’re worried about. You keep your arms close to your body and try your best balancing as you walk across. Slowly. Even slower. Absolutely no sudden movements. You’re holding your breath, until you get to the end. You weren’t completely silent, but you were damn as close as you could get. You hop down from the row of boxes and smile at the gamemakers. They don’t clap or anything, they probably aren’t allowed, but they smile back.

Let’s fucking go.

~

“It was soooo great, Tommy. Everyone was watching me at the end like I actually feel really good about it and I can totally tell they wanted to clap for me-“

You’re cut off from your rambling by Maria shouting “It’s hereeee!” in a sing song voice. You all scramble to the giant couches in front of the tv to watch Caesar announce the scores. You look over and notice Dina is sitting criss cross apple sauce by Jesse. She has her hand on his leg. Huh.

Your head snaps back to the tv as soon as Caesar starts talking. “Good evening to all of Panem, tonight we have our special scores straight from the gamemakers! Sponsors, get your pencils ready, because you are going to want to mark down who you’re placing bets on!”

As he goes on with the introduction, you look at Tommy with an exaggerated face that says ‘EEK IM SO NERVY!’ He just smiles and gives you a thumbs up.

As always, Caesar starts with the tributes from district 1. You scoff as their almost perfect scores pop up on screen.

“Fucking careers.” You hear Jesse murmur, and you widen your eyes in agreement.

The district 2 male tribute also has an amazing score. You tense up, holding your breath when you see Ellie’s next, almost as if it’s your own damn score they’re showing. You look around at everyone else in the room, they’re glaring at her, like she’s some sort of threat. Shit. You remember that she actually is.

“Ellie Williams, with a score of 11.” Your jaw drops. Now you’re really curious as to what she did in there. You notice Jesse looking at you. You want to wave it off, but you give him a concerned look.

The next of the scores go by unbearably slow. Tommy and Maria make a few comments about each one. You and Jesse just agree as fast as you can so you can go back to worrying about what your own scores are going to be.

Jesse’s score is up. You don’t want to freak him out, so you stare at the tv. Caesar announces that he got an 8.

“Holy shit!!” Dina leaps off the couch and jumps up and down while holding Jesse’s hands. “That’s like- the best you can get without being a career!”

Jesse laughs and everyone claps for him. In other circumstances you’d probably hug him. Dina’s got that covered. You give him a look that says ‘ohhhh I see what’s going on here’. He just rolls his eyes at you.

You were so focused on how touchy Dina was being that you completely forgot your score was next. Tommy nudges you a little and points at the screen. There’s the little video they took of you. You wonder what Ellie is thinking right now.

Caesar announces your name, pauses for a second, and says the number ten.

TEN???

“HOLY SHIT!!” You jump up from the couch at the speed of light and turn around to face your friends. Jesse and Dina’s jaws are dropped.

Maria raises a glass and Tommy gives you a high five. “Told yah it would work.” He says, and you grin at him.

~

The next day are your interviews. When Dina’s not busy flirting with Jesse, she’s been working on brand new outfits for you guys.

“I think you’ll like it. Hopefully. I’m doing something a bit different this year.” Dina says while she’s pulling out your outfit from racks of clothes.

“You do something different every year.” You reply. Wasn’t that the whole point?

“Yeah, but I mean like different different. You’re doing really well so far. Everyone loved you at the parade, and now sponsors are talking about your score from yesterday.”

You just nod. You really should be proud of yourself, but every day that the games get closer, you find that’s all you can think about.

“Here.” Dina says nonchalantly, and you have to do a double take as she pulls out another beautiful dress. It’s white like your other one, but nowhere near as fancy. It’s still really nice though. It’s probably made of the highest grade satin you can get in Panem, with silver beading on the chest. It’s long, and has a little slit for your leg, although it’s probably more so that you have room to walk and don’t trip. There’s even little cuffs for your hands and arms. And of course it can’t be a Dina design without the piece de resistance: Angel wings.

You whistle, and look up at Dina. “You really want me to wear this?”

“That’s why I have it on a mannequin in front of you.” She smiles, and leaves the room for you to change.

You don’t really have a plan of what to say during the interview. Tommy said to just “go with the flow” and whatever you say will sure to have the sponsors going crazy over you.

As soon as you get the dress on, Dina comes back in and leads you to the line where all the tributes are.

You get a glance at Ellie for the first time since she scored an 11. She’s wearing another suit. This time, it’s dark green, and compliments her eyes. Her hair isn’t in its usual messy half up half down style, it’s actually neat for once. Probably per request of her stylist. She turns slightly when she sees you, and you feel your heart beat out of your chest for a second.

“That damn girls gonna be the death of you.” You jump a little when you suddenly hear Jesse’s voice behind you.

You frown and shove him a little. “You really shouldn’t say that. Yknow we’re in a death game, right?” You two smile at each other. You’re glad that you guys can still joke around in times like this. All of the other tributes are glaring at each other in line.

Suddenly, you hear a roar of applause, and someone laughing into a microphone, which can only mean that Caesar is up on stage. “Hah ha!! It is time.. to meet each and every tribute face to face!!! Yes! How exciting…”

As he drones on, you look ahead and see Ellie straightening out her suit.

The first three tributes are all careers, so of course their interviews go well. They seemed to have turned up the charm factor to 110% compared to how they were during training. Pretty soon Ellie’s at the front of the line. One of the Avox’s puts his hand on her shoulder to guide her when it’s her turn. She swiftly backs away and puts her hand in front of his face in a ‘stop’ motion, and expertly walks toward the stage.

Caesar introduces her as he holds out his arm. She walks on stage with her hands in her pockets. A mix of casual and confident. She just smirks when she hears how crazy the crowd is for her. If you didn’t know her, you swear she’d be coming off like the biggest douchebag right now.

Even so, the people are eating it up.

Caesar sits down with her after shaking her hand. “So, miss Williams, I hear you a not a career. Would you tell us a bit about that?”

She actually manspreads and folds her hands together. “Damn right, Caeser. No offense but.. never wanted to be here in the first place.” She’s so nonchalant about it.

“May I ask.. I hope I’m not intruding, but… you did this for someone very dear to you. Yes?”

“I guess since you asked…” she sighs dramatically, “the rumors are true. I was forced to volunteer.” She looks down at the floor and sighs again. She’s turning this up way more than you would ever expect. This new persona seems exactly like her true self, and at the same time, not like her at all. The crowd goes absolutely bonkers. It goes on for awhile, and she just keeps playing up her sad little act.

She leans forward. “So, Abby. I know you’re watching this. Hah, I’m being televised to all of Panem right now. My biggest ‘fuck you’ would go to The Man, but right now, it’s going to you.”

She looks directly in the eyes of one of the cameras, cups her hands around her mouth, and says a nice long and drawn out “Fuuuuuuuuuckkkkk you.”

You scoff at it. At her. This is so fucking dumb. They probably have to censor it anyway. Your eyes narrow at her as she gets mixed reactions from the crowd.

Any reaction is better than no reaction.

~

You zone out a little. Her interview seems like it’s going on forever. They talk a little bit about her choice to wear suits instead of dresses. And how weird she thinks everyone else is. You fiddle around with your dress as you grow more and more nervous.

You’re pretty sure that Caesar is actually giving her a couple more minutes than the tributes before her. I mean, can you blame him? She’s basically walking sex right now.

“You sure are one of the most true to yourself tributes out there. Haha!!” He leans in closer to her, and his voice lowers a little, “I have to say, you are not like the others, are you?”

She has this awful shit eating grin on her face. “Nope. You’ll never see me acting like something I’m not just to get sponsors.” She pauses, then says, “Especially all sweet like an angel.”

Your grip tightens on your dress when you hear it.

That. Little. Bitch.

~

You don’t even pay attention to Jesse’s interview. You’re so mad. You never get mad. You weren’t even mad on the day you got reaped.

Before you know it, it’s your turn. You let the Avox touch your shoulder and guide you to the curtain backstage. You feel like your mind is completely blank. You can hear what Caesar is saying perfectly fine, but you don’t care. The world around you suddenly doesn’t seem real.

Caesar calls your name and you go on stage to greet him. Your face is completely blank. But you don’t feel relaxed. All you want to do is go anywhere else right now. You don’t care about anything anymore, you just want to get this done as fast as possible. You walk on stage so lightly, like you’re a ghost. Like you’re floating. You shake Caesar’s hand and sit down.

“Quite the outfit we have going on here today.” He gestures to your whole get up, which is the exact last thing you wanted him to mention. Of course Dina just had to make something so memorable and distinct.

“Yeah. Different than the other one.” You say. That’s all you can manage to say. He gives you a short look that says ‘cmon man I’m trying to help you out here.’

You inhale sharply, and say, “I know it’s not…. Everyone’s favorite.. but I hope you like it.” You turn towards the crowd at the last line. You’re taking a big leap here, for calling out Ellie like that. The audience loved her after all.

There’s a few whistles and polite clapping. Everyone is silent for a few seconds.

“Now, living in district 8, you make clothes for the Capitol all the time. How is it now that you’re actually here?” He tries to prompt you.

“It’s fine.” You say.

The interview goes on like this. He asks you a question and you stare off into space just to reply with a short answer.

However, you look into the audience. They’re completely silent. Not because they’re bored, but because they’re intrigued. You’re probably the only one in the history of the games to not spend your interview talking so the sponsors can know you better. It seems that they’re way more interested in something new.

~

After your interview you float back off stage. You stand by yourself for a second to try and regroup.

The careers and the other tributes who are done are standing a little further down the hallway. You decide to join them. Maybe listening to them drone on and on will snap you out of this. One of them is making fun of Caesar’s hair and the way he talks. You laugh a little at this, especially when some other kids chime in with their impressions of him.

You see Ellie out of the corner of your eye. You look at her, not even caring that you’re staring.

She walks closer and stops when she’s next to you. She smirks, “They’re really paintin’ you as a lil’ angel, huh? You gonna take me to our lord and savior?”

Your face and tone flatten, “We’re leaning into it.”

She looks at you for a second. You can’t tell what she’s thinking or what the look on her face is. She hums out a quick “hm.” before smiling and going on her way.

~

When you’re at dinner, Tommy is lecturing you. “You’re goddamn lucky the crowd found you interestin’. Even if you didn’t say a damn peep.”

This snaps you out of your trance. “I don’t need any more lectures, Tommy. I get it.” You huff and get up from the table. “I’m going to bed.”

Jesse had already asked you what was going on in your interview, which was sweet, but you really didn’t want to think about it any more. You waved him off, and mumbled something about being upset by what Ellie said. And you tried not to cry. But now, as you entered your room and shut the door, there was no one. No one to see you. And no one to talk to.

You felt like a little kid getting their feelings hurt. But you couldn’t help that your bottom lip quivered and tears started to run down your cheeks. You felt embarrassed by yourself, even in your own room with nobody around. How fucking stupid to be crying over this. It was your own fault for getting your hopes up about Ellie being your friend. This is the goddamn hunger games. There are no friends. She was just pretending to be nice to you as a joke. Or to fool you so she can have an ally and kill you off later.

It’s absolutely fucking hopeless. The games were tomorrow. You were probably going to die first. At the cornucopia. It wouldn’t even be a cool death. You’d be all sad looking at Ellie and some bitch with a bat would come up behind you and bash your head in.

You’re still in the dress you wore in the interviews. Dina’s never going to use it again anyway. That’s what she said, right? You hated the way it looked on you. There was a little pair of scissors in your room. Not big enough to do serious damage to yourself, even if you somehow wanted to. It’s not like you could anyway. You still had family.

You just cut the stupid dress off you. Would’ve been a pain in the ass to get off in the first place.

You decide to just sleep in your underwear, instead of whatever pjs they’ve decided to give you. You think about how dumb it is that you thought about Ellie all through the night the first time you met her. You didn’t even actually meet her until the second day. And now you were here all alone in your room and all your thoughts of Ellie were turning sour. Fucking Ellie. God, what a bitch. Fucking stupid.

You muttered all this to yourself as you paced around your room for far too long. You can hear the clinking of glasses and tableware. You do feel kind of bad for not staying or cleaning up, but what fucking ever. You’re going to die soon. These snobby Capitol bitches can clear their own plates.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on your door. You turn around to face the door, “Tommy, I’m sorry. I don’t wanna talk right now.”

“Uh.. it’s me.” You hear Jesse say. You can see him shuffle his feet through the crack under the door.

“Shit, hold on.” You slip a nightgown on in case he wants to stay. You open the door. There’s a hickey on his neck. “Where the hell is that from?” You ask him, and you realize you sound more like his mom than his friend.

“Uhhh..” is all he has to say, and he flashes you a sheepish grin.

You roll your eyes at him, “Whatever. Just come in.”

You cross your arms and stand in front of your bed. He’s still taller than you, but somehow, he seems small. And nervous. “It’s game day tomorrow. Like… literally.” He laughs a little, then looks at you with concern, “I just wanna say that I’m sorry ‘bout what happened with Ellie. That was fucked.”

If it was anyone else, you probably would have shut them down. Told them to get lost, or whatever it is people say. Told them it’s not their business, and you can handle it. But, since it’s Jesse, you actually find yourself appreciating it.

“Thank you, Jesse. That’s- that actually makes me feel better.” You shuffle your feet around, and you feel stupid for stuttering, but Jesse doesn’t seem to mind.

He stares at you for a while. You don’t know if he’s wait for you to talk, or if he’s thinking of something to say. He softly touches your arm and says, “We’re friends, right?”

You look up at him and nod. You start to cry. He hugs you. There’s no use explaining it; everyone could guess why you’re crying. The feeling of dread in your stomach won’t go away. You think that Jesse is probably the nicest person you’ve ever known.

As if on cue, he hugs you tighter and says, “I’m glad to have known you.”

You know he’s not trying to hurt you, but that simple sentence just makes you cry even more.

~

You can’t even remember falling asleep. Was that really yesterday? It feels like so long ago. You look at the time. Maria wanted to have breakfast together one last time, but you slept in. You don’t even care. They’re putting you in the games this afternoon. You decide to sit at the window seat in your room and focus on the rain until you’re called.

When it’s time, you follow Tommy to the aircraft which will bring you to the arena. He says he’s proud of you. You just nod.

You get into the aircraft and they put a tracker in your arm. You feel numb again. You look at the other tributes sitting there with you. Jesse’s not there. And Ellie’s not there. That’s probably a good thing. You didn’t know if you could handle yourself if you saw Ellie before the games began.

After you’ve arrived at the arena, an Avox leads you to a little room where you meet with Dina. She says something about wanting to bet on you, if she could. You mutter a quick ‘thank you’ and brace yourself to go in the tube thing that will send you into the arena. You look down at your clothes they’ve put you in. They’re so.. boring. At least compared to all the fancy dresses Dina cooked up for you. They’ve literally given you a t-shirt, jeans, converse, and a hoodie for this year. Just normal clothes.

Dina hugs you and you step in. Within a couple more seconds, it’s lifting you up. You strain to hear any hints of who’s around you. If maybe Jesse is calling out your name or if Ellie’s scoffing at what you all have to wear. You suddenly feel the platform in the tube stop rising.

The countdown starts, and with that, you snap out of your trance.

You finally see what the arena is. And so does the rest of Panem. There’s lines and rows of buildings as far out as you can see. Your eye quickly finds Ellie, and then Jesse. He’s panting harshly. Ellie actually looks scared. Compared to how it was raining earlier, the gamemakers have given you guys sun. Such happy weather to kill each other in. You glance to Jesse, the buildings, then Ellie, and back to the buildings. It’s a whole city.

Holy fuck.

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

[byizoyas]

Heya! I hope your having a good day/night!!

I saw your requests were open and I was hoping to request a fic with either alhaitham, childe or beidou with their workout! I’m just so in love with the three of them and if I ever saw them working out I think I’d pass out on the spot (//∇//)

Thank you so much and I hope this is an enjoyable request for you to write 💗💗💗

genshin impact ; requests

2023/byizoyas. — pls do not plagiarize or repost and claim as yours ! thank you very much

✘ sfw. you witness his workout sessions ✘ alhaitham x gn!reader

a/n. - at first i rlly wanted to write all three of them but in the end i was so invested in alhaitham’s i figured id just post that short drabble w only him. i also took some freedom with the end lol; hope it’ll suit you and sorry for the late writing<3 (also i don’t have the exact vocabulary for working out so I did my best and hope it’ll still be understandable ckwkdj)

you’ve been going at the gym for a while now. you were not the most regular person in this but you were trying real hard.

and at this point, you felt new every single time you stepped inside and saw them all greeting each other and training together while you, were all alone.

you only just understood how the treadmill was working after struggling for a while with all the buttons when you heard a friendly voice from behind you.

‘you’re back.’ he said calmly.

you turned around quite surprised that anyone would recognize you since you weren’t coming in here everyday and certainly not on the same time of the day.

‘um yeah’ you only said before realizing the man talking to you was one of the coaches in here.

alhaitham. his name was written on a small piece of paper sticked to his shirt that quite felt too tight for that muscular torso of his.

‘i saw you struggling with the machine and thought i could help you but it seems you got it now.’ he said, turning his back on you to go back to whatever business he probably had to deal with.

‘thanks ! i’ll ask for help directly next time.’ you added, waving goodbye despite him not going really far.

the room wasn’t the biggest so he was still in your eyesight. and as time passed you caught yourself looking in his direction several times.

he was indeed pretty attractive even when he was just standing nearby the door, organizing some files.

10pm the clock was displaying. the gym was closing around 11 pm but it was pretty rare to find people exercising that late at night.

perhaps he felt comfortable enough with so few people working out because he left the counter and put on his own headphones as he walked towards the rowing machine. and of course, it had to be right in front of you so you found it even harder to look away.

alhaitham was a professional, he probably trained everyday and was used to such basic exercises yet you, found it extremely fascinating how easy it was for him to drag the handle.

his arms muscles contracting now and then pretty quickly and the few sighs he subconsciously let out as he kept on pulling the handle towards him, working out both his legs and arms made the whole scene much more attractive.

you found it quite hard to focus on something else now but he quickly switched to another exercise, laying on the floor ready to do a few push ups.

one. two. three. you started to count them. he wasn’t fast but he was certainly feeling his own efforts as he gritted his teeth.

‘alhaitham. i’m leaving. you’re closing alone tonight. will it be okay ?’ someone asked; most likely his colleague that was already wearing casual clothes.

alhaitham got up, and took off his headphones. ‘sure. see you tomorrow.’ the man left and with that he took a glance at the clock and then at you.

he chuckled while walking towards you and only at the moment he stood in front of you, did you realize how you were the only one left in here. ‘staying pretty late tonight do you ?’ he gulped just as he was trying to regain his composure and control over his breathing.

‘i didn’t realize how late it was.’ you only found to say. of course you weren’t going to admit that you lost yourself while observing his every move for about 15 minutes.

little did you know, he noticed your insistent gaze but he did not say anything about it. he turned off the machine you were using. ‘well we’re both done for today.’

you headed towards the restroom to change to your clothes and put your sports pants on your bag.

‘oh!’ you shouted when bumping into alhaitham again right after coming out of the room. ‘you scared the shit out of me sorry for screaming’ you chuckled to yourself, finding yourself so silly.

but since there were only the two of you now alhaitham only apologized, stating how he should have been careful.

you both went towards the door, turning off all the lights behind you.

alhaitham closed the door and turned to you, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. ‘will you come working out tomorrow ?’

you smiled before admitting how you were not so fond of working out. and before you gave a second thought to what you were about to say, it simply slipped out of your mouth.

‘but maybe if a pretty, good coach helps me i’ll like it more.’

right as you started to cringe at your own comment, alhaitham let out the most beautiful laugh you’ve ever heard.

‘i’ll work harder to convince you to drop by more often then.’