#i need them to be fucked up for each other

[no-144444]

chaotic trio- k.antonelli, o.bearman, p.aron

★ ☆summary: how your best mates react when they see you're getting hate online

★ ☆pairing: reader x ollie bearman x kimi antonelli (kinda)x paul aron (all platonic)

skysportsf1

liked by haasf1team, kimiantonelli, and 778,249 others

skysportsf1 Triple Trouble back at it again! We're only a few races in and your favourite chaotic trio are causing mayhem on track @.yourusername @.kimiantonelli @.olliebearman

comments

user729 Y/N'S RADIOS WERE GOLDEN -> user264 'why's ollie not even racing me? is his car that bad?' -> user67 kimi: 'WHAT THE FUCK MATE WHY IS Y/N UP MY ASS?! HOW DID WE LET THIS HAPPEN?!' -> user720 y/n gets past him: 'i think i could hear him screaming there'

user60 her overtake on kimi was chef's kiss -> user764 On god it was so fire ⁉️

user6238 ollie racing esteban and having esteban make a mistake? SLAYYY KING GET HIM BACK!!! -> user8834 AVENGE ALONSO

user899 She even surprised lewis like damn -> user92 lewis: 'oh shit she's up here???'

yourusername I wish to not be grouped with these hooligans -> kimiantonelli We were literally on the podium together what do you mean? -> yourusername were you top step? -> olliebearman Were you? -> paularon clock it! 💯💯💯

premaracing I'm so glad other people have to deal with them now :) -> user35 ik whoever babysat them was TIRED

user009 y/ns overtakes were actual cinema where has she been for the past few years wtf.

user233 babes why are they my favourite rookies of all time. -> alexalbon same tbh

user98 I think we need to apologise to each of their teams because they must be so much to deal with -> redbullf1team we're so tired... -> hassf1team exhausted even... -> mercedesf1team kimi is perfect and does no wrong :) -> yourusername ho is you toto?

kimiantonelli Someone needs to cut her brakes fuck's sake -> yourusername don't know if you noticed but my car is already a shitbox and i had no brakes by the end of that fucking race, so please stop praying on my downfall and focus on your maths homework you fucking nerd 😜 -> redbullf1team Y/n. More media training. ->yourusername FUCKS SAKE KIMI THIS IS YOUR FAULT.

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yourusername

liked by kimiantonelli, maxverstappen, and 1,345,354 others

yourusername stunted on those hoes. hashtag slay (kimi looks ugly on a podium but felt the need to post my best mate of 10 years when he finally makes it in f1, even if he's copying me)

comments

olliebearman hater ->yourusername alright mr.haas calm tf down i'll give you ur boyfriend back

kimiantonelli so sweet (not) -> yourusername this is as sweet as it gets girl enjoy it while it lasts 🕺

user892 they're so pookie

user233 FIRST MODERN FEMALE PODIUM IN F1 THANK YOU Y/N Y/L/N!!!!!!!!! -> liked by lewishamilton, maxverstappen, kimiantonelli, olliebearman, isackhadjar, liamlawson, jackdoohan, yukistunoda, logansargeant, danielriccardo, gabrielborteleto, paularon, lukebrowning, alexdunne and 692,424 others

oscarpiastri You really did stunt on those hoes (did I say that right?) -> yourusername i genuinely love u sm osc

landonorris HASHTAG SLAY

redbullf1team we will take ur account away girl. -> yourusername bold of you to assume I don't have a backup.

user889 DID YALL SEE THE SMILE ON OLLIE'S FACE?????

user8844 LEWIS'S INTERVIEW WAS SO CUTE ->user22 ??? -> user8844 he was just super proud of both kimi and y/n and it was adorable

user709 i'm actually sobbing i never thought i'd get to see a woman on the podium i'm so emotional and she's just posted the most nonchalant caption what the fuck

user0029 she's actually so goated did we see her overtake on alonso??? even he was impressed.

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yourusername

liked by maxverstappen, oscarpiastri, kimiantonelli and 2,729,423 others

yourusername me and max when we realise we have to get back into the car for another fucking weekend with no updates still...

comments

maxverstappen 😹😹😹 ->user444 yes king laugh through the pain -> user234 fucking hell he's actually loosing it lol

olliebearman please stop with the complaints ms. podium ->yourusername ur just mad because kim hugged me first stfu🤷‍♀️ -> kimiantonelli I actually hate both of you so 😼

redbullf1team I'm TIRED y/n. you're explaining this to christian.

user66 god she's so annoying can she take anything seriously?

user673 women shouldn't be driving in f1 they should be getting coffee

user7724 she was so shit how did she even get a podium?

user777 this sport has gone to shit

user999 she's so fucking stupid

user7 i'm so hyped for race weekend just to watch her crash lol

user667 get her out of that seat i could probably drive better ffs

user72442 girls don't belong in motorsport

user63624 get this cunt out

user343 paddock bunny

user2213 probably fucked half the grid to get there lol -> user7889 she's barely legal what?? -> user2213 stfu

user7555 she's such an obvious marketing ploy

user8724 she's got no talent

user3123 slut

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olliebearman

liked by yourusername, kimiantonelli, paularon and 824,243 others

olliebearman Some sun, some fun, it's all inside this happy meal :) @.kimiantonelli @.yourusername @.paularon @.arthurleclerc

comments

user244 why do they even invite her anymore?? ->user67 bc they're mates???????

user789 wow they've all had a turn lol -> user7920 you're such a pig

charlesleclerc Be safe kids 🫡 -> user729 i love how they're still keeping the adoption jokes going

user2345 him and kimi were soooo drunk

user576 i actually adore this group so much

paularon forgot to add the photo of my gorgeous biceps... -> olliebearman sorry i just made me vomit so i thought better not to

user638 she's so random in that group ewww

user8899 does she have any other friends she can leach off of???

user8978 she's a slut

yourusername take this shit down buddy 👎 -> kimiantonelli just because he posted me and him doesn't mean he doesn't love you -> user57588 why's she such a bitch????

user399 proud y/n hater ->user35 fr she's such a bop

user423 ran through ->user3445 you're disgusting

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kimiantonelli's story

[caption: congrats to the winner ig... @.yourusername]

dms

user553 she's such a slut leave her die

user939459 she's run through

user42 send me her nudes

user244 she's such a bitch

user523 paddock bunny

yourusername please take this down kim kimiantonelli why? yourusername please just take it down kimiantonelli alright, sorry :( yourusername thank you, sorry.

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paularon

liked by olliebearman, kimiantonelli, and 983,234 others

paularon Out and about recently :) @.yourusername @.kimiantonelli @.olliebearman

comments

kimiantonelli ngl those smoothies were mega

olliebearman dinner was so good

user35 why do they hang with her???

user89 free them from her grasp

user989 biggest slut in the paddock and she's up against charles leclerc

user139 shittest driver since mazepin

user766 blonde bimbo

user345 i'm so tired of pretending to like her GOD ->user399 why don't u like her? -> user345 women shouldn't be in motorsport. end of conversation.

user3554 she's so annoying just leave kimi and ollie alone! -> user89 fr she's probably fucking both tho lmao

user6789 every guy in the paddock has fucked her haven't they lmao

user573 christian horny's pet probably

user233 she's my fav driver this is my fav group -> user689 ur stupid if she's ur fav

user7832 can't wait to see her crash

user7909 why is everyone hating???? -> user65 bc men hate to see a woman doing well!

user4333 exhausted by all of these insecure men

user34 did yall see kimi's deleted story too? i fear a friendship break-up might be going on behind the scenes ->user8999 PLEASE NO🙏🙏🙏 ---------------

redbullf1team

likedby yourusername, maxverstappen, kimiantonelli, olliebearman, and 2,234,423 others

redbullf1team Top step for our no.19 :)

comments are limited

maxverstappen Wonderful drive.

lewishamilton SO proud.

olliebearman No, I wasn't crying. There was something in my eye. -> kimiantonelli fr. there was something in his eye.

fernandoalonso Vamos!

charlesleclerc It was an honour to be on the podium with her :)

georgerussell Blimey what a race! Incredible drive from herself :)

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kimiantonelli

liked by olliebearman, maxverstappen, landonorris and 824,243 others

kimiantonelli our best mate just won a race!?

comments

user8923 slut

paularon SLAYYYED

landonorris i thought she was my best mate?

user80 i hope she crashes and burns

user43 no women in motorsport

user23 she's so inspirational it's insane

user11 die

user32 they're both playing her i bet

user90 she's so bad why are we glazing her

user87 CHEATER

user789 omg if they wanted to they would this is so cute

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messages

yourusername Hey guys, I'm deleting insta and I probs won't be super in touch just because everything is going mad in redbull so I won't see much of yall at races. sorry, love ya xxx

yourusername has left this group!

paularon wtf is going on???

olliebearman did we upset her?

paularon why did she leave???

kimiantonelli Mate... look under any post of hers or yours with her in it. It's brutal. She's getting so much hate.

paularon holy shit i've just seen it now

olliebearman i actually feel sick wtf is this shit.

kimiantonelli we should say something

paularon good idea

olliebearman let's ask her first, yes?

kimiantonelli and paul aron yes

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messages

yourusername was added to 'the trip' groupchat!

yourusername hello?

kimiantonelli SUMMER TRIP HELLO? we know you've been busy but it's tradition

olliebearman yeah fr we miss you

paularon I'm going to suggest Italy???

yourusername omg i'm so sorry guys i promised my home friends i'd spend my break with them. we're going to greece but you're more than welcome to join us :)

olliebearman sounds like a plan!

kimiantonelli works for me!

paularon YAY!

yourusername one rule tho- DONT flirt with my mates

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messages

paularon was added to the 'boyos' groupchat

olliebearman why is she being so weird in public?

kimiantonelli she's scared of being seen with us duh

olliebearman why?????? we're her best mates????

paularon bc she'll get murder online, duh!

kimiantonelli this is so annoyinggggggg

olliebearman fr i just want regular y/n back

paularon it's not her fault

kimiantonelli come on we'll talk to her about it another time

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yourusername

liked by kimiantonelli, paularon, olliebearman and 2,394,094 others

yourusername summer breakin' :)

comments

paularon forgetting the photos of me????

user54 anyone else catch paul's comment? ->user23 omg PLEASE tell me the pookies are back

user3423 yall why is paul lowkey messy 😏

usser8390 she hasn't posted in so long, we were missing u queen!

user444 goated driver

user8990 ugly bitch

user22 shit driver

user23 omg she's so gorg

user3423 guys, anyone else noticed how paul, ollie, and kimi have been hanging out but y/n hasn't? -> user99 ikr i miss them so much 🫶 -> user12 she's just too stuck up for them now -> user23 or maybe she drives for a team that is literally falling apart???😸🔫 ->user344 it's deffo the hate

olliebearman damn, forgetting all about us

user99 YO OLLIE'S COMMENT

user4558 she's delteing their comments i swear to god

user90 y/n's such a gold digger

user3434 bitch

user221 crash next race

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messages

olliebearman why did you delete our comments?

yourusername i can't get into it

paularon we deserve an answer y/n. you won't hang out with us anymore, you won't be seen talking to us, what gives???

yourusername i just don't want to get more hate, alright? it's hard enough as it is, i don't need people thinking i'm sleeping with all three of you just because we're friends and then flooding my comments with the most vile shit they can think of. I am your mate, don't worry, it's just i don't want to drag any of you into this.

kimiantonelli we're here for you y/n. this is shit and we're sorry, and we don't want you to feel like you have to hide being our friend. we want to support you and make a post about it. a bunch of the other drivers are in on it as well

yourusername you don't have to do that

paularon we want to

olliebearman if it means we can hang out again, of course we'll do it

yourusername you guys are the best :)

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kimiantonelli, olliebearman, paularon, lewishamilton, charlesleclerc, landonorris, oscarpiastri, alexalbon, carlossainz, lancestroll, fernandoalonso, maxverstappen, yukitsunoda, liamlawson, esteban ocon, jackdoohan, pierregasly, georgerussell, gabrielborteleto, nicohulkenberg, and isackhadjar

liked by mercedsf1team, redbullf1team, jackdoohan and 10,323,433 others

Hey all, we just wanted to come on here and say that we don't support bullying, but some of yall need a fucking reality check. Y/n Y/l/n is in the sport and she will continue to be. She is a talented, incredible driver who will continue to inspire thousands, if not millions. The world is changing, and while that can be scary, but having a woman in F1 should not be a shocking thing. We have all said it's only a matter of time, and the time came when Y/n got her seat. A seat she deserved, and continues to deserve. Women deserve a place in motorsports, and if you can't see that, shame on you.

limited comments

mercedesf1team no.1 Y/n Y/l/n fan over here

reddbullf1team class act, thank you boys

ferrarif1team wonderful message, forza y/n!

alpinef1team Behind you all the way :)

astonmartinf1team slaying the house boots down!

sauberf1team Wonderful woman, wonderful driver, wonderful words. Thank you for speaking out!

mclarenf1team Thank you for speaking up about this!

haasf1team The trio shall continue forevermore

vcarbf1team Stunted on those hoes :) ->liked by yourusername

williamsf1team This is such a wonderful message, thank you for standing up against the bullies :)

navigation for my blog :)

mercedes & williams masterlist

alpine masterlist

[skyeisabarnes]

Soldat

She and The Winter Soldier are each other's only solace on the H.Y.D.R.A base.

The Winter Soldier X Reader

Bucky Barnes X Reader

"I need to know, kid-"

The snarl that left her lips was animalistic. "Don't call me that," she said, her voice low enough to be a growl.

A sigh left Steve's lips as he stared at her. But his blue eyes weren't intimidating, not in the slightest.

Not compared with what she was used to.

He held up a picture. "Do you know this man?"

It wasn't a clear picture, not in the slightest. Nearly impossible to make out who the picture was of. But she knew. Of course she knew who he was. He was the most terrifying man she had ever met.

"Have you got a date with death, Captain America?" She mused, tugging at her binds. "Because that's all you'll get by seeking him out."

A single flame appeared on her fingertips. She held it against the rope around her wrist.

Steve let his head fall, shoulders slumping forward slightly. "Why are you doing this, kid? Why do you want to work for H.Y.D.R.A?

She clenched her jaw. "I told you, Captain, don't call me kid." She smirked at him as her flame singed at the rope. "I've fucked men older than you."

Pink dusted his cheeks as he turned away from her.

"And," she continued, "for the record, I don't want to work for H.Y.D.R.A. Just like your friend, I don't have a choice."

Her words weren't supposed to be comforting, but warm blossomed in Steve's chest. Of course Bucky wasn't doing this out of choice. Somehow, he was being forced.

The rope fell away from her wrists, but she stayed still.

"He will come for me."

"The Winter Soldier," Steve said and she nodded, confirming it.

But then Steve crouched in front of her, his arms resting on his legs. "Good."

Her fist connected with his face. Not yet surrounded by fire, that would come if he didn't let her go. "Trust me, Captain, I'm saving you!" She yelled as he stumbled away from her, giving her room to stand up. "The Soldier won't hold back when it comes to me."

It wasn't supposed to be a brag, but it was. When you have Earth's most dangerous assassin at your beck and call, it's kind of hard not to brag.

Each step left marks in the floor, soot in the shape of her boot. "If it wasn't for him, I'd thank you for getting me out, Captain." She said it with such sincerity, Steve could only stare. "But I can't leave him there."

Her fists were on fire as she walked away from him. Captain America should have been putting up more of a fight, but he let her go, watched her walk away from him.

At the sounds of screams from outside of whatever building she was in, she broke into a run. Through the empty halls of the building and through the doors, out into the light of midday.

Whatever plan Captain America had, it was a bad one.

He stalked towards her, killing everything in his path. The mask and goggles covered his face, but she knew it was him. She would always know it was him.

"Soldat."

His movements were slow, purposeful as he moved towards her. He said nothing as he became hurried, almost desperate.

This wasn't the first time she had been his mission. She had never been afraid of him, of the danger he possessed.

He held his gun in his metal hand,his other arm stretched out towards her. He spoke in Russian as he took her hand and pulled her into his side.

"I'm okay," she said back to him, switching to Russian. "I'm safe, Soldat."

He was silent as he took her away, his hold on her tight. She wrapped her arms around him as he took her away on his bike. Her arms were tight around him, face pressed against his muscled back.

All the while, she had no idea she was being tracked.

***

He held her tight as H.Y.D.R.A tried to pull them apart. But The Winter Soldier wasn't going to let her go.

"Soldat," she whispered, thumb moving over his cheek. "I'm okay. You can let me go."

A grunt left his lips, but he made no move to release her. But then they started to say those fucking words. "Longing."

"No!" She cried. She searched his blue eyes, tried to work out who he was. The Soldier, or the man he used to be.

"Rusted."

"Soldat." His hand came to rest on top of hers, his other arm still holding her tight.

"Furnace."

He drew in a sharp breath, but he didn't let go of her. He wouldn't let go of her, until his mind wasn't his own.

When they finished those damned words, The Winter Soldier released her. He was still reluctant, moving slowly and unwillingly.

But, as soon as he let her go, they grabbed her, took her away from him. Unlike the Soldier, she wasn't brainwashed. She didn't need reconditioning.

She struggled as they took her away from The Soldier. But she would find her way back to him, she always did. The last time H.Y.D.R.A tried to keep them apart, The Winter Soldier slaughtered everybody in his way to get to her.

"Kidnapped by Captain America," said her handler, her researcher as he stalked towards her, notebook open. "I thought you were trained better than that."

She stared at him, resisting a scowl. "Father," she said and held her chin up. "I don't understand why I am here."

Her father released a chuckle. "We need to understand how, Darling. How did a highly skilled killer get kidnapped by Captain America."

She shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her boots. "He caught me by surprise," she mumbled and shoved her hands into her pockets.

"How?"

"James."

She stopped in her tracks upon hearing his name, her mission forgotten. She knew that name. James. Her Soldier.

"You know James."

Her hands shook at her sides, ready to swing. "No," she managed to spit. But her voice was strained, as if it hurt to say.

But really, she didn't know a James. She knew The Winter Soldier, not the man he was before. The man he was before wasn't hers to know.

"Sorry about this, kid."

"I'm not a-"

But something hit the back of her head, and she crumpled to the floor.

"I don't know," she answered, her voice shaking. "I wasn't concentrating."

He wrote something down.

"It won't happen again."

"It won't happen again, what?"

"It won't happen again, sir."

They dragged her away after that, dragged her back to her soldat. But they didn't have to drag her, she went willingly. All she wanted was to get back to him. Her steps were hurried, her guards holding her back.

As soon as she was in the cell, she was upon him. "Soldat," she whispered as she stood before where he sat on the bed.

His legs were already parted, but he gave her enough room to climb between them. His hands settled on the backs of her thighs as he stared up at her.

Again, she couldn't tell who she was looking at. The Winter Soldier, or James.

Her hands settled in his shoulders. "Soldat," she whispered again. "James."

"I know that name," he whispered.

"It's yours, according to the man that kidnapped me."

A sigh left his lips. His hands moved up, settling on her waist. "Did he hurt you?" He asked, blinking when she pushed his hair out of his face.

She shook her head. "No, but he wanted to get to you," she answered and kissed him. It was only quick, testing what James would let her do.

He kissed her back, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"What if I could get you out of here?" He whispered, his flesh hand moving up her back. "Would you want to come with me?"

This was all she had ever known. But she hated it. There had to be better for her out there, better with him. With James, with her Soldier. She would take him any way she could get him. As James. As the soldier. As Bucky.

She nodded her head as she climbed into his lap. "In a heartbeat," she whispered as she laid her head against his shoulder.

His hand closed around something around her back. He tugged it from her shirt and held it in his palm. "I think I've found us a way out, sweetheart."

She was so damn scared, but she had him by her side. Her James. Her Soldier.

[umbrelladripdrop]

*Danny is shopping with Jason* Danny: Can I get a silenced pistol? Jason: If there’s one on sale. ----- Jason: Why is it that I always lose things as soon as I need them? Jazz: Actually, it's not that you lose things when you need them. You lose them a while before. It's just that you LOOK for things when you need them. Jason: Okay yeah thanks Jazz that's great and all but WHERE'S THE FUCKING FIRST AID KIT?!? ----- Jazz: Why did you guys dress up as each other for Halloween? Danny: Jason is the scariest thing I could think of! Jason: Danny told me I should pick the dumbest costume possible.

[bbokicidal]

Maybe Our Last .:. SKZ [L.FX]

Genre : Smut Pairing : Lee Felix x Fem!Reader Warnings : DUB-CON, Tentacle penetration I don't know HOW ELSE to word it!!, Hentai-esque themes, Monster Fucking (essentially), Throat fucking (kind of)

Kinktober Day 6 of 10 : Monster fucking w/ Felix Kinktober Masterlist

Word Count: 3.8K

I'm going to write a small snippet here because I need this to be clear; There is no sex between Felix and the reader; Changbin is the character who becomes the tentacle monster so technically he's fucking them both lol, and both Felix & the reader experience a sort of aphrodisiac which is why this is labeled as Dub-Con. If you don't like this type of shit just DON'T FUCKING READ IT LOL - also I've never written anything like this before so if it's bad... oh well.

You’d caught his eye the moment you walked into the party; The outfit, the style you’d worn your natural hair in, the dramatic makeup, the contacts, the thigh highs, the cute shoes – 

Felix had seen that character multiple times before; A beauty from one of his favorite animes in the world and now it was like she’d come right to life in front of his very eyes in the form of your Halloween costume. 

If he was honest, Felix wasn’t sure how he was going to keep his composure around you that night. You already made his heart race before, your demeanor was always so pleasant and kind towards him any time the two of you had bumped into each other or conversed as your friends spoke with each other, and now he knew you were about as big a nerd as he was; Which made you 10 times more attractive. As if you could get any more perfect.

Hell - He wasn’t even sure how he got you to sit down and talk to him on the couch like this; Your legs thrown over his lap, his hands resting respectfully atop them while the two of you chit-chatted as if you weren’t sitting in the middle of a massive college Halloween party. Biggest one that happened on campus, actually; Changbin just had that reputation going for him; Couldn’t let his people down this year, could he?

Music blared around the two of you, people dancing and singing, drinking ungodly concoctions of Rum and juice and edible glitter and making out against the walls; someone gagging just behind at the smell that was slowly flooding out of the downstairs restroom and towards the kitchen. Though, it felt as though none of it mattered as you were in your own little world with Felix.

“Yeah, I mean - her basic outfit is just so boring so I guess I tried to recreate the ascended version; I just think it’s cooler.”

“Definitely.” Call Felix a loser. He can’t keep himself from staring over at you in admiration, awe rushing through his veins the more you talk about what you thought of the show and what your opinions on different arcs were. His replies remain short and sweet - and you try your best to keep the conversation going, you do, but it’s hard to focus when he’s just so… pretty.

With a pink knitted sweater tucked into light wash jeans, he’d managed to secure a small pair of white wings to his back. He’d buttered up his look by applying glittering hairspray to the platinum locks that fell down over his shoulders and framed his face so well, a chunkier rose gold glitter overtaking the freckles on his cheeks. It seemed to complete the look for the cutest pixie you’d ever seen in your life; Not that you’d seen many.

“So you know the guy who lives here?” You question, tone soft. You’d heard of him before but you’d never talked to him personally; You’d really only been invited to the party because he was a friend of a friend. 

Felix’s lips part before he nods, a shy and polite smile overtaking his lips. “Ah - Yeah. Changbin’s a close friend of mine. He’s pretty cool, I guess.” His eyes darted over to peek at said friend, Changbin’s head popping into the restroom as his hand secured its hold on the doorframe. He looks as though he’s investigating something but Felix hasn’t a clue what, so instead of fretting about it he turns his attention back to you. “You don’t?” Felix quips before continuing. “I mean - you don’t know him?”

You blink a few times, offering a small shake of your head. “Oh, no. He’s a friend of my friend, Hyunjin. They’re practically attached at the hip and I see him around every so often but I don’t think I’ve ever had a full conversation with him before, you know?” You smile, giving a shrug. “We just don’t really run in the same friend group I guess. No big deal.”

The hand that had previously been resting against your shin - which was placed in Felix’s lap as you lounged back on the sofa in Changbin’s living room - moved to instead gently grasp at your knee. Felix giggles, “You should talk to him sometime. He’s genuinely one of the nicest guys I know. I get that his physique can be kind of intimidating but he’s really a nice guy. Maybe after the party we can –”

“Oh my God,” A girl shrieking from behind the sofa causes your body to jolt in surprise, your leg pulling off of Felix’s lap. He selfishly misses the contact immediately but lets his gaze pull from you to the young woman standing just over your shoulder. She’s turned away, her hand shaking as she points to the bathroom doorway. Changbin was gone, but where his hand had previously rested was now an oozing trail of green slime. Like something had slapped against the doorway and left a puddle that dripped down the polished wood. “Changbin?!” She cries, free hand pressing over her mouth. “Are you okay?!”

Hyunjin pushes past a few people to get to the girl, his hand resting against her arm as he glances between her horrified expression and the bathroom doorway. “What -?! What? What’s going on? Why are you yelling?” He stares down at her, the girl trembling under his touch. Her face had gone ghastly white, her joints blushed with blood that tried to push through to her extremities that had long lost all sense of warmth.

“Changbin,” She gasps out her friend’s name, her fingers shaking horribly as they dig into her cheek in terror. “He was trying to figure out what that awful smell was but I just – I saw him get pulled into the bathroom by something! I swear, it was like a monster - It was –”

The atmosphere turns horridly tense. The air thickens with dread as people begin to back away from the bathroom and some even turn to leave, wanting to get out of the house in case something horrible had happened. What if it was another person and Changbin had just been attacked? What if there was a serious sense of danger in the house now? And as you listen in, your chest feels heavy enough to cave in on you. You didn’t know Changbin well but that didn’t mean you didn’t care about him. He seemed like a genuine guy and right now you could only hope that this was some sick, cruel Halloween prank happening.

By the time you push yourself up off of the couch to even move into action Hyunjin is already in the bathroom doorway. His rushed demeanor comes to a sudden halt as he stops where the door cracks open, his gaze settled behind it and directed towards the shower. Everyone seems so quiet now, waiting impatiently for Hyunjin to give them some sort of update.

The only response they get for at least five seconds is the color draining from his face. His jaw clenched as he huffs out a breath before his body turns back to the living room and he pushes himself to leave the bathroom as quickly as possible.

He points, throwing his arm towards the front door that isn’t too far from where you stand. “Get out!” His voice leaves his throat in a scratching scream, begging for people to run from whatever it was he had seen in the bathroom only moments ago. “Get the fuck out!” He cries. “Run! Fucking run!”

People scatter; Dust settled on a shelf for decades now disturbed and dispersing into the once pure air. Footsteps are loud and heavy as some book it for the upstairs area, their shoes thumping heavy against the wooden steps. Most head for the front or back doors, Hyunjin’s hands pushing people to move into action as screams and cries fill the house and drown into the music still playing from the stereo speakers. 

The bathroom door slides open and what emerges makes your blood run cold.

That wasn’t Changbin.

That was a monster.

With eyes pure white and veins pulsing angrily in his throat, the Senior exited the bathroom not on his own two legs; Maybe not of his own free will. His head lulled as if he was no longer present, the parasite within him pushing him to exit and begin to attack. His upper half looked as if it had been melted and glued to the body of an octopus - if that octopus had biohazard green tentacles and slime oozing from every orifice. It pushed out of the corners of his mouth as his expression turned into a heavy scowl, his head tipping in the direction of the people scrambling for the front door - one of the tentacles reaching out in a quicker manner than expected. It had taken him so long to reveal himself that you were sure he was sluggish when it came to movement, but the tentacle seemed to snap out and wrap around the closest person’s waist.

Hyunjin gasped in horror as the wet surface slid and soaked his band tank, grabbing onto him tight and curling around him a few times to ensure he couldn’t escape from its hold. The tip of the tentacle smothered his cheek in goo and he visibly cringed, pulling his head back as far as he could while it rubbed against his face.

You hadn’t even realized your own body had become frozen in its place until Felix had reached for you, his fingers lacing with yours to pull you back to him. “Hey,” He yells over the noise, gently tugging on your arm, “We’ve gotta go!”

Your eyes drag to Felix before you nod, surely out of it by everything you were witnessing. This had to be some horrible nightmare - surely. Changbin wasn’t some scary tentacle monster and Hyunjin wasn’t getting smothered in goo and this house party was not just taken over by some… alien octopus parasite!

Felix moves to guide you as far from Changbin as he can get you, which isn’t very far unfortunately. His attempt is futile; The moment he rounds the couch it’s already too late. A tentacle had wound around your ankle and begun to lift already, refusing to let you go while suspending you mid-air. Felix, also refused to let you go.

He cried out as his hand was ripped from yours, watching you be lifted towards the ceiling as you screamed and begged for him to find a way to get you down. “Felix!” Your gasps were slashes to his heart, the knife twisting and digging into the muscle, ripping it apart. “Felix - Help me! Help me!”

Though he’s no better off. A third leg had wrapped over Felix’s chest, slime oozing from what looked to be the suction cups of the tentacle - only open and gaping as they sucked and clung to his sweater tight. Felix’s mouth opens though no sounds escape, his body only reacting as it knows how to when he’s this terrified. His hands come down on the tentacle and he hates how smooth it is, how slimy and wet it feels against his skin. “Let me go,” He gasps out, his head turning to look over towards Changbin’s upper half. Not that he’s really Changbin anymore. “Changbin-hyung! Let me go! Let me go, I’m your friend!”

Felix’s head snaps in your direction instead as he hears your voice letting out soft whines. The tentacle holding you up by your leg had tightened its grip and squirmed down towards your inner thigh, still wrapped up against you so snug that it made the soft fat beneath it bulge under your thigh highs. He didn’t even bother to take in the way your skirt had flipped upside down to reveal the pink panties underneath - He didn’t care. He was instead watching a separate tentacle rubbing against your face as if it were nuzzling you, smearing a pale green goo over your cheek and towards your mouth that made you spit in disgust. The tentacle pushes lower instead and wraps loose around your neck, your eyes darting down to watch as the suction cups open and release what looks like a sort of gas.

Your gasps are immediate, the sweet scent filling your body as you cried, “What the fuck is that?!”

Felix barely even registered that the tentacle wrapped over his chest had done the same, and when he did he was dumb enough to look down right into it. The scent was… nice. Pleasant. It made his body hum with a pleasant vibration that made him feel so warm and fuzzy. A feeling akin to being drunk for the first time - feeling a little out of it, a little loose. It felt immediate, too. 

His body slowly began to relax as the gas fogged around his head, the cups closing shortly after to let the air around your bodies clear. His eyes slowly pulled back to you, and though you were a bit hazy now, you were still there. 

The tentacle wrapped over your neck slithered down towards your chest, wrapping beneath the swell of your breasts tight so the fabric pulled taught against your curves - and the poor pixie across from you couldn’t stop himself from looking. He didn’t even feel guilty about it at the moment either. In any other circumstance he would’ve been too respectful and shy to even steal a quick glance but now, something about it felt so shameless. 

The tentacle slipped lower to give your body more support, leveling you out so you could essentially lay as though you were in bed instead of being hung upside down. How kind of it.

Felix swallows hard as his eyes trail over. He watches the tentacle holding onto your leg adjust itself so your thighs push apart for it and your body seems to naturally comply, your head tipping back as you allow the creature that was once Felix’s best friend to bend your body to its will. He finds himself whimpering when the tentacle pushes higher, the tip of the appendage wriggling and squirming over your skin until it tucked under your skirt and pried at your panties.

Your lips part in a sharp gasp, a heavy blush coating your cheeks at the realization that it’s trying to get at the most intimate of spaces on your body. The appendage curls tight around your panties before it begins to pull back, though when they refuse to move from your hips because of how snug they are - it opts to instead rip them right open. The fabric falls like nothing from your body before the tentacle moves back to work, your skirt ruffling against your hips and thighs as it pushes over your slit and curls the very tip around your clit in an effort to make you moan. And it works, of course.

Felix’s cock twitches in his jeans at the sight of you being touched like this. He knows it’s gross - knows it’s dirty and knows you’ll no doubt judge him for enjoying nasty Hentai like this (if you even live to see the next morning…) but he really can’t help it. He can’t help that he’s getting hard at the sight of you like this. It’s like a scene right out of a movie he’d watched recently - The tentacles, your stupid Halloween outfit…

“Felix…” Your soft call of his name makes him snap back into reality - which isn’t far from his fantasies right now. His hands tightened down on the tentacle wrapped over his chest as he felt something push between his own legs; An appendage separate from the others had slipped up his left leg and prodded at the bulge in his jeans, curling slowly around the outline of his half-hard cock while he whined. His lashes fluttered and he squirmed at the feeling, the friction more than enough to make him chub up just a little bit more. 

He curses, whimpering under his breath. “Fuck,” Felix gasps, biting down hard into his lip to stop any other sounds from escaping from his mouth.

His gaze darts back to you just in time to see the tentacle between your legs begin to squirm back. The cups along the inner section of the appendage open slowly and begin to once again ooz the slime that had slicked up your face and soaked into your costume’s top. It dripped over your inner thighs and as you sucked in a breath, the tip of the tentacle pushed carefully into your entrance. It eased it’s way in until it was nearly five inches deep - though this wasn’t quite like having sex with just.. Some guy. First of all - this was a monster; Second - the tentacle was thick. 

It felt as though it was attempting to split you right in half, wriggling deeper before finally pulling back and pushing into you once more.

“Oh my God,” Your voice leaves in a desperate hum. Felix watches in both shock and awe as your head falls back at the feeling of your pussy being filled to the brim; The little suction cups kissing at your walls every time it pushed into you further, the tip squirming against the entrance to your cervix and begging to be let in - to fill you until you would burst.

Felix’s head swirls as his gaze drops once more. He stares at the tentacle wriggling its way into his waistband, his mouth dropping open to let out a moan that makes him feel disgusting. He’s enjoying this and part of him loathes himself for it. “Shit,” He whines, the appendage wrapping around his cock when it slipped into his boxers and smothering his length in slick, sticky goo. It soaked through to the denim of his jeans and caused a heavy, damp stain that made him embarrassed and made him whine in protest. His hands curled into fists, reaching down with both to try and rid the appendage from his waistband before another - smaller and thin as a rope - wrapped tight around his wrists at lightning speed. He trembles as his arms are pulled above his head, no longer able to defend himself against the tentacle wrapping around his cock and making him twitch and writhe in pleasure. “Fuck – Fuck,” He cries, his toes curling in his sneakers at the ache that forms through his abdomen. “Fuck –!”

Your eyes finally press open as you hear Felix whining across from you, your gaze settling first on his flushed and desperate expression before falling to watch as the tentacle below wraps around his cock and coats him in goo. You can’t see anything but you know it’s a delicious sight.

Though, the appendage previously touching Felix seems to realize something of its own - It can’t fill Felix like it can with you, so it would have to find another way to inject its semen into the man.

“Shit,” Your whisper is barely audible as you peek up, watching the tentacle drag over Felix’s chest before coming up and prodding at his lips. He barely has time to react as it forces it’s way into his mouth, pushing at the back of his throat and making him choke on a whimper as goo drips down the corners of his mouth. His gaze meets yours before you watch as his eyes flick down between your legs, watching the tentacle between your thighs pump into you quicker than before. Your shaky, unstable moans meet Felix’s ears and he hates that the mix of seeing you getting fucked and having his mouth used at the same time are what makes him coat the inside of his jeans in cum that mixes with the goo left behind.

Your gasps become frantic as the tentacle pushes further into you, stretching you as much as it can before it suddenly stops, burying itself into your walls and pumping something out of the cups that had once again opened. You can feel it; It’s hot and heavy, thick, creamy. Holding a promise of your demise.

It’s the same moment that the tentacle buried in Felix’s throat seems to release the essence, Felix choking and gagging and closing his eyes in embarrassment as it fills his mouth full. The tentacle retracts as quickly as it came, black leaking from the corners of the pixie’s mouth as he swallows and spits at the same time - trying to figure out what it is and what to do in his post-sex haze.

The appendage between your thighs retracts and as exhaustion waves over you, so do the rest. Your body falls from the air and hits the ground with a heavy thud, Felix’s following only moments later. You land on your side, eyes glossy with tears of fear and pleasure as you look over at where Felix lay on his stomach to your right. His eyes are closed, though it’s not long before they slowly flutter open and attempt to meet your gaze. Felix’s hand slowly shifts from his side, coming to meet your own. His fingers curl into your palm as he sighs out, his body giving into the exhaustion and slumping against the hardwood - his cheek squished against the floor and his brain shutting off.

While you remain conscious a while longer, your eyes slowly move around to what you can see of the room. Hyunjin sits slumped against the wall, black ooze dripping down his chin and throat. His mouth had been filled the same as Felix, though while it happened a bit earlier on after he was grabbed, his body had already begun to turn. He was no longer present, his lower half bubbling and steaming and his legs gone, four appendages already present and squirming as the others began to form. 

Your eyes slowly dragged back to the blonde laying beside you, your thumb swiping over his knuckles in admiration. You take in the way his hair falls over his eyes, the way his lips part and the way the chunky rose gold glitter on his cheeks only adds to the charm of the deep brown freckles painting his skin. Part of you was… happy, that he’d fallen asleep before he’d seen what had happened to Hyunjin; What would happen to him now, too. Though as you lay in exhaustion and attempt to fight the sleep, as your brain clears itself of the fog and begins to be overrun by the slime that had entered your body and taken control of every functioning system left inside of you, and the fear settles into your chest; The realization that this would be the last time you would be human, the last time you would see Felix’s face. So you fight the sleep a little longer, just enough to try and memorize every detail of the man laying across from you before he becomes a monster, too. Your head pounds with the need to rest as your eyes finally drop closed, your body slumping and going loose as your future ahead of you lay unknown. But again, holding the promise of your demise.

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek @pixie-felix @hwangjoanna @skzophreniic

@silly250

[wchswift]

── 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

pairing! joel miller x f!reader

→ summary! after Ellie makes it clear, again, that she wants nothing to do with Joel, you follow him out of the barn and try to comfort him. → contents! post-winter dance scene, hurt/comfort, softness, emotional intimacy, established relationship. → word count! 764

Joel’s boots hit the snow hard and fast, like he could stomp out the ache in his chest if he tried hard enough. He hadn’t meant for things to go sideways. Hadn’t meant to snap. But he couldn't just stay there after Seth treated her like that. Saying that to them, thinking he was within his rights. Protect first, explain later.

Only Ellie didn’t want protection anymore. Not from him.

You watched it all. Ellie and Dina, hugging and kissing each other like the world was finally something light again. Then Seth happened—the way he looked at them, the way he treated them with poison.

The awkward shuffle of the crowd after Joel shoved the old man hard, words sharp and biting. Ellie’s face tight with that tangled mess of hurt and pride. Her words still hung in the air even now, heavy and biting—“What is wrong with you?���

You saw Joel flinch like she’d slapped him.

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

You let him walk off at first. Gave him space. But when he didn’t stop, didn’t slow, just kept disappearing into the dark like he meant to walk clear out of Jackson—you followed.

He didn’t hear you at first. Not over the wind. Not over whatever storm was raging in his head. But when you called his name, soft and sure, he paused.

“Joel.”

He didn’t turn around; he just let out a shaky breath, white in the cold air.

“Not a great party,” you offered gently, stepping closer.

He huffed, a joyless thing. “Didn’t come for the party.”

“No. I figured that.”

Silence stretched between you. Just the crunch of snow beneath your boots as you joined him, close enough to share the cold.

“She’s angry,” he said finally, voice low. “At me. Can’t blame her.”

“She’s a teenage girl,” you said quietly. “They stay angry at the people they love, Joel. It’s part of the job.”

“She don’t want me anymore.”

The words hit you hard. Not just because of the sadness in them, but because of how sure he sounded. Like it was a fact. Like he was already packing up that little piece of his heart and tucking it somewhere deep, where it wouldn’t hurt as bad.

You reached out, touched his arm, gentle.

“She does want you. She just doesn’t know how to say it when she’s mad.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to you finally. They were red-rimmed, jaw clenched so tight you could hear it grind. And beneath all that anger and shame was something raw—something splintered.

“You ever think maybe I’m just… bad at this?” he asked. “At all of it. Being here. Being with people. Keep screwin’ it up.”

You moved closer, your hand still on his arm. “Joel, if you were bad at it, you wouldn’t care this much.”

He looked down. His shoulders sank under the weight of whatever guilt he’d carried into that barn and out of it.

You reached up, brushing your fingers lightly along his jaw. He didn’t flinch—just closed his eyes like he needed that contact to breathe again.

“She needs time. But she’s not gonna stop loving you overnight. And neither am I.”

That last part slipped out like a secret, quiet but certain.

His eyes snapped open. He looked at you like you were some kind of miracle he didn’t know how to believe in.

“You love me?” he asked, like he’d never heard those words said to him like that before.

You smiled softly, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I do.”

Joel swallowed hard. His hand came up, covering yours, rough fingers trembling just a little.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” he admitted. “Don’t wanna lose her. Don’t wanna lose you either.”

“You won’t,” you whispered. “You’re not gonna lose either of us.”

And right there in the dark, surrounded by snow and silence and the distant echo of laughter from the barn, Joel leaned forward, rested his forehead against yours. No kiss. No words. Just two people holding on in the quiet.

You stayed like that for a long moment, until his breathing calmed. Until some of the weight lifted.

Then you took his hand, laced your fingers through his.

“C’mon,” you said. “Let’s go home.”

And for the first time that night, Joel let himself follow.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

⛥ main masterlist.

lina's notes: After watching the first episode of season 2 and already knowing what awaits us in the next chapters I had to write this!! This is my first time writing for Joel or any of Pedro's characters. I don't know if I'll write for him again but I love him so much and I just wanted to give him a little comfort :((

[submissivegayfrenchboy2]

Such a cute drawing imagining Steve Rogers visiting Bucky Barnes in Wakanda 🥰

If you want to read a story where it happens, here is the link :

Here is an extract :

One day, he received a surprise visit: that of his friend Steve Rogers! This one wore his hair back longer, his suit was dark and he had a wild beard. Steve walked over to Bucky, took him in his arms and kissed him passionately, albeit tenderly.

The two best friends were happy to see each other again, and after years of not seeing or speaking to each other, they didn't need musts to tell each other their feelings. Whether they were friends or there was love between them, the result was the same: the only way they wanted to use to greet each other was with a kiss on the mouth.

Bucky Barnes put his only arm around his muscular friend's neck, and Steve Rogers hugged James's body, taking him by the waist. The kiss lasted several minutes.

JAMES "BUCKY" BARNES / THE WINTER SOLDIER: "You let your beard grow."

CAPTAIN AMERICA : "You don't like it?"

BUCKY : "Yes I do like it, even if everything is fine with you, my beloved Steve."

Then, Bucky took Captain America by the hand, and led him to his tent.

There, they kissed again, before Bucky took a large Wakandan blanket and set it on the grass.

Captain America undressed and Bucky lay down next to him. He inhaled the scent of his body, his sweaty hairy armpits giving Bucky a sense of relief. Steve Rogers pulled out his big white cock and started jerking it off.

Bucky hadn't seen his best friend's cock since the time he fucked him at their goodbye, but before that he had only seen him briefly when they were living together. Since then, taking the supersoldier serum had made Steve's cock bigger, longer, with more energy. This explained the amount of cum he had slapped on Bucky's ass during their farewell, which had taken several minutes for the Wakandan scientists present to fully clean Bucky's ass, even though they had enjoyed it all. lick. It must be said that Steve had not used his cock for many years.

Thus, the two friends were alone, and Steve Rogers put his hand on Bucky's neck to guide him towards his cock.

STEVE ROGERS: "Go ahead, take it in your mouth. It's been waiting for this for years. From the softness of your lips."

Bucky Barnes sniffed his best friend's cock before kissing it and taking it in his mouth to suck it up and down while Steve Rogers stroked his soft hair. After several minutes, Steve took Bucky in his arms and he sniffed the warmth of his lover's neck.

After a hug where Bucky rested his head on Steve's chest, Steve Rogers took Bucky's hand and they walked.

The Wakandan forest was incredibly beautiful, especially as the sun was about to set.

Other posts where you'll see drawings where Steve Rogers visits Bucky in Wakanda :

Wakanda visit by lemnia

[etherealily]

same page? // f.odair

My other Finnick fics, if you have the time.

This was from my poll .

Finnick Odair + fem!reader. Warnings: Cuss words.

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

Desc. : Panem's most publicized situationship.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🌀⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Make them speculate.

Make them wonder.

Distract them.

Entice them.

Convince them.

He tucked your hair behind your ear, kissing your temple as he did so. Your insides turned. "Are we on or off today?"

"He didn't say."

"Hm.", he murmured against your forehead. "It's up to us, then."

You took a sip of your champagne.

Listen, Finnick Odair was a fucking menace.

Seven years. Seven years of this shit.

"Do you never wonder what it'd be like if we actually did end up marrying each other?"

"The entire Capitol would burn down.", you scoffed softly, eyes running around the room.

"Snow would be pissed, for one. It's a will-they/won't-they until we do."

"Which we won't."

He pouted, shaking his head as he brought your hand to his chest. "You wound me."

Your whirlwind romance had swept Panem off its feet. According to their knowledge, you'd first met at a Post-Games party, after your first time as a mentor, and you couldn't keep your eyes off each other. Cue the mess.

On and off. Sometimes, never, and always. That was you and Finnick, in the eyes of Panem.

It wasn't exactly all false. In the beginning it really had just been you, Finnick, and a couple of nights that neither of you wished to label. But there was no sex, that was what was morbidly hilarious here. Just deep, drunken conversations.

In Panem, the most intimate thing you could do with someone was not sex, no, it was developing a true connection, and that's what had happened all those nights — what had scared you both.

So sue you if you didn't want to label that shit. It'd only end badly for the both of you.

Sure, Finnick might have thought he might, possibly, maybe want more. But that was only on late nights when he was watching the moon or nostalgic footage of District Four on the TV, but at the end of the day, both of you knew this decision was the best.

Toxic, definitely, but at the end of the day, although his long string of dalliances followed his reputation everywhere he went, he always came back to you.

Panem thought it was because no matter how twisted, he always loved you.

Snow thought Panem would like that.

You preferred that than actually discussing with him why he always came back.

"Off.", you replied.

"We've been 'off' too many times this year. Snow's going to freak."

He was right. "Fine. Is Caesar here?"

His eyes flicked around the room, scoping it out. "Yes."

You groaned. "He's going to lip read, then."

Caesar Flickerman was a dynamic host as well as an expert lip-reader. You'd only found that out on your second year of this charade, when Finnick had been talking to you about missing home - taboo topic around the Capitol - and Caesar had caught it.

All over the news the next day. He'd had to cover it up and say he meant you were his home. The Capitol went positively feral.

"Look at you, all sexy.", Finnick whispered, with his maddening smirk. "For me?"

"For me." He rolled his eyes. Wrong answer, his glare told you.

"Tell me, gorgeous.", he breathed, hands placed tantalizingly and strategically on your shoulders. "Do the cameras love you as much as I do?"

His iconic line. He'd come up with it three years ago, and it was a cop-out for when he was too tired to come up with any other segue, and besides, the Capitol loved it. It was basically code for you to chill out on the responses, because he was way too exhausted that day.

"Do the cameras love you as much as your family does? Or do you just live here, now? In the Capitol? In the limelight?"

Wait, what?

"I live in my district. Most of the year." The hell was he doing?

"Do you now, beautiful? And why is it you're always here?"

"Why are you always here?"

"Photo ops, of course. Snow needs his best out here all the time to make the Capitol as spectacular-looking as he needs.", he replied, eyes glistening.

"I'm here for the same reason."

"Yes, but you act like you don't give a shit where you are. Like you winning the Games was nothing. Like you being bestowed with riches - more than most, actually, because of the hot little outfits that you model- is nothing. Impassive, deadpan, nonchalant, innocent but too-cool-for-school Y/N.", he mocked.

No way was he actually letting anyone lip read this.

"Caesar's not here, is he?"

He chuckled, nodding. "You're right. I just needed an excuse for you to listen."

"I will not have you judge me."

"Let me kiss you, Y/N."

"What?"

"Please."

"I am not going to let you kiss me. We've got... we can't act as if we've had this conversation in private. It has to progress slowly. Every single moment of ours must be 'accidentally' captured, and jus—"

"Same page?"

He always asked you that before he did something he thought would get the cameras off your back for a couple weeks.

"No! No, no, not this time, what?", you hissed through gritted teeth, doing your damndest to work on your ventriloquism skills.

He rolled his eyes, his lips moving to your cheek. "Let. Me. Kiss. You. I swear, you'll understand."

Finnick's knuckles on your jaw, he tilted his head, as if to say 'come on, I'm already this close'.

You acquiesced.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, before murmuring against them. "Kill Snow with me."

You didn't pull away, you didn't push him away, you didn't frown, you didn't scream. You just froze.

"Johanna— everyone, basically, is on board.", he said, in between kisses to your unresponsive lips. "And the Mockingjay. She... god, Y/N, please, I can tell you're two seconds away from killing me, but please—."

His kisses kept growing more feverish by the second, his hands cupping your face and using it to pull you closer. It was getting increasingly hard to ascertain whether he was addicted to your lips or the words he was corrupting them with.

"Finnick, Finnick, wait—"

"Please, please, Y/N." He was begging. He was pleading. "Just... shh."

"I'm not — stop.", you hissed, and he begrudgingly pulled away, though his lips lingered on your neck. "I'm not going to kill anyone. Not Snow, not you— though I should probably kill you for this. What if you're mic'd? Snow's done that befor—"

"You wouldn't be doing any of the killing, my love.", he smiled against your neck, his hands pulling you flush against his body, and something told you it wasn't even because this whole conversation was supposed to be a secret anymore.

He was drunk. You'd only seen Finnick drunk a couple times - the nights that had led you two to being friends (?) and being spotted talking (obviously fucking, according to the Capitol) - but it had never been this bad. He'd always had some form of control over his faculties.

"Finnick, there's cameras right now, we can't—"

"I'm in love with you, Y/N, more than the cameras."

One good thing about Finnick was that his words never slurred when he was psychotically, unforgivably inebriated. They simply hastened.

"Okay, Finnick, I'll get you back to your—"

"Like so much, and I—"

Before he could say something that could be picked up by the cameras around you and analysed by Caesar, you shook your head, covering his mouth with your palm.

He frowned, making unintelligible noises against your hand.

You rested your forehead against his as you whispered. "We'll talk about this later. Get some rest."

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🌀⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Hours later, you knocked lightly on the door to his room before walking in gingerly.

He lay down, looking up at the ceiling as though it had every answer he could possibly need.

"Finnick?"

"I'm... a failure."

Shit. "Now, Finnick, remember what you have to do when you think like this? Think of your family. Who you're protecting."

"Oh, my god, princess, it's not himself he's disappointed at."

Johanna motherfucking Mason.

"Johanna?"

"In the flesh. But I won't be for long if you don't listen.", she reminded, elbow on her knee.

You closed the door behind you, locking it as you turned on the light. "You're in on this? It's crazy talk!"

"It's a rebellion. It supposed to sound out-there until you actually do it.", she snorted, hopping off the bay window and stretching.

"It's that District 12 Victor, isn't it? Everdeen-something? She's got you guys all riled up."

"Katniss Everdeen, yes. The Mockingjay."

"Jesus, you guys are all fuckwits."

"C'mon, baby, that's no way to be. I thought you were the polite, innocently sexy one? The one who could never even call someone stupid, let alone a fuckwit.", she pouted.

"Snow will kill everyone you've ever loved."

"He already is. Except it's slower, torturous. This way, we're nipping it at the bud so our kids don't have to go through this bullshit again. What about, uh, you two?", she teased, raising a brow as she gestured between you and a plastered Finnick groaning the headache away. "Your cute little Capitol-bred lovechild will still be made to go through the Games. You don't want that, huh?"

You groaned, yanking open the bedside drawer supply of water bottles, passing it over to him. "Jo."

She raised a brow, sitting next to you. "Y/N."

"You can't kill Snow."

"Watch me, sweetheart."

"Jo, this isn't even funny. She lucked out, alright? Katniss, you said her name was? She lucked out big time. Snow's seething. He's seething, and—"

"We know."

"Lie back down, Finnick, you're drunk."

"I'm hungover. This was a big deal for me, okay? I was nervous you'd react just like this and jeopardize it all, okay? Needed liquid courage. Cut me some slack."

"I'm leaving. I'm not going to fucking sit here and listen to you talk about a rebellion when the Capitol's at their strongest and Snow's at his angriest, it's your funer—"

"You're going back into the Arena!"

You paused at the doorway, your fingers on the frame like it was your only tether to reality. "What?"

"Heavensbee. He told us that the Quarter Quell will reap previous Victors."

"What?"

"Snow wants - needs - Katniss dead."

Your attempts to force breath to stay in your lungs proved futile when you realized exactly what that meant. "You guys are going to try protecting her?"

"We have to."

"No, actually, you don't. Finnick, please don't tell me you're going to volunteer if you aren't reaped."

He groaned, rubbing his face over his hands as he sat up. "There's one chance, and this is it. She is it."

Good lord, you were fucking surrounded by idiots.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🌀⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

The moon was the only beauty you'd found in the Capitol.

Finnick had taught you to look at it. Especially when you were scared. Worried. Or feeling nothing. Or feeling everything. Or feeling too many things.

It worked, actually, but this time, you looked at the moon, and all you could remember was when eighteen-year-old Finnick pointed the moon out to newly-sixteen-year-old you.

"Beautiful, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you know it controls the tides?"

"What?"

"Yeah. That was my reaction when I first heard it, too!", he'd whispered. "It's your sweet sixteen, right? So just go ahead and pray that the tides change. Wish on the moon."

"Tides change?"

"You know, that this whole 'we're-in-love-spiel' can stop."

This had been the first ever year of this goldmine of a plotline for Capitol TV.

"I want to go home."

You'd said that some three times the past couple hours, but you knew Snow wouldn't let you do so.

"I know. Wish on the moon that you can do that, too. Wish on the moon you can spend all of your birthdays with the people you love. Well, besides me, of course.", he'd grinned, nudging your shoulder to make you laugh. "Just wish on the moon."

You'd closed your eyes to do just that.

"It'll take care of the rest.", he'd whispered.

Sweetest boy on Earth, he was back then.

Right now? Ugh. You wished on the moon that he'd get a brain.

A knock.

"What?!" Fine, snapping may not have been the best thing for you to be doing, as your blood pressure was already terrifyingly high.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, Finnick. Sure. Come in.", you mumbled, rubbing at your forehead.

"I... I can't even begin to apologise. Um... that was—"

"No, it's fine, you're good, it's wh—"

"No, that was... there is no excuse for that. Springing all that on you, and giving you all but five seconds to... I— I don't even know what I was thinking."

"Johanna got in your head, it happens.", you shrugged, watching as he frowned, sitting down opposite you on your bed, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. Huh. Your tone was understanding, but your words gave him pause.

"Same page?"

"I'd say we are."

"I don't know.", he muttered, picking at his knuckles for a second before turning to you. "Are you with us?"

"Okay, we're not on the same page."

"I thought not."

"Finnick, this is madness. Snow is at his angriest because he got his ass handed to him by two kids from District Twelve. Twelve. Like...", you scoff-laughed, gesturing wildly to illustrate the sheer bizarrity of the situation. "That shit doesn't happen every day. He's got us both going on more calls because the Patrons need to be pacified. Hell, he's now planning to send us all back into the Arena?!"

"Exactly! Don't you think it's enough?"

"What? Finnick—"

"Enough bloodshed, Y/N, please! Yeah, we're Careers, but when has that ever meant we were safe from the bullshit of the Capitol? Hm?"

"This isn't about us being Careers. It's about the fact that you could die!"

"We're going to anyway! It's like Johanna said! He's killing us slowly! We won't be able to live with ourselves once we're old and not wanted anymore!"

"FINNICK!"

"What?!"

"The first rebellion caused the Hunger Games. What the fuck do you think a second rebellion is going to bring? Hm? Mass genocide of the Districts? An arena with even younger kids? Every rebel and their families becoming Avoxes?! Are you fucking insane?!"

He paused at that. Silence. Good. At least he wasn't deluded enough not to consider the probability of failure.

You stared at him for a little while, before sighing. He wasn't weak, far from it, but you had just violently burst his bubble, the only thing he probably had going for him. And it must have been huge -and have been on his mind for a long time, a perfectly formulated plan that he was very excited about - seeing as he hadn't said anything to you.

He had a habit of doing that.

He never wanted to give you anything that wasn't just perfect.

He'd brought you back this seashell one time. From District Four. It had taken about five months for him to find the perfect one, with the best weight, the best colour, shape, texture, girth, whole shebang.

He stored your return-gift of a trident - you were masonry and weaponry district, after all - in a literal vault in District 4, until you gave him a tiny charm-version. He wore that around his neck.

Another time, he'd decided he'd write you his impression of your district from his Victory Tour. But that day, he'd been incredibly nervous, so he didn't look anywhere but his feet, and oh, how they longed to be home! In the sand, with waves kissing at his heels.

He figured he'd pretend he'd seen you in the crowd, all those years ago. In reality, you'd have only been about twelve, though you were raised above your parent's heads, so it was possible he could have seen you.

He hadn't, though.

For the case of this very humble birthday present, however, he pretended like he did. He took the wildest guess he could, that your hair was not tied up that day, and began to talk of your home.

How lovely everything had seemed.

How excited you looked.

You loved it. You really had. And he loved that you loved it.

And this whole rebellion thing was no different. He knew you'd be reluctant, but he also knew you'd secretly pray on the success of it, and he'd meticulously spent ages going through everything, every single thing, to make sure it was absolutely perfect for you, to make sure you could never call it anything but the best gift you'd ever gotten.

This, though? This argument had thrown him for a loop. You had a point. One he hadn't thought of.

"I'm—", you sighed once more, shaking your head. "Hey, I'm sorry, I... that was harsh."

He bit the inside of his bottom lip. "Mm."

"Finnick, I really am."

"Yeah, I know. I just... what if we don't fail, though?"

Wish(on the moon)ful thinking.

"Then great. But is that a chance you really want to take?"

"What if it is?" It's quiet in your room, and his response is almost engulfed in the silence, but you manage to catch it.

"Don't you think that's what the First Rebels thought?"

You were just dynamite today, weren't you? Finnick loved it when you were like this, but a tiny bit less when it was directed against him.

At least he knew he was an inch closer to receiving your amazing hugs.

"Yeah. Yeah, no, for sure."

You nodded softly, and then he kissed you.

And once more, corruption blossomed on your lips. "But you're deluded if you think when we're in that arena, I'm letting you kill Katniss."

"I won't have to if my theory is right."

"What theory?", he scoffed against your lips, pulling you closer as his hands crept up into your hair.

"That Snow will do things specifically to kill Katniss, and the only way anything will ever work is if you, I dunno, find a way to save Katniss and yourself and Peeta and Joha—"

"We're hacking into the arena."

He really hated kissing you when you didn't reciprocate, but he had to for the next few seconds when you froze, before pulling you away. "What?"

"We're... I can't tell you, but we've got District 3 in on it, they're going to get a wire and basically, like—"

"What, blow up the arena? Are you sure you're feeling okay? Are you still hungover?", you asked, placing your palm on his forehead.

He rolled his eyes, taking it in his and kissing it once. "I promise, I am perfectly fine. And yes, we have a solid plan—"

"Holy shit, this is what you meant by 'the Capitol Patrons give me information' ? I figured it was about the next Games, so you could help your tributes win, not... fuck, Finnick! This is treason!"

"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!"

You glared at him as he stood in sheer fury. "I'm sorry for yelling."

Wow. Sweetest boy on earth and you'd made him miserable. How do you do it?

"It's alright."

"I don't care that it's treason, alright? But we need to end this bullshit. Okay? So I will ask you for the last ever time, Y/N, because you know that whatever you say next will affect whether we see each other again. Are you with us?"

You licked your lips, picking at the duvet. "Can I have some time?"

"Reaping Day."

"Reaping Day?"

"Reaping Day. I'm not even kidding."

Yeah, he almost never was.

Fuck.

"I'll tell you by Reaping Day."

"Okay."

He didn't leave. It was a long moment of either meeting or vehemently avoiding each others eyes.

"I'm sorry about the yelling.", he repeated.

"You're not volunteering."

"What?" He was halfway out the door when you said it, and he was this close to slamming it.

"If you're not reaped, you take it as the odds being in your favor and shut up. Alright?"

He turned to you, slamming the door and leaning on it with crossed arms. Incredulity painted his face. "Are you kidding me?"

"No."

"Who are you to order me around? Fucking Snow?"

"I'm—"

"Who?! My on-screen-propaganda-lover?!"

That stung more than you'd expected it to.

"Fine. Fuck you! Go ahead and volunteer. Like a fucking dumbass. Go get yourself killed because you can't handle the truth! This is how it is and how it'll always be!"

"It doesn't have to!"

"Yeah, tell that to District 13!"

"Oh, if only you fucking knew!"

"Knew what?! That your half-baked 'plan' is bound to fail?!"

"If you're such a fucking loyalist, go tell Snow the big 'half-baked' plan!"

"Maybe I will!"

"Yeah, go! Go right now, scurry off, become the fearless Savior of Panem, the title of the Most Loyal goes to you!"

You stood, attempting to shoulder past him, but honestly, you should've known better. He grabbed your arm. "If you're going, stay on your knees in front of him so we can shoot you in the back of your head when we storm the Capitol." Pretty picture he could paint, you'd give him that. He could paint a dazzling romance and a grisly murder all just with words.

"That's if you do it. You won't."

"Yeah? Watch us."

You mirrored his clenched jaw. "Let. Go."

"You don't like me holding you?", he asked, tilting his head in mock curiosity.

"No."

"In the Snow regime, in the Capitol, sweetheart, that word has no meaning.", he spat.

"Does treason? Does murder? Does anarchy?"

"Snow gave you a comprehensive list of his favourite vocabulary, how cute."

"Oh, fuck off, Finnick, alright? Let go."

"Are you with us?" He shook your arm.

"No!"

"Are you with us?" More desperation this time. But he knew you, and his eyes held a calm that suggested he knew exactly where your heart lay. With him. With the idea of a free Panem.

"I'm not!"

"ARE YOU WITH US?!", he snapped, finally yelling once more.

"YES!"

The silence had snuck back in unnannounced.

"This is why I love you. You're a fucking trip."

Great. You were not only having to play an innocent, his lover and now a rebel, but you were also, evidently, to play jester for him, since he thought you were so fucking amusing.

"Do the cameras love you as much as I do?"

Oh, my god, he was being funny now, was he?

"Don't die.", you scoffed.

"Not if you won't. Same page?"

You scrambled to come up with a plan. Rig District 4's reaping? Fucking how? Beg Heavensbee for a glimpse into the arena? You barely knew if he was actually on your side, no matter how much Finnick seemed to trust him. Tell Snow and not include Finnick or Johanna or Katniss or — okay, too many variables. Oh! Wait! When he was busy protecting Katniss in the arena, you'd be busy protecting him. Okay. Could work. Right, okay.

He kissed your temple, looking down at you expectantly. He had no idea what he'd do if you hated his gift. "Right.", he muttered, after a little while of watching you play with the hem of his shirt. "I gave you till Reaping Day."

You nodded, and he whistled lowly, looking out at the window, his eyes brightening. "But... you know it's Full Moon Day today.", he grinned.

So you two sat there watching the moon for... quite a while, actually.

Wishing that the other would just fucking listen for once.

Finnick Odair was a fucking menace.

But he was also the sweetest boy you knew.

So, if you had to be on the same page, you would be.

"Same page.", you affirmed, finally, when it got too late and his hands went slack around your shoulder, and your eyes started getting heavy. You were truly, in entire honesty, unable to fathom a future where the rebellion worked and Panem was free.

But your plan was at least still intact. No matter how this clearly poorly thought out rebellion went.

At least, with your plan, he'd be alright, either way.

At least he'd live.

[alchemistc]

get by (with a little help from my friends)

Eddie's "Hey man." gets completely ignored when he answers the phone, which isn't entirely unusual, considering the man on the other end.

"I need you to talk me off a ledge."

Tommy sounds like he's gone three rounds already, and that's entirely possible. At this point, he's got the same steps as Buck does any time he feels like flying off the handle: phone a friend, and then another friend, and then talk to Buck about it. Eddie always likes it best when they just fucking talk to each other, but he can see the wisdom in asking for advice first. They're both reactive fucks who love each other way too much to be rational face to face, sometimes.

"Am I qualified to give advice on this subject, or is this gonna be another Spare Key Fiasco?"

Tommy chuffs from the other end of the phone. He still hates that Eddie had had a front row seat to that freakout.

"It wasn't a spare, Eddie, I had it specifically made for -."

"Yeah, that's my bad, dude, stop taking every opportunity to change the subject. What's up, man?"

There's a noise Eddie recognizes vaguely as the breathing exercises Buck had been explaining to him a few months ago. They both use them - Buck to prevent the leap to anger and defensiveness, Tommy to prevent... whatever his reactive habits are. The pair of them have been surprisingly light on details, since they got back together. Well. Surprising that Buck hasn't word vomited all of Tommy's idiosyncrasies, at some point.

It's going on a year since he's seen Tommy in person, but he can picture the exact curmudgeonly expression he's probably pulling right now. "I bought a ring, last week."

Only about a month behind Buck. They're getting better about the whole pacing thing. Eddie's been sworn to secrecy, so this is gonna be a fucking minefield to navigate.

"That's great, man. When are you gonna ask him?" Buck has a spreadsheet already. Two, actually, if you're counting the Worst Case Scenario tab Eddie'd caught a peek at when Buck shared his screen instead of ending the video call they'd been on.

That's going in the speech whether Buck likes it or not.

"You remember that ledge I was talking about?"

Of course. Of course that's what he's worried about. Of course Eddie's been dialed in to either talk him down or throw out a rope and wrangle his ass off a cliff side.

Man's stolen helicopters, evaded military and FBI and earned medals for his reckless bravery, and yet the idea of settling down with a man he loves more than the entire world and flying is rattling him enough to need backup.

"Who was your first call?"

Tommy's huff is fairly telling. Sal, then. Eddie's only met him once and he wasn't his biggest fan, but Buck loves the guy. Says sitting between the two old friends is better than watching a UFC match. He's got weird priorities, Buck does.

("They're so mean, Eddie, you'd think they were mortal enemies, but Deluca, like, gets Tommy. Do you think he'll help me with the contingency plan?")

From what Eddie can remember, they'd only reconnected about six months ago, but they'd fallen back into their aggressively combative friendship easily, according to Buck. Eddie's of the opinion that Tommy reached out to Sal Deluca specifically to combat Buck's intense positivity when he finally cottoned on to the fact that Buck considered himself a permanent fixture in Tommy's life.

"Sal told me to woman up. And swap the ring out for a leash."

Yeah. Eddie's not sold on Sal Deluca. Considering they're most likely gonna have to plan some sort of joint bachelor party across state lines sometime over the course of the next year, Eddie's going to have to woman up himself.

"Not to make everything even worse than Deluca, but what the hell are you hoping I can help with? My only proposal came about three days after the pee stick showed two lines."

Tommy blows out a breath. Not the breathing exercises, this time. Eddie can almost see the hand he's dragging down his face, nose folding and bouncing back when the hand gets to his mouth and hangs there, for a moment. "I've proposed before," he murmurs.

Well. There that is. Eddie had definitely forgotten about that little hiccup.

"I mean, it's not like you're gonna propose, sit on it for a few years, and then decide you actually don't like dick, right?"

"Your support is overwhelming," he deadpans, and the line goes quiet. For about forty seconds, Eddie stares at the time on the call tic up and up. "But no, that's not the issue."

"No offense, buddy, but I have no idea what the issue is. He's gonna say yes. It's gonna be great. He'll cry for like an hour and then for a few weeks he'll tell every random stranger he meets that his fiance is a pilot for the LAFD." If Tommy swears him to secrecy, too, he's gonna have to get creative. See if he can coordinate a joint proposal without either one of them cottoning on.

"You ever been gun shy before?" Tommy asks, in that roundabout way he has of trying to explain the thoughts inside his own head.

He tried. He failed. He hurt someone. He doesn't want to do it again.

"Yeah, but like - besides the fact that you're attracted to and in love with Buck, they're...very different people." He'd only met Abby once. Hadn't particularly cared for her, on account of the whole leaving his best friend in limbo for months, and the Making His Best Friend Act More Out Of Pocket Than Usual At A Scene.

"Both with amazing hair, though," Tommy jokes, and then groans. "I'm going to gouge my eyeballs out with a teaspoon."

"Yeah, don't do that. You think Evan Buckley's going to decipher that as 'Lets get hitched'?"

"I resent the idea that you think that I'd use those words."

"Apologies. You gonna quote a movie he's never seen?"

"It's easy to recycle when he thinks they're all my witty rejoinders."

"He knows when you're quoting something. Tommy, your whole body vibrates, and you get this deranged smile. You are many things, my friend, but subtle is not one of them."

Christ, Tommy has a type. Drawn to whatever asshole can slice him to the bone while keeping up with his brand of sardonic banter. Eddie doesn't enjoy the new knowledge that he's basically the Buck-adjacent version of Deluca.

How the hell had he ended up with the human equivalent of a socially anxious Great Dane?

There's an easy solution here. Is it a violation of the bro code to tell Tommy to just sit on it? Carry the ring around everywhere and wait til the time is right? That's not a hint, is it?

"You're trying to distract me," Tommy observes. "What do you know?"

"I know that despite the fact that the two of you could fill Michigan Stadium with your insecurities and diametrically opposed capital I issues, this is gonna work itself out in a really good way."

"Eddie."

"Tommy."

"He already bought the ring, didn't he?" There's his typical bemused sigh whenever Buck does something that he, personally, finds adorably annoying. Annoyingly adorable. Something. Eddie doesn't know; he still doesn't quite get them. They work, and that's all that really matters, at the end of the day.

Sometimes they work because Eddie, Maddie, and Sal Deluca, for some reason, can offer the right support and the right advice at the right time.

"For legal and personal reasons I'm invoking my right to remain silent."

"Are the personal reasons to do with wanting your ankles intact?"

"I might take a vow of silence, actually."

Tommy's quiet for a long, long time. Long enough that Eddie has to check and make sure the asshole hasn't hung up on him.

"Is his plan going to cause any permanent damage to county property? We've both got priors." Stealing government property, evading police and military, technically domestic terrorism. All wiped from their records because they both have main character syndrome, so exactly zero actual prior offenses.

"I don't recall saying anything about a plan."

"That vow sure has legs to stand on," Tommy muses, and Eddie has to fight the urge to blow a raspberry.

"You can ask one yes or no question that I retain the right to not answer. If it'll help you walk yourself back off that ledge."

Tommy takes long enough forming the question that Eddie gets through three of the syllabuses Chris' school is requiring him to confirm he's read. He hates this damn school, but Chris loves it.

"Should I start carrying the ring with me everywhere, or can I assume Evan will at least make it clear we have plans, when he decides he's ready?"

That's not a yes or no question.

"That's not a yes or no question."

"Should the ring be on my person at all times, yes or no?" Eddie can't tell if he's throwing the bitchy tone in for a laugh, or because he's actually annoyed. For all Eddie knows, he could still be a little prickly about the fact that he's having to seek out the competition for advice on his love life. Buck says they're over that, but sometimes Eddie's not sure.

Sometimes Buck still encourages him to lean into it a bit because apparently "The sex is mind-blowingly hot, Eddie."

"You'll probably be fine without it at work," Eddie hedges.

"Probably is not a yes or a no."

"I never told you how I was gonna answer."

Eddie hates that he knows Buck's gonna get laid tonight on the back of Tommy's frustration with Eddie.

"So. How's that cliff looking, from over there?"

Tommy's put-upon sigh is edging on overkill. "What cliff? It's plains and valleys from here."

Eddie's well aware that Tommy can dig himself trenches a mile deep just to have a ledge to jump from. He has a good feeling about this, though.

"Let him romance you, for once, dude."

That shouldn't be such a polarizing statement, for the man who's been desperate to be loved almost as much as Evan Buckley himself, but Tommy has a nasty fucking habit of shooting himself in the foot whenever Buck makes it a point to take care of Tommy back.

Tommy groans. "None of this makes it to the speech."

"Yeah, it's absolutely going in the speech, man."

[cocqaine]

♱ | play fighting with nanami. smut. dom! nanami. praise. hair pulling.

it started with a harmless tease.

you were sprawled across the couch, legs in his lap, flipping through a book while nanami typed away on his laptop. you nudged him once, twice, then again — toeing at his side until he looked up at you, unimpressed.

“you’re really asking to be punished, aren’t you?” he muttered, tone dry.

you grinned. “just trying to get a reaction out of you, old man.”

his brow twitched. he closed the laptop with a quiet click, and you barely had time to squeal before he lunged. your book flew from your hands as he grabbed you, flipping you onto your stomach and straddling your thighs. he pinned your wrists to the cushion with one hand, the other tickling mercilessly at your side.

“nanami—!” you gasped, writhing beneath him, laughing breathlessly. “you—! stop—!”

“you provoked me.” his voice was calm as ever, which somehow made it worse. “now take responsibility.”

you bucked your hips in protest, but it did nothing to move him. he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “unless you’re done playing now?”

your breath hitched.

his teasing touch slowed, shifting from playful to purposeful. his hands slid under your shirt, palms dragging warm and firm across your skin. your laughter faded, replaced with a soft moan when his mouth met the back of your neck.

“kento…” you whispered.

“that’s better,” he murmured against your skin. “now stay still.”

he slipped his hand between your thighs, already finding you warm and wet through your underwear. a low hum rumbled in his chest.

“you’re so easy to rile up,” he said, nipping lightly at your shoulder. “i should tease you more often.”

you tried to snap back with a smart comment, but the press of his fingers over your clit made your brain short-circuit. the only sound you could manage was a broken whimper.

“what’s that?” he teased, pressing slow kisses down your spine. “nothing to say now?”

you shook your head, arching into his touch, already forgetting what you were fighting about.

nanami’s hand stayed firm between your thighs, slowly rubbing circles over the damp fabric, his knuckles brushing your soaked folds with maddening precision. every breath you took stuttered, every sound you tried to make came out in a soft, needy whine.

“look at you,” he murmured, voice husky now, a little lower than before. “all that mouth, and now you’re melting under me.”

he slipped two fingers beneath the fabric, groaning quietly when he felt how soaked you already were. “such a mess,” he added, dragging the pads of his fingers through your slick. “and i haven’t even fucked you yet.”

you bit your lip, hips canting back into his touch, desperate for more. he gave it to you — slowly pressing two fingers inside, the stretch making you moan. he moved them in and out at a measured pace, curling just right, watching your body twitch under him.

“kento, please—”

he shushed you gently, pulling his hand away. “you’ll get it. i promise. but you’re going to be good for me first.”

his hands were deft as he undid his belt, the soft clink making your stomach flip. he pushed his slacks down just enough to free his cock, already thick and hard, tip leaking with need. you barely had time to look before he was tugging your hips up, angling you just the way he wanted.

“you remember your safeword?” he asked, voice softer now as he ran a hand over the curve of your ass.

you nodded quickly, “yeah—yeah, i remember.”

“good,” he muttered, lining himself up. “because i don’t plan on being gentle.”

he slid into you with one slow, solid thrust — the stretch of him making your eyes roll back. you gasped into the cushions, clutching at them as your walls fluttered around him.

“fuck,” he hissed. “so tight, so warm. you take me so well.”

he didn’t give you much time to adjust. one hand gripped your hip, the other steadying your lower back, and then he started to move — smooth and deep, each stroke hitting the perfect spot inside you. the force of him pushed you forward with every thrust, and you could barely hold yourself up.

“wanted this all night,” he growled, leaning down so his chest pressed to your back. “you teasing me… running your mouth like a brat…”

you moaned as his pace picked up, rougher now, more purposeful. his cock dragged against your sweet spot over and over, and your thighs trembled from the intensity.

“nanami—sir—i’m gonna—”

“not yet.” his voice was a low command. “you’ll cum when i say.”

he pulled you up by the hair, pressing your back against his chest now. one hand reached around to your clit, circling it with brutal precision while he kept fucking up into you, relentless.

you were trembling, overwhelmed, close to tears.

“please—sir, please—”

he groaned at the sound of your begging. “that’s it. that’s what i wanted to hear.”

his pace faltered for a split second, just long enough to whisper, “cum for me. fall apart for me, baby.”

and you did — with a strangled moan, body locking up and then falling apart entirely in his arms. your walls clamped around him, pulsing hard enough to draw a low, almost desperate curse from his lips as he chased his own release.

he fucked you through it, hips jerking slightly as he came moments later, buried deep, breath warm against your neck.

for a while, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing, and the soft creak of the bed as he held you upright.

then, quietly, nanami kissed your temple. “brat.”

you giggled weakly, still trembling. “yeah, but your brat.”

[katsu28]

oooh kait i love the list!!

what about lando + 50. putting a hand over the other's mouth where lando is yapping abt smth?

got a little carried away with this but fuck it we ball

lando norris x sainz!reader, 1.7k. request something from here :)

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

You glance up from your phone to see a grinning Lando leaned up against the wall next to you, and you raise an amused brow. “It’s my brother’s wedding.” 

“Yeah, I know, I was just—” 

“Why would I not be here?” 

“Jesus, I was just trying to be funny, you don't have to be mean about it,” He huffs, bumping his shoulder against yours with a roll of his eyes. 

“Sorry, Lan. You’re just too fun to mess with.” You tease, reaching out to pinch Lando’s cheek. 

He scowls, batting your hand away haphazardly. “Carlos said you were gonna be here early to help get everything settled.” 

“Aw, were you waiting for me?” 

“No, I wasn't.” You shoot him a disbelieving look. “Okay, maybe I was. I had to work with your great aunt, and lemme tell you, that woman is handsy.” 

“Oh, you poor thing.” 

“I know. All because you abandoned me.” 

“I had to help Rebecca with some last minute adjustments. And besides, It takes time to look this good, Norris,” You tut, gesturing towards yourself. The bridesmaid dresses Rebecca had picked out are absolutely gorgeous. Hopefully gorgeous enough to get you what you want. 

“You do look amazing,” Lando murmurs, eyes not-so-subtly raking up and down your body a little too long to be considered innocent. Mission accomplished. 

“You don’t clean up too bad yourself,” You reply, letting your gaze do the same. His tailored suit fits him wonderfully, and his hair is styled to perfection. You fight the urge to run your fingers through his curls and ruin it by pulling him close. 

Things between Lando and yourself are…complicated, to say the least. You were both young when you’d met, all the way back in 2019 when Carlos had done his time with McLaren. Since then, you’ve both grown up, kept in touch, and somewhere along the way, you’d come to a realization. 

You like Lando. A lot. And you think he might like you back, but neither of you have done anything about it. You flirt with each other like people who have feelings for each other and tease each other like friends, dancing around the elephant in the room whenever you’re in the same vicinity. 

It certainly doesn’t help that Lando is one of your brother’s best friends. He looks up to Carlos, respects him as a mentor, and wouldn’t dare make a move against his baby sister. But honestly, you wish he just would. This back and forth is starting to get a little old. 

Now is as good a time as any, with Carlos distracted on his big day. And what was that again people said about weddings being the perfect chance for blossoming romance? 

Someone with a headset and a clipboard comes up and whispers something in your ear, cutting your moment with Lando short. You stow away your phone in your purse, already prepared to follow them to attend to whatever needs doing. 

“Duty calls. I’ll see you later, Lan,” You say, straightening Lando’s tie with a sweet smile aimed at him. “Don’t miss me too much.” 

Lando chuckles, looking equal parts fond and amused. “I’ll try my best.” 

The next time you see him is right before you're meant to walk down the aisle together. You take your mark right next to him, smoothing out your dress one last time before looping your arm through his. 

He leans towards you, lips almost brushing your ear with his whisper. “Missed you.” 

“Thought you said you’d try your best not to?” 

“Guess it wasn't good enough. Listen, can we talk later?” 

He sounds uncharacteristically serious, and it has you giving him a cautious sideways glance. “Of course,” You say. You nudge him gently with your elbow. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s good. Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.” 

“Well, now that you tell me not to worry, I think I might,” You reply, brows furrowing. 

“Then don’t.” 

“Seriously, Lando? You couldn't have waited until after the ceremony for this? I mean, honestly—” 

Suddenly his lips are on your cheek briefly, causing your outburst to die off mid sentence. You stiffen momentarily at the unexpected action. When you turn to gawk at him, he’s looking straight ahead, a satisfied little smile gracing his face. 

You don’t have time to process anything any further before you're being guided towards the beginning of the aisle. Straightening up, throwing your shoulders back, you tighten your fingers around your bouquet of flowers. 

Now isn’t the time. 

The ceremony goes swimmingly. There isn’t a dry eye in the place at seeing just how much Carlos and Rebecca love and cherish each other. Every so often, you’ll catch Lando’s eye across the aisle and he’ll wink back at you, settling your nerves at standing up there in front of everyone. 

You start to wonder what he wants to talk to you about. Your mind immediately goes to the worst possible thing, but surely it can’t be too bad. Right?

Lando doesn’t bring it up until well into the reception. He catches your eye from afar, tilting his head towards the nearest exit. Everyone is on the dance floor now, nobody would notice if you left. 

He slips out of the large hall silently and you follow a few seconds later, only startling a little bit when he grabs your hand and leads you further down the corridor until you can’t hear the lively music anymore. 

“What’s going on, Lando?”

He drops your hand in favor of starting to pace, rubbing his palms over his thighs nervously. “I’m gonna be really honest with you right now. Probably brutally honest. And it might fuck things up, but I think I might explode if I keep it in any longer.” 

“Uh…okay. That sounds concerning,” You say hesitantly, shifting on your feet. 

“It is. I mean, no, it’s not, it’s nothing but, I just…” 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all night, because you look absolutely stunning,” He blurts. “But not just today. I wanna kiss you all the time, and I know—I know I probably shouldn’t because Carlos is one of my best mates and you’re his little sister and he’d likely kick my ass if he ever finds out, but I don’t care, I—” 

“Lando,” You interrupt, fighting to keep your voice level. Finally, finally, something is happening. 

He continues on as if he hadn’t heard you at all. “—can’t keep doing this…this whatever thing we’ve been doing. I really like you, and I need you to know that even if it ruins our friendship.” 

Normally you’d entertain his yapping tendencies, but you want to tell Lando you feel the same way and he just keeps on talking like he’s the only one in this conversation, so you’re left with no choice. 

You push him back against the wall behind him with one hand splayed across his chest, the other hand coming up to cover his mouth. Lando’s ranting dies off the moment your hand touches his face, like you’ve just found his off switch and powered him down. 

“Can you please just shut up for a second?” You say exasperatedly. He nods quickly, completely doe eyed under your palm. “You gonna let me talk now?” Another nod, this one a little slower. “Good. I like you too. Have for ages.” 

Lando’s fingers curl around your wrist, prying your hand away from his mouth with furrowed brows. “You—you do? Really? Why’ve you never said anything?”

“Why haven’t you?” You shoot back, cocking your head. 

“Because…because!” He says incredulously, wrinkling his nose. “You’re Carlos’s little sister, I—he’d have my head.” 

You scoff. “Carlos isn’t my keeper, Lando. I’m an adult, I can make my own choices without having to consult my brother. If I want to date you, I can!” 

Lando’s gaze sharpens, the edges of his mouth curving into a smug little smile, and you know you’re in for it now. 

“Then let me take you out. On a proper date,” He proposes. It’s a bold move, considering you’ve still got him pinned against the wall with one hand, but his bluntness makes your focus flicker. 

Lando takes the opening and makes his move, now suddenly you’re the one with your back against the wall and he’s pushed himself closer than you’ve ever been before. For someone who was just worried about Carlos finding out mere seconds ago, he seems quite confident. 

“You’re sure you want to do this?” You ask softly, searching his face for any trace of doubt or uncertainty. What you’ve wanted for a long time is finally happening, but that doesn’t make you any less wary. If anything, it feels even more daunting. 

Slowly, Lando’s hand comes up to cradle your cheek almost delicately, like he’s afraid you might disappear into thin air if he moves too fast. His tongue darts out to wet his lips just before he leans in, deft fingers shifting from your cheek down under your chin, tilting your head up just enough to meet him in a gentle kiss. 

His lips are softer than you expect, tasting a little like the rum and cokes he’s been nursing all night mixed with something else sweet, and definitely living up to every dream you’ve ever had about this very moment. 

Lando’s thumb rubs along your cheek, a soft smile playing across his face when you break apart. “Believe me, I’m more sure about you than I’ve ever been about anything in my life.” 

You smooth out the lapels of his suit jacket from where your fingers had bunched into the material, beaming at him happily. “Always such a sweet talker, you.”

“Worked on you, didn’t it? I mean, it took years, but I’ve got you now, don’t I?” 

“Depends on where you take me on our date,” You joke. 

“Oh, I’ll take you anywhere you want, baby. Name it and it’s done.” 

“A sweet talker and a smooth talker. That could come in handy for when Carlos finds out.”

“No, it—why?” His voice squeaks on the last word, eyes widening almost comically.

You give his chest a firm pat, ducking out from under his arm to return to the reception. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, hm?”

“Sweetheart, c’mon! He won’t try to fight me, right? Right?” 

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[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt3 of the Danny is the 99th attempted clone Tim made of Kon. Kon learns about Danny.

Relevant info: Kon was dead closer to a year and a half in this au, and this happens a few months after his revival.

[Pt2: here]

So Tim has admittedly been putting off meeting up with the Titans. Everyone has settled back into the new normal. Too much has happened for it to look anything like before, but the other 3 Titans have been hanging out semi-regularly, and Tim turns down their invites 3 of 4 times. He knows it's starting to hurt their feelings, and he hates that.

But... he's scared to admit he's a father now. A father to a clone of one of them. He's not sure how to bring it up. Cassie never asked if he was successful, probably just assumed he failed because there isn't a third Superboy flying around. Jokes on her. Danny isn't going to be a Superboy. He's not allowed to even think about being a hero or vigilante until he's 14 at the earliest, and Tim is going to help him find his own name if he chooses that path. He won't be a Robin or Superboy. He won't live in the shadow of those legacies if Tim can help it.

None of that is relevant for the here and now, though. Tim got Jason to babysit Danny and finally agreed to a hang out with the Titans. He asked Danny for his opinion first before making his decision and got the go ahead. So, Tim is finally going to come clean.

Tim barely makes it into the tower when he's tackled by his friends.

"Tim! You're here!" Bart cheers.

"Yeah, it's good to see you guys too. Sorry I haven't been very present." Tim fidgets. "I've been busy... I also haven't been honest..."

"Tim?" Cassie sounds concerned. And Tim just can't. He extracts himself from the puppy pile. He can't make himself give eye contact. He's sure his guilt and shame are written all over his body language.

"Tim, you can tell us anything." Kon sounds super genuine. Tim takes a deep grounding breath.

"Okay, let's do this like a bandaid." Tim finally looks at them, focusing mostly on Kon. "I have a son. He's technically Kon's, too."

He gets the dubious pleasure of watching his three idiots look at his abdomen, as if he gave birth.

"Why-? Kon, we never fucked!? What the fuck guys??" He sputters, waving his hands in front of him.

"Then how-" Cassie realizes. "Oh!"

"Oh?? What do you mean??" Bart is looking between them and vibrating in confusion. Kon is just looking like a confused and concerned puppy.

"Okay, so, I may have had a breakdown with everyone dying or going missing." Tim grimaces. "And while I was fully aware that even if I succeeded, it wouldn't be Kon, I still tried to clone him. And, um, I did manage to succeed in the end."

"Fuck, Tim.." Kon starts.

"Look, I was in a really fucking dark place and needed even just a piece of good I lost." Tim hugs himself, self loathing burning him from the inside out. "Everyone was turning their back on me, I just needed something, anything, to keep going."

"Fuck, I should have helped..." Cassie bites her lip, chewing on her guilty conscious.

"It's fine. No one was listening. Don't beat yourself up over it. You were in a bad spot, too." Tim gives a humorless laugh. "Danny was my 99th attempt. And my last attempt, if I'm honest. I could feel myself breaking more with each failure. On a fucking whim, I decided to make the 99th attempt a baby instead of trying for a teenager, and it worked. I fucked up a bit, I forgot to adjust the knowledge download to that of a 1 year old, but he was alive. He's the best thing to ever happen to me. I was scared to tell you. I'm sorry-"

"Tim.." Kon cuts him off, and Tim snaps his mouth shut. "I.. I'm honestly not sure how to feel about you cloning me, but I'd like to meet him. What's his name?"

Tim rapidly blinks back tears. "Aedan Drake, he prefers being called Danny. I.. I didn't add Kent because I don't trust Clark with him or give him an El name, I wanted him to understand kryptonian language and culture first. I... I also wanted Danny to be old enough to make the decision over his name himself. I don't want him to be treated like you were. The house of El were so awful to you."

"I understand, Tim." Kon steps towards Tim, "Can.. Can I hug you?"

Tim nods and is swept into a tight hug. He feels something give emotionally, and he sobs into his shoulder. "I fucking love him so much."

"Tell me about him." Kon says softly. He can feel Bart and Cassie hoving, unsure what to do, but unwilling to leave.

"He's physically around 3 now. He loves ghosts and space and named the wolf plushy I bought him on his first day alive Wulf." There's some chuckles over that. "He's sassy and petty, but insanely sweet and tries to help out with any and all tasks. I see so much of both of us in him. Nature vs Nurture is a messy bitch. You remember what I said my start as Robin was like?"

"How you had to babysit a grown ass man and force him into better habits?" Cassie snarks.

"Karma's a funny bitch. Danny started doing the same shit to me as soon as he figured out how to walk." Tim giggles. "Anytime we weren't in danger, he'd force me to take care of injuries and to eat and sleep. And I'd do it because what kind of monster denies a baby trying to be helpful... plus he gets really stressed and depressed if he can't help."

Tim grips the back of Kon's shirt. "I don't understand how he developed my people pleaser tendencies so early on. We were stuck on LoA bases when he first started doing everything in his power to help me. I was purposely being a little shit to our "hosts" at the time. So it wasn't a surprise that he developed a Robin's need to troll, but he only saw me be nice to him."

"The LoA??" Kon asks in alarm.

"It was a rough year..." Tim scowls. "And if I see Ra's again, I'm gutting him. B's rules be damned."

"What happened?" Cassie asks, suddenly a lot closer.

"He's a creep, a pedo, and a child abuser." Kon rubs Tim's suddenly very stiff back and shoulders. "I could handle him being creepy towards me. While gross and awful to have a disgusting 300 or something year old man trying to wife me-"

"Excuse me???"

"He WHAT?"

"-I'm more pissed I couldn't protect Danny. I don't know what that piece of shit did when I couldn't take Danny with me, but Danny is linked to the pit now. He luckily doesn't have pit rage like Jason, but he can calm Jason's pit and apparently glows according to Duke." Tim sobs. "I should have killed the man when I had a chance. I don't know what he did to Danny!"

"It's not your fault, Tim." Kon hugs Tim tightly, it's almost painful. "You were in a tough spot and doing your best to keep you both alive."

"Just focus on healing and moving on." Bart says while running a hand through Tim's hair. Cassie rubs both Tim and Kon's backs as Tim gets himself under control.

"Can.. can I meet him?" Kon whispers.

"I'd love for you to meet him." Tim sniffles. "He was nervous you'd hate him for existing. I apparently passed on my stupid anxiety. I couldn't quite get him to believe me when I told him he wouldn't be who you'd be mad at if you got mad. He wants to meet you, but I accidentally made the most jaded baby in the world."

"A Super raised by a Bat is going to be terrifying." Bart giggles. "We'll have to make sure he doesn't become a supervillain."

"Meh. He's too cute. If he goes evil, all he has to do is pout and he'll instantly win." Tim jokes, wiggling out of the hug. "Want to see pictures?"

There's a very strong positive response. The next 3 hours finds Tim showing off pictures and explaining the stories behind them, his team melting at how cute his son is. Tim feels the lightest he's felt in a while. He does have to promise Bart and Cassie to bring Danny over once Kon and Danny meet one on one first.

What Tim doesn't know is Kon is absolutely obsessed with and slightly horny over this parental side of Tim. He's fully daydreaming of the 3 of them living together and being disgustingly domestic the whole time Tim is showing off Danny. Cassie can tell what Kon is thinking about and is amused.

Once Tim leaves, the Titans go to the training room and fuck up some bots because of the rage they feel on Tim and Danny's behalf. They all agree to be as petty as possible to any LoA members they come across and to murder Ra's the moment there's an opportunity to do so without the JL knowing. Tim isn't the only unhinged one on this team. That's why they work so well together.

[colorlessjay]

Enemies to lovers, but I want them to actually hate each other and think the other is ugly

Like I need them to DISPISE one another. I need them to trash-talk each other. I need them to find the other person REPULSIVE in every which way

And I don't want them to get together through a series of wacky events. no. That's boring

I want them to actively seek each other out, because they're hatred is so extreme that they wanna see the other person at their LOWEST. I want them to CRAVE their enemies' downfall so hard that they take time out of their day to sabotage them

And fuck you, I don't want them to COMFORT each other when at their most vulnerable. I want them to be UNCOMFORTABLE. I want them to sit in a room, both feeling real vulnerable, actively bitching to each other instead

and THAT. That's what gets them together. Them realizing that their hatred for each other is what's keeping their heads above the water. Their motivation to dislike each other is the reason they, themselves are achieving such high goals and potential (Yes this is a rival to lovers too, fuck you again)

And no, no I do not want them to have steamy hate sex. That's PREDICTABLE. I still want them to be repulsed by each other. No no, I want them to realize "Why are we even fighting?" because it's been so long that neither of them even remembers what started it all. And then, I want them to actively drift apart. To silently agree to just ignore each other because they're mature enough to realize what they were doing was pointless.

AND THEN. THEN I want them to crave each other again. I want them to miss the passion they had for each other, because no one else dedicated themselves like their enemy did. No one was as committed and there for them as their enemy. And I need that to RUIN them for everyone else as they go through life.

And it's only years later, when both of them have matured and grown as people, that they FINALLY meet again under different circumstances, having grown different perspectives, and yet still hold that same passion. And it HAS to be AWKWARD at first. It has to be weird and strange

Because that's not their enemy anymore. They're a stranger. A stranger whom they never noticed has qualities they like. And then the REAL slow burn happens as they navigate how to act without that burning hate

just a burning something that both of them are too up in their own ass to unpack

And that. THAT is my enemies to lovers

[cryptotheism]

was kabbalah 100% biblical analysis with some neoplatonism thrown in for the woo factor, or was stuff like gematria used for purposes outside of being a 13th-century conspiracy theorist?

Really good question!

People have been doing Isopsephy for as long as we've had language. Using math to mess around with written text is done by pretty much any religious tradition with a textual corpus. Once you've assigned special importance to written text, manipulation of that text also acquires special meaning.

By the 1200s, late Platonism wasn't "thrown in" to anything, it was practically baked in to all monotheism. This is especially true for Judaism, which had a very close relationship to greco-roman pagan philosophy. The two influenced each other all the time.

This is especially especially true for Moshe de Leon, who was an avid reader of the Islamic scholarly works coming out of north Africa in the 13th century. Medieval Muslim scholars couldn't get enough Plotinus by way of Al-Farabi and Avicenna, and de Leon couldn't get enough of them.

I know you don't actually think De Leon was literally a conspiracy theorist, but you raise a good question. What exactly he was trying to do by writing the Zohar? According to Gershom Scholem, the text itself pulls from dozens of midrashim (rabbinical commentaries), books of outright mysticism, and jewish esoterica. De Leon was trying to build something that could unite a lot of disparate Jewish theology, esoteric and otherwise.

No small feat! You can't just say "all these things should be unified" you need some glue to hold it all together, and that glue needs Textual Authority. That's where the wacky Isopsephy like the gematria and notarikon come in. By fucking around with the Torah, de Leon could say "I'm not just making this up, its in the Torah. Also I didn't write this, Simeon bar Yochai did. We all love Yochai don't we?" Imo this is the real "woo factor" of the Zohar, but its also a necessary move to give the text authority. It is tactically and expertly applied woo which -let's be honest here- is the essence of good esoterica.

The funniest thing about the Zohar is that when it was published, it was roundly criticized by other rabbis for being full of nonsense grammatical mistakes, ahistorical claims, and even misquoting the bible, but people still liked it. The general response was something along the lines of "Moshe we know you made this up and its mostly bullshit...but its pretty cool."

TLDR; its late platonism all the way down, and yeah gematria is woo but de Leon was using it for a specific and non-woo purpose

[lotties-ashwagandha]

DON’T INDULGE

aunt’s best friend!lottie matthews x fem!reader. 4k words.

NSFW! minors dni. while your new house is being renovated, you’re staying with the sadecki family. they’re your relatives through your mother, who in the past was adopted as a shipman. you haven’t visited since you graduated from university years ago, and many of the changes the family has undergone are unexpected — it’s also unexpected when you find lottie matthews staying with them. based on a few anon requests I got!

“I’ve got that for you!” Jeff jogs over. He waves for you to step back from the trunk, hurrying to take your suitcase from your car.

You’re sentenced to staying with the Sadecki family for the next week. Your new house is being renovated, and while you were more than happy to have booked a hotel room for the necessary time, Shauna — your aunt — had insisted you save your money and stay as long as you needed. You hadn’t been able to decline her offer, especially with how long it’s been since you’d seen her despite living nearby. You now find yourself in her driveway, Jeff wrestling your belongings out of the car.

“There we go,” Jeff sets your suitcase down and holds out the handle for you to take, along with another tote bag you’d brought. “Not as fancy as a hotel, but you’ve still got a bellhop!”

“I hope you don’t expect a tip,” you tease. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Happy to help,” he nods. But despite his joyful demeanor, exhaustion lingers in his eyes. “It was Shauna’s idea, she thought it would be nice to have you.”

You offer him a smile, taking your luggage and starting up the driveway.

“Before you go inside,” Jeff stops you nervously, “you should know that Shauna has someone else staying with us. It’s just an old family friend, you’ll barely even see each other, but it’s good to be aware.”

“Who is it?”

Jeff hesitates. “Her name is Lottie. She’s going through a hard time, she just lost her home—”

“Charlotte Matthews?” You interrupt. “That woman from the plane crash that had the fucking cult and ended up on the news a few weeks ago?”

“Don’t call it a cult,” Jeff looks back toward the house. “She gets very angry when you use that word.”

You roll your eyes. Suddenly the prospect of stepping foot in the house seems very painful, and your future of staying under the same roof as an ex cult leader is quite unappealing.

“I understand if you’d like to go get a hotel, but Shauna was very adamant that you stay.”

It’s too late for that, you want to say, but you bite your tongue. Instead you take your belongings and go up the driveway wordlessly and step inside.

As soon as you step inside, you’re met with Callie. The first thing she does is groan at another visitor, the second thing she does is flip you off on her way to her room, and the third thing she does is turn so you can’t see the smile she’s disguising due to seeing you.

“Mom’s out with Misty,” Callie tells you, and before you can respond she steps into her room and slams the door behind her.

Jeff comes inside, shutting the front door. He clears his throat awkwardly, noticing the lack of warm reception you received, and once again designates it as his job to take your suitcases. “I’ll just get these off your hands… there’s a guest room down the hall there that you can stay in across from Lottie’s. We’re all going out to dinner tonight, so I’ll take these to your room, you can freshen up, and we’ll leave at six.”

“Thanks, Jeff…”

He nods curtly, walking off with your things. You watch him disappear into a guest room down the hall.

You look around the house for a moment before following. It’s been a while since you’ve visited, far too long. You take in the family pictures on the walls, some recognizable and others too new. You haven’t been in the house since around the time you graduated university a few years ago.

The sound of the blender being used in the kitchen makes you jump. You follow the sound, thinking it’s Shauna until you remember Callie’s warning — and by the time you turn the corner into the room, it’s too late.

You’re met with the sight of Lottie Matthews — feared cult leader, according to the news article you read — pouring a freshly-blended bright green smoothie into a glass. She looks up at you when she’s finished, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She assesses you, and you feel compelled to explain yourself even though neither of you have spoken a word. You feel like an intruder, though in theory this is more home to you than to her.

“I’m Shauna’s niece,” you say quickly. She seems to relax slightly. “I’ll be staying here for the week.”

“You’re in for a long week, then. The recycling situation here is a nightmare,” she tells you, looking away as she hunts through the kitchen drawers. “No regard for sustainability. Paper plates, plastic straws, disposable bottles everywhere. It’s like living at the dump.”

You smile, looking around the house. It’s much nicer than the one you’re moving into, it’s a house anyone would envy.

Lottie finally comes across a metal straw in a cutlery drawer — further evidence of her dedication to sustainability. She pops it into her drink and turns back to you, assessing you once more. She gives you her name, and you give her yours, to which she nods like she already knows and like she has known you all her life.

You glance out into the hallway before turning back to her. “Are you coming to dinner with us tonight?”

“No,” she smiles. “I bet you’re not, either.”

“Jeff invited me.”

“Did Shauna?” Lottie asks. You shake your head and she hums knowingly. “Ask Shauna.”

You’re growing lost, but you don’t question it. You’re too engulfed in simply being around her, in the intensity of her gaze as she looks down at you and in the rich floral scent of her perfume wafting through the kitchen. She runs a hand through her hair and you can’t help but let your gaze linger on her hands, on the expensive rings adorning her fingers and her freshly manicured nails.

Jeff saunters into the kitchen. “You’re all set!”

You tear your gaze from Lottie. “Thank you, Jeff.”

“No problem,” he backs away. He looks more anxious around Lottie than when you were alone with him in the driveway. He walks away down the hall, addressing you as he goes. “I’ll let Shauna know you’re here.”

Lottie waits until Jeff is out of earshot. “He showed me his linen closet earlier. Not much to brag about.”

“I just need you to keep an eye on her,” Shauna says in the secluded hallway she has cornered you in. “She can’t come to dinner, and I don’t trust her here alone.”

‘Ask Shauna,’ you recall Lottie telling you.

“I know you’re probably exhausted anyway,” Shauna continues. “Home renovations are horrible, I can’t imagine asking you out to dinner after the stress of it…”

You know she’s trying to justify asking you to stay home and watch Lottie. You suspect it’s the whole reason she asked you to stay while your home was being renovated, so that she could have someone to stay by Lottie’s side for a week and make sure she didn’t do anything uncalled for.

While you’re not thrilled with being tricked, Shauna is right — you are tired. You don’t really want to leave the house, even if it means a night in with Wiskayok’s favorite former cult leader.

Lottie emerges from one of the two guest rooms at the end of the hall. Shauna releases a newly irritable sigh as Lottie approaches.

“I should get going,” Shauna announces. “Jeff and Callie are waiting in the car. You two have fun.”

As she walks away, you glance down at the dress you’d put on while still under the impression that you would be going with them to dinner. Now you feel silly, overdressed and fooled into someone else’s plans.

“You’re not going?” Lottie asks, but her tone tells you that she already knows. “It’s a shame, you look so beautiful.”

You want to thank her, but the words get stuck in your throat. It makes you nervous to be under her gaze, nervous in a way that hints that you’ll soon be addicted to it. You enjoy the thrill of being praised by her, every compliment seeping into you and crawling beneath your skin.

“Come on,” she leads the way into the kitchen. “I found this gorgeous bottle of wine earlier.”

Before you can protest — it's not your wine, it’s not her wine either, you really just want to give up on the day and go to bed and sneak into the kitchen later for a small dinner — Lottie has the bottle open and is reaching for two glasses.

She looks back at you. “Is red wine okay?”

“Red wine is perfect.”

She smiles, handing you one of the glasses. “If anyone asks, though, I’m telling them it was your idea. They will take it better if it’s family stealing their wine.”

“I’m sure Shauna considers you family, anyway.”

Lottie hums in acknowledgment but offers no real answer. She leads you into the living room, sitting down on the sofa and gesturing to the spot next to her.

You sit down after a moment of hesitation. It feels invasive to be sitting so close to her after just a day of knowing her, stolen wine split between you, yet the casualness Lottie regards you with is soothing. She examines you like she is unraveling some great secret, looking into your heart and soul and digging around until she decides she is done.

Your eyes shift to the healing bullet wound on her arm, uncovered by the dress she wears, which is supposed to be matched with the caftan that has been draped over the armrest of the sofa.

Lottie follows your line of sight. “Your cousin shot me.”

You pause. You recall everything Callie told you over the phone about that night. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind.”

“I would mind quite a lot if I got shot.”

“It was a mistake,” Lottie explains. “I didn’t die. It wouldn’t let me.”

“The wilderness?”

She looks surprised at your correctness. “I didn’t know Shauna was so open about what happened out there.”

“She’s not,” you say carefully. You try not to sound like a stalker when you speak again. “I read about you. What happened at your compound was all over the news.”

“You read about me,” Lottie repeats. She shifts a little closer to you and sets her wine glass down on the coffee table. “What did you read? What did the all-knowing sources say about me?”

You hesitate and take a sip of your wine.

“Go on,” she urges. “I want to know. Enlighten me.”

“They said you were dangerous,” you say quietly. “They said you had a history of unhinged behaviors.”

Again, Lottie smiles, though there is something different in the way she looks at you. Her gaze burns as it settles on you, and you meet her eyes when one of her hands comes to rest on your knee. “Do you believe them? Am I unhinged? Dangerous?”

Maybe. Yes, but you want it, you want her to drive you to unravel in the same way she has unraveled, just so you can feel alive in a way shared only between you. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want me to say yes?”

“I want you to be honest,” her hand slides up, you look down at it for too long and when you meet her eyes again you look away just as fast. “Are you being honest with me?”

Not really. “Yes, of course.”

She knows you are lying. She pulls her hand away. “Good.”

“They say you’re very wealthy, too,” you add after a moment.

“My family is wealthy.”

“If your family is wealthy, why are you staying here?”

“Why are you staying here?” Lottie throws your own question back at you. “No one wants to be alone.”

She has a point. You didn’t want to be alone in a hotel while your new house was being renovated. You didn’t want to sit and worry about if everything would go as planned, or about any unexpected costs in the bill.

“I’m glad I’m not alone tonight,” Lottie says softly, sweetly in a way that’s intoxicating.

“I am, too,” you reply.

She takes a deep breath and releases it steadily. She is grounded in a way you are not. “You know so much about me. The crash, the wellness center, the wilderness. Tell me who you are.”

You can’t think of anything to tell — you are Shauna Sadecki’s niece. You graduated from university at the top of your class. You work a good job, have a good house in progress, a good car. You find yourself stuttering out a response that makes you seem wildly unimpressive and so painfully average that it’s embarrassing. Lottie watches you intently though, and she seems to comprehend all that you can’t convey.

You don’t expect her follow-up question: “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“A girlfriend, then? Or someone else?”

She speaks to you like you’re younger than her, much less seasoned in life — then you remember that it’s true.

“No, I don’t,” you watch her closely to see her reaction, but she doesn’t give anything away. You decide to ask her the same question, like you’re both in high school getting ready to ask each other to the prom. It feels juvenile, but the only way to get an answer is through directness. “Do you?”

“I haven’t had time for anyone, with running the wellness center,” Lottie shakes her head contemplatively and picks up her wine glass again, taking a long sip. “I suppose I have lots of time now.”

You hear the grief in her voice, and maybe it’s the wine that has you so open, but you shift closer to her on the sofa. Lottie meets your eyes, offering you a grateful smile when you reach out for her free hand.

Something in her demeanor shifts — there is less contemplation in her tone, and a new suggestiveness has replaced it. “I need something to take for myself again. Something… to consume.”

With the wine clouding your head, you assume it’s okay to get a little esoteric. “I need a sense of direction.”

Lottie nods. “We’re a pair, then.”

She sets her glass down again and runs a hand over her face, a tired gesture that smudges the makeup around her eyes a little and makes a slight mess of her hair when her hand runs through it. The disheveledness only makes you want to be closer to her, to take away every bit of exhaustion and feeling of being lost and take it in yourself, to convert it into something more wholesome. You realize, with a bit of distress due to the forbidden nature of it, that you want to kiss her. You want to kiss one of your aunt’s best friends in the living room, and more if it comes to it.

“What are you thinking about?” Lottie asks.

You try to phrase it in a way less direct. “It’s like we’ve known each other much longer than a night.”

“A lifetime,” she agrees. Then she shakes her head, amused. “One of mine, two of yours.”

“One and a half of mine,” you correct.

“That does sound better. That doesn’t make me seem as horrible for…”

“For what?” You press. Lottie’s hand is still in yours. You run your thumb over her rings and both of you look down to see your fingers entwined.

She doesn't offer you an answer, but you discern it immediately when you look into her eyes. And once again you wonder if it’s the wine, but it’s a concern quickly dismissed, because you know she sees her desires reflected in you.

It is the wine that gives you the boldness to shift over to straddle her lap. Lottie’s hands find your hips instinctively, and there’s a distinct lack of hesitation from her when she looks up at you.

“What are you doing?” She asks. She already knows. “You know Shauna would be pissed. She could walk in through that door at any second. Are you willing to risk that?”

“Yes.”

She kisses you, a hand weaving into your hair and pulling slightly as she pulls you closer to her. It’s hard to process it as real, that earlier you were terrified of the cult leader sharing your aunt’s house and now you’re on her lap with one of her hands traveling up your shirt to grab at your chest while your hips move instinctively and have you grinding down onto her, hearing her moan muffled by how you kiss her.

Lottie pushes you to lay down on the couch, barely breaking contact for a moment before she’s on top of you, kissing you and pulling at your dress.

“So fucking beautiful,” she murmurs, a hand trailing down the low neckline of your dress. “Did you think about me when you were deciding what to wear? Did you hope I would notice how fucking desperate you are?”

“I’m not desperate,” you try, but you help her eagerly to get your dress off of you.

“No?” Lottie looks down at you. “No, you’re not desperate, you’re just lying here waiting for me to fuck you, but you’re not desperate?”

You’re done with the games, you need her. You pull her back down to you, capturing her in a kiss that saves you from humiliating yourself any further, until she reaches down and runs a finger through you and feels how wet you are already.

Suddenly, the lock on the front door down the hall begins to jiggle and you hear Shauna and Jeff’s voices beyond, and Callie talking on the phone with one of her friends.

“Fuck,” Lottie jumps off of you, tossing you a blanket to wrap yourself in. When you freeze, she gestures wildly toward where the bedrooms are. “Go!”

You make a run for it, scurrying down the hall until you’re met with the door to your guest room — and it’s right across from Lottie’s.

But when the front door opens, you don’t go into your room… you go into hers.

You hear the front door open and the family’s greetings to Lottie. You take a deep breath when Shauna asks where you are, and release it heavily when Lottie tells her you went to bed just a little while ago. You listen to their footsteps as they come closer, until everyone parts into their designated rooms.

You drop the blanket and toss it aside, along with your clothes that you had gathered from the couch. You step over to the bed and sit down.

Another set of footsteps comes down the hall and Lottie slips into the bedroom. Her eyes widen at seeing you — clearly she thought this was a failed attempt, and you see the conflict in her expression.

“We have to be quiet,” she warns and climbs onto the bed with you. She doesn’t give you a chance to answer, just pulls you into another hungry kiss and pushes you down to lay back against the pillows. “You can be a good girl for me, can’t you?”

You nod, and it’s satisfying enough for her to start rubbing circles into your clit. You suck in a gasp and again she urges you to be quiet. You arch your back in an attempt for more, but she hums in disapproval, pulling her hand back from between your thighs.

You look up at her. “What are you doing?”

“Be patient, darling.”

You suppress a whine as she sits between your legs, running her hands over your thighs reverently. She presses a soft kiss to one of your knees before moving down further, kissing her way down your thighs before hovering above where you need her — and you make eye contact with her in the moment before her tongue connects with your clit.

You wake up in Lottie’s arms. She’s spooning you from behind, with her head tucked into your neck and an arm curled around your waist to keep you pressed against her. She’s still asleep, even when you shift to lay on your back and she readjusts to rest her head on your chest instead.

You lay there for a while like that, with a hand on her bare back tracing random patterns as you think over the night before. A pleasant soreness has taken hold of your body, a heavy, exhausted weight that you don’t mind as long as she’s in your arms.

Lottie shifts awake. She pulls back a little, almost like she is embarrassed at how close she let herself get to you. She sits up next to you and checks the alarm clock on the bedside table for the time.

“It’s early,” she whispers. She looks down at you. “You should get some more sleep.”

Your gaze shifts to the bedroom door. “I should go back to my own room… I don’t want anyone to see me leaving yours.”

Lottie frowns. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’ll come back tonight,” you promise. “We have all week.”

The hint of a smile passes over her lips and she straddles you, pressing gentle, even domestic, kisses to your neck. “I want more than a week.”

“Greedy,” you murmur. She hums in agreement. “Come on… I have to go.”

Lottie sighs, but she lets you up. You feel her eyes on your bare form as you get dressed in your clothes from last night, and she meets your gaze when you look back at her. “Find me later.”

“I will.”

You go over to the bedroom door and open it a crack, peering out into the hallway. When you don’t see anyone you step out tentatively. Your guest room is just across the hall, and if you step very quietly…

Callie’s bedroom door opens. She steps out, scoffing and crossing her arms when she sees you dressed in your clothes from last night. “Nice pajamas.”

You freeze, turning to face her, your own heart beating so rapidly you can hear it thrumming. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“What, that I saw you sneaking out of Lottie’s room at—”

“Don’t,” you plead. “Your mother would be—”

The door to Shauna and Jeff’s shared bedroom opens. Before it can swing open all the way, you rush over to your guest room and shut the door behind you. You don’t think you were quick enough to escape undetected, but relief rushes over you when Shauna speaks.

“Callie, who were you talking to? It’s early.”

“My friends. On my phone. I have a fucking social life, unlike some of the people living here.”

You lean back against your door, sighing. For now, you’re okay.

Breakfast is tense later, though primarily on your end. Lottie seems to have no issue with the fact that last night she fucked her best friend’s niece, nor is there any apprehension in the way she addresses Shauna pleasantly and welcomingly all morning. Lottie barely spares you a second glance as the three of you have coffee together, speaking enthusiastically with Shauna as you sit there in silence in the kitchen.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Shauna suddenly turns to you. You nod, and she stands and leads you into the living room out of earshot. “Last night I asked you to keep an eye on Lottie and you went to bed at, like, nine.”

“I did keep an eye on her,” you try. “We were together all night.”

“Apparently not.”

Little does she know.

The two of you stand in a less than pleasant silence — until Lottie steps out into the hall with you. She has somehow acquired your keys and stands there waving them at you.

“Are you ready to go?” Lottie asks.

“Go where?”

“Oh, come on,” she comes over, gesturing to the front door. “The plans we made last night. Don’t tell me you were too drunk to remember.”

Shauna raises her eyebrows. “You two drank last night? Aren’t you medicated?”

“Come on,” Lottie waves you over, ignoring her. You hurry out the door behind her, letting her into the car when she tosses you your keys.

You start the car. “Where are we going?”

Lottie looks back at the house as you pull away. “Somewhere we can be alone.”

hello hello i hope you enjoyed :) let me know if you liked this fic, it’s longer than i usually post but i enjoyed writing a longer fic!!! pls drop a like or a reblog if you wanna and i will kiss you on the lips. also i proofread but im sleepy so i probably missed something or formatted something wrong. ignore it.

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[coryndoll]

❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT best read in dark mode, blood, violence, murder, manipulation, grief, intense survival situations. not a real chapter!! explained above the cut but fleshed out below <3

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AUTHORS NOTE i wanted to address this request, and i got excited and started planning everything. warnings: it might get brutal, and i love it sm, but thats the capitol for you.

SORRY FOR THE NON-CHAPTER, just for those who would like to scream w me bc i loveeee thg sm. all spoilers for this series as far as rafe and y/n being the capitols darlings are below the cut !! nothing more, especially how their games will go or anyt else. read at your own risk !!

HOW SNOW REACTS AFTER THEY WIN

no clue on how i’ll get you guys to win, but i’m sure it INFURIATES snow. but he knows the capitol is eating you up. you’re the monsters who loved each other just enough to refuse one final kill.

instead of making martyrs, he rebrands you: “panem creates not just killers, but loyalty. love. two perfect victors from district 2. beautiful, deadly, loyal to the capitol, and to each other.”

he spins it into a capitol miracle, but punishes you in silence. families are watched 24/7, someone rafe loves probably dies “suspiciously” in an accident, one of your siblings is drafted into the peacekeepers without a say.

but none of it is ever public. on the outside obvi, you’re panems most celebrated couple.

POST-GAMES, REWRITTEN

you’re stuck playing parts forever.

rafe becomes the capitol’s “protector”. he’s strong, silent, the ideal male victor. they give him a uniform-like aesthetic, elevate him like a fucking peacekeeper demigod.

you’re turned into the capitol’s “sharpest rose”. so lethal beauty, elegance and precision. your daggers become a fashion symbol.

you’re offered to capitol citizens for sex, like finnick. but snow frames it like it’s “fan demand.”

you refuse. punishment? your body gets surgically “enhanced” in capitol-approved ways.

rafe gives in once, to protect you. he vomits after. you never speak about it again.

MORE ON THIS BC I GOT EXCITED SRY

they embed thorns into your back. they grow out like a rose stems thorns. the capitol calls you panems rose.

they match your games maybe. like maybe i’ll say you used rose thorns or poisonous flowers as weapons in the arena.

the mods are excruciating. you’re sedated without your consent. you wake up screaming. rafe even tries to rip them out when he sees them for the first time maybe.

LIKE THIS IS HOW I PICTURE IT OK SET THE SCENE RQ

the room is white, not warm white, not soft white. but . . . surgical white. sterilized. empty. watching.

you wake up to silence.

no machines beep. no nurses hover. just weight, like a strange, foreign pressure against your back. like someone laid cold iron across your spine and forgot to take it off.

but you’re on your stomach. the bed is soft, unnaturally so. your throat hurts, your chest burns, your skin feels too tight. and then you move.

barely, a twitch of your hand. that’s all it takes. pain slices down your spine like wire being pulled through muscle. and now you know, it’s not weight. it’s not metal laid on top of you.

it’s inside you.

you don’t cry out. not yet. you breathe through it, your fingers grip the edge of the pillow. you turn your head slightly, just enough to see the side of the bed, the small silver tray. on it sits a mirror. your eyes lock on it.

you don’t want to look.

you have to.

your fingers tremble as they reach for it, shaking harder the closer they get. it’s not bravery. it’s desperation. you need to know. you drag the mirror toward you. you tilt it, angle it, and then you see it.

thorns.

they’ve carved a line of thorns into your back—

no, not into. under. you realize it now.

the sharp, jagged points are breaking through your skin, one by one, in a perfect line down your spine. metal, bone, something else. you don’t know.

they shimmer under the sterile light, gleaming like jewelry, spiked like a crown. placed like a punishment. you stare. and for a moment, your mind goes blank. but then it crashes down. and everything unravels.

you sit up too fast. you scream. you try to grab at them. blood blooms instantly, but you don’t care. you claw at your back like you can rip it all out.

you feel the weight of them now, the thorns down your spine. they’ve turned you into something beautiful.

you scream again, louder this time, and it’s his name, “rafe!”

the door slams open, and there he is, standing, not breathing, not moving. just staring. his eyes go wide when he sees you, then the blood. the thorns too. the hospital gown is stained red.

he says your name, just once, but he doesn’t come closer. so you crawl off the bed, fall, and hit the floor.

your knees give out and your hands slip. he runs to you.

“don’t touch me,” you whisper.

he stops.

“don’t— look at me.”

“y/n—”

“what did they do to me?”

you’re sobbing now. ugly. shaking. the pain is everywhere and nowhere.

and that’s when he sees it. your hands are bleeding from the thorns too. you tried to tear yourself apart.

he kneels. he doesn’t touch you, but his voice cracks when he says, “i didn’t know.”

did that eat idk

but anyway, about the thorns: they run down your spine, top to bottom. theyre metallic, delicate-looking, wtv, but fused under the skin. they’re real. purely aesthetic.

the capitol just says: “you bloomed in blood. you’re our sharpest rose.”

but you never asked to be that.

how the capitol uses it:

open-back gowns at every interview, banquet, and appearance unfortunately. cute but its disgusting. stylists coo about how stunning it is. kids in the capitol even get fake thorn implants to mimic you.

you become fashion.

they sell your pain back to you as power, but you know what it really was. a test, a first-of-its-kind procedure, pushed by a new stylist team wanting to make history.

you knew that if you’d died under the knife, they’d have found another girl. another rose. they would’ve thrown you away a long time ago.

and sometimes, you wish they did.

and with rafe? you wouldn’t let him touch your back for weeks. when you finally do, it’s in the quiet. maybe in bed. maybe in the dark idk.

he probably kisses each thorn like a prayer. like an apology. like he’s saying, you’re still mine.

and your rage builds over time, surely!! maybe you smile in interviews and twirl in gowns, but you know what they did.

the pain is constant. you sleep on your side or your stomach because your back throbs.

stylists would numb it before events, but after? you’re left with bruises from corsets meant to “frame the roses.” it’s not a body anymore. it’s a billboard.

and maybe one day, years later, you’re asked by some capitol child on a talk show, like, “did it hurt?”

and you’ll say nothing for a second, then, smile sweetly and lean in close, “only when i realized it would never stop.”

rafe’s trauma / trafficking:

rafe’s image is like a knight, a protector. and one night after a victory event, a high-ranking capitol sponsor requests him. snow doesn’t ask. he just sends peacekeepers.

rafe goes. he comes back quiet. the next morning, the sponsor is found dead. oh no!! wonder who couldve killed him. the capitol covers it up, says it was a heart attack.

snow knows the truth, and instead of punishing him publicly, he threatens you. so rafe agrees to be used again. once. just once.

when he returns, you’re waiting in the hallway. you don’t say a word. like i said, he throws up, and then you two never talk about it again.

TIMELINE

actually ok i looked over what games are open, maybe ill have you win the 68th tbh at 17 and 18 yrs old. by the time the 75th comes around, youll be about 24 and 25 ish.

so you’re older than katniss and peeta by a few years, established capitol darlings obvi, and in the 75th, youre reaped again as former victors.

katniss and peeta threaten everything snow built with you and rafe. i imagine like this scene where you probably see them and glare. not out of hate, but fear. youre watching yourself all over again. you know what’s coming basically.

katniss sees it, probably thinks you hate her. maybe she thinks youre jealous because your situations are so similar, but later revealed in private to her that you dont hate her, youre just worried for her.

IN THE QUARTER QUELL

everyone wants to ally with you two. careers, nerds, even past enemies. youre terrifying, but it’s earned. your games were legendary.

you and rafe keep up appearances, but are quietly rebellious!! you show it in small ways. not anything noticeable for obvious reasons, but rafe probably does it more than you do, ironically.

like i feel like he’d refuse to speak at certain stops. people think he’s shy, but he’s not. he’s silent because he won’t lie. and he never lets them film him touching your back.

the capitol used to love when he would kiss your shoulders, brushing a hand down the thorns. but in public? his hand never goes there. when asked why, he says, “i’m not proud of what they did to her.”

but you guys help katniss and peeta when you can.

you two have just always and will always use the capitol’s own image of you as a shield for as long as you have to. whatever it takes.

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms @issahruiz @ilovefictionallmenn @derpjungkook @vanessa-rafesgirl @sunny1616 @alphabetically-deranged @nrmlgirl @supercxnt @xoxosblogsblog @rafegetinmybed LOL

[goorgeousz]

lacy dreams | aaron hotchner

after hours au

lacy dreams | aaron hotchner

after hours au

18+

pairing: aaron hotchner x profiler!female!reader

summary: hotch had been managing to do just fine in suppressing his desire for you, until he caught a glimpse of your lacy underwear peeking over your jeans.

content/tw: perv!hotch, masturbation (male), dirty thoughts, wet dreams, reader has the ass and tanned skin (I try my best not to describe the reader's physics but I just had to be a little self-indulgent on this one, sorry…) 

word count: 2.5k

a/n: again, I attempted to focus on the steamy part of this but I got too invested on the build-up. I liked this one more than I thought, hope you guys do it too <3

again, my requests are opened, for this series or not!

just a heads up, this series is a slow burn so it will take a while for them to be together. I'm focusing more on the build up, their relationship and the construction of it! so if you want to have requests involving any of that, I'll be happy to write it! I have at least ten drafts in the making for this series, I'm super excited!

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Between dealing with serial killers, terrorists and, maybe the hardest, FBI bureaucracy, Hotch almost didn’t have time to think about you.

Key word: almost.

The unit chief of the behaviour analysis unit. Hotch deserved that title, he knew it. He was perfect for it. Not everyone is able to fully commit to the job. To lock their feelings into a tiny little black box and keep it hidden. To be entirely selfless, to give themselves – their soul, mind and heart – to the job. To abdicate free time, good rest, personal relationships. No one understands what it takes to be the B.A.U. unit chief. 

Unless, of course, THE B.A.U. unit chief.

No one in their right minds would ever doubt Hotch was perfect for it.

He was kind, respectful, smart, attentive, giving, centrate and ready to give it all for the job. The things he’d gone through… it wasn’t for the weak. But he wasn’t. So he took it. Silently, proudly and steadily. Like a knight, a fighter.

But Hotch was also a man. He ate, he drank, he slept. He had a soul, a heart, a brain. And he had memories. Good memories. Precise, even. And despite being incredibly professional, he still remembered.

Every. Thing.

It was a blessing and a curse.

Every time you stretched, your shirt slightly rose up, showing the skin of your stomach, and he remembered how he licked and kissed that very same part. Or when you laid on your side on the jet, he remembered how he fucked you at that very same position the morning after your night together – and before your first day at the B.A.U. Or whenever you get a papercut because you went through your files too eagerly, and you let out the tiniest, most delicate and breathless sound, and he has to fight every cell on his body not to lean closer and beg you to say it again.

Point is: he remembered.

It wasn’t like he had an eidetic memory – poor Spencer – or anything, but it was hard not to replay that night in his head from time to time. Whenever he had time for it. Or whenever images of you invaded his thoughts, uninvited and demanding. Ruining him, piece by piece.

He didn’t let it show, though. It was harder at first, when you and him were still on thin ice. Poking the water with the tip of your feet to see if it was safe enough to dive in. Not knowing each other's boundaries, wanting, needs. Only one thing for certain: you wouldn’t let that get between your job. Surprisingly, it worked just fine.

You were an amazing addiction to the team, and he was proud to see how good of an agent you turned out to be. Your relationship was strictly professional – unless the filthy thoughts inside his head, but those didn’t count –, even the team started laying off of you two.

Hotch, ever the profiler, noticed how they whispered around, throwing glances at each other and winking here and there. He knew they wondered. He also knew neither of you would give it to them. So they waited. And waited. And when nothing happened, they waited a little more. He was a little smug to see their frustrations, honestly. He beat those odds, surprisingly – again, how he felt about you didn’t count. And eventually, thankfully, they laid off of you. Maybe they gave up, accepted defeat. Giving up didn't fit their profile, but well, he’ll take it!

He was good at suppressing his emotions. A professional, if you will. He even managed to look at you in the eyes with a straight face and discuss about disposal of bodies while thinking about bending you over and fucking you right on the top of the table you were tapping your sharp nails against.

It was a whole other job to contain his thoughts when he was home – whatever he did in the privacy of his own bedroom was his business only. But for now, he was handling just fine.

In some ways you helped him. Despite whatever went through your mind, you never gave him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not even a blush, a stutter, a lingering touch… Nothing. Ever. Every fantasy he had with you was solely the work of his bright and evil mind.

So, long story short, Hotch was kind of a pervert.

Secretly.

With all that said, there was one time Hotch absolutely lost it.

At least as much as someone like Hotch could lose it.

It was a Tuesday morning. The team sat together after a morning briefing, still chatting around. He was deep in conversation with Spencer when he heard Morgan’s teasing.

“So, where is it?” 

You frowned “Where what is?”

Emily and Morgan exchanged a smile “You’re always wearing a red item somewhere” she explained “Today you’re all in charcoal grey.” 

Hotch had noticed it, obviously. From the moment you walked in, a quick inspection of you later and he noticed it. He thought you’d just forgotten it. So much for his profiling skills. He wouldn’t dare to point it out, though. He had boundaries. 

You laughed “You guys take the job that seriously, huh?” 

“They even bet on you” JJ snickered, chuckling. You gasped, faking surprise.

“I’m winning.” Garcia sing-song it “Maybe you should rethink their profiling skills, sir.” she told Hotch, in a mock serious tone.

“Wow. I’ll have to step up my game, then.”

“Come on, doll.” Morgan nudges your hand with the tip of his pen “Where’s the red? Ten dollars at stake today.” you laughed loudly, leaning closer to him.

“Trust me, the money would be the smallest of your winnings if you knew where the red is.” you whispered, loud enough for the whole team to hear.

JJ barked a laugh, walking past you to go grab herself a coffee and giving you a high-five in the process.

Hotch watched it all unfold without a word. He even managed to change the subject after that rather smoothly. No one would have guessed what was going through his mind while he explained statistics and budgets. He didn’t blush, didn’t stutter, didn’t let his eyes wander.

He was a gentleman, afterall.

But when the meeting ended, all the team standing and heading out the door all together, you were right in front of him.

He stayed a few steps back behind you, more to his own safety than to yours. So he witnessed what happened in slow motion — at least that’s how his mind played it.

You were laughing at something Derek said, smacking his shoulder and letting your hair clip fall in the process. With your quick instincts and — good god — your easy flexibility, you bent over to pick it up.

And that’s when it happened.

He wasn’t looking, you see. Blame it on his academy years, his school-soccer years even. His unit chief abilities™, if you will.

It was just like in the field, his senses had to be turned to a maximum to see any possible threats. And that for sure was a hell of a threat.

As you bent over, knees bending just slightly, the rem of your button-up rose up. Simultaneously, the waistband of your pants slide down an inch, to cover the — voluptuous and perfectly round, bless you — curve of your ass.

Then, he saw it. The flash of red blinding his sight like in a lighthouse. Exactly like a gun pointed at him in his peripheral vision, his eye darted to the flash of red in order to eliminate the danger. He was trained for this, he couldn’t just turn off his spider-senses federal-agent-senses.

Peeking over your pants there was a thin, lacy and beautiful red underwear. The exact same kind you wore that night. Not the same, no.

Again, not an eidetic memory – god bless reid – but no matter how hard he tried – not that hard, really – to forget, he couldn’t. His stubborn mind insisted on replaying the view of your bare ass, covered only in those dark-red lacy panties, pushing back against his very expensive suit pants, teasing his hard on still very much covered. A sinful view, your toned body displayed for him across your wooden dining table like a four-course meal. Better than that, honestly.

Back to the subject, the colours were different. This one was a brighter shade of red, its colour very distinguishing from the sober grey of your clothes. So beautiful, calling for him. Begging for him, really. It was a siren’s song, enchanting him and luring his eyes into you. Deadly, dangerous.

As fast as it came, it was gone. You stood back up with an ease that made his backbone jealous. Unfortunately, not fast enough for the sight not to be engraved in his brain.

He stopped mid track, his eyes widening slightly. Thankfully, he was the last one behind, so no one could see his reaction. Not-so-thankfully, you turned around at him, a polite but cheerful expression on your face, the remains of your laughter still on your face.

“Hotch, the file of that Minnesota case I was working on is already on your desk. I left it there before the meeting, forgot to tell you.” the easy smile you had on your face faltered for just a second, confused by the stunned look on his face.

He quickly covered it up, building his walls back up in a record-deserving speed “No problem, thank you.”.

You just nodded, seeing he walk away in that always-hurried way of his before you could manage to ask him what’s wrong.

And just like that, his facade was ruined – it wasn’t really. No one bat an eye at him or his reaction, but he did try to fool himself and pretend he didn’t care. And that facade was, in fact, ruined.

A four-months, twenty three days – the exact time you’ve been on the team – streak of being reactionless vanished with a quick glimpse of your underwear.

How pathetic of him.

How twelve-year-old-boy-just-discovered-women's-breast kind of pathetic of him.

It wasn’t just about how his heartbeat quickened at the sight. Just how the blood rushed to his veins. Just how his eyes widened and his mouth slightly parted. Just how his breath hitched loudly enough that if someone were behind him, they would’ve noticed it.

It was all that, added to the fact that he had to basically lock himself in his office all day. Two bathroom breaks. One coffee break. One lunch break. All of them combined, in order to reduce his breaks at a minimum.

He got work done, somehow. It took him the entire work-day for him to finish what would’ve taken him a single morning? Yes. But it got done, anyway.

His thoughts mid reports wandered towards you. Did you do it on purpose? Of course not, he was that self-assured. But you were a tease, so it was very on character for you. But you seemed so innocent, telling him about your reports. Again, that never stopped you from making the dirtiest jokes he ever heard. Was it all a punishment? Some destiny cruel joke on him? A way for the universe to tell him he doesn’t have control of anything? It seemed like all the options above.

The day passed in a rush, humiliating so.

Deciding – after a lot of guilt and self-deprecating thoughts – he wasn’t being any useful for the country and it was best for him to rest and come back renewed – read free of dirty thoughts of you – the next day, he went home.

His ride home was silent, he didn’t even turn on the radio. Or did he? It didn’t even register. It was a win how he managed to get home safe without causing any accidents in the process.

He ate a quick dinner, an improvised sandwich of everything he could find in his fridge. And finally had the – oh so deserved and waited – glass of scotch. And a second one. And a third one.

After finally having his gain back the control of his own thoughts, because of the shameful amount of work he’d done, he decided to ignore the very prominent and aching volume on his pants. Yes he was that controlling.

So, he took a freezing shower and went back to bed without a single thought of you.

Yes, he was proud of himself.

No, it didn’t last.

It was 02:17 in the morning when he woke up from the most wonderful yet terrible dream of his life, with an aching boner and a stain of cum in his underwear. How lovely.

He opened his eyes and stood there, his chest rising and falling while he tried to steady his breaths. He came to the realization that whatever happened was just a dream. A very wet dream.

You haven’t actually showed up at his house, still in your work clothes. You haven’t really thrown yourself in his arms, kissing him so hungrily he almost fell down. You haven’t really taken your clothes off, your eyes locked in his while you stripped down until you were only in those red lacy panties. You haven’t really laid down on his bed, your legs stretched and your hands touching your perky breasts. He haven’t really fucked you senselles, raw and stupid on his mattress – yes, that very same mattress he was currently laid on – until you both came at the same time while you moaned his name over and over. His first name.

He replayed the dream in his mind, groaning to himself when his hand unconsciously roamed to his shaft, gripping straight under his sweatpant.

It was no use to fight against it. He let himself have it.

Hotch squeezed himself, his cock sticky with barely wet and warm cum. He hummed, half in annoyment, half in satisfaction.

He stroked himself to the thought of you. His dream wasn’t real. But the images of you, the sensation of his cock buried deep inside of you, his names on your lips like a mantra, like a spell. They were all real, all memories.

And he held on to them for dear life.

The feeling of his tight grip to your flesh. Your yelps, moans, hums, groans. Your dirty words, your dirty mind. Your velvety and hoarse voice. Your eyes – oh, your eyes. So beautiful, slightly open, deeply darked and overly glossed. The tear of pleasure that fell after you came for the third time, its salty taste on his tongue when he licked it. Your mouth. Full, glossy and tasteful. Your tanned and smooth skin, little red sports he proudly bruised.

He quickened his movements, his eyes closed shut and images of you behind his eyelids. He memorized all of you. And with the sound of his own heartbeat and the memory of your voice hoarsely begging his name, he came again, letting out a long and dragged groan.

He stayed there for a while, waiting for his breath to get back to normal and his heartbeat to slow down.

Just for a moment he let himself be, not drowning it sorry and guilt. Just enjoying the relief coursing through his body.

But like almost everything in life, the moment passed.

Almost.