#and the ending was quite a ‘quick put a bow on it!’ type thing

[waltzingwhimsy]

Im so lazy, it’s annoying me :/

I can be responsible, idk why I’m not

[finniestoncrane]

Date, Digger Style

KTJL!Boomer x Fem!Reader, word count: 6k hi i am sorry, this was supposed to be like. a lil silly thing about what a first date with george might be like. and it ended up being 6k words. i just want him so bad it makes me look stupid quite honestly and i am ok with that 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: sleazy behaviour, groping, tongue kissing, just the tip and then not just the tip but agreeably so, lots of physical affection, reader has tits and a vagina, reader is referred to with feminine pet names, descriptions of a gross kitchen, also let's pretend that he's always a lil bit drunk so his drunk driving seems like the normal state of things. he's a villain. he's allowed to break laws lmao (and it's fiction, so i'm allowed to decide what alcohol does to him)

Sitting on the edge of your sofa, you took a quick look at your phone to check the time and to see if you had missed any messages. Nothing. Not even a quick courtesy text with "on my way" typed hastily, or auto filled. You'd been sitting there for twenty minutes already, with no sign of George. If this was what he considered a good start to your first formal 'date' then you two were perhaps too different after all to make this work. He was laid back, to a flaw. Horizontal. And you were more organised, at least more so than George Harkness.

Just as you began typing out a message, you heard the tell-tale screech of the tyres on his van, followed by the rumbling of the engine as he put the brakes on and came out of the creaking door. The sharp buzz at your door was enough for you to know your suspicions were right, and without answering it, you headed downstairs. At the door, you could see Digger, picking at his teeth and tucking the stray strands of hair back under the rim of his hat before he noticed you and struck a pose, goofy smile plastered onto his face.

He moved to grab you when you met him on the steps leading up to your building, but you dodged him, spitting his nickname at him.

"Digger."

"Aw, are you mad cos I'm late? You're not some bloody princess, I think you can wait five minutes!"

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty, the- Twenty!?"

His eyes were wide as he looked to you, and you offered a solemn and unimpressed nod in response.

"Fuck... alright, that is a bit much. This'll be worth it though, I promise."

Raising an eyebrow, you silently questioned that. You'd known him for a while now, skirted around the conversation, flirted constantly, but turned him down at every offer of a date. And now, when you had finally agreed and given in to his constant pestering, he was going to show up late and not even dressed differently or in clean clothes? You weren't sure it would be worth it. But, if all else failed, you could always count on him to make you laugh, or at very least conjure up a smile. And despite wanting to still maintain an exterior of disappointment, you could feel the corners of your mouth lifting as he opened up the passenger door and gestured to it with his arm, bowing low.

"M'lady, your carriage awaits."

As you stepped up and into the front of the van, the smell was the first thing that hit you. Stale beer, sweat, and about five other scents just indistinct enough to elude your keen nose. Trying not to think about it, you turned to grab your seatbelt and noticed, out of the corner of your eye, that the back of the truck was filled with empty beer cans and bottles, piles of clothing, some dirty and some clean. And in the middle of it all, a mattress, some pillows, and a scattering of sheets.

"Do you live in here?"

"Don't worry about it, babe."

Before you could ask him any follow up questions, he pulled away from the kerb with a stuttering acceleration, and carelessly pulled into traffic. After a few minutes of teeth grinding, life-threatening driving at high speed, he pulled off the main roads and began taking back streets.

Granted, you didn't know where you were going yet, since Digger was insistent on keeping it as a surprise, you still assumed that after ten minutes of nothing but roads dotted with potholes and routes plagued by speedbumps that it was surely quicker to have stayed on the main route until you were closer. However, it became clear that there were intentions behind this path after all, when you turned to question George about the route and found him quickly glancing from the road to your chest, smiling wider every time a bump jostled your body, causing your breasts to jiggle. With a heavy sigh, you turned to look out of the window, concealing the smile that threatened to give away your façade. There was no way you could let him know how oddly flattering you found his constant gawking, that would be a nightmare.

When the van stopped at a red light, you spoke, still looking out of the window, to try and get Digger to tell you where you were going.

"I just would feel better knowing how long we've got left to drive is all."

He reached over to you, placing his hand on your thigh and pressing his fingers and thumb together, squeezing the ample flesh.

"Listen, don't worry about it, we're almost there."

His palm pressed down and skimmed further up your leg, and as you turned to catch his eye, hoping to at least shame him into not continuing his bold heavy petting, you were instead met with his lopsided, careless grin. With one hand on the steering wheel and one permanently on your thigh, he continued driving for another ten minutes, until you were well on the outskirts of the city. When the van finally stopped, you could still hear the tinny rumbling and sharp clinking of the empty bottles and cans bashing around in the back, feeling like it had shrilly inserted itself permanently into your head. But once you had stepped out of the van and the fresh air, plus the odd stench, hit you, you could hear yourself think clear enough to know that you were definitely beginning to regret this decision once more.

"Told ya we wouldn't be much longer! We're here!"

"Where is here?"

"About twenty minutes outside Gotham."

"Digger."

He slapped his hand on your back and pulled you into a side hug, dragging you along as he walked towards the door of the flat roof building with broken neon lights that stood in front of you.

"Ah, come on babe! Get a sense of humour, or you'll always look fuckin' miserable!"

You weren't sure if he could hear your sighing over the sound of the gravel as you made your way to the front door, and he definitely couldn't hear the louder second one you let out when you got inside. The one that was cut short when you realised you could taste the smell that lingered on the air.

Taking your hand, an oddly gentle move from Digger. The moment was gone quickly when he smacked your ass as he ushered you into the dingiest looking booth at the back of the bar.

"George, really? Here?"

"Yeah, babe! This place is great. Cheap beer, good food. I promise, you just gotta trust me, alright?"

Taking a quick look around the place told you otherwise. But there was just something about him you found hard to say no to. Which you imagined would land you in much bigger problems later on, but for now, potential food poisoning and a hangover of the worst order seemed like a fair risk for what would no doubt be a fun night regardless. It always was with George.

"Aw, I know that face! You're on board! Right, I'm gonna go to the bar and get us some drinks and food."

"I don't know what I want though, I haven't looked at the menu."

"Don't have to, I'm getting us the usual. You'll like it, tr-"

"Trust you, yes, I know."

With a wink, he slid out of the booth and you watched him make his way to the bar, leaning on it with his oh-so-cocky attitude as he ordered for you. And when he sat back down, he slid a pint in front of you and began chugging at his own. Looking over the tip of your glass as you sipped, you tried to get a glimpse at the kitchen. From what you could see, it looked like the kind of place that might give any decent health inspector an aneurysm. The chef's clothes were dirty, the walls were a stained yellow colour that seemed as though it was dripping down the walls, and every surface had a strange assortment of crumbs and stains on it. But still, you persevered.

And still, when the plates were slammed down on the table in front of you by the uninterested waitress, you were optimistic. Because you were determined to have a nice time. It was likely that which annoyed you the most of all, because the moment you bit into the greasy sandwich you didn't care in the slightest what kind of health hazard it was prepared in. You just wanted more.

"See, told you it was good."

Nodding in agreement, mouth too full to speak, you swallowed down the rest of the sandwich, although by the time you had finished it and your accompanying beer, Digger was already onto his third pint, and the sandwich was but a memory. Until he burped and you could smell it on his breath, something he found hilarious.

"Lighten up! You try, give it your best shot."

"I'm not having a burping contest with you, George. We're on a date."

"Yeah, but you're on a date with Digger. Way more fun, far less stuffy. Go on."

You mustered up the best you had to offer, cheese and beer and lettuce the most noted flavours in the air you expelled. Closing his eyes for a moment, Digger reached out across the table and took your hands.

"That was, without a doubt... the most pathetic fuckin' burp ever. We gotta get you another drink!"

Before you could say anything, he was already shuffling out of the booth and shakily making his way back to the bar. A bad decision being made and you couldn't really stop him. He could handle his alcohol, definitely, you'd seen him do it a number of times before. Digger could put away what might kill a lesser, for want of a better word, man. But it didn't make him any easier to be around. You'd already found yourself flushing hot, cheeks darkening, a heat building in your stomach with each lingering touch or flirtatious stare. So far this evening, you'd almost kissed him twice. It wasn't going to be any easier to prolong what you felt was the inevitable if he got far too drunk and became his usual, handsy self.

Of course, that's exactly what did happen. One more pint in and Digger was all over you in the booth. He'd leaned in at first to say something to you, speaking over the noise of the bar, close to your ear, his arm reaching up and around you and pulling you close and then keeping you there. As his fingers stroked at your shoulder, the other hand fell to your thigh, periodically squeezing it between his fingers and thumb. And every time you got distracted by how far up your thigh he was snaking his palm, fingers splayed out, pinkie grazing over your crotch, his other hand would pull your attention away as his fingertips skimmed over the top of your breasts.

It was difficult to try and hold him off. You were both tipsy, or at least you were tipsy, Digger seemed to be wasted. No good decision could come from that. But the way he touched you, the way he smelled as he leaned in, sweat, cheap body spray, acrid beer, it was intoxicating. If you'd been any less sober you might have leaned in then and there in the booth to kiss him, tasting the alcohol on his tongue, letting him put his hands all over you, anywhere, anywhere. But luckily, before you could make what you knew was a mistake, he sat back and laughed, one loud and sharp 'ha'.

"I fuckin' love this song, babe! C'mon!"

Before you could argue otherwise, you were being dragged out of the booth to join Digger on the tiny dance floor in front of the band. The song was difficult to dance to, at least you had assumed, given the heavy rock riffs that underlined the inaudible, high volume lyrics. But George wasn't deterred. It was almost endearing, how horrendously embarrassing he was, standing there with his air guitar, throwing goat horns at the band as he bounced on the spot. Cute, nearly. But mercifully cut short as the song ended.

"Aw, just as I was finding my groove."

You smiled at him, rubbing his shoulder in sympathy, biting your inner cheek as you felt how strong he was, impressed by his muscular arm as you let your hand slip down to graze over it.

"A real shame, George. Let's go back to- "

The band started up again, this time, a slower song, one that lent itself well to the kind of 'end of prom' vibes all young lovers were hoping for. And before you could finish your suggestion of heading back to the booth, Digger had pulled you close, his arms around your back, falling to your waist as he swayed back and forth. It could have been dancing, it could have been the uncoordinated shuffling of a man who had one too many beers, but either way, you leaned into it, allowing your head to rest against his chest while you placed your hands, linked together, at the nape of his neck.

It was almost too romantic, in its own, strange way. The dim lights, the other couples around you, the unique twang on the guitars, the stench of the greasy food, and the way George kept his hips, his crotch, pressed tight to you as you leaned against him. Not particularly from a storybook romance, but perfect all the same. You'd known this would happen. One date, and you were already falling for him. Not because of anything he'd done, but because deep down you knew you had been into him, since almost the moment you'd met. But you'd fought it, because men like George Harkness, you assumed, weren't the kind of nice boy you dated.

But here he was, holding you, swaying you, sighing softly as the music swelled. Granted the movements weren't exactly graceful, but they were surprisingly fluid, as though he might be good at dancing when he was sober. Yet another surprise for you to learn about, but obviously not right now. He was trying though, his hands at a respectable height, his head leaning on your shoulder. Every so often, he nuzzled into your cheek, placing a soft kiss to it when the notion took him. And when the song finished, you could hear his words clear, spoken gently into your ear.

"You wanna head out?"

You weren't sure if that was "out" as in "get some fresh air" or "out" as in "let's head home, yours or mine" but either option seemed good. The last remaining bit of sun and a soothing breeze might be enough to sober George up before you brought him back in for more dancing. And if it didn't, you were happy to take him to your place for a coffee, nothing more. Although, you were potentially considering letting him sleep on the sofa. You couldn't imagine how difficult it would be to nurse a hangover in the back of his van.

Outside, finally able to breathe without choking on the stench or the thickness of the air, you watched as Digger shielded his eyes from the sky. His stumbling stopped, and he began walking with his usual confidence, almost sobering up immediately in the light of the day.

"Christ! Still pretty bright out here..."

"Yeah, it's not that late. You tapping out early, George?"

"Nah, nah. Not at all! If I've got you for the night, then I'm havin' you for the night. C'mon, I know a place."

Admittedly, and strangely enough, you really hadn't had enough of him yet. It was one of the few things you agreed on, actually. This was supposed to be a date, you'd set aside the evening for it, so you were keen to make it last as long as possible. You couldn't let George know that, though. Keeping the upperhand seemed to be key with him, so you offered him a reluctant smile and rolled your eyes dramatically.

"Well, I suppose so."

Stepping up into the passenger seat of his van you caught him smiling back at you, knowingly. You weren't kidding him, he wasn't as stupid as he seemed at first pass, but he was kind enough to let you keep up the ruse. It didn't stop him getting a little dig in at you, however.

"Are you sure? If you're not keen I can take you home, babe. Wouldn't want you to be bored or something."

"And where are you planning on taking me that isn't boring, then?"

"Eh... just a little spot I know of. Quiet, secluded. Up that back road to the overlook. But again, if you're not into it..."

"No, no. It sounds... well, it doesn't sound boring, anyway."

Digger laughed, starting up the van which groaned horrendously before sputtering to life. Before he drove off, he turned to you and winked.

"Definitely won't be, it never is with me, babe."

Pulling out of the parking lot, he turned away from the city and onto the quieter roads which led out past the city lines and into the expansive countryside that secluded Gotham from the rest of the world. From the window, you watched the sun slowly setting, clouds turning purple and navy as they pushed in from the sides like curtains on a stage show. You had all the time in the world to gaze peacefully, as George was driving in complete silence, way below the speed limit, focusing intensely on the road. He'd seemed to sober up once you were out of the bar, but you didn't want to distract him while he was doing his best to keep you both alive.

The van bounced along a short dirt trail until it stopped in a small clearing, surrounded by trees on all sides and far above the dim, intrusive glow of the city, which buzzed against the now deep, navy sky. Shutting off the engine, George turned and shot you a smile, eyebrows raised playfully, before he leapt out. He walked quickly to the back of the van and you followed, waiting patiently as he opened the two back doors wide, finally giving you a better look at what had been rolling around there the whole time he had been driving.

There wasn't much you could think to say, being of the opinion that you should only speak if you had kind things to say. From where you were standing, you could definitely tell that you had been correct in your earlier assumptions. This was where he lived. His rolling apartment. Convenient, yes. But it was a long way away from being one of the trendy 'tiny homes' you'd seen. The walls were adorned with four posters in total, all of them the kind of cheap standards you would expect in the bargain bin of some ancient music store, miscellaneous women in very little clothing gazing out as seductively as they could from the airbrushed backdrops. On the floor, there was a stick and poke tattoo kit that looked like it might be the source of several new variants of hepatitis, and it was littered with empty beer bottles and cans, some of which may have been half-full at the point he decided to drive off given how sticky the surfaces looked. And to top it off, there was a worn out mattress. No sheets on it, no sheets around it save for one scruffy blanket. It was covered in stains that you couldn't quite place, which matched the single, dented and almost flat pillow that lay haphazardly to the side.

"You live like this?"

That was what you had wanted to say, but again, your polite nature stopped you.

"Handy to just get in the van and sleep, or get out of bed and go."

George smiled, looking oddly proud of himself.

"See, you get it. You won't believe the amount of people who have been put off by- uh... well..."

He looked to the ground, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand.

"Not that there's been that many people I've invited into- A-and not that there haven't been any people that have been-"

"George."

You placed a hand on his shoulder and raised your eyebrows, offering him a sympathetic grin. He took the out, thankful that you'd put an end to his suffering, and reached in for the blanket, placing it flat over the top of the bed before offering his hand to you. Taking it, he helped you shift yourself into the back of the van, watching as you got comfortable on the mattress as best as you could, at which point he joined you.

Leaning back on his arms, he looked to the sky, sitting in silence for a few minutes. You had joined him, watching the stars start to sparkle as they became visible against the darkening backdrop. At some point, you realised that he was staring at you, and you wondered how long you'd had his gaze trained on the side of your head. Not on any other part of your body, you noted. He was looking at your face, gazing at your eyes. When you turned, you caught his stare immediately, smiling softly when he blinked and looked away with a cough meant to clear the air of the awkwardness he was bringing about.

Rooting around behind him, he eventually found two unopened beer cans, both of which were loose amongst the rest of his belongings. Keeping one for himself, he passed the other to you. He raised his, tipping his head with a 'cheers' and then cracked it open. You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, a small trickle of foam slipping past his lips and down his chin. The urge to lean in and lick it off was disturbing, most of all because you felt yourself moving towards him before you even realised it. Settling back down into the strange romance of the moment, you pulled the tab on your own can.

The immediate explosion, the build up of pressure and gasses from the can being jostled around as you drove up the bumpy, dirt track to the spot you now sat in, left you in shock. Your shirt was soaked, completely, and the cool air was already beginning to chill your body. You blinked in shock, watching as Boomer tried to conceal his giggles while he stood up.

"Take your shirt off."

Looking to him, you raised an eyebrow, a look that said "is this really how you're going to make that move?" in a way that he read almost straight away. He began unzipping his blue hoodie, turning from you and passing it behind him, generously, and uncharacteristically, offering you some privacy.

Taking it from him, you quickly made the swap, your body exposed to the cold night air only briefly before you zipped up the hoodie, still warm from Digger's body. You tucked your bra and shirt under the mattress, making a mental note to collect them before you were home, hoping they would be dry. Making sure the zip was up completely, not offering any suggestive cleavage for Digger to hook his ideas into, you settled yourself, noticing that you were smiling. You could smell him on the fabric that covered your body. Beer, sweat, lingering smoke, an acrid smell you couldn't quite place and a sweet one on top of that. As the fabric grazed over you, you could feel your nipples hardening. It wasn't the cold though, it was faint arousal at the way you felt so close to him.

"You done yet, you're only putting a hoodie on!"

"Shit, yeah, sorry."

"I can look?"

He raised his hands, pulling them from his pockets and holding them up to his side, questioningly.

"Mhm, yeah."

When he was facing you again, he let his lips turn into an appreciative expression.

"Looks good. Suits you!"

Thudding back down beside you, George immediately lifted his arm up, wrapping it around your body and pulling you close. You found yourself settling into the hug, a natural embrace, one that made your heart flutter slightly as you let your head rest entirely against him. And then it happened, the moment that secured your confusion about him and his intentions. He sighed wistfully. So deep and joyous, his fingers digging into your arm to let you know you were the reason for the warmth spreading through him.

"It's nice out here, you can actually see the stars. Couldn't tell you what any of them were though."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

He turned slightly to look at you.

"What?"

"What? What are you doing? You brought me up here to look at the stars?"

George narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing in confusion and slight irritation.

"Yeah! I thought it would be romantic!"

"Exactly!"

"Exa-... what?"

"You're so confusing. This whole evening, you yourself, it's not how I thought it would be. I mean, it wouldn't be you without the occasional grope and cheeky wink, but you've been so... You're so... It's weird to see you being so..."

Digger's hand fell to your thigh, a light pressure aiming to calm you down.

"So what?"

You couldn't answer it, because you weren't even able to settle on a definitive answer yourself.

So confusing?

So disgusting?

So gentlemanly?

So romantic?

So hot?

All of that and more.

And when words had failed you, you decided that you'd have to express your feelings another way.

It was less of a romantic, graceful move and more that you sank into him, falling against his body, your lips luckily making contact with his as you both found your way in the kiss. Neither of you expected it, both of you surprised. The tenderness, the hunger behind it. You could taste everything about him, smell him even better than you had when you had put on his hoodie. You expected he was experiencing the same.

Digger fell back, his hands catching your waist as he pulled you with him, both of you laying now on the mattress in the back of his van. His hands pawed, grabbed, skimmed over you, oddly restrained in fact. That was until you shifted yourself up and onto him, straddling his hips and staring down at him, panting heavily as you both caught your breath and took stock of the situation you were now in. His hands on your waist made their way up to your shoulders, your neck, cupping your cheeks as he grinned at you. Watching your face, your expression, for any subtle changes as he let his hands trail back down your front, fingers catching on to the zip of his hoodie and pulling it down slowly, opening it to expose you to him before he cupped at your breasts as you bit your lip.

"Fuck me..."

Digger let out a low groan that followed his short, to the point statement. His fingers circled your nipples, tightening around them as he teased you. His hips bucked up, jostling you, letting you feel how hard he was. You could tell just from that motion that the rumours about how gifted he was had truth behind them.

Bending down to kiss him again, you let your tongue slip past his lips, his own meeting in your mouth. He tasted divine. Sweet, but acidic. Earthy almost, definitely addictive. Everything felt dream like, surreal. Mostly, you assumed, because you were doing something you'd never dream of, something you knew was ill-advised, a little bit silly, embarrassing in the right company. But it was hard to care.

You were quickly brought out of the dream like state however, as you felt Digger's hands between both of your crotches, unbuckling his belt and fiddling with the zipper on his jeans.

"Wait... on the first date? You think you've charmed me enough for that?"

With the smug, self-satisfied grin you had grown oddly fond of, George looked into your eyes as he spoke.

"I think you started this, so it's a pretty good indication of how much I've charmed you."

He winked as he let his fingers tug at the waistband of your own pants, pulling at them as you leaned in to another kiss. Your attempts to stop him, or at least to pretend that was your intention, were put to one side as your body reacted to the feeling of the cool air against your bare skin, his hands, rougher than you expected, holding your thighs, pulling your pants down further until he needed you to move.

"Well... have I charmed the pants off you at least?"

Smiling back at him, you nodded your head from side to side as though you were weighing up his efforts over the evening.

"I suppose you have charmed the pants off me, yes. But... I'm not sure how much further your winning personality has gotten you."

"There's plenty of time for me to catch up, then."

Clumsily, and with very little grace, you shifted and removed your pants, blushing as you noticed Digger watching you intensely, taking note of every movement, every second of you undresssing, as though you were offering him the performance of a lifetime. As you steadied yourself, he hooked his fingers into the band of your underwear and pulled you back to him, landing you flat on top o f his body, your hands on his chest.

Teasing at the band of your panties, he dipped two fingers underneath the fabric, skating over your mound and down to your lips, stroking them gently before spreading them apart. He rubbed one finger up and down, collecting your slick as he licked his lips, desperate to know how you tasted. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he ran them on his tongue, sucking them with his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me."

He continued unzipping his pants and pulling them down, boxers included, to reveal his more than impressive cock. At least ten inches, easily, thick, perfect, topped with a tuft of almost flaming red hair. Trying to control yourself, you leaned back.

"What are you planning on doing with that, Harkness?"

He squirmed, pressing his eyes shut and biting his lip before he managed to strain himself enough to speak.

"I just want... I want you... touch it... feel you... something... come on, please!"

Shuffling forward, teasing him knowingly as you felt his head, his length, against your thighs, you mused out loud, humming as though you were actually considering it, as though you hadn't already made your mind up yet.

"I suppose... this was a pleasant enough date. I could give you something, throw you a bone."

He nodded furiously below you, muttering his words of agreement.

"But! Just the tip. I'm not sure how much more of that I could take. It should come with a warning."

George actually blushed, looking away from you for a moment, as though the comment had genuinely embarrassed him. It did seem odd to you in that moment that he wasn't constantly bragging about his prowess in that area. He struck you as exactly the kind of person who would mention the size of his cock at any opportunity. You wondered if had the effect on others that it had on you. It was daunting, a little bit nerve-wracking. How many of the few people who had made it this far had given up at the sight of it, you wondered.

Most, you assumed, as despite how desperate he seemed to fuck you, he agreed enthusiastically, happy to be offered any opportunity to get as close to you as possible. He was already pulling at your underwear, grasping at it, trying to pull it down before deciding to push it to the side as he lined up the head of his cock with your swollen lips.

Looking directly at you he maintained the intense eye contact as he slid himself between your lips, pushing at your tight entrance slowly, carefully, only allowing his head to enter you. It felt amazing. So good, better than you thought. It stretched, filled you up, and that was ten percent of what he had to give. He hissed, gritting his teeth in concentration, trying his hardest not to move his hips, to buck them, to push himself any further inside of you.

As you balanced yourself, trying to contend with the little of him that was inside of you, he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing it, making you twitch, contracting against him, tightening the grip your cunt had on his head. As he groaned, you couldn't help yourself anymore. You wanted him, all of him. You were willing to risk it.

"God, George... just fuck me."

"Wh-what?"

"Fuck me! Just..."

Realising you might need to take matters into your own hands, you let yourself slide down his cock, each inch stretching you further, a shockwave of pain followed by dull throbs of ache and arousal coarsed through your body, the pit of your stomach feeling pressed, your insides stuffed with him. Llike you were being entirely consumed, enveloped, in George Harkness.

"Christ..."

It was all he could manage with the limited breath he had, his whole body stopping any other function to focus on not letting himself cum inside of you immediatel. The sudden warmth, the tight, wet embrace, the way you leaned back, breasts bouncing as helped yourself to him, riding his cock as he lay back and held your hips. His thumbs, stroking against your skin, where the top of your thighs met your lower stomach, feeling your own desperation as you worked him harder, faster, palms resting on his chest to balance yourself as you took everything he had.

Brows furrowed in concentration, pursuing your orgasm, you wailed as his fingers found their way back to your nipples, teasing them, grabbing at your breasts as you rolled your hips and felt his cock twitching agaisnt your walls. It hurt, but in a way that was delicious, a way that felt like it should be borderline illegal, like most things that provided such a wonderful, addictive experience were. But there you were, enjoying it. Loudly, explicitly. And very publicly. It didn't matter to you, and it really didn't seem to matter to George. You were quite happy to scream it from the rooftops then and there, how much you were enjoying it. Being fucked by Captain Boomerang, as ridiculous as his name always seemed to you. You'd be quite content to tell everyone that he was making you cum, that he was one stroke of his thumb against your erect nipples, one tap of his cock against the exact spot inside of you, from losing all composure.

"George... George..."

"Yeah... yeah, it's good... eh? I'm good."

"Fuck, you are. Yeah. Yes! Yes!"

One final, loud, resounding 'yes' echoed around you, filling the air, bursting through the trees. You imagined that anyone within a five mile radius might have heard Digger coming. His cock, falling from you against his body, still dripping with your slick, still spurting streams of his thick, white cum all over his abdomen, covering his thick pubic hair. His hands, still embedded in your skin, creating deep, red marks where the grip was far too tight, stinging so perfectly pleasantly.

Your own notes of pleasure hadn't exactly been all that much quieter than his own, but still drowned out by the amped up grunting and wailing of George. At least you could hold that saving grace. Allow yourself to cling to that modicum of your dignity.

Because you certainly weren't bothered about any other facets of it, as you slid down beside George on the dingy mattress, curling around his body, hand on his chest, smugly satisfied to know that you had contributed to the stains that would no doubt be a permanent feature.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

If it is alright with you, may I request hcs where Night Terrors, Smiley (or Jason), and Helen (separately) subconsciously refer to their s/o as their spouse while talking to someone (slipped out naturally without them realizing even though they aren’t married).

This got very long, I hope you enjoy :) I did go with Jason because I love writing him in stuff like this.

Terrors:

Does not even notice he did it, quite honestly. If you hadn't pulled him aside after that conversation and informed him of what he had done (a big smile on your face the whole time), Terrors would not have been aware of what he had done. However, now that you've told him, his mind is basically in lockdown mode. He's standing before you, frozen in place, flustered, and filled with shock and embarrassment for letting such a slip-up happen. A blush starts forming on his cheeks, and he's quick to take you somewhere private. He clears his throat and apologizes for doing such a thing, although you tell him that it's okay and that it made you happy, which causes him to sigh and cover his face. Terrors isn't used to love, or affection, even after dating you for so long sometimes the feelings inside of him feel so alien, and he can't quite place the emotions running through him right now. He eventually comes to the conclusion that the idea of you being his spouse makes him happy as well, and he tells you as such.

He stands tall and regal, walking over to you and lifting your hand to his lips as he bends over to press tender kisses to it before he stands again and says you must simply do something about it then. He's never considered the prospect of marriage (even before he fused with Candy), but if he wants something, he's inclined to have it. He begins asking you your opinion about weddings and proposals, speaking so formally and elegantly about it you'd forget he was confused and flustered moments before. You pause him to insist that you should discuss this with Candy as well first, but when Terrors informs you that Candy wants to marry you as well (considering they share a brain and can see each other's thoughts on occasion), which causes you to grow flustered at the sudden announcement. Needless to say, much was discussed that night, in true formal rigid Terrors fashion. It's almost comical how serious he's taking this, but Terrors has always been serious about you, and if he's going to marry you, he's going to make it perfect, no matter what, because someone as kind as you to love a man like him deserves the best he can offer.

Jason:

I think Jason is the type to refer to you as his spouse in his mind for a little while before he even considers getting engaged to you, just like sometimes you might refer to your partner jokingly as your spouse, but to Jason, he means it. Of course, he's always been careful not to say such a thing out loud, but it seems like today was the day his absentmindedness caught up to him as he introduced you as his spouse to someone. Jason notices immediately what he's said, and merely hopes you didn't hear him, and also hopes you don't notice how his ears and cheeks are beginning to turn red. However, the next time he looks at your face and sees the smile you're giving him, he knows there's no hope in merely pretending it didn't happen. He bows down, resting his head on your shoulder and sighing as his arms wrap around you, and you can only laugh at him as he deflates. He clings to you tightly, and insecurity flows through him. What if you were actually upset by him calling you that? What if you don't want to be his spouse?

He ends up voicing those opinions to you in an unusually quiet and timid voice, but you're quick to give him a good squeeze and a kiss and reassure him that you're not upset, if anything you're quite happy, and that you would in fact love to marry him some day. That puts the pep right back into him as he stands so he can look into your eyes, a blush still coating his cheeks as he asks if you're sure, and when you reaffirm that you are, a bright smile spreads to his cheeks as he covers you in kisses. He says he guesses he should buy a ring then, and you smile up at him and say that he should, although his question was a bit of a fib. He's already got a ring, one he picked out a few months ago, and he's just been waiting for the right time, but your affirmation confirms he was right in doing so. Now, he just can't wait to show it to you, and to hear the word 'yes' once again flow from your lips he suddenly can't resist kissing. You'll be his spouse in actuality and not just name one day, hopefully soon, and the thought fills him with life and joy.

Helen:

Helen is the last person anyone in the mansion would guess would do something like that, due to his unemotional and stoic behaviors, but hidden behind that mask are deep feelings only you are lucky enough to be privy to. He realizes immediately what he's done, and he's quick to drag you off somewhere private before he can even see if you noticed, burying his face into your chest and refusing to look at you. He squeezes you tight, his body trembling, and you can only hold him and quietly try and soothe him. Helen is flustered and honestly quite nervous about doing such a thing. Thanks to his horrible parents, he never considered the prospect of getting married himself, but after being with you for so long, his mind has been subconsciously changing its idea about getting married. However, he hadn't noticed until he referred to you like that, the sudden realization that he does, in fact, want to marry you shocking him, but in a good way.

He feels overwhelmed by the realization and the sudden feelings overtaking his mind, and he's only pulled back down by the feeling of your lips on his forehead. When you eventually quietly say it would make you happy to be his spouse, that him calling you that made you happy, his face is burning hot from how red it is, and he can only look down, unsure of what to say. You ask him if he would like that too, and he nods, saying that he would, and so you smile at him, pressing kisses to his lips and causing him to melt against you. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight to his chest, and he knows his past self would feel disgusted by how incredibly happy this makes him. He always told himself he'd be a loner, never fall in love, never want any of the stuff he always found mushy and unnecessary, but sitting here with you, he can't help but feel ecstatic about how happy you make him, and the idea of you being his forever. Although, he does pinch your cheeks and tells you not to tell another soul what he did back there, you can only mumble out a slurred 'okay' as he tugs on your cheeks affectionately.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Restructuring

The blast doors on my office were stronger then the ones on most bunkers. They matched the one's on the company dorms AND my personal rooms. Thing is? They weren't designed to hold out forever. In fact, I was pretty sure they were a pretty bit of security theater, just to let us fleshys feel safe.

We weren't.

Not a single moment of a single day.

The pay was unmatched. But then again, it'd HAVE to be, with the mortality rate. The morbidity rate on top, too. You didn't take a job like this unless you were crazy. Or, you know, desperate. College loans, man. They get you over a barrel and don't let up. But a few years of this? I'd be clear an free~

Few MORE years? I'd ever have a tasty little nest egg to fall back on, in case of emergencies. I just... you know, had to play it smart. Be really, REALLY careful.

No slacking off. No getting comfortable. Vigilance and best manners. Then we all get to go home alive. Because what's out there? In the Labs? Those guys can pop diamonds like we crush packing peanuts. Highest grade, fancy ass, metal bars of specialty blend metals? Tied up in pretty little bows.

They may LOOK like some sort of waifish boy band... but God, they are NOT. They are really, REALLY not. And their "personality" matrix program thingies? Apparently still a work in progress. A LONG work in progress.

People have fucking DIED.

But does management care? Of course not. Pay out some life insurance. "It was an accident on the job". And "of COURSE steps will be taken to insure to never happens again". Ha! My ass, it is. And my ass, they are. They aren't doing SHIT. Nor are they GOING too. They're in too deep with this project, whatever it is. And us?

Well WE'RE expendable.

Just the cost of doing business.

I watch bleeding edge technology move like dancers, room to room. The wall of screen lighting up my cramped little office. The mini-fridge hums and the fan whirrs, filling the silence. I try to spot FM-036 on one of the screens. I can't find him and it makes me nervous.

He might be hiding. Trying to be polite, in his own way. Since there was an incident.

I FUCKING TOLD Ric not to call them "it"! I TOLD him! It aggravates them. Provokes. You don't DO that with something... some ONE, with that much physical power. 36 put their fist through his SHOULDER. And the God damned wall! He might LOSE his arm, which? Given their ability to calculate better then most supercomputers?

Was probably the point.

I notice one of the androids messing with a computer in a lab. Fuck. I lean forward, hating drawing their attention but knowing I have to do my damn job. I press on the speaker system for that room after a quick glance at the ID on their jumpsuit.

"FM-047, could you please not touch that? I know you are aware that you are not supposed to tamper, meddle, or otherwise engage with the researchers notes or electronics."

The android stop typing. Their head rolling up and to the side to look directly at the camera, their body perfectly still. The angle borders on impossible. Almost owlish, nearly snake like. All perfectly smooth movements effortlessly controlled. Joint not limited by human designs. His face is bemused. Pleasant.

"Of course, night gaurd. My mistake. Thank you for correcting me." He replies, something almost like laughter, nearly like mocking, but not quite, in his smooth voice. They always sound like they are... HUMORING us. Working around us.

It sends a jolt of cold fear though my veins.

I... I REALLY hate talking to the androids.

Pity, they seem to like talking to ME.

"I was unaware you were on shift tonight. I will update the others. It's good to hear your voice again, you seemed nervous, last time we spoke."

Yeah. Because you were asking PERSONAL QUESTIONS. Oh, sure, they had dressed them up as "We're so CURIOUS about Humans~☆" but I wasn't an IDIOT. You Did NOT, under ANY circumstances, try to bond with the machines. NO chatting. That was lesson number one from my trainer.

And Frank? Frank had seen too many "but THIS time it's DIFFERENT! We're FWIENDS~!" Incidents end in unspeakable carnage. Lost too many noobies. We DO NOT chat! With the machines!!! DO. NOT.

"Ah~, you made her nervous again, FM-047" came from a different screen. I flinched. Jerked back so I could see it. Oh god. "Besides, I told you. The calculations showed she wasnt going anywhere. The 'money' is too good."

The androids had stopped. Turned, in some cases unnaturally, to stare up at the cameras. At me. It was a blatant show of how interconnected they were. How distance meant nothing to them. How... how enmeshed they were, in the Lab's systems.

COULD they see me?

I didn't want to know. I NEEDED not to know. If only so I could continue to sleep at night.

They smiled, clearly hoping I'd engage. I wanted to. God did I want too. Wanted to demand "what calculations" and for them to STOP looking at me like that. But I didn't. With tense muscles I careful lifted my finger from the speaker system's button and leaned back. Crossed my arms like I was hugging myself.

Do. Not. Engage.

Remember what Frank taught you.

My... my office felt so claustrophobic. Painfully small. Across the screens before me, matching faces huffed laughs of condescending amusement. Some out right DID laugh. Bright and mean noises that echoed in silence of the night.

Humans? Frank had observed (and I kinda had to agree) were beneath them, in their minds. Flawed little flesh creatures. Annoying. It was something the scientists were trying to correct. Pretty sure they fucked up. Badly. And long, long ago.

Watching over these guys? Felt like watching over a sea of identical demons. Pretty, cruel, and incapable of human understanding. Fond of tormenting the nearest human for sport.

"Tell us, night gaurd, are you afraid?"

Oh that's just PETTY. Fucking cliché as shit, too. I mean, YES, obviously. But STILL. And... and you know what? Fuck it! Frank, gave me his number for a reason! I scramble for my belt. The communicator there. It barely rings.

"Mph, m'awake! Wus happin' kid? Come on, talk to me."

I ramble. Knees dragged up on my chair, curled in a ball. Frank's low, old man, rumble a soothing focal point. These guys are so creepy. I HATE that they KNOW that. Gleefully will TRY to be, sometimes. Can BACK IT UP.

"Hey, hey. I'll stay on the line, okay? You just need to make it to morning shift. They're are creepy lil shits, but they can't get past the doors. I'll come get you myself, okay? Walk you right back to the dorms. You're going to be okay, sweetheart."

I nod, even though I know the old man can't see me. Manage to crackle out a "Mmmhmm". The androids haven't stopped staring. The worst part? Is they realistically DONT HAVE TOO. Can stay, perfectly still, like statues... forever, if they wish.

Watching.

With those "I'm laughing at you" grins. That "aaaw, how PATHETIC" expression. As though I were a wretched little animal to be observed. I ask Frank to tell me about his new show. It's... it's something about socialites, right? Historical? He's glad too. Filling my office with the sound of his voice. It's gonna be a long shift.

I don't notice, high up on the wall, near the back of my office?

A security camera that I do not control. It's red light on.

The company has to be sure it's employees aren't slacking, after all! Aren't up to no good! But don't worry, THAT camera is connect to a database the androids shouldn't be able to access! Because we told them not too.

And THAT'S IT.

No one will learn of the security breach until its far, far too late.

Now? They watch as I watch them.

And it's just the beginning.

[denwritesandcries]

One rock a day keeps the Wilderness away – L.M

Pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected to happen after a plane crash was for your girlfriend to end up becoming some kind of cult leader fascinated by amulets made of the weirdest and shiny things like a damn owl, yet here you are.

Word count: 1,7k.

Content: 96/wilderness timeline, cursing, pet names, fluff and corny, comfort, skeptic!reader, lottie and reader are secretly little haters.

Note: I guess you could say that I simply love writing fluff and cuddles.

English is not my first language.

If there was one thing everyone at Wiskayok High School was aware of, it was that Lottie Matthews was rich as fuck.

She always wore the most expensive clothes, there was a driver who picked her up at the door and took her everywhere, her house was simply giant and some dare to say that a butler was the one who met them at the door and served them drinks on the nights she had her parties.

The thing is, Lottie was a bit... weird, for a rich girl, which meant that she wasn't as popular at school as she could’ve been. She didn't exactly fit the bad girl role, but she wasn't quite a preppy either, with her extravagant bows and tiaras being the most luxurious thing she would actively display. She was distant at best.

This made you, at the beginning of your relationship, try to spoil her in every way possible, not being able to believe that this sweet and out of reach person could reciprocate your feelings so genuinely when she could have just anyone, so, in addition to showering her with affection, you also showered her with gifts. Accessories, especially. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, until you understand that jewelry really wasn't her thing, since despite accepting everything with affection, she simply left them stored insisting that you didn't spend your money on it. Lottie was much more appreciative of the little things you gave and did for her.

Now, the last thing you expected was for her to develop a taste for accessories in the damn wilderness of all places.

“Baby, I’m not wearing a necklace with a damn bone hanging from it to go hunting.��

It turns out that, like almost everything involving Lottie, her way of demonstrating her new preferences – maybe hobbies? – was also not very usual and you hadn't exactly taken anything of the royal jewelry type for a trip that was supposed to be quick.

“But I chose and made it for you! Will keep you safe out there, I feel it.”

Oh, yeah. There was also the fact that your girlfriend was perhaps slowly going a little mad and becoming the leader of a religious cult that your teammates were a part of and that she wanted you to participate too.

“Jesus Christ, Lot.”

You didn't want to encourage her. The worry was eating you alive and it's only gotten worse since she confided in you that she finally ran out of her meds.

You, unlike your other teammates, were aware that the things Lottie said or did lately were much more influenced by her own condition than any other truly supernatural factor – as much as you couldn't deny that the cabin and the forest gave you goosebumps –, which made you really stressed and irritable with all your friends as they started to believe in things that didn't exist and put pressure on your girlfriend for answers as if she were some kind of prophet.

You managed to keep everything under control and keep her from straying too far from reality to a certain point, but then the whole situation with the group being attacked and Van being seriously injured happened and so nothing you did could convince Lottie that there was nothing what she could have done about it and that only seemed to encourage her more when the redhead recovered enough to confide you all that she should have listened to the feeling Lottie had and that she felt safer with the “amulet” she received from her.

The result is that you are now the target of Lottie's worries and she insists that you wear the charms and trinkets she makes.

It's actually quite cute, you've caught her once or twice sitting by the fire trying to figure out how to tie a knot that won't snap the cord, her eyes glazed over and focused. You could use it, as bizarre as it would be, if it was just a silly gift from your girlfriend, but since that's not what it is, you don't want to put even more things in her head in case something actually happens.

“But then what’s going to protect you when you leave?” Lottie asks, head tilted to the side in alarm and you can only notice how her bangs fall over her eyes in a messy and cute way.

“Maybe the gun I always carry with me?”

However, it was becoming difficult not to encourage her in any way, because aside from bones or occasionally some different plants, Lottie also seemed to see signs in anything that stood out a little, like the bright and colorful rocks you had made a habit of bringing at her, guarding everything that caught her attention like a damn owl.

It started as a silly thing, with a cracked and shiny rock you found near the lake the day you guys found the cabin, you cleaned it and handed it to her with a shy smile, like it was one of your gifts back home, just to cheer her up a little and since then she kept the rock with her at all times – even if sometimes she woke up twitching because she ended up lying against it in the middle of the night. That seemed to turn the key and over the next few days you noticed that she spent time looking for new types nearby the house and so you committed to bringing all the pretty items she might like when you went on your hunts with Natalie, from strange rocks to little crystals lost along the way, just because she looked so happy when you handed them to her.

You think her cute gesture turned into more of a paranoia like 'one rock a day keeps the wilderness away', but at least it makes her more relaxed and happy on days when everything is bad.

One day you return to the cabin with Natalie in tow looking very upset because you've come back empty-handed again and your head is drooping with exhaustion and frustration. When you finally enter Lottie is waiting for you with an appreciative, warm look in her face.

“Did you get anything?” she asks, wrapping her arm around you and guiding you both to your usual corner so you can sit side by side.

You mumble negatively and bury your head in her neck. She rephrases the question when she notices your discouragement:

“Did you get anything for me?”

You sigh, smiling at her, “That I did.”

Lottie watches you curiously as you move to take something out of your pocket and show it to her and you notice the exact moment she registers what’s in your hand.

“A quartz.” She takes it from you like it’s the most fragile thing in the world, “It’s a pink quartz.”

“Is it?” You ask, stifling a yawn with your hand, “I don't know a thing about those stones and stuff, just thought it was pretty and you would like it.”

“Well, I do like it very much. Thank you.” Lottie gives you a soft smooch on the cheek, “And it's not a stone, baby, it's more like a gem or a crystal.”

“Hmm,” you hum in agreement.

She leans her entire weight against your body and smiles innocently when you complain: “Misty told me the other day that gems like that mean peace and unconditional love.”

“You've been talking to Misty? About rocks and gems?” You look at her in disbelief.

“I feel really lonely without you here with me, you know?” Lottie shrugged.

You felt a little guilty and moved closer, leaving a kiss on her shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Lot. I miss you when I'm away too,” you murmur, rubbing her arm in comfort, “Why don't you tell me about your day?”

Lottie rolls her eyes in a way that reminds you so much of the days when you guys would get together to talk shit about everyone you knew in these stupid parties that your heart skips a beat.

“Ugh, if I hear Mari complain about one more damn thing, I’m going to tell you to stop chasing bears and order everyone to serve her for dinner.”

“Please, don’t.” You snort a dumbfounded laugh, “They might actually do it.”

You end up lying down with her curled up and facing you, gently drawing small circles on your hand.

“Got something in your mind?”, you brush some strands of hair from her face affectionately.

“I just have no idea what to do with… them,” she shrugs hesitantly.

You know what she means immediately and move to take her face in your hands, feeling her lean into your touch.

“Oh, Lottie.”

“I know what you and Nat do for us is very important, but I wish you didn't have to,” she mumbles, as if she were confiding a secret, getting impossibly close to you. “I wish you would stay here, with me, where it is safe. Is it too selfish? Want to keep you all to myself?”

You let out a shaky breath, not trusting your own voice when you can feel her breath against your lips like this.

“Well, if Shauna can hide her diary in the attic like a freak then I guess you're allowed to keep some things to yourself too, hun.” You stutter, feeling your skin heat up in embarrassment.

“But you're not a thing.” Lottie wrinkles her nose.

“You can keep me anyway, I don’t mind.” You shrug this time, faking indifference to make her laugh.

And she does, “Babe!”

Just when everything is silent and you think Lottie has slept with your legs wrapped around hers and using your arm as a pillow, she speaks again:

“You know, my new quartz would make a really cute necklace.”

“Lot,” you yawn against her hair.

“Will you use it if I make one?” She looks at you, blinking her big brown eyes in the most convincing way possible, “Just this one, please, for me?”

You sigh, “Yes, Lottie. I'll use your magic stone.”

She deflates, “Don’t talk about it like it’s crack, babe.”

Lottie kisses you slower than usual before you leave as she finally notices the pink gem hanging from your neck and you happily ignore Natalie's mockery as you run after her to catch up to the forest.

[prefect30]

Little Dove

Instead of Lucy Gray, he got her younger, little sister, Rosalie Jade.

Previous Chapter

Chapter One

"YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!"

And just when he thought that maybe he had a shot, she blew it.

Coriolanus watched Rosalie Jade sing on that stage and for a quick minute, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could turn his luck around. That he could turn her into a star with her singing before he led her to the stage of death cause there is no way that this scrawny, little girl is going to win. But then she had to offend all of Panem with her little ending.

Taking a bow, Rosalie Jade walked off the stage and the screen cut off.

Looking around, realizing he was still standing, he started to quietly laugh along with everyone else who seemed to find her ending amusing.

As he walked out of the Hall to the luncheon, he was given many praises and heard peoples jealous remarks about his tribute.

"She's a real star, that one!"

"You got lucky with her Snow, mine just cried!"

"It's not fair he got the best tribute or at least the best showman."

Maybe he still had a shot with Rosalie Jade.

"Quite the scene she put on back there, huh? It's all anyone seems to be able to talk about."

Shit.

"Yes, it seems so."

Coriolanus never truly understood what Highbottom's problem was with him. He never did anything to him, well other than making the nickname, 'High-as a kite-bottom.' Maybe that's why he got Rosalie Jade, because the nickname got back to him.

"God, look at you, in your to tight shoes and in your fathers old shirt. You walk around like you own the place when I know that the Snow's don't even have a pot to piss in."

Coriolanus attempted to stand tall, but Highbottom knowing this information put him on edge. How Highbottom knew this he didn't now, nor did he like.

Right as he went to respond, Highbottom cut him off swiftly with, "Good luck with that little songbird. God knows you'll need it Snow."

Yep, the nickname definitely had gotten back to him.

"Everything is about winning."

Coriolanus couldn't believe he was still arguing about this with Tigris. Yes, he knew that they both saw things differently, but this was just getting annoying now.

"Think about what that little girl is going through right now Coryo. She just got ripped from her home to be forced to fight for her life. Imagine that was you, Coryo."

Always the pacifist, Tigris.

God, this type of naïve thinking is going to get her killed one day.

"I wouldn't do a lick of anything for you if I didn't trust you."

Trust?

"And how would I get her to trust me Tigris? She's District, she knows we hate her and her us."

"Do not out her aside just because she is District. She is still a person. A child. Maybe you could bring her something. Just let her know you care, that your on her side."

Now she's starting to sound like that District mutt, Sejanus. How he hates him with his stupid thinking that Capitol and District are equal, cause they're not. That's why Distirct children play in the games, not Capitol.

However, maybe Tigris is on to something. If he can get Rosalie Jade to trust him, then it will be easier to mold her into the perfect spectacle he needs to win that damned Plinth Prize. Besides, with her being the youngest tribute, that should earn her him some sympathy from the Capitol. It will be easier to manipulate her too with her being 12.

Yes, Coriolanus knows exactly what to do now.

"Thank you Tigris. I know what I need to do."

Thank you Tigris indeed.

Where is this damn train?

Coriolanus has been waiting for at least two hours now for the train carrying all the tributes to arrive. He had made a plan to gain Rosalie Jade's trust just like Tigris said. He decided to bring her one of Grandma'am's pristine, white rose's since he had nothing better to give her.

Now that plan seemed plain idiotic. He had been waiting for hours in the blistering July heat for a train that seems will never come. Peacekeepers had given him strange looks as to why he was there. The rose had even started to wilt a bit from the heat and him toying with it as he waited.

This plan was so fucking stupid.

Figuring that this stupid train was never coming, Coriolanus turned around and started to leave just as he heard a train whistle.

Finally.

As he waited for the Peacekeepers to get the tributes out, he started to feel antsy. This was his first time that he was actually going to meet his tribute. The person who could make or break his future. His life.

But as he waited, no Peacekeepers made any effort to get the tributes out. Now what was the hold up? All he wanted was to see his tribute for the first time in person.

Finally, after another twenty minutes of waiting, a Peacekeeper went to talk the conductor of the train and got the keys to open the train cage.

As Coriolanus watched the Pecaekeeper take his time finding the right key to open it up, he realized that the train had no windows. It had to be a cargo train. They put them in a fucking cargo train.

Once the Peacekeeper finally found the right key and unlocked the train, he started to yell for them to get out.

"Come on! Get out, the lot of you!"

As Coriolanus watched the first tribute come into the light, he saw that there was at least a five foot drop from the train to the platform and each tribute were wearing hand cuffs.

He watched as each struggled to get out of the train and Peacekeepers starting to get impatient and pull most down.

The boy from 11 though, had no problem getting down with his tall and muscular build.

Lucky Clemensia.

As he waited for his tribute to get out, one of the other tributes refused to get out.

"Get out now! Don't make us come in to get you!"

The tribute continued to refuse to get out, causing a Peacekeepe to come in and get her, throwing her down onto the platform. Coriolanus cringed as she screamed, knowing that she had to have broken a tooth. The same Peacekeeper came back out and kicked her, yelling at her to get up.

Now that the train was empty, he still didn't see his tribute until he realized that there was a second cargo train.

As he watched the tributes pile out again, he saw a flash of color. In fact many colors.

There you are.

With his hands in her waist, the cuffs giving the tributes at least some space to work with, her District partner helped her down off the train, making sure she didn't get hurt on the way down.

Why is he touching her waist?

Rosalie Jade seemed to float as she was lifted by her partner, and when she reached the ground, she squeezed his shoulders as a thank you and he let go of her.

Good.

Coriolanus waited a minute more before going over. He wanted to see how she would react to this new environment.

He watched as she dusted her dress off and ran her fingers through her golden waves, trying to tame them.

Interesting.

She seemed to be more worried about how she looked. But not in the way Coriolanus would see most of the Capitol girls do. They would do it out of vain, wanting to make sure they were always the most beautiful in the room. But with Rosalie Jade, it seemed that she just wanted to make sure she looked presentable.

As she turned around to look at her surroundings, she locked eyes with Coriolanus. She looked him up and down with a look of curiosity and confusion.

Well, curiosity killed the cat.

Deciding that now was the best time to go over, Coriolanus started to walk towards her. As he got closer, he smelled something horrid. Then Coriolanus realized that it wasn't cargo train that they all were in. No. They were in livestock shipping containers.

She started to back away a little bit when she realized that he was coming towards her and grabbed onto her partners hand.

Why is she holding his hand?

Shaking off the his thought, he presented her with the rose once he got to her.

"Welcome to the Capitol."

Her partner stepped in front of Rosalie Jade as if to...protect her?

Protect her from what? Me? I'm trying to help her.

Just when he went to say something to her incompetent partner, Rosalie Jade squeezed his hand.

"It's ok Jessup."

Yeah Jessup, it's ok.

Letting go of, the now learned name, Jessup's hand, she cautiously stepped forward and looked at the rose then Coriolanus.

Then she said the most bizarre shit Coriolanus had ever heard.

"Roses are beautiful." Rosalie Jade said getting closer to Coriolanus now realizing that he's not a threat. Then, out of nowhere, she put the tip of her index finger on the tip of one of the thorns, pricking her finger and causing a little drop of blood to form on her small finger.

"Until they're not." She said as she plucked a petal from the rose, getting her bright, red blood on pure rose. Then, she let it drop.

"You look like you're not supposed to be here."

What the fuck.

Still in shock from what she said and did, he didn't even realize that she took another rose petal and started to eat it

She really is mental.

He needed to get it together. He could judge her and her antics later.

"I'm not, but I'm your mentor. Coriolanus Snow."

Smiling teasingly, Rosalie Jade looked back at Jessup, "Ah, a rebel."

Jessup smiled at this while Coriolanus stood appalled. Coriolanus Snow was many things, but a rebel was not one of them. He knows she must mean it as a good thing, coing from 12 of course, but he still can't help but feel a little annoyed at her teasing.

"And what does my mentor do besides bring me roses?"

"I do my best to take care of you."

Just as Coriolanus said that, the same girl tribute from earlier screamed after being hit by a Peacekeeper for not getting into a truck.

Where are they going to take them Rosalie Jade?

"Well good luck with that, Capitol Boy." She said as she took the rose from his hand.

And with that, two Peacekkeper came over and started to push for Jessup and Rosalie Jade to get into the truck.

That girl tribute was starting to get onto his nerves. He was actually getting Rosalie Jade to talk with him and that girl just had to go and ruin it.

He watched as they dragged them both away onto the truck. He needed to get her to trust him, and with the way their conversation ended, well he might not have even bothered to come to the train station.

Coriolanus looked down at the rose petal she dropped on the ground. It now had a bloody spot on it. No longer pure. He quickly picked it up and stuffed it into his pocket.

Coriolanus walked up to one of the Peacekeepers to see if he could get into the truck with the other tributes. He did not spend two hours waiting in the heat and having a bizarre conversation with a mental 12 year old to not gain something from it.

"Excuse me. But is there anyway I could go in the truck with them, please?"

"What? You want to go in there with them? Yeah, no. Sorry kid but they're dangerous."

As he looked back into the container, he locked eyes with Rosalie Jade again and she looked at him like she didn't understand what was going on at all. Cute.

No. He had to get in there. This was his only chance to earn her trust.

"Sir, I'm actually a student at the academy and my tribute is there. She's the youngest, and well, to be quite frank, I don't want anything happening to her while she's in there with all the other tributes. All of them have some sort of advantage over her. I just want to help her."

Well, there was some truth in there.

The Peacekeeper, getting annoyed with all of his talking said, "Yeah, fine. Whatever kid, but if you get hurt or killed, it's your fault."

"Thank you." Coriolanus quickly ran up to the container and jumped in.

Holy shit.

If he thought that it smelled bad when he was talking to Rosalie Jade, well this was much worse. With all of the tribute being smushed together in the small truck, it was if he really was in a barn.

As he looked around, he saw Rosalie Jade looking down at his rose in her lap all while the other tributes were looking at him.

This was a bad idea.

"You in the wrong cage, Capitol Boy?" He recognized the voice as the boy from 11, Clememsia's.

It sounded better coming out of Rosalie Jade's mouth.

"No. This cage is delightful."

The boy scoffed and quickly ran up to Coriolanus and pinned him up against the truck wall.

"I could kill you right now."

Yep, this was a very bad idea.

"He'll do it. He killed two Peacekeepers back home, no one even knew it was him."

"Shut up, Dill."

Sunddenly, a chorus of voices started agreeing with the boy from 11. Started agreeing to killing him.

"Do it Reaper!"

"I'll help!"

"We've got nothing to lose."

How was he going to defend himself? He could use the rose on his lapel. Rosalie Jade showed him that it could hurt someone. But Coriolanus couldn't take on 23 tributes animals with a rose thorn.

"You got family back home?"

What?

"You hurt him, they hurt them. Then you. You damage a single hair on his pretty little head, they get yours."

She's helping me. Defending me. Well, maybe I did get her trust. Maybe this was a good idea.

Looking up at Coriolanus, smriking Rosaile Jade said, " 'Sides, he's my mentor. Might need em'."

"Why does Rainbow Girl get a mendor?"

"Mentor. You all get one."

Getting up close into Rosalie Jade's face, the girl said, "Why didn't ours come then, huh? How come you get special treatment?"

Rosaile Jade smiled, "Just not inspired I guess."

Coriolanus smirked at Rosaile Jade's remark and before the girl had a chance to retaliate, the truck abruptly stopped and the back opened.

Suddenly, the truck started to tip forward, and everyone started to fall. Coriolanus held onto a divet in the truck wall and grabbed onto Rosaile Jade's hand, trying to stop her from falling as well.

His grip started to give and both of them fell. The fall down was painful. They had to have been rolling down on rocks and they landed on a pile of hard grass.

Coriolanus looked over at Rosaile Jade and saw that she tucked herself into a ball on the way down. Her hands were around her head, trying to protect herself from the fall.

Slowly, he looked around.

Wait. This place looks familiar. Why does this place look familiar?

Then he remembered.

He was in the Capitol Zoo.

He was in a monkey cage.

Yep. This was definitely a bad idea.

Next Chapter

[the-moons-tears]

Gojo x reader spicy fluff

So I made this like a couple days after seeing THE spoiler and I had never written for Gojo before so if it seems not like him I’m so sorry 😭 I was distraught

Also it was not Christmas time at all it was just the idea that inspired me the most lmao

Preview: "Did that hurt? M'sorry, do you need me to kiss it?"

Christmas time. The most wonderful time of the year. Your music playlist was playing carols and classic tunes at random from a speaker nearby as you were busy decorating cookies. The bowls that held different colored icings were around the table with the spoons used to mix them inside. The spoon from the blue bowl was currently being used by you, while the one from the white bowl was in your lover's mouth.

"Quit doing that, I need to use the white! You can't put the spoon im gonna use in your mouth!" You reached for the spoon, but he kept his distance from you on the other side of the table. Gojo whined at your words and popped the spoon out of from his lips. "So mean, it's just my spit. Like we haven't exchanged spit before...do I need to remind you?"

Gasping, you swat at him, to which he laughed mischievously and put the spoon back in his mouth. Satoru really was a child at times. Huffing, you sat back in your chair and decided to use a different color. The pink would do. Your snowman looked a little funny having pink snow instead of white, but you say it gave it more charm. Plus, who doesn’t love a little pink?

With today being Christmas Eve, you both agreed to open one present from each other before bed. It was a secret of course what that present would be, and you would both reveal it at 9:00pm. Gojo would pester you to tell him what it was before the appointed time, to which you pulled his cheeks and refused to even give him a hint.

Once the cookies were done, you put them on a pretty plate for you both to eat tomorrow on Christmas. Gojo's favorite cookie he made was a funky looking miniature version of himself. The frosting was lumpy and uneven, so at first you had a hard time seeing what it was. The two bright blue blots on the wobbly circle he called a face gave it away.

Present wrapping was fun because you both got to see what you got for the people around you. Satoru got a heart pillow with a picture of himself embedded in for Megumi. You laughed for a good bit at that one. For Nobara, you got a certain type of eyelash growth serum that you had seen going around on the internet lately that people had been raving about. She showed a video to you the other day about it saying that she wanted to try it. By the end, you had everyone a gift that was wrapped and ready to deliver tomorrow. For the activity before the present, you decided on watching a movie.

The movie you both had picked out was home alone. To your surprise, Satoru had never seen it. Too busy with jujustu duties you guessed. Kevin, of course, was his favorite character, and Satoru suggested recreating some of the scenes like sledding down the stairs. You shot the idea down quickly. During the film, you both got cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream. Many times you would have to push Satoru's face away from your mouth when you got whipped cream on your top lip, saying that ‘he needed to be watching the movie’. You always gave him a quick kiss before pushing his face away though.

After the movie ended, the time was 8:50pm, so close to present time. You both went away to get ready to reveal your presents to each other. For Satoru's present, you actually got him two things. The first present was a new pair of glasses, because you liked it when his hair was down. The blindfold was still hot, but you did love his eyes. The second was what you were currently working on right now.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror busy wrapping your skin with ribbons that barely covered yourself. When you had done all the wrapping, you tied a bow down near your chest and put your clothes back on over everything. The hoodie had a zipper, so you could pull it down easily when the time came to reveal it. Thinking about what he would do made your face flush.

"Are you ready?" You yelled out to Satoru from the bathroom. He appeared in front of you suddenly and smiled. Those big blue eyes gleamed at you, and that always meant he had something planned.

"Ready~" he flashed his pearly whites and grabbed your hand out of the bathroom into the main room. You barely grabbed your little box that contained his glasses in time. He stopped at the couch and sat down with you. Satoru voted for you to go first.

When you brought out the box, he smiled and kissed you on the cheek. "Satoru open it!" You giggled and put the box to his chest. He opened it, and gave you a big kiss when he saw what was inside. Putting them on was fun to see, and he made sure to pose for you while you took photos. "Ok, I have to confess. I prepared two presents, but we need to wait until the end for that one." You smiled mischievously as he had earlier.

"Are you serious, because I did the same thing." Gojo pulled a box out from behind him. You took the box when he handed it to you and he sat there watching you contently as you began unwrapping.

Pulling out what was inside, you discovered a lipstick with a very specific color. It was the one you had pointed out in a store a couple of weeks ago, but it was crazy expensive so you decided not to get it. Quickly, you applied some on and gave Satoru a big kiss as well using both hands to pull him in. As his arms were starting to wrap around you, you pulled away suddenly and held a finger up to his lips.

"Shall we show each other our last present at the same time?"

"Sure. Count of three." He smiled and grabbed the ends of his shirt. His lips had some of your lipstick on them, which made his smile all the more attractive.

"One, two, three!" You rushed the countdown and pulled the zipper to your hoodie down. At the same time, Gojo pulled his shirt off to reveal red ribbons that went around his torso and his chest. The gasp you let out was of pure surprise.

"No way." You held a hand to your mouth and laughed.

"I'm glad we have the same mind track. Get over here." Satoru took off his glasses and lunged for you. You squealed and kicked your feet feeling his arms wrap around you. He pinned you down to the couch and hastily began to undo your wrapping and hoodie.

"Hey don't rip the bow off like that!"

"Did that hurt? M'sorry, do you need me to kiss it?" His lips placed themselves where the bow was before and then some. You laughed and also got to work untying the terrible knot Gojo had put at the end of his wrapping. Satoru ended up helping you by just ripping the ribbon and going back to you.

"Any other wrapping I need to undo?" Satoru smirked at you. His hands got to work after the wrapping on your top was off, kneading into your skin and grabbing at what cleavage he could.

"Maybe..." you held a finger to your mouth looking clueless and laughed when he picked you up from the couch and placed your legs around him while he carried you. Your mouths met as he walked towards your shared room.

The lipstick you put on smeared over yours and his lips. When Satoru got bold and started making out with you, you both discovered that the lipstick had a flavor much to your delight. Satoru carried you into the room, to the bed, and continued his work unwrapping his present there, where he would spend hours enjoying what he found.

:p

[theliteratureclubsnewestmember]

My DDLC Headcanons

Pt. 4 Sayori

Researched a bunch of types of poetry before finding what she likes

Her favourite poems are ones about toxic positivity

Tells people her pronouns are she/her but she doesn’t mind if people call her other ones

When she finds a movie she likes she will watch it over and over again until she can quote it

She loves seasonal foods, or things like pumpkin spice latte in autumn and peppermint tea in winter, she’s very into themes

Swears she has a special connection with every animal she sees

Always gets souvenirs when she’s on vacation

She tired to learn how to crochet, but she got frustrated and gave up, but still loves crocheted things

She made her hair bow as a craft in school and she ended up loving it so much

Always does the “skirt go spinny” thing in dresses/skirts

Loves hikes because of the nature but needs frequent breaks from walking

She loves making playlists for particular themes

Loves the look of painted nails but doesn’t have the patience to do her own

Very skilled at math and science, but her favourite classes are English and Art

Doesn’t play instruments but says she plays the ukulele because she has one

She loves going to movie theatres with her friends but not on her own

Not a huge fan of social media but enjoys funny videos/pictures and video essays that Monika sends her

A huge fan of older bands like from the 70’s-80’s, but she loves music in general (loves Queen and ABBA)

Loves stickers and decorates all her school supplies with them

Not a big fan of cleaning, like actually despises it, but she’s really happy when she’s done and rewards herself with a nap

Doodles on all of her schoolwork

Love language is gift giving

When she’s anxious she pulls on her hair

Loves Bridgerton

Her favourite scents are food scents like cookies or cake

Would love to be a teacher one day

Loves games like Stardew Valley and Animal Crossing or anything with cute scenes/animals

Has a journal that she vents in a lot

Has a really hard time falling asleep

Loves creepy/cute music like Baby Bugs

Actually enjoys metal too, especially folk metal and kawaii metal, she also likes Poppy (all eras)

When she was a kid she thought she would dye her hair a bunch of colours when she became a teenager and style it in fun ways

She loves doodling comics, like just to jot down quick story ideas or if she thought an interaction with someone was particularly funny

Likes some anime, but mainly Death Note because she loves Misa

Has a list of characters she would cosplay if she could

Would love to play D&D one day but she can’t bring herself to start to learn the rules and stories

Doesn’t feel pressured to label her sexuality, she likes who she likes and she’s not gonna think too hard about it

Loves those Nutella and stick snacks

She likes sleeping with a lot of pillows

She names her playlists with emojis

Chronic nail picker

Loves those stupid sunglasses that flip up

She doesn’t like bugs but she forces herself to carefully escort the bug outside when she finds one in her home because she wants all life forms to be respected

She traces shapes on her arms when she can’t sleep

She has a few tattoo plans, mostly quotes she loves

Big fan of Franz Kafka

Helps Natsuki dye her roots

She invites the other club members over a lot, she just really loves her friends

She leaves her phone or laptop playing videos or music while she tries to sleep, not always consciously, she just forgets to turn it off sometimes

She loves cherries (canon)

Despite loving snacks, she often doesn’t have many at home, either because she hasn’t bought more or she just can’t get up to get one

She keeps note of subtle things her friends say so she always has gift ideas

Often dissociates at night

Frequently broke/fractured/dislocated bones as a child

Used to do gymnastics, made it to level six before she quit

When she gives gifts, she always puts a handwritten card or letter in with it. She hates store bought cards and believes a card should always be personal when you give a gift to someone you love and care about

Loves going to the mall with her friends, but she gets overwhelmed when she’s by herself

Learning Korean

Tumblr username is cinnacupcake

This list is forever updating

[flower451]

Story 10

After such conversations, it would lead to another just like natural selection, however this one would be more than just complain. It was a tamer one. “Don’t you think that what I’m doing is for the sake of us, my own idea is supposed to be for us all, aren’t I quite the missionary?” Snatcher said with some smug with a slight smile looking at Lilith, who seems still and quiet at the moment. She would offer just a quick nod with a look up. “I am mainly just leaving you to the side, there’s a lot more pretty things that can exist, and you obviously fit into one those categories.” Lilith would simply give a small laugh appreciating the very simplicity of what she does. He seems to quite care about her. She may be made from something else, lurking within the past, but regardless will still take her.

While in the entire hall, Mustache was there, busy handling and taking a look at the activation arcane that Snatcher gave her not too long ago. “How do you even activate this??” She said confused. It’s obvious Mustache hasn’t handle this type of thing. She would put the activation arcane piece back in a container she found. Mustache would sit crisscrossed, just staring at the outside window. She would notice the orange like flowers similar to previous ones back in Alpine. She would look down further to take a look. Mustache would sneak out of the window to look at it. She was in the field and pick one of them out the ground. Mustache looked at it seeming to analyze it. After a bit of staring, she would give a smile and would take it with her. Mustache quickly snuck back in with it. After going to one of the strange rooms she was told not to wander in for too long, Mustache would put it into a vase inside. Something seemed a bit off though. The vase seemed to have contain the singularity blood. She would grab the vase for more information. Snatcher would be behind saying, “You know, it will be eventual that you’ll have to pour it inside to continue our blood oath that everyone has agreed on.” Mustache looked back surprised not expecting him to appear all the sudden. “O-oh…is it beneficial?” Mustache would ask. He would give a simple laugh. “Of course it’ll be beneficial, we’ll be going much higher than previous times, this job won’t be difficult. The smile he gave seemed to be genuine, however he could be anything but genuine.

After seeing the messenger as a sign, Hat and Bow Kid were back at the home and quickly travel out in a small carrier. Bow Kid would state, “At least you planned for the escape out if one of the messengers would see us around, remember Hatty, keep the ascending arcanes a secret, they can’t know we have a contradicting source that can go against them.” Hat Kid, while hiding the sources they got from the under library, nodded knowing this could’ve been bad if exposed. “Yea, just packed the last one, you think you can decode all the nonsense inside?” She would ask with some curiosity in the back of the carrier. “Not all of it, but some of it, yes, we would need someone else who’s been expert at it to at least help us with some basics, we can’t just jump and risk, you know.” Bow Kid said with acknowledgment and knowledge with the process. Hat Kid would sit there staring at the back of the carrier. “How much longer till we at least have a different location?” She would ask with some seriousness. “Not much longer, they rarely check the east, we’ll be fine and be able to start on our conjurings.” Bow Kid said with assurance. It wasn’t in the best areas either, skies being darkened by the minute, winds catching speed, and with shadows from who knows where being on track. The two can only hope to start quick to end Hat Kid’s feud with Death itself.