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[exitpro]

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[chlmtsdoll]

BORN TO BE SEEN

Timothée Chalamet x female reader

☆ summary: dating an A-list movie star isn’t cut out for everyone, your exhaustingly in love and devoted to Timothée — but with his full schedule of press, interviews, and events it’s a non stop challenge to get your man alone.

☆ word count: 7.7k

☆ warnings: 18 +, smut, teasing, edging, mostly exhibitionism, oral (m) reviving, lots of pda, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, heavy fluff, angst, obsession/worship

☆ A/N: I cannot believe this is my first ever Timmy fic after stanning him for years. I really let my fangirl flag fly so I hope this is well loved.

Part two 💋

There wasn’t anything but the landscape of a few stars scattered around the dark blues and grey of the night sky when your jet had finally landed. You hadn’t slept the whole flight. Not due to the anticipation of when you could finally lay eyes on your star boy after weeks of only getting as much as a couple late night calls and red carpet photos all over the internet from every journalist, high society article, or press outlet that could exist. You were proud. Maybe the proudest girlfriend out there, but there were times you could see how he fought the balance of it all not getting to his head.

The lights in the space that was exactly comforting to you were rising and you click your phone to check the time. Half after 3am.

You were tired, hell, only just pushing. But you couldn’t have been more awake with the adrenaline of getting your man for a whole three weeks that was starting to rush in.

“Okay, hotel is secured. They have your chauffeur waiting to take you straight there so you can rest, I’ll get your bags- -” your shared assistant that your boyfriend always kept around to take care of you when flying you out, was ready to go as she gently assured your stay. You already pictured it would be the most glamorous in-crowd hotel you could fathom. (Picked by him) you assumed there would be bodyguards with champagne even waiting for you outside this jet knowing your boyfriend.

But, you shook your head gently, with a smile. Already grabbing your designer purse to exit and get to fresh air finally. “No, no. I want to see him first.” You told your assistant and she only looked a tad stressed as she had already gotten out her phone to text a schedule change to the chauffeur.

“No problem, it’s already taken care of. I know he’s dying to see you.” Her voice had a flow of newfound tenderness to it — that made your blush heighten just a second before you and your bags were being escorted from the jet. Sure, there wasn’t a squander of sun out and lucky no paps to be found. But the moment your heel touched the gravel you pushed on your sunglasses (mainly to hide your tired eyes from your driver who was greeting you and taking your things in order.)

Scatter brained, you watched the lights of the new city you’d get used to for the next couple of weeks. Thinking and sorting out the plans you and your boyfriend would make in the wist of his tumultuous schedule. You knew he was a busy man. Maybe the busiest in the industry as we speak, all the promotion, press conferences and red carpets… with awards season creeping around the corner there was but so much time and attention he could give to you, his girl, in between.

The exhaustion, the flights back and forth. You did it all for him. And he made sure you’d be there to experience the bliss of having such a life so young. As much as possible.

His sweet reminders of just how much your hard working man adored you even through the chaos of it all. The world at his finger tips — you were always on his mind.

Even if the moments in between could be the sweetest you’d maybe ever experience, your love and his fame, it was a rollercoaster time to time. And the media wasn’t a first grade class, the pressure of it could be a thing of its own.

Everyone knew that you were the movie stars supporting and to put it as they say ‘almost annoyingly visually perfect’ girlfriend. They all were obsessed with the bond you shared. The it-couple factor you have. Your all too well, put together clothing that possessed the it-girl factor they all feed off of right beside your boyfriend. And you’d seen how his fans could nearly feel how obsessed with each other you are, through every snap of a camera shot that was published of the two of you.

And of course, that came with struggles, the public isn’t known for always being nice. But that’s what pushed the two of you even closer. He was there to protect you from it all, never making you feel like a burden in his limelight.

The idea of seeing him in just a few had your teeth bearing into your bottom lip, with a crooked smile and a soft squeeze to the hem of your skirt, you’d been pulling up to the dimly lit back entrance of the venue. You remembered him saying he’d be working late for a last minute photoshoot for his upcoming snl performance. He’s been over the moon about it and you hadn’t complained once every time you’d been a giggling mess when he’d run with his excitement of being back over the phone with you, no matter how late or early.

You missed him.

Before the driver could come to a halt, you’d already been grabbing your purse to jump out of the car.

“This way,” your assistant, right behind, had voiced to you — but as you go close to the door, the driver was peaking at your absence of the back seat.

“I can wait out here, ms. I know you had a long flight, there’s no problem.”

“Oh.. no, it’s fine, take a lap. I won’t be quick.” You flashed him a small thankful smile as your assistant braced your back gently to lead you inside the venue.

There wasn’t much to it. A long hallway, an elevator, and another long hallway. You knew he’d definitely not be expecting you to have came straight to see him, probably not wanting to bother you with texts thinking you’d be fast asleep under the warmth of luxury hotel sheets at this hour.

You hadn’t told him you landed anyways after all.

So you hoped the click of your heels against the floors as your assistant guided you to the back green rooms wouldn’t ruin the surprise.

Soon just hearing him made the tightness in your stomach come escalating when you sought out the sound of his voice. A few doors down. You could tell he’d been conversing in a way that he’d sure been smiling ear to ear. And your favorite tune there is, his follow up laughter that echoed as you got closer. Your favorite sound. Your obsession. Your home after another lonely flight.

There wasn’t another man out there like Timothee.

Stopping to watch him from the doorway first, your arms folded as your heart melted. You watch him take up the space in the room like second nature.

He’d been goofing around with his photographer Aidan. His hair an untamed state that looked dreamy as is, standing lean and stature in some ridiculously colorful outfit that he made look effortlessly cool. He moved his hands expressive as ever as he laughs in a humble tune. And his smile, oh, his smile in your opinion, could save lives if the right people were in charge.

Your assistant walked ahead, but Timothée hadn’t noticed you just yet — he’d been pretending to create some kind of silly music video with his photographer trailing around him, as undeniably impressed in a way you had no doubt was a reaction your boyfriend had no issue bringing out of anyone who’s around him. His fingers blaze through his hair quickly, trying his best not to laugh too much at his own radiance.

He was perfect like this. In his element. So beautiful in a star-like way that for a moment your smile was so large to the point your face began to hurt. You forgot you’re not just watching him on a tiny screen anymore — but right now. In real time. Your angel boy being right in front of you.

And then there’s something that shifts, after a mere few minutes of conversation, something in his expression notes he’s already aware of your presence, like he feels you there. When he does finally turns around, with that soft boyish grin creeping up on his lips, eyes full of something playful, and that damn charm — you barely have time to sink in how good he looks before,

“You came all this way just to stare ?”

You giggle out a soft squeal and there was not much to say before you were springing to be swept up in his arms. Heels once against the floor now being lifted as Timmy held you to him like it’s been more than a couple weeks, like centuries. Your lips mesh on instant, unhesitatingly taking it in with a little “mmm” of satisfaction. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders and his grip around you was firm with warmth. He smirked into the kiss, you could feel it even with your eyes closed, the tickle of his mustache — new yet familiar, you let out giggles in between the perfectly timed and soft yet daring kisses he left that said ‘fuck I missed you.’

Days of distance melting away and the two of you were completely unbothered by anyone around watching, already swooning and playfully shaking their heads knowing the magnitude you shared as a couple. Even as your boyfriend set you back to your feet, you’d still been trying to grasps a leg around him, feel the roots of his hair through your fingers. And he couldn’t let up on you either as he kissed on your face till you were a mess of laughter.

It felt like highschool. Timmy’s team, his photographer, your assistants — they didn’t exist in your reality. It’s just you and him.

“I missed you.. what are you doing here, baby ? I thought you'd be at the suite by now,” Timothee voiced softly as he pushed a few of your locks out of your face to see you. Eyes sparking up at him like it was the first time. Your smile beaming, and you held his wrists.

“I couldn’t wait to see you.. I had to see you ! It’s been three weeks, Timmy.”

“I know,” He laughs and leaned in to peck your cheek, your hands ghost over his rhinestone necklace with admiration and your eyes inch down his body of intermixed clothing of colors and brands, you grin.

“This is.. a look.”

“You like ?” His grin was back and you bit your lip just enough to bring the pride to his expression. Your eyes flicker over his studded belt.

“You know I love everything on you,” Your voice was humming of flirtatious notes towards your man, you drape your arms over his shoulders again and Timothee managed to keep his cordial manner but slightly licked over his bottom lip and scanned just over your head to check for the attention of the room, and to your luck, his team members had gone about what they’d been doing before your arrival. So, Timothee’s hands gracefully on your waist, flow a bit lower as he kept you close and under the gaze of his hooded green eyes. You were stuck there.

His fingers graze over the tight fitted mini skirt you had been flaunting. A light grey cashmere. You could tell he was holding back from the three weeks weight of not being close enough to feel the heat of your skin — trying to fight it’s way through him. Your hands now gently drifting his arms and the look in your eyes stricken by the man you got to call yours, Timmy just pulled you a little closer so you’d been hovering his chest. And he’d been able to lower his voice to whisper in your ear,

"This skirt… how could I focus on work tonight, baby ?" He was trying to keep a normal embrace of you, but he’d had that sly look of course. His fingers brushing against your thigh again and he was massaging the right of your hip with tenderness — just enough to make you shiver and heave a small little gasp. Pulling back to look up at him with doting eyes and a small sideways smile of mischief on your lips.

“I just wanted to give you a little surprise,” Your tone sweet, but laced with a hidden, lustrous, message behind it you knew your boyfriend could only take in doses. He scoffed with a chuckle and looked over to a corner of the room, noticing the time had been slipping as you’d already stolen his attention from his shoot. Quite the distracting treat.

“Uh huh.. we’ll talk about it later..” he started and he leaned back in to leave another slow, tasteful and greedy kiss on your lips. It had you closing your eyes and lingering for more. “Go get some rest, chéri, I love you.” Timmy slowly inched away with a soft chuckle as your intertwined hands stay locked although drifted between the two of you for a moment. The firm grasp of just not wanting to let your boyfriend out of your reach consuming you while the playful pout-like smile you gave him was what had him probably now staying till around five am.

When your fingers do slip, and your dragging your feet to walk away, instead biting your lip like a love stuck school girl — you watch him part. With the same restraint and grin upon his lips as he mouths a little “go” to your gone essence. And you were holding down your miss, your need, your want for him and to stay in his world the entire ride to your suite. The ravishing room with a view of the city, towering buildings, an outlook from an enormous glass wall. It all made you feel a little less distant knowing you’d finally been in the same city as your man. That’s what you needed. Close enough to your Timothee. At least for you.

With a soft smile, your bags became your last priority when you dropped them to reach what was left on the king sized bed for you. Pink peonies and red roses. Your absolute favorite, left next to a box of laudrée macarons. Elegantly wrapped in ribbon.

Your heart was going mad. And your face flustered as you plopped on the bed to find the pint note left on top of the candy, “Un cadeau pour la femme que j’aime. Tu me manquais trop, bébé.” You read instantly with the sound of Timmy’s voice in mind, you were rubbing your bitten lip to hide your obvious blush from the empty room of course. A girlish titter leaving you as you lay back and stare over the sweet words your boyfriend had written.

It was things like this. Dating an international superstar could be a deal breaker for most, but you weren’t like most. And neither your boyfriend — he made you feel loved.

No matter how far.

So even being as hard to pin down as he was, between filming and touring, meetings and flights. When it came to you. He did whatever he could to make time.

Eventually, you had fallen asleep with a quarter of the box of chocolates gone delightfully, and sunken between the silk sheets as the low sunlight of the day crept in. You slept so heavily you didn’t even wake when Timothee snuck in somewhere between five thirty and six am. Probably only letting himself sleep for a few hours before he was up, dressed and ready — but not to start promotion or press.

“Mon amour..” you heard a tender note into your ear as you’d been half in a dream and also waking up, feeling a gentle kiss being left on your neck, and hands through your hair. “Baby.. -wake up.” You sigh a tired-some little hum before shifting from your side to your back. A sleepy grin takes upon your lips when you feel another kiss embrace your jaw. Soon opening your eyes to not just Timmy, but the keys to his BMW dangling from his fingers.

“Brian won’t be on my neck for a few hours.. wanna take her out to go shopping ?”

Something along the lines of a squeal and a yawn was your answer as you jump up from your comfort almost immediately. Not taking your time at all before you’d been out the door, Timothee hardly got any real free time away from his work and it wasn’t even a question that you’d take it for granted. A quick fur coat, your heels, and a mini skirt would do. It was a shock to you both how fast you were out that door, hand in hand of course, for the first time ever.

While your plans were to shop. Something the two of you shared an overwhelming desire and bond for, it couldn’t have been less about clothes and more about when you could get them off. Timothee eyeing through some Chanel sunglasses, and you on him, caressing your finger tips over the loops of his belt like the clock was ticking before he’d get a text or call from his manager.

It was excruciating but he showed less resistant than you expected. Leaning over tiers of shoes to kiss you, rest his hand on the small of your back, even grip your side time to time. Pulling you in close so he could whisper a “I see paps starting to line up outside.. let’s give them a show, yeah ?”

And that was like ecstasy for you. One thing you both were good at, was not minding a little attention from the cameras. So when you and your boyfriend had been with your purses, shoes, pretty patted wallets and all, you two went into pda overdrive.

It was between you and the check out counter who’d get to Timmy first. And had simply won.

Your man was reaching into his back pocket to pay. But you didn’t make it that easy as you’d been standing on your tip toes, leaving kisses, soft pecks and smooches all over his face. His lips and his collar. “Baby..” Timothee chuckled as you’d cupped his jaw. He’d lifted his chin playfully higher so you’d struggle to reach and he could attend to getting his credit card out. But that was the last thing on your mind when you couldn’t even get yourself off his sent now. So you only followed, reaching for his lips anyway,

“What ?” Your giggle is soft with your reply, hands lowering to his neck with a small sound of pleasure leaving you when your boyfriend couldn’t help but lean into your kiss unapologetically. Even as he had passed off his card to the the cashier behind you, whom was truly trying to look away from your affection on display.

But completely distracted and without a care of who’d been in there, even possibly a fan being at a lost for words of the actors drift right now — Timmy was too lost in you.

“You’re something else, you know that ?” the corner of his lips curled to a grin when his hands rested on your waist, you pulled back to look at him. Eyes staying on his sweet lips that were yours to tease only with a devious smile.

“You can’t tell me to put on a show and expect it not to be good…” you hum and your boyfriend was in a painful field not to let his fixation on you over take him. Making himself as collected as possible, take you by the hand, and your bags of course— out of there quickly. You titter as you trail behind him in that moment which was caught in hundreds of snaps from the paparazzi outside. It would be published everywhere in approximately twenty minutes.

"Did you have fun spending all my money, baby?"

Your smile achingly sweet. "Well.. you love spoiling me."

To which he chuckles and mutters, “how couldn’t I ?”

When you two got back to your hotel, standing in the elevator with the somberly slow pace it’s going, it’s light music being a bore when you’d rather hear your name being purred from Timmy’s lips, you needed to get him up to that suite immediately.

And to only make it tougher — Timothee was leaning against the elevator wall, eyes on you with that little grin. The one that made your body ache. The corner of your lips tugging on a smile and you’re trying not to look at him. You shift your weight on your heels. Gripping the ribbon handle of the bag holding the freshly bought designer accessories.

“Stop staring at me and pull up your pants.” You direct your need to be pushed against this elevator wall to teasing your man as your eyes flicker to his jeans that were sagging off of his ass.

He just smirked, and annoyingly tugged them down a little farther so you could see the hem of his Calvin Klines. “Ma chérie, you love it. C‘mon.” He beckoned and you breathed out some pent up air. Biting your lip.

“I do… I love that shit,” was mumbled from you, and your man heard with a cocky chuckle as he ran his tongue over his teeth and sure enough, he was backing you against the elevator wall.

A proud sense of glee was washing over as you’d claim to be a master at manifestation. How quickly Timmy’s hands find your hips, leaning down to put his mouth on to yours in a crash, like he’d been starving for this — because he has.

“You really did come all this way just to tease me.” your boyfriend’s voice sets lower, teasing, raw. You’re barely getting the chance to respond because he’s excellently taking away your ability too. You softly groan into the way his lips move on yours like a dream. One hand gripping your hip, the other tilting your chin up as he kisses you —deep, slow, like he’s savoring the taste. Your fingers tangle in his short curls, pulling just enough to make him groan.

"I missed you," you breathe between kisses that are growing sloppier, needier. More urgent as the floors escalate. And your risk driven man smiles against your mouth. "Yeah?" He feels out the metal handle bar against your back, hands trail lower, gripping your thighs, as if he’s about to lift you against the wall, you giggle into the urgent kisses.

Elevator sex ? Fuck yes.

Was your fantastical thought before you heard a ding.

The doors slide open and a stranger steps in. The core shatter of feeling Timothee pull back from you on instant washes over and completely fucks up your vibe.

His jaw clenched, and a wave of frustration hit as your face was burning as you adjusted your skirt.

Your terrified they could hear the way your heart was nearly pounding out of your chest. And Timothee gives them a polite nod, solidifying his charm always. He stuffed into his pockets like you weren’t caught in an unseeable act at all.

The seconds stretch painfully.

Could the door just fucking open ?

You tap your foot. He sucks in his breath.

And when you shift, still feeling the faint touch of Timothee’s hands on you, you peak up at your boyfriend, he’s smirking.

Finally another floor hits.

They step out and the second the doors close, your boyfriend has you against the wall. “I wasn’t done.” His tone deeper, haughty, as he now grabs your wrist. They’re above your head in no time and you gasp,

“Timmy-”

“Shh.”

He’s looking up at the numbers on the top of the confined space going once again painfully slow, the camera beside it — then he’s looking back down at you. Fuck it. He’s pressing his body against yours slow. Intertwining his fingers within yours at a toe curling pace. He’s trailing torturous, sweet kisses down your collarbone. Breathing on to your skin and suctioning his lips on a final place. You whimper something hard to tell. You let your eyes close and feel it. Feel his large hands, exploring and groping your body, your thighs, your ass. Moving you against that wall like a trophy. His lips move to over your chest where your cleavage is just perfectly on display. Licking over the top your breast, taking his time. Running you through.

Your watching. Watching carefully every ounce of longing over the last couple of weeks he’s putting into tasting you. Feeling his want and need as he just keeps getting lower. Pressing a kiss to your abdomen till he’s on his knees. Hiking your mini skirt up a little just for him to see. Carving your leg over his shoulder and kissing on your inner thighs with a soft hum,

“Timothee..” you pant as you view with hands going to his hair, running through his scalp and your skirt up just enough to see green orbs staring up at you as his lips grace your skin. With hunger, and a small grin on display. His lips kiss, peck and smooch on your thighs till he’s breathing out near the thin layer of fabric over your cunt. He pressed a careful kiss there,

He’s really going to tear into you in this fucking elevator.

But that came crashing down when the elevator dings again. And before you both can even think about getting your shit together, in walks Brian. Timothee’s manager. Someone who’s probably seen it all with him probably wasn’t prepared for was something like this.

He makes his presence known, “Seriously ?”

You were breathless as you gasps before covering your mouth. You hit Timothee in the shoulder who was gripping you and had no intention of stopping. Your face turned into the sun. You tried to fix your skirt that was slightly crooked, straightening up like you weren’t pinned against the wall about to get eaten out.

Brian was staring deadpan at Timothee who was reluctantly rising from his knees with more of a sense of frustration that he’d been interrupted from his girl over anything else. Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. Timothee had a daring look on his face, like he didn’t care. “What ? She just got here.” He chuckled, unbothered. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Right,” his manager sighs, running a hand down his face. "And in five hours, you have a live audience watching you host SNL.“

Your heart has calmed down for once and you noticed your man most likely now laughing at your shaken appearance now, yet he’s still got his hands looped around your waist.

Brian just shakes head. "I don’t care what you do. Just... at least make it to rehearsal on time." Then he finally steps out of the elevator when the floor hits.

The second the doors shut again —

"How many more time you think we’ll get caught ?" Timmy is tugging you back in already, and you’re pushing him away with a bashful snicker.

“You’re crazy.”

☆

Due to your own gentle encouragement, and firmness to keep your clothes on — Timothee did end up making it to rehearsals on time. With as much energy it took to restrain yourself from making anymore risqué moves with your boyfriend, keeping your hands to yourself until after the show was necessity for such a huge night.

In all his greatest, you had no doubt he would blow the world away once again with his presence, his performance, his aura. It’s a feeling — the one where he doesn’t have to try to be amazing at everything he does.

So when your in a crowd of cheers, watching your man from side stage, overseeing him kill his opponents this awards season, the hug you had when meeting him back stage, was as authentic as could be. You threw your entire body into him the moment your bodyguards brought you back.

“You killed it, baby! You were amazing!” Your feet were off the floor again as he held you in his arms, his laughter closest to your ear, and the cast and crew around all came in hot with the excitement of the environment. You think back when you were out there, cheering for him. And his eyes matched yours for a moment, sparkle and all through the lights. A beam of ‘all for you’ like a subliminal message that only you caught.

He was setting you down with a brief kiss and you’d been smiling up at him after hanging on to it for a moment more.

“Are you ready to catch dinner with everyone? Change into that pretty dress we got earlier?” Timmy kissed your cheek with a grin, knowing you’d been thinking about that dress all day. Almost as much as him really.

“Wouldn’t you like a treat..”

“C’mon, don’t tease me. Where’s my reward for tonight ?”

Your eyes trail his figure with a little smirk, “Later.” You used his own game on him, and Timmy was putting his front back on not to draw attention to the way he’d ran a hand over his neck in primal repression, just before accepting your claim. He draped an arm over your shoulder, you blush.

Timothee got his team to take care of you as quick as possible. Not caring much for himself to do another outfit change when the ones he’s been in for back to back red carpet events were taking over every news outlet as we speak. His Yankees bomber jacket was his choice for the night. But you. You’d been dripping in drapes, rhinestones, and dollars by the time you’d been out of your suite again.

One thing about Timothee was that he was going to have you looking the prettiest, decked out for whatever event it was, on his arm. The Louboutins he gifted you the other night, along with simplistic jewelry that was not only blitzing with bling but had a message —

A chain around your neck with his initial.

So when he caught you in the suv to take you both to dinner, it was his unhinged jaw that did it for you.

“Holy fuck,” he didn’t even try to stutter when you sat extra close to him in that car. He kissed your shoulder. Diving in your florally vanilla sent.

Your smile proud, “this is all you, y’know.” You gesture to your dress, your diamonds, your Prada lipstick — but actually meaning all the heart you would put into being their for your man a million times again for what it’s worth. He was giving you a full dreamy grin as he looked over how chalant you’d been alongside his casualness. Reaching over to shut the door behind you, but getting extra close. So close his heat was emerged with yours, and his lips lingered your gloss for just a second.

And thank god the ride was short.

When you two got to the after party, it had been all flashes from the cameras the moment you stepped foot out of the car. So much so it was hard to see, hard to take shape of anything around you, but Timmy was the perfect gentleman — your hand locked in his as he lead you to your destination so you wouldn’t go blind by the lights. All those cameras, on him all the time. He was a pro at navigating it. So soon, the room was buzzing with nearly everyone currently relevant in Hollywood. Timothee effortlessly moving through the crowd, not giving quotes to reporters on purpose yet flashing that all knowing look.

All that as you we’re seated with him at a dimly lit table in the corner. Just how you liked, even with the chaos of all the stars around. His mind is completely on you.

Instead of sitting across, he’d moved his chair to sit right beside you. Taking your hand in his again and pressing it to his lips. After only an hour, when he’s sipping on a beverage and taking glimpses of you in, the way your dress sits and your collar bones look eloquently perfect. Your body was all he knew. They way you’d been playing with the ‘T’ chain around your neck, shining there with honor. All while you’re taking about him.

It makes him want to get you somewhere private and fast because you were unbearable (he’s terribly flattered).

“Oh my god,” you titter as you lift your phone that’s blowing up from messages from all your friends. Banging on about how iconic Timmy was tonight. “Everyone’s saying that Oscar is yours. And they’re totally right.”

He let’s out a humble chuckle and reaches out for his straw to stir around his drink, mumbling a soft “no, no.” He shakes his head, neat yet disheveled curls falling with.

“What do you mean no ? Yes !” You laugh more cordially so no cameras catch a bad shot of you looking insane.

Timothee gives you a fond smile, he watches your reaction to all his accomplishments and aways notices you might be a tad bit more excited — adorable and endearing, than he could ever imagine for himself. And you noticed that underneath his cool, the nervy jitter of his fingers would start up, so you set your phone down, you take his hand in yours, holding it under your chin with a sweet little smile.

“It’s already yours baby, you’re a prize.”

“You’re a prize,” he replied, green eyes never moving away from your shine.

You can’t help but blush, you were both so locked on one another. So into each other. Timmy let his thumb brush against your cheek, leaning in close and you felt a camera flash somewhere ahead of you — but it didn’t matter. You’re zoned in on the man beyond you.

“Can we get out of here ?” You suggested quite, but voice filled with a dazed kind of essence because your eyes flicker over his fit again. Saying so much without saying anything. He gets the hint and tenses up again.

“Are you suggesting we get away, mon belle?”

“Mhm” you nod as his thumb covers your bottom lip, almost slipping through before he catches himself in the act of being too taken by you. Your looking at him, pure yet seductive, and the corner of his lips curl upwards as he takes your breath away again in a gentle kiss. Before you knew it, Timmy was standing to his feet and taking both of your hands with him. He alerted Brian, his bodyguard and said his goodbyes to his peers before resting a hand on the deep of your back to meet your driver somewhere outside of the venue.

Of course, a hurd of fans, paparazzi and journalists all caught the two of you leaving that after party early and the sounds of screams mixed with paps trying to get to where your car was could be heard from the airport. Cameras were snapping photos of you, your glow, in the hard earned dazzle your boyfriend had been responsible for. And you had a polished expression. Waving to your audience, you didn’t mind at all having this dress in the press.

“Over here!” “Beautiful!” “Is that necklace in honor of your boyfriend?”

You were biting your lip and being an absolute doll for the paparazzi, giving a prideful beam over your shoulder at flashes — that being before Timothee took you by the hip. And pulled you into hiding with him in the car, you only giggled playfully when you’d been grabbed by him suddenly. He pretended to be annoyed by the paps asking him if he’d just talk about you. Even once, but, he held a small grin on his lips by the time you two were secured in the backseat of your ride. Because in the morning, you’d look stunning as ever. Posing for the cameras, hand in hand with him and it would be all over every social media platform in existence.

Everyone would go insane. His fans. The world. Obsessing over how you’d headed out early. Obsessed with how obsessed you were with one another.

Still on the high of his SNL performance, and the stride of his fame, with fans that were in tears as soon as he showed his face, paparazzi and people begging just to touch him. The chase and drive of award season and all, the praise, the status; you couldn’t have made the climax of his stardom feel like anything other than pure paradise. Solidifying his high paced lifestyle is all worth it when It’s only been a couple minutes since the driver pulled off, and you two had shut the window peek on sight.

the hum of the car engine was tough along the faint sound of people still screaming Timothée’s name in the distance while your all over him. Your glazed nails running down his chest, slow like you want to drive him insane. Your eyes were now dark, practically devouring him immediately. Your lips parted and meshing with his like you’d been starving. Timothee pulled you into his lap without anymore hesitation and you’d let out a little hum when the trace of his hands over your hips came in. Gripping on you like you’d get taken away if he didn’t grasp on long enough. Your hands go to his hair — Kissing deep, slow yet at a rushed pace, recklessly in that back seat.

Timmy’s Cartier ring, cold and sliding up your thigh, inching all over the way you sat on his lap and making sure to pull you in, keep you boarderline close. “Mmm.. mhm- -” was the only thing coming from you. Topping up so your knees were on the leather seats, on either side of his hips. And you deepen your smooches a little more and a soft groan comes from Timmy’s end. Your body drives him crazy. The way you arch your back ever so slightly. The way the fabric of your dress hugs your curves, clinging in all the right places.

And you’re flaunting it, teasing, and pushing on him. So he grips your ass with a little shake and you squeal with excitement. “I wish you could have seen yourself up there tonight. You looked- - fucking incredible.” You murmur against his skin, punctuating it with an open mouthed kiss.

Timothee smirks, “Yeah ? You liked that, huh ?”

“Yeah.. you’re so famous baby, and you work so hard. Everyone loves you.” You huff out a little sound, pressing your lips to the sharp line of his jaw, dragging your mouth against the slight scruff of his mustache, down to the heat of his neck. Your hands grazed there along with your kisses. “Never shave this okay ? It’s so hot.”

Timmy gives you that damn cocky grin, closing his eyes as he tilts back, giving you space to ruin him. “Mm, you're really gassin' me up right now.” His voice smug and heavy, hands ghosting over your inner thighs, daring to squeeze your ass some more which makes the dampness between your thighs rush in. You felt the stretch of his Adam’s apple along with a soft sigh that comes from his lips when you lick over his skin. His fingers tighten around your waist and he starts rocking you down against him and your eyes go intense and lost in his. His breath catches when your fingers only trace lower, teasing over his waistband.

You sincerely couldn’t sit with the temptation for another minute. So you lean up, find your balance within the bumpy ride pushing you only closer into your man, and speed to get his belt undone.

Just what he needs after all of it. The weeks that went by, the tiresome press and events. Alone with the love of his life, feeling him this way and getting him like this. That mix of devotion and sensuality. The voice of his girl right now, telling him everything he needs to hear “you’re taking home that Oscar, baby” — that’s exactly what he craves. You make him feral.

So as your eyes grow with hunger, your hands working quick to get his fly open and to embrace his boxers, sitting pretty with a nice tent. You’re watching the way he breathes when your fingers trace over his cock, teasing, hiking your dress up and getting on your knees in front of him.

There was only one way to finish what he started earlier.

Timothee stretched as much as he could in the fine spaced car as your nails trail the tops of his thighs and he’s man spreading for you. So heavenly, his jaw flexes,his eyes darkening in the low glow of the passing city lights.

He’s viewing you with so much hunger, lips parted, chest rising and falling as you sit up to tug his jeans farther away from his hips. “You gonna be good f’me ?” Timmy’s voice softened but assertive as he was already holding your chin in his grasps. Hooded eyes only on the beauty that you were as you’d been starring up at him, with a lust filled little smile and nod. Too sweet, too much for him to handle as your hands were doing a job of their own — reaching to stroke him once. Slow. Painfully slow. And as he curses, you try not to giggle but your lips grave the tip of his cock. Not looking away from his expression for a second as you let your tongue dart out to taste, lick a stripe on him dutifully.

Your boyfriends brows knit upwards and his tongue darts out to wet his lip as he watched you repeat that a couple more times. Then your mouth is on him completely,

“Oh.. shit,” one of his hands is reaching out to the arm rest across the seating, and the other going to search through your hair.

A low whimper could be heard from you as you didn’t hesitate to have your mouth filled with his dick the moment you’d fit him in. Sucking nice, then more brazen. Hallowing your cheeks and making him groan for it. You could hear his grunts, feel his veins pulse as you pick up the speed. And your sitting in your own pool uncomfortably when you let your hand glide and flow up his abdomen another time to grip his studded chain. Playing and toying with it as he moaned through the wet noises you made on him. You’re moving your mouth up and down on him in sequence with moans drawn out sharply as Timmy grips the back of your neck to move you how he wants.

Your hand was pumping him at the same time as he was dropping his head against the seat with a deep groan and you wish you could see it. Like all the tension, and the noise around Oscar’s buzz being washed away from him. He’s letting you take him away. “Fuck, you make me feel so good, pretty girl.” Although you were flattered, you couldn’t be more focused on trying to get him off. His skin just feeling right against your tongue and you only stop for air just to smile and calmly run your thumb over his tip with a sly grin. It makes him have to restrain from kicking the drivers seat ahead.

“Easy..” you murmur with a soft giggle as you watch your man fight it from above, sucking in his bottom lip and gripping his jeans as your hand jerks him clean. He was hissing a string of curses before you go back to licking and kissing on his shaft, moaning like you just needed to be fucked by the movie star right here. Right now.

And in all perfect timing, he pulls you off of him even as his cock twitched hungrily.

“Oh my god,” he huffs, chest rising and falling, “slide your panties down for me..”

Not only does your stomach drop, and heat flashes through your body like an electric current. You stop to take in Timmy’s disheveled state with utter contempt but urgency. Your image of a quicky in this car could go so many ways.

He’s amused at your hesitation. Even from the race of all day — trying to pin him down for this to be it. The fire throughout you was at an all time high. Timothee was getting you off the car floor and making sure you were properly on his lap again. “Now, chérie.” his voice a low, a commanding whisper, reminding you exactly the kind of night you were about to have.

So when you complied, taking part of the very thin panties you’d been wearing under your dress, and pulling them over your heat, it was just for him, as he leaned back and watched you move. Licking over his lip for a brief moment till you were bare.

That tiny obedient action drives him absolutely wild.

“Good girl, You’re always good for me.. yeah?” your boyfriend grins, hand going to your hips again and your now soaked cunt lingers right over his dick. Wanting, starving for you. And you feel it everywhere. Without him even being in, your legs go weak, your breath hitches, and his fingers are already toying with your folds as your nails prime his shoulder and you slip him a soft kiss that has you both moaning. Then again, yet this time his lips only skim the corner of your mouth, but he doesn’t kiss you.

He loves watching you fall apart first. Loves the anticipation. Loves knowing that you’d let him stretch you crazy right now.

You have a frustrated groan as your head releases. He huffs out a chuckle. Holding back from rewarding you for just another second, but it all came with the consequence of the car jerking to a stop. Easily throwing the two of you into each other.

Timothée blinks, his head dropping back against the seat, huffing dramatically. “Are you serious right now ?”

The driver tones in over the speaker. “We’ve arrived, Mr. Chalamet.”

Your boyfriend was breathless, at a loss for words and running his hands down his face. All you could do was shake your head with a light hearted chuckle and start fixing your dress.

“Hurry before you get recognized, Timmy.” Your tone sweet enough just to get him hard again, but vexing enough to piss him off farther.

He glares at you. Eyes still blown with need. But he kisses your neck, tender and poised anyways as he quickly buttons his jeans. “You’re gonna pay for this though.”

You both practically stumble out of the suv, Timothée tugs his hoodie up to avoid cameras, but your hands never leave each other.

And the second your through the lobby, past security, past the elevator doors, there’s no stopping again.

[ink-n-shadow]

enjoy more older!divorced!biker!ghost (also send me thoughts/requests about him... ;-;)

QUALIFIED

𝜗𝜚 the one where odb!ghost is forced to give you a job interview (and hates how qualified you are for the job)

𝜗𝜚 pairing: older!divorced!biker!ghost x reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: slight smut at the end (minors—DNI), simon not knowing how he feels, slight mean!ghost, slight perv!ghost

(context: odb stands for "older!divorced!biker")

odb!ghost being forced to interview you (thanks to an almost too enthusiastic soap), absolutely steaming as he sits in the office that's nestled in the back of the bar and thumbs through your resumé absentmindedly. he hates just how qualified you are for the bartending job, how many references you have listed, how pretty your signature looks signed at the bottom of your cover letter, how sweet your smile looks in the photo you have tacked to the top.

he hates how early you come in for your interview, dressed up in an iron-pressed blazer with your hair pulled up and away from your big eyes. he hates the way you reach your much smaller hand out to shake his, hates the way your lotioned skin feels almost velvety against his calloused palm. he hates the way you ask him how his day has been so far in the prettiest lilting voice, hates the way his voice catches in his throat when he offers you the gruffest "s'been fine—have a seat f'me" in existence.

he does love the way you squirm in your seat when your eyes meet his for longer than a second or two. he loves the way you nervously twist at the button of your blazer every time you answer one of his questions (almost perfectly, mind you). he loves the way you roll your shoulders back and puff your chest out a bit more when he tries to undermine your abilities. he loves the way you snap back at him when he teases you a bit too much, loves the way the tips of your ears grow hot and your hands clench tightly into fists.

odb!ghost still can't decide how he feels about you even as you're shaking his hand once more, noting to him that your phone number is in your resumé should he have any questions for you. he still can't decide even when he watches your hips sway as you walk towards the exit of his office door.

the only time odb!ghost decides how he feels is after he's done fucking his cock up into his calloused and scarred fist, throwing your resumé photo somewhere off the edge of the bed and letting his head rest back against his pillows as he blinks up at the ceiling. as he catches his breath, he searches his mattress for the phone he discarded soon after he got home, fingers uncharacteristically trembling as he punches in your phone number (that he most definitely didn't memorize) and sends you a message.

Hired. Be there tomorrow at 16:00. Wear something pretty.

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[neverniko101]

MASTERPOST // NEXT // PREVIOUS

[donatellawritings]

smoothing your clammy palms over the curve-hugging fabric of your fitted grey slacks, your quickly redirect your wild strand of hair to the curve behind the shell of your ear, forcing a satisfied smile in the mirror as you frustratedly roll your eyes at the sliver of skin that continued to peek through, courtesy of your one-size too small button up blouse. forcefully tugging down on the hem of your wrinkle-free top, you let out a small huff as you carefully scrape your slightly smudged lipstick off of the outer border of your swollen and meticulously lined lips with the sharp tip of your nail.

taking one last glance over yourself in the crystal clear bathroom mirror, your took a short breath as you reached into your thrifted coach bag, your manila folder grasped firmly in your press-on nail-clad hand as you exited the marble interior of the bathroom.

your slightly worn black kitten heels clicked rhythmically against the tiled flooring of the office lobby as you sauntered over to the receptionist, a nerve and anxiety laced smile now playing on your full lips as she brings her eyes to meet yours, “good afternoon, is there anything that i could assist you with?” she questions politely, donning a robotic, yet somewhat warm grin.

“hi, um, i’m here for an interview with mr. cameron,” you stammer, adjusting your bayonetta glasses to sit comfortably on the bridge of your nose as you nervously tap your nails against the marble countertop, “it was scheduled for two o’clock,” you add, your tapping coming to a slow silence as you quickly grew hyper-aware of yourself at the sight of the receptionist taking a quick, yet elongated glance at your pushed-up breasts that threatened to burst through minuscule buttons of your blouse.

you needed to make a good impression. securing an assistant position at the likeness of cameron developments would do wonders for your resume, as well as significantly increase your finances — especially considering your status as a wet-behind-the-ears and pathetically green young woman who was scarily fresh of out college.

“okay, you will be meeting with mr. cameron on the top floor of the building, you can use the elevator and it’ll be the first door that you see,” the receptionist instructs, maintaining her courteous smile and light cadence as she motions towards the steel elevator doors that stand closed, a few feet away from her freshly polished desk.

with a nod of understanding, you step away from the desk, “thank you!” you spoke softly, pushing your nail into the button, causing it to glow a muted red as the elevator doors soon opened, inviting you to step inside of the warmly lit and mirror-encased interior.

jamming your fingernail into the highest floor, you couldn’t help but watch yourself from every angle, drumming your fingernails against your folder, pulling on the belt loops of your tight slacks, adjusting the waist band to sit a bit higher on your short frame. with each ding indicating the increasing height of the elevator, you grew more and more anxious, letting out a withheld breath once you reached the top floor of the building, “relajate,” you cooed to yourself as you stepped out of the elevator.

approaching the tall door, you took a quick peek through the windows that allowed full vision into the pristine office, watching as a man, who appeared to be no older than mid to late 20s spoke on the phone, his free hand gesturing wildly as he paced around the office. hiding behind the frosty glass of the door, you softly brought your knuckles to knock against the door, taking a step away from the door as you took a breath, silently praying that your cheap lipstick stayed within the lines of your lipliner.

swallowing down the lump of nerves that formed in the back of your throat, you subconsciously dug your nails into the hard folder as the door soundlessly swung open, revealing the staggering height of the man who towered, at least one foot above you, his bright blue eyes stoic as he squared his shoulders, his tailored blazer hugging his frame just right.

“s’a pleasure to finally meet with you, please come in,” he huffs out, standing to the side with his ring and watch clad hands crossed over his front as you offer him a kind smile.

“thank you,” you mutter, your dolly eyes widening at the obsessively neat and pristinely kept environment of the office.

each bookcase was lined meticulously with books and encyclopedias varying in different editions, priceless pieces of art hanging from the sparkling tiled wall panels, and three ceiling-to-floor windows that overlooked kildare island, showcasing a picturesque view of the river that glinted against the shining sun.

the sound of the door softly clicking to a close broke you from your entranced gaze as you turned your head to see the slightly older man motioning towards his mahogany wood desk with a knowing smirk on his structured face, “it’s a breathtaking view, isn’t it?” he comments, earning a breathy chuckle from you as you take a seat in the leather chair, directly across from his much larger seat.

“it’s beautiful,” you comment lowly, stealing a quick glance at how his muscles flexed against his button-up shirt as he removed his blazer, slightly rolling up the cuffs of his shirt to rest on his defined forearms, “um, here is my resume, cover letter, as well as letters of recommendations from my professors,” you lightly clear your throat, extending your delicate hand to present the man with your neatly organized folder.

accepting the folder from your grasp, the older man skims his ring-clad finger over the contents of your resume, before letting out a sharp exhale as he visibly relaxes into his seat. you couldn’t help but let your overwhelming nerves get the best of you as you licked over your suddenly dry lips, scratching the tip of your nail against the stitching of your slacks.

rubbing the pad of his index finger over his lips, the eldest cameron lazily flips through the rest of your documents, before returning his eyes to you, catching the way you were biting the skin on the inside of your cheek as your knee lightly bounced.

“before we go any further, i just want to make that y’understand how demanding the position is,” he begins, his voice sultry and thick, as he watched your throat bob with an anxious swallow, “from monday to friday, and sometimes including weekends — i need you to be entirely devoted to every intricacy that goes on in my day to day, whether it be accompanying me to a meeting or answering the phone, i require your full and undivided commitment,” he continues, his legs spread deliciously as he straightens his posture, keeping his hands enclosed over his crotch.

parting your lips to speak, you’re quickly cut off by the man seated before you, “is this a commitment that you’re ready to make? you’re young and i understand if this is … too much to handle,” he feigns concern, internally pleased with himself as your skittish demeanor is quickly replaced with a slightly offended raise of your thinly threaded eyebrows.

“i can assure you, mr. cameron — i’m more than capable of handling this position … efficiently,” you sealed with a smile.

mr. cameron? rafe could get used to hearing you follow his each and every command while maintaining a respectable cadence — it got him off, and you didn’t even realize it.

drumming the tips of his fingers against the hardwood desk, feigning contemplation, rafe tongues the inside of his cheek, “my receptionist will set you up with a new cellphone — that’ll be for you to use, solely for contacting me, and i will have a driver picking you up and returning you home, every day,” rafe stands from his leather swivel chair, keeping his eyes trained on your nervous gaze as he watches you shift in your seat.

a younger girl like you needed to be trained, conditioned to suit a man like rafe cameron — and he’d be happy to do that for you.

“i will personally see that you have any and all necessities needed to keep you up to my standards — and they will be delivered to your home, however …” rafe stops at your side, crouching down to meet your eyeline, a knowing smirk tugging on his lips as he examines the way your fingernails have torn into the threads of your cheap slacks, “we are going to work on those little … quirks of yours, gotta make sure that you are walking with y’chin up high, hm?” he tuts, lightly nudging your busy fingers with his firm knuckle, before lifting your chin.

wordlessly, you nod, splaying your fingers flat against your thigh as your new boss expands his smirk into a stretched-out grin, “perfect — y’start tomorrow,” he breathes out, raising himself to stand tall as he shakes out his long a toned arms, before craning his neck with a crack.

[flowercrownsandherondales]

Against the Odds Pt. 13

Had to feed everyone something, the Haymitch tag has been dead all day and it’s making me go feral. I have an eye surgery in the morning and I am SCARED. Let me know what everyone thinks! I’m living for the reactions to the last chapter. Comments are truly my fuel, but likes and reblogs are also so so appreciated. Love y’all fr, I’m gonna go try and knock myself out before I have a meltdown again 🙂

previous

XIII: I Foresee Terrible Trouble, But I Stay Here Just The Same. 

The single white rose laid on the table for three days. 

Haymitch refused to acknowledge it, pouring himself into my recovery instead. A heaviness settled over his eyes, desperation, fear, acceptance. 

Snow had already taken everything that mattered to him. Why wouldn’t it be the same with me? 

“Why does he care so much? It’s been years since the Quell.” I asked, still wrapped and laid up in bed, Haymitch in his chair to the side. 

He just sighed, the saddest one I’d ever heard come out of his mouth. The circles around his eyes had gotten darker, his hair longer and shaggy, falling directly limp around his face. 

“He doesn’t forget rebellion easily.” His voice was lifeless, eyes peering to the wall like he was caught in a flashback. 

I never questioned Haymitch’s games. In all honesty, once Wiley had died I secluded myself in my room. Ma and Pa never told me what went on in the end, how Haymitch had won. When Burdock told me about the fire, about Lenore Dove dying, I pieced together that he had done something to piss off the president. Asking seemed like taking a step off a ledge and I didn’t want to plummet what we had. 

That was all before I was wrapped up in it with him. Before I felt my heart pull with him, when he moved I moved. If Snow was after him, he was after me too. 

He glanced at me, watching the question form at the tip of my tongue with narrowed eyes. He took a breath, then with a sense of finality said, “I suppose you should know what happened.” 

I took his hand in mine as he recounted the story of the Second Quarter Quell from his perspective. Names that meant nothing to me before; Beetee, Mags, Wiress, resonated in my mind now. Beetee Latier, a face I could faintly recall from Capitol interviews over the years, who’s name should mean nothing to me, but who had gone through what I did. My heart broke for him, for Ampert. 

He could barely speak about Louella. 

I tried my best to hold back my tears for his sake. We’d both known her, loved her fiercely as a sister, as our own. I kissed his fingers as he recounted holding her body, fighting for her even in death, even as she morphed into another nameless girl. The McCoy’s had never been the same after she came back in that box, never really understanding what happened. I heard inklings of rumors for years, and now that I had the whole truth I wasn’t sure where to put it in my heart. 

 Unexpected pain came for Maysilee. For all the children I never knew who held onto the hope that there was strength in numbers. 

The pain for Wyatt was quietly shifting to absolute anguish for Haymitch. He spoke with reverence for all of them, his time with each one leaving another gaping hole in his heart that would never be filled. I found myself wishing I’d broken from my stupor, begging my past self to wake up and hold him. 

His defiance was kept quiet. No one spoke of the bravery he held, the strength to go through with all the plans made, accepting death as it came. My blood boiled, angry tears starting to fall as I thought of all the people who looked down on him, writing him off as a drunk. I thought of the parents throughout the years, screaming at him as he exited the train, his head hung low in mourning and shame. 

Haymitch’s grip on my hand tightened, grounding me with a simple squeeze. I took a deep breath, steadying my need to throttle them all. 

“I didn’t want to get you into this- stupidly I didn’t think it through. I didn’t think he’d want to take anything else, thought I’d paid my penance and I could be done with it. I should have known better, should have done better.” His head hung low, not daring to look me in the eye in a fear of what he might find. 

“Baby.” I whispered, reaching out to tuck a curl of his hair behind his ear. I felt him shudder under me, body vibrating with defeat. “It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault. These burdens were never yours to carry. Your suffering is not just, you don’t deserve to be punished for being human. For being kind, for having a heart.” 

He sucked in a breath, and for a split second I realized he probably had never been reassured like this. No one had held him and told him they were sorry, that he didn’t do anything wrong. No one had ever thanked him for trying. 

I pulled at his hand, tugging him to the bed with me. He barely moved, breaths coming out heavy and harsh. 

“Thank you, Haymitch. Thank you for giving them all a chance, for holding them and mourning them all these years. Thank you for trying for a better future, at the cost of your own.” I breathed every word, my eyes holding onto him as tightly as my hands did. 

He could only manage a nod, letting me pull his body into mine, stitches screaming in protest. I ignored it, cradling him as I had Wiley when he had a nightmare, soothing him against my chest. 

“I’m not leaving. I won’t leave. Even if it kills me, you never deserve to be alone again.” my lips brushed his ear, my promise firm and true. 

His arms came to wrap around my middle carefully, cautious of the bindings that kept my back in one piece. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t explain how sorry I am.” His voice tickled against my neck, still holding me like a prayer. 

I pulled away, cradling his face and just staring at him. The boy who had dared to hope, who had sacrificed himself. The man he’d become, the one who’d lost everything yet still held me so tenderly. The man who drank like he was in a race, who wrapped up my son’s flower in a handkerchief and cradled it in his bedside table. 

I loved Wyatt. If I had more time with him we would have surely married, lived a quiet life of barely getting by, had breakfasts and dinners, and held each other through the night. 

But Wyatt Callow was 6 feet under. 

And Haymitch Abernathy was flesh, blood and bone. He was everything I never saw coming and everything I never knew I needed. Haymitch Abernathy presented me with the same future, just altered in the ways we both needed. A shared space next to both our chairs at the table, a quiet yearning of all we lost and a quiet loving of all we gained. 

My universe tilted for the third time in my life. And I would be damned if I let it tilt a fourth. 

“I need you to listen to me. I will not let them take this. I will burn them to the fucking ground if I have to.” Haymitch looked taken aback by the fire in my eyes, slowly nodding his head in agreement. 

“What do we have to do?” I asked. We needed a plan, and fast. 

He pulled away for a minute, pondering on what Snow knew, what he really wanted. 

“He wants me to be alone. I think he believes that I’ll rebel again, especially when I have something to rebel for. We have to be careful, extremely careful. You can’t be seen here during the day. Keep a low profile, no more jumping in to save kids.” He laid it out, eyes accusatory as he mentioned my whipping. 

“Avoid the square as much as possible. Travel through the hob, take backroads. He’s got eyes everywhere. We need to keep interactions happening at night. Don’t come through the gate. I’ll meet you behind Victor's Village, sneak you in that way.” I nodded as he talked, hanging onto every word as gospel. I wonder if this is how he talked to Wiley on the train. Clinical, determined. 

“Is there any way for you to find out exactly what he wants?” I asked. We needed to know exactly what to avoid. 

“You want me to ask his secretary for a meeting?” Haymitch’s joke didn’t land, his voice falling flat as he glared at me. 

“In any case, I’m surprised he hasn’t shown up. From my experience he’s typically pretty thorough with his threats.”  I thought back to Haymitch meeting with him at Plutarch’s home. The obvious threat. 

“Should I go home now?” I asked, shifting up on the bed, barely containing a groan. Haymitch grabbed my shoulders, softly pushing me back to lie down. 

“I’ll walk you back once it’s dark. He already knows you’re here.” I nodded, letting him adjust the pillow behind my head. 

The sun had set low in the sky by the time he felt it was safe enough to walk home. On hand wrapped around my midsection, supporting me as we traveled back to my shack. Once we reached the steps he bid me goodbye, pulling me in for a heavy kiss that left me gasping for air. “Remember the plan. I’ll meet you tomorrow night.” He promised, leaving one more kiss on my forehead and heading back. 

I stood on the steps for a minute, watching his figure disappear into the chilled air. I took a few deep breaths, steading myself before opening the door. 

The scent was overwhelming. 

Rose. 

My eyes searched through the darkness for a moment, before a lamp was turned on in the corner near the record player. 

President Snow was every bit the man I had grown up seeing. 

And now he was standing in my shabby makeshift living room. 

“Welcome home Miss Y/LN. I expect recovery is going well?” His voice was perfected, calculated as he analyzed me. I could only imagine what I looked like, held up on bedrest for days. 

I could only nod once, as slowly as possible as I stood frozen. The staring contest had just begun. 

He walked with precision, as if he’d been in my home a million times. His suit was flawless. Really, every inch of him was. Groomed, not a single hair out of place. Dangerous. 

He motioned for me to sit at the dining room table, pulling out my seat slightly before he sat. I hadn’t let out a single breath, my blood freezing in my veins. 

“I believe we have a few things to chat about. Firstly I wanted to offer my condolences, the spoils of war are never pleasant.” 

Spoils of war. My son and my lover. Spoils. Of . War. 

I didn’t dare speak. 

“Alas, we all make sacrifices for the improvement of peace.” He folded his hands on the table, as if we were old friends catching up for a drink. 

“It seems we have a mutual connection. One I’d very much like to discuss.” Before he even had the chance the door flew open, startling both of us at the sudden intrusion. 

Haymitch stood in the doorway, heaving as if he had turned around and ran halfway back from his house. His eyes widened slightly, before setting into something I couldn’t describe. An animal, sizing up its foe. 

He ran a hand through his hair, straightening his spine, and pulled out another chair next to me, sitting down with more grace than I’d even seen him exhibit. 

There goes the fucking plan. 

President Snow seemed completely taken off guard, Haymitch looked like he could barely contain a wicked smirk at the thought. He’d caught the snake in a trap, one that could end up with one of us bitten within minutes. 

“President Snow. I believe the three of us have a few things to discuss.” Out of the corner of his eye Haymitch glanced at me, jaw tightening. I squared my own shoulders, attempting to match the united front we were about to present. 

Let the game begin. 

[beansprean]

Exit Interview

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Bust of Nandor on a streaky blue background, leaning forward on one hand, the other raised in the air, palm-up. His eyes are closed on a nonchalant expression, head tipped down, as he casually states "Then it is settled. You are officially released from your service." 1b. Reverse shot of Guillermo, leaning forward as he stands from a chair, looking up at Nandor with a hesitant smile. He asks, "...That's it? I'm not your familiar anymore?" 1c. Close up of Nandor's left hand settling on Guillermo's shoulder as he responds, "Not my familiar, not my bodyguard..." 1d. Wide shot of them both standing in profile, facing each other, the background now streaked with gold. Nandor smiles down proudly at Guillermo, hand on his shoulder, and continues, "...but a fully-fledged member of the household. And my friend." Guillermo happily meets his gaze, lips pressed around a smile of genuine joy. 1e. Close up of Guillermo, the panel back to the streaky blue as the background beyond the panels begins to lighten to the grey of dawn. The next 4 panels are no longer square but angling inwards as if pulled together by an unseen force. Guillermo leans his head toward the hand on his shoulder, his own hand rising up to hold it, and smiles wide even as his gaze dips shyly. He asks, "So...what next?" 1f. Reverse shot of Nandor barking out a nervous laugh, gaze fixed on Guillermo as he replies, "What next indeed!" 1g. Zoom out to them both in profile, Guillermo's hand still on Nandor's hand on Guillermo's shoulder. Guillermo grins affectionately upwards as Nandor straightens and takes a step forward, nervous grin still wide and frozen on his face. He tosses out his free hand in some kind of shrug and says, "Well!" 1h. Repeat. Nandor steps closer still, and his flailing right hand comes to rest, very gingerly, on the side of Guillermo's face. Guillermo's hand slides down Nandor's arm as his left hand shifts to touch his neck, smile gentling as he blinks in surprise. Nandor's expression softens as well, head tilting slightly as he moves his gaze toward where his hand rests on Guillermo's cheek and he continues, "Perhaps..." 1i. Repeat, closer. Nandor has both hands on Guillermo's cheeks now, head dipping down so their noses are only an inch apart. His expression is almost dazed, as he murmurs, "Just..." Guillermo tips his head up as well, lips parted, his left hand sliding up Nandor's side. Their hooded gazes are each fixed on the other's mouth. The center of the panel begins to lighten with a white-gold glow as the shape continues to distort, parts of the characters stepping out of its bounds completely. The background behind the panels continues to get lighter, and the silhouettes of flying birds begin to fly in, closer and closer, growing lighter a step ahead of the background. 1j. Repeat. They move closer, Nandor's eyes now closed and head tilted as their noses slide past each other, lips only centimeters apart. Guillermo's hand slides up further to press against Nandor's ribs, gripping, his eyes still open the slightest amount as if to ensure this moment doesn't disappear. The panel lightens. The birds fly closer.

2a. Repeat. The center of the panel bursts into bright vertical beams of white and gold, the border bleeding from black to a wall of light as they close the final distance between them. Guillermo's eyes finally close, mouth pushing into the gentle kiss. 2b. Repeat, a wider shot as the glowing light inside the panel breaks the borders completely, flooding into the background as it begins to turn to streaks of purple and pink, birds now flying through the broken panel walls. Nandor pushes forward to deepen the kiss, hands clutching at Guillermo's face, Guillermo's head tilting back further as he presses himself close. 2c. Repeat, wider shot of them both now freely standing in the background, streaks of light blooming into yellow and orange. Guillermo is leaning back even further, fingers digging into the back of Nandor's shoulders as he is nearly dipped, their heads tilting the other way as the kiss continues. Nandor, expression blissful, smiles slightly into it. 2d. Close up in a panel bordered by light, the colors inside bolder and brighter: reds and oranges on top, blues and purples on the bottom, the center streaked with light. Both a sunrise and a sunset. They have broken the kiss and Guillermo has straightened, but they do not part from each other. Nandor's right arm curves around Guillermo's back and his left cups the back of his head, keeping him close as he nuzzles their noses together with a serene smile, eyes closed. Guillermo pushes up into the contact, flushed and smiling, one hand at Nandor's back, keeping them pressed together, and the other sliding up Nandor's chest. Guillermo lets out a breathy chuckle and whispers, "Yeah. That could be next..." /end ID

[cameronspecial]

I Could Show You

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Spit Kink

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.3K

Summary: Y/N noticed something interesting during their Thrist Tweet Interview with Buzzfeed.

A/N: This is inspired by this interview. It will have a part two with smut.

Masterlist

Y/N turns toward JD as he reads the next tweet. “The fact that I would let Rafe Cameron SPIT in my mouth shows that I should not be allowed to make my own life decisions,” JD says out loud, laughing as he does so. Her eyes flicker toward Drew and she watches as his bottom lip buries between his teeth. There is something in his eyes that kindles a fire between her legs. She rubs her thighs against each other to try to smother out the flame. Eventually, she has to face forward so that she can read the next tweet. 

———

JD and the girls decided that after the day of interviews, they wanted to go out to get something to eat. However, Y/N and Drew were too tired from the day so they were going to stay in the hotel for dinner. The car ride shared between the two was quiet as they tried to recuperate from the day. They finally found their voices when they were in the privacy of the elevator. “Soo…” Y/N begins. “Those thirst tweets were pretty thirsty.” Drew chuckles, “Yeah, I didn’t know people could be so creative with words.” Y/N nods and looks up at him with a smirk, “Me either. I also didn’t know that you could be so kinky.” The tone oozes with teasing and Drew’s eyes find hers. “What are you talking about?” he questions. Her teeth find her bottom lip, “I saw the way you reacted when JD read about spitting in the writer’s mouth. That turned you on.” He smirks as he recalls the event. He turns so he is facing her and takes a step forward. The tip of his shoes knocks against the side of hers. He leans down so that his mouth presses against the shell of her ear, “I saw the way you acted too. You were intrigued by it. If you give me the chance, I could show you you are just as kinky as I am.” 

The elevator dings signalling that they are on their floor. The doors roll open and Drew exits the metal box as if nothing happened. As if he isn’t leaving his co-star behind with a burning within her that can only be satiated by him.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover

[coryosmin]

thanking mentor!coryo for helping you win the games (he doesn’t get caught)

nsfw | mdni | mentor coryo x tribute fem reader | reader is 18

you had actually won. you won the hunger games. and it was all due to coriolanus snow’s help. without him, you knew that you would’ve died. the horrors you’d seen committed in the arena and all you could think about was coriolanus snow.

it had been a few days since you’ve won. a team of doctors had worked to ensure that you were nursed back to health. and when you were deemed perfectly healthy, you were allowed to take part in an interview with lucky flickerman, the first time a victor would be interviewed after the games.

you had a team that dolled you up, made you look so pretty. you had been informed that your mentor will be attending the interview as well which made you incredibly nervous. coriolanus had risked so much for you. and you didn’t want to let him down at all.

the interview went lovely. and after everyone had left and the two of you were alone in the room you were staying in until your train back to your district in the morning, you looked up at coriolanus, finally alone with him since you exited the arena.

you looked up at coriolanus with pretty eyes as he looked at you. “thank you,” were your first words to him. “for everything. i wouldn’t have survived without you, coriolanus snow.”

coryo looked at you with soft eyes, bringing a hand to caress your cheek. “i’m glad you survived, y/n,” he murmured. “you don’t need to thank me.” a formality of course. he most certainly needed you to thank him. and what kind of girl would you be if you didn’t thank your handsome mentor?

you licked your lips. “i don’t know how i’d ever repay you,” you said, taking a deep breath. “but…perhaps i can do something for you?”

coryo furrowed his eyes in confusion. “like what?” he asked.

you bit your lip, dropping to your knees in front of coryo. the best way to thank him is by doing what you know best. “let me take care of you,” you murmured, bringing your hands to coryo’s thighs.

coryo didn’t quite know what to say, just simply nodding his head. you looked so pretty on your knees in front of him. and if you wanted to thank him, who was he to stop you? he licked his lips in anticipation, blood already rushing to his cock.

you gave him a small smile before unbuttoning his pants, gently tugging them down along with his underpants. his cock was semi hard but it was still big, making your eyes widen. “you’re so big,” you said, wrapping your hand around his shaft and jerking it off slowly.

coriolanus let out a shaky breath, his cock fully hard from your touch. “yeah?” he asked, looking down at you with his beautiful blue eyes.

you nodded your head, looking up at your mentor. “gonna make you feel so good,” you murmured.

“make me feel so good, baby,” coriolanus replied, bringing a hand to entangle into your beautiful hair.

you gave him a small smile before licking a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue when you reached the tip. coryo let out a small moan, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you.

you eased your mouth onto his shaft, bringing his cock halfway into your mouth. you began bobbing your head up and down slowly. coryo held onto your hair, bunching it together to get it out of your pretty face. his cheeks were flushed, pupils blown out in pleasure. you hollowed your cheeks, causing coriolanus so whimper at the feeling.

you brought a hand up to jerk off the base of his cock. you wanted nothing more than for this to be as pleasurable for your coryo as possible. he did so much for you and you could never truly repay him. “oh fuck,” coryo moaned out, tugging your hair. you moaned around his cock at the feeling.

you felt yourself getting aroused too, clenching your thighs for some sort of relief, an action that did not go unnoticed by coryo. he was always quite observant. “are you wet from sucking my cock, baby?” he breathed out.

you hummed around his cock in response, continuing your ministrations on his cock. your other hand moved to massage his balls, causing coryo to moan loudly.

“you’re doing so good,” he praised, one of his hands caressing your cheek. “thanking me for everything i’ve done for you. maybe i ought to make you thank me more by shoving my cock in your pretty pussy later, hmm? would you like that?���

your glossy eyes were more than a response for him. though the way you clenched your thighs at that thought certainly helped quite a bit. coriolanus smirked as he let out a grunt. “gonna cum, pretty girl,” he moaned. “gonna be good and swallow my cum?”

your answer was simply to just continue your movements. each time your head went up his shaft, you licked the tip with your tongue before going back down. coryo’s cock stiffened in your mouth and soon he was releasing ropes down your throat with a loud “oh fuuuck,” while tugging at your hair. you swallowed it all, sucking coryo through his orgasm. and when he finished, you pulled away.

you looked up at coryo with glossy eyes and glossy lips. your hair was messy and your makeup from earlier was most certainly smudged. but neither of you cared. coryo still thought of you as the most prettiest possession. you were his after all. his tribute. his victor. his prize. he deserved you after everything he had done for you. “thank you,” you whispered up at him.

coriolanus breathed heavily as he looked down at you, his hand caressing your cheek. in this moment, you made him feel powerful. he most certainly fucked you hard and good that night, making sure to mark you up so that the whole world knew who you belong to.

you belonged to coriolanus snow, forever and always.

[604to647]

Marine Attraction

4.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: When a stakeout at the aquarium does not go as planned, Detective Tim Rockford must interview all the aquarium visitors, including you.

Warnings: Fluff! Meet cute! Maybe a dirty thought or two that reader really should not be having about a (hot) man just trying to do his job 🤭 Made up Merge Mansion lore. One cute nickname because it’s me (won’t spoil).

A/N: This was written for @mermaidgirl30’s Ocean Challenge – thank you for hosting a lovely event.  Please see #Jamie’s Ocean Challenge for all the wonderful works! I’ve noticed that as of late, some of the authors that I look up to and consider mainstays in this community since I started lurking 2+ years ago have wanted to leave, needed to take breaks from the fandom or felt disconnected from the community.  This story is for you, about stepping away when you need to and maybe rediscovering how something old can still bring you joy. Xoxo, love you all.

Fishy dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

EDIT: Oops this turned into a series - Masterlist

You’re not really sure how this happened.

You’ve been feeling a bit off, as of late.  Nothing was wrong, per say - your job is fine, your friends are dear, your life leaves you grateful.  It’s just that you feel… untethered.  Like you should be doing something more?  Work is fulfilling enough – you achieve and excel.  Friends and family make for wonderful company, but your social battery isn’t infinite and as much as enjoy your get-togethers, they can leave you drained.  Even some of your solitary pursuits, cooking, watching tv, scrolling through social media don’t seem to be as satisfying as they used to be – you consume, but you don’t create.

On a whim, you decide to take the day off work (the first in who knows how long?) and go somewhere you’ve always loved: the aquarium.  You’ve been visiting this aquarium since you were a child – something about the gentle hum of the tanks and the darkness that’s illuminated only by the glow of the exhibits has always relaxed you.  You’re going to go specifically to take photos.  Photography used to be a casual hobby of yours; you were even featured on local news blogs and had your photos chosen for a gallery showing once – but as life got busier and your other endeavours required more of your time and energy, it had fallen by the wayside.   It’s been forever since you took a photo walk or even a picture that wasn’t for capturing a moment rather than a snapshot.  You’re actually getting excited about shooting photos again.

It had been a serene couple of hours spent watching your unhurried fish friends and the silent watery dances of the marine plants that shared their abodes.  The aquarium is playing host to a few young families and two eager fieldtrips, but otherwise, you’ve had the place nearly to yourself.  Able to loiter so you can try different lenses and play with the lighting of your shots, or wait as long as you want in order for a mixed rainbow hue of fish to swim into frame, the morning had passed quietly and contently.

But now you sit in the children’s play area, the last of today’s aquarium visitors, waiting for your turn to be questioned by the police. 

---

Detective Tim Rockford is not really sure how this happened.

It had been a simple enough stakeout operation.  He and his team had received a tip a few days ago that there would be a handoff taking place at the aquarium today: an exchange of money between one of Grandma Ursula’s henchmen and a mystery player whose identity has eluded Tim for the entirety of this case thus far.  Perhaps it was unreasonable to expect Mr. Pie (so nicknamed by the squad for the Bolton Berry pies he consumed) to show up himself, but Tim held out hope that whomever they nabbed today would provide the break in the case that he so desperately needs.

Only, Grandma’s man had come and gone and none of the six men, Tim included, posted at the various vantage points and exits had seen a damn thing.  At some point between spotting their target enter the aquarium with a briefcase in hand, they had lost track of him and picked up his movements again only when he was already leaving the gift shop, empty handed.  How was it possible they couldn’t account for what happened in the aquarium?  Did the meeting with Mr. Pie occur?  Or was the briefcase stashed somewhere?  Tim presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and grimaces – the operation had been an utter failure. 

Not only did they not get what they came for, but now the remainder of the day was completely shot.  What had followed once the police realized just how out of depth they were, was a complete shut down of the aquarium with all visitors locked in and needing to be interviewed before they could leave.  Even the elementary school trips of thirty children.  Each.  After giving instruction to the additional LAPD support he called in to search the aquarium top to bottom for the missing case, Tim had settled in for a long afternoon of what he expected to be fruitless Q&As.

As he wearily enters the kids play area once again (an officer more considerate than he had suggested that given the number of children being held, it might be the best place to have everyone wait), Tim sees only one witness left to interview: you.  He had noticed you earlier, each time he came in to select another interviewee, in fact – if your pretty features and sweet smile hadn’t caught his attention first, your everlasting patience and kindness would have.  Several times, he spotted you playing patiently with the children – the sound of your melodic voice and gentle laughter floating above the grumblings of the other adults who had also had their days ruined. The sound eased the tense spot in his shoulders where his holster straps had started digging in a little bit.  At first, Tim thought you might be one of the teachers or a field trip chaperone, but then he noticed that you let all the school trips and families with children go ahead of you, and he overheard you tell his fellow officer that you didn’t mind waiting, that it must be much harder for the children.  He was grateful for you and he didn’t even know you.

As Tim approaches, you look up from your phone and shoot him the soft smile that’s been his one bright spot in this disaster of a day, though he thinks it seems a bit more tired than when he first had the pleasure of seeing it earlier this afternoon.

“Is it my turn?” you ask him, still in good spirits despite the circumstances.

“Sorry for the wait, miss.”

“No need to be sorry… Detective?”

“Detective Rockford.  Tim Rockford.  I appreciate that, it’s been… a day.”

You hold out your hand to shake his before repeating his name, then giving him your own.  Tim can’t decide if he likes the way his name rolls off your tongue, or the way your own name floats above the cheer of your voice more. 

“Well, hopefully I can help with… whatever has made it such a day,” you give him a sympathetic smile.

The kind of smile you might offer to him when he comes home after a long hard day.  Damn. He’s in trouble.  Focus, Rockford.

Since you’re his last witness of the day, he offers to conduct the interview right here instead of the stuffy office that the aquarium staff had lent him.  As you acquiesce to his suggestion, you stretch out your arms and legs, arching your back to work out a bit of stiffness from having sat for so long and Tim finds himself admiring your figure in a way that is decidedly not going to help him solve this case.  He tries to cover up his less than professional gaze by stretching himself – it feels good.

After collecting your information and starting with his routine questions, Tim realizes he’s pinning his hopes on you having seen or noticed something today – not only because no one else has, but so he can keep speaking with you.

When it becomes evident that you didn’t, he sighs a heavy sigh of disappointment. 

He hadn’t realized that he’s done so until hears you apologize; quick to reassure you that that you don’t have anything to apologize for, Tim places his large warm hand over yours before he can stop himself.  You gasp softly, you think only to yourself, but Tim hears the sweet noise and smirks a little – it’s nice to know he’s not the only one who’s been affected.  When he notices that you don’t move your hand away,  he lets himself revel in the feel of your soft, small hand under his for a beat longer before he removes it and somewhat begrudgingly starts to wrap up the interview.

---

Fuck. This fucking detective.  Rockford.  Tim Rockford.

Even his name is hot. 

You had noticed him earlier, of course – how could you not?  He was a hulking presence, impossibly broad and tall, and he carried himself with the authority and gravitas of a man in charge.  During the earlier hours of your wait, you had been preoccupied with helping entertain some of the young children in the waiting area who were restless with boredom, not sure why their promised day of aquarium fun had to be ruined by something as trivial as a police matter.

But once you caught sight of Detective Rockford’s handsome profile, it became impossible to not be captivated by the deep richness of his brown eyes or that strong nose that centered his face perfectly.  His grave countenance conveyed the seriousness with which he took his work (that facial scruff screamed he worked too much), but he was quietly calm and his tone gentle with all the witnesses, especially the children.  You couldn’t help but hope it was him every time an officer entered the waiting area. 

Some time between now and the last two times he had come in to call forth witnesses, the detective had lost his suit jacket, strolling in wearing only a gun holster and a white dress shirt that stretched taut over his firm chest and bulging arm muscles; you thought you were going to have to dunk yourself into one of the aquarium tanks to cool off just from the sight of him.

Your heart picks up a little when it’s him who appears when you’re the last one left to be interviewed; silently, you pray to Beyoncé to give you the strength needed to coherently answer the detective’s questions when he asks them in that honey laced baritone of his.

When Tim mirrors your big stretch, you hope you’re discrete enough that he doesn’t catch you staring: his limbs extend fantastically long, arm span wide enough to cast a shadow that reaches across the floor in front of you - he's huge.  After hearing the detective inhale a deep breath, it feels to you as if all of the air has been sucked from the room, leaving you dizzy as you gawk at his hard chest, expanding and pushing up against his crisp dress shirt, held closed only by the strained efforts of a few valiant buttons.

You feel bad that you have to answer in the negative to Detective Rockford’s questions.  Unfortunately, you hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary during your visit, too engrossed in your own photo taking, and you don’t remember seeing the man in the picture that he shows you.  You can tell that Tim tries hard not to show his disappointment and wish very much that you could please him, be the one to wipe the weary look off his face and the release the tension from his hunched-up shoulders.  Maybe please him in other ways, as well.  You have a feeling that praise from one Detective Tim Rockford would have you dripping wet and clenching around nothing embarrassingly quick. 

GIRL. GET IT TOGETHER.  For all you know, a serious crime took place here today!

You apologize.  Outwardly, for your inability to help him with his case, and inwardly, for the dirty thoughts that are wholly inappropriate to have about a complete stranger who is just, very competently, doing his job.

To try and put you at ease, Tim relaxes his handsome face and hopes to reassure you when he gently pats your hand; instead, a jolt of electricity shoots through you and you warm all over from his touch.  Maybe it’s your imagination but Detective Rockford seemingly lets his bear paw of hand linger over yours for a bit longer than he needs to, and you think you spy his plush lips curve up slightly at the corners when you gasp.  You might just melt off this bench right now.

“Oh, one last thing, did you take any pictures at the aquarium today?”

You nod, but are suddenly shy as you anticipate the Detective’s next question.  Tim nods at you matter of fact, “Good.  Could you please show me?  I just need to look through them quickly to see if there’s anything in the background that might be useful.”

He holds his hand out, not really expecting any resistance - you’ve been nothing but perfectly cooperative so far.  But when his hand remains empty, he looks over to find you adorably chewing your bottom lip while gripping your phone tightly with both hands, making no motion to hand it over.  For one ridiculous moment he panics, Are you Mr. Pie?!  He shakes his head slightly to rid himself of that ludicrous thought, and waits patiently for you to tell him what you’re ruminating on.

“It’s just that there are a lot of pictures..,” you start, “… and a lot of them are kind of duplicates…”

You know you’re being deliberately vague – sighing in resignation, you decide it’s best to just rip the band aid off.  Unlocking your phone, you go to your camera roll and filter to today’s library before handing over your phone without meeting the detective’s gaze.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tim scroll slowly through hundreds of photos of the aquarium’s exhibits; you attempt to avoid meeting his eye by focusing on how your phone looks inexplicably small in his big, rough hand.

“That’s… a lot,” Tim finally says when he reaches the bottom of the roll.

When you look up, you expect to see maybe a cringed look or even a mocking expression on the detective’s handsome face, but instead you find the massive man looking at you with a gentle curiosity, maybe even holding himself a little smaller in an attempt to not intimidate you.  It doesn’t seem to matter that you don’t really know him, you suddenly feel comfortable enough to tell Detective Tim Rockford this very personal thing about yourself – he might look like he's perfectly cast as the 'bad cop' in interrogations, but you have a feeling he’s got just as good of a track record playing 'good cop'.

“An old hobby of mine was… I guess they call it iPhoneography? Using apps to mimic traditional camera captures?  I used to love it, actually.  Selecting the different lenses and choosing different exposures, then seeing how the images would developed – of course, with the phone, you wouldn’t have to take it in and wait for a week or anything, it would be processed digitally in a matter of seconds.  But… editing apps are so common place nowadays, and most social media platforms have built in filters and effects - iPhoneography has sort of fallen out of favour,” you explain.  Tim is nodding along - he doesn’t really know what you’re talking about, he has three apps on his phone that he uses regularly (Weather, Candy Crush, and the app from the City that reminds him when to put out his garbage bins); the rest of the apps on his phone were preinstalled and he can’t figure out how to delete them.  But he encourages you to go on.

“In fact, I haven’t really gone out to shoot in years.  But lately… I’ve sort of wanted to get back into it?  I came to the aquarium today to fire up the old camera, so to speak.  That’s why there’s so many – a lot of the pictures are just of the same frame but where I was trying out different lenses or exposure options.  I’m not, like, super obsessed with fish or anything,” you finish up quickly, hoping you haven’t made a complete fool of yourself.

Tim hands you back your phone, still open to today’s photos, and smiles, “Why don’t you tell me about what you shot today?”

“Really?” you look up, surprised.

“Really,” Tim tries to convey his genuine interest via his eyes, and is instantly rewarded by a smile on your face that could light up the room.  It’s certainly lighting him up.

And so, you tell Detective Tim Rockford all about the photos you took today.  You swipe through your pictures and show him how the different lenses affect the lighting, exposure, saturation and even colour tinting of the resulting photo.  You proudly tell him about how you had to switch up your technique and settings when shooting the tanks where the marine animals or plants thrived primarily in the dark or relied on bioluminescent light.  You laugh, mainly at yourself, when you tell him about how long you stayed at certain attractions, waiting for a particular school of fish to swim perfectly into frame.

Tim thinks your laughter is the loveliest sound he’s ever heard.

You tell him your favourite sea creatures to photograph are the jelly fish because they’re so weird and they move with such alien grace, unpredictable yet seemingly purposeful, and that’s why there are more pictures of them than any other animal in your camera roll.

Tim finds himself enchanted watching you get more and more animated and excited as you go through the pictures you took today; while your eyes are peeled to your screen, he admires how they twinkle and the way your mouth slopes upwards, grinning wide even as you talk non-stop about your long-forgotten hobby.  Your pretty face is aglow.  He thinks he could listen to you talk about the things that bring you joy forever.

He lets you talk for an hour.  You don’t even realize until you get to the last photo (a school of clown fish weaving between the tentacles of their anemone home) and glance up at the time at the top of the screen, “…oh my gosh!  I’m so sorry!! I’ve prattled on for so long, I’m sure none of this was helpful at all!”

Tim won’t have any of that, “Don’t be sorry.  You had fun.  I’m glad you had some fun today… before I ruined it by sequestering you here in this waiting area for the entire afternoon.”

You shyly look at his apologetic face, “I’m having fun now.”

Tim can feel his ears warm and is sure they’re pink at the tips.  Darn, you’re sweet.  He distracts himself by flipping to a brand-new page in his notebook, “Me too.”  You feel your heart expand at his soft confession.

“Now, I have some good news and some bad news.”

You look at him expectantly with an innocent, doe-eyed expression that Tim thinks might be one of the most dangerous things he’s ever encountered in all his years on the force, “The good news is that I think you’re a very, very good photographer.  It’s clear you enjoy it and there isn’t a single photo you showed me today that isn’t obviously a labour of love.  I think you should get back into it if you can.  The way you were talking about your photos today, I don’t think I’ve seen that much joy on someone’s face in… I don’t know how long.  I’m grateful you shared that with me.”

You’re speechless.  His words are so, so kind… and exactly what you needed to hear today.  You’re filled with tremendous gratitude and fondness for Detective Tim Rockford.

“… the bad news is, I spotted the reflection of our man in the shadows on the glass in some of your photos, and I’m so very sorry but I’m going to have to confiscate your phone,” Tim could not be more truly sorry.

After the initial shock of being told you’re losing your phone for a few days, you quickly recover and tell Tim that you’re genuinely glad you could help.  You give him your email and use your phone to send off a message to a few of your group chats regarding how you can be reached for the next few days before dropping your phone into the evidence bag Tim produces.  Under different circumstances, you might be upset at this turn of events, but the expression on Detective Tim Rockford's face is more than enough to make the minor inconvenience worth it – he looks invigorated, energized.  Clearly, this is what he loves doing.

Walking you to the aquarium exit, Tim apologizes and thanks you again before seeing you out.  Right before the door closes behind you, you turn and see him already rushing off to brief his team, your plastic covered phone clutched in his hand and an excited grin on his face.  After the kindness and patience the detective has shown you today, you’re glad to have played a small role in putting that smile on his face.

True to his word, you receive an email from Timothy.Rockford@lapd.online.org just a few days later, letting you know your phone is ready for pick-up.  When Detective Rockford meets you in the precinct lobby, you have to suck in your breath – he’s even more handsome than you remember, and you’ve been spending nearly every waking minute over the past few days picturing his strong jawline, soulful eyes, and that charming facial scruff you’d give anything to run your fingers through.  He’s jacketless again, just another pressed white dress shirt that his broad frame threatens to rip through, bordered by those leather holsters that make you want to swallow your tongue.

As Tim takes you to Evidence so you can sign out your phone, he tries to chat amiably and not cast too many obvious and admiring glances your way; you’re all warmth and serenity in this place that he only ever associates with being loud, bustling and cold.  He simultaneously never wants you to leave and wishes to sweep you far away and keep you only for himself, distanced safely from this place where his every day is synonymous with darkness and mystery.

When you’re once again outside, Tim leans against the frame of the precinct’s front doors and you look up at him from one step down, hopeful, “Did I help?”

Yes.  You help more than you know, Tim thinks, having been unable to get your incandescent smile out of his mind since he last parted from you; finding that it’s become the image that grounds him during his long grueling hours.  Instead, he says, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“Oh no – not this again,” you grin.

Tim smiles back, emboldened by your cheery demeanor, “The good news is that a lot of your photos and what the tech guys called… um.. meta data?  A lot of it helped generate some good leads that we’re now following.”

“Oh!  That’s wonderful!  I’m so glad, Detective Rockford!”

“Tim.  Please call me, Tim.”

“I don’t know, I kind of like calling you Detective,” you tease, good naturedly.

Tim should not feel his pants tighten at this, “The bad news is, because your photos had so much useful information, there is a very good chance they will be used as evidence if this case ever goes to trial.  I don’t think you will need to testify, as you yourself didn’t see anything, and that meta data gives us the info on when and where the photos were taken.  But even so… it means I can’t ask you out until the case is over.”

“Oh no,” you’re disappointed, but somewhat mollified that Tim has just basically asked you out without asking you out.  “That is bad news indeed.”

Tim looks around to make sure no one is looking before he reaches out with his hand and gently strokes your cheek with the back of two of his thick fingers just once, whispering, “I’ve never wanted to put a case to bed more.”

You can’t let the joke pass you by, “The case?  The case is what you want to put to bed?”

The booming laugh that shakes Detective Tim Rockford’s entire torso reaches all the way to his eyes, crinkling them in the most adorable way.  It’s staggering the difference it makes – he looks 10 years younger, you think. 

He’s needed this.  A really good laugh.  He’s needed it more than he realized.  He’s needed you.  He looks at your impish grin, so proud of yourself for pulling this sound from him, a sound so rare that it’s become almost foreign to his own ears; Tim hopes he’s able to convey his gratitude for you with the way his eyes have brightened, flecked with gold and mirth. 

He thinks you just might understand him perfectly. 

When you lift up on your toes to brush your lips softly against his scruffy cheek for a goodbye kiss, he whispers low in your ear, “I’ll call you, Shutterbug.” 

A promise.

7 months later

The Grandma Ursula case has taken the nation by storm.  The TV in your workplace breakroom is permanently dialed to the court case broadcast so no one misses a minute of the scandalous proceedings, a single interview with those involved in the case, or any legal and criminal analysts’ commentary.  For someone who is billed as the Lead Investigator, Tim makes shockingly few appearances onscreen, but you feel a little thrill go through you whenever you catch a glimpse of his striking figure in the background of a news broadcast about the case, or when you see him standing stoically behind the head prosecutor while the latter debriefs the press from the steps of the court house.

You gaze dreamily at his face while the press shouts out what everyone (your friends, colleagues, the public) all want to know:

How many aliases does Grandma Ursula really have?

Can we even call it the Bolton Mansion anymore?

Why that particular number of pies?

You’ll be honest, you’re just as interested in the case as everyone else, but you have one pressing question that you know no one else is asking: Will he call when it’s over?

You’re in a departmental meeting when the verdict is read.  It takes you forever to get back to your desk, caught up in everyone’s excited chatter about the ruling, but when you finally sit down and pull out your phone from your drawer, it’s to the best outcome you could have hoped for from the Grandma Ursula case.  Positively beaming, you reread the text message sent from an unknown number only two minutes after the verdict was announced: Hey Shutterbug, take any good photos lately?

End note: The iPhoneography aspect of this fic is a bit self indulgent; some might know that this Tumblr used to be a photo blog before it became my writing blog. Just like reader, it's something I used to enjoy a lot but I haven't opened those camera apps in years - maybe I'll get back into it one day! In the meantime, yes - the aquarium photos in the moodboard are by yours truly 🤭

[cmthingssss]

Freudian Slip - Emily Prentiss X Reader (slight former Penelope Garcia x Reader)

A/N: Listen all, my writing is cringe, but idrc because me and my friends like it, and if y’all like it, I love y’all <3<3. Also, this is a WIP that I probably won’t finish because I have no motivation to write smut right now (in kinktober too) smh 

Summary: New to the BAU and FBI in general, you find yourself infatuated with one Emily Prentiss, an older woman who coincidentally happened to be your boss. After she learns of your past experiences with Penelope, Emily becomes ecstatic to finally get what she’s been craving. 

  WC: 1444

Fresh out of the academy, you had by some miracle gotten a job at the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. When you interviewed it was with a crusty old man with no relation because of “internal politics” or something, you weren’t really listening. He seemed to like you, in more ways than one. Too bad you played softball in college, AKA you were uber gay. On your first day, you got to meet with the team and damn… you weren’t aware that a major requirement for the job was to be hot, like model hot. The Unit Chief, Emily Prentiss you think, was the hottest of them all. Besides, everyone knew you had a thing for older women, and they weren’t wrong.

For the rest of the day and well into your first case, Emily, no, Chief Prentiss she told you, monitored you heavily. The other woman Jennifer, had taken almost a maternal role with you, and it seemed to bother Emily slightly, or maybe you were being delusional. Probably that. It felt as though she didn’t trust you or welcome your presence into her team. You were determined to warm up to her no matter what it took, and you were willing to do a lot of things you weren’t exactly proud to admit. Emily… Chief Prentiss didn’t even acknowledge you unless you were making mistakes. You brought her coffee everyday for a week? Something was always wrong with it and she threw it in the garbage. Baked her banana bread? Apparently she was allergic, even though you witnessed her eat one on the previous case. Even when the team would have a group outing and you bought everyone’s drinks, Emily would pay for her own. That’s what confused you the most, you just wanted her to like you, but she seemed to loathe you. You resorted to giving her a myriad of compliments, which she typically didn’t respond to. Recently, you’d begun thinking about Emily outside of work, and the thinking turned into fantasies which typically ended with you on all fours and Emily railing the shit out of you. It also may have involved your not-so-secret mommy kink. Those thoughts plagued your mind, even when you were awake now, every time you looked at your… much older boss, you began replaying those fantasies. After being ignored again, you tried to go back to the compliment route. 

“You look amazing mom-mily…” SHIT. The topic of your most recent sexual fantasies just slipped out of your mouth without a second thought. 

“What did you say, agent?” Emily definitely heard you and had to use every ounce of control she possessed to not blush. 

“Emily. I said Emily.” You proclaim as the tips of your ears burn in embarrassment. 

“Wrong again Agent L/N. For the last time, it’s Unit Chief Prentiss.” She looked at you with fury in her gaze, and as much as you hate to admit it, that slightly turned you on.

Embarrassed now, you mumble an apology and walk to the SUV without another word. As soon as you exited the precinct, the profilers in Emily’s vicinity started howling with laughter. 

Reid was the first to speak up, “And that is what you call a Freudian slip.” Followed by a quick slap on the head with a folder of paperwork from Morgan who also began cracking jokes. 

“Enough you guys. Y/N/N didn’t mean anything by it, maybe it was an accident.” Emily stared daggers at her team from across the table. 

“First of all, Y/N/N? We’re doing nicknames now? Secondly, they did tell me they had a thing for older women. Ask Garcia, they hooked up once.” Everyone’s jaws dropped including Emily’s. Morgan looked as if he had dropped the most obvious information in the world.

Garcia had accompanied the team on this case and had walked in the moment she heard her name, but she was bewildered. “Hooked up with who??” 

“Y/N. That’s who. When were you going to enlighten the rest of us?” Emily inquired, attempting to hide her anger. 

Penelope’s face enlightened with knowing. “Ohhhh, yeah, we were really good friends in college, before I worked here.” Garcia coughed, “It might’ve also happened after, but that’s none of your business.” 

The entire team once again burst into laughter. “WHAT?! I mean… Garcia, that's unprofessional and you need to end it.” Now Emily was the one with linguistic turmoil. She had no response to your utter lack of professionalism and thought that maybe you weren’t as cut out for the job as others thought. She’d have to have a private, disciplinary meeting with you for this. 

Meanwhile, you were sitting in the SUV awaiting whatever punishment Unit Chief Prentiss had concocted for you. You had been waiting an upwards of fifteen minutes and were getting rather bored, so you decided to pull out your phone to doom scroll. A few moments pass, and your attention gets captured by a 5 Minute Crafts-esqe video. You become so enchanted that you tune out anything happening outside the SUV, which causes you to miss the fact that Emily was angrily stomping towards the SUV, and had already entered before you noticed her presence. At the sudden intrusion of your personal space, you gasped. She then snatched your phone out of your hand. 

“Emily… excuse me, Unit Chief Prentiss. What the actual fuck is wrong with you.” You said as calmly as possible with annoyance laced into your tone. You reach for your phone back when she throws it in the back seat. 

All of a sudden she got super serious, and your eyes were trained on her face trying to decipher what was happening, “Y/N we need to talk… about your extreme lack of unprofessionalism.” 

“HUH? I’m gonna need you to explain to me how I’ve been unprofessional on this case. If anyone was unprofessional, it’s you. I’m a new agent and you’re supposed to be my mentor and boss, but you’ve done nothing but demean me ever since we met, and I still put up with it every day. Do you not think I’m tired of it? I can be a bitch, rude, blunt, but unprofessional is not one of them, so you need to take a long look in the mirror because if anyone is at fault for unprofessionalism, it’s you.” You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself before looking to her for a response. 

“I’m sorry Y/N/N, I shouldn't have been treating you like that. And I shouldn’t have been so upset about you hooking up with Penelope. It’s really because I think I have feelings for you and that’s extremely inappropriate on my part and I completely understand if you don’t feel the same way.” She actually just apologized to you, and she looks genuine, you’re not sure how to take it. 

“Well, you're just full of surprises aren’t you?” Well, there goes the vulnerability and rapport from that conversation. “Sorry, I’m not good with feelings, and since we’re being honest here, I’ve fantasized about you for weeks, which is why I’ve been desperate to please you.” 

Emily’s brows shot up at your word choice, but then she was emboldened by the comment Morgan made earlier. “Eager to please huh? We’ll see about that. I have so many things I want to do to you, but we can’t in a federally owned vehicle.” She let out a dark chuckle.

You attempted to hide your giddiness at her words, opting to nod wordlessly and allow her to take you wherever she needed. She sensed the tension that overtook your body at her admission of attraction for you, so she reached over and placed her hand on your thigh to calm you down. “You need to relax sweetheart. I’m not going to bite, unless you ask me to.” With that, you relaxed under her touch and laughed along with her. Emily began the drive to the hotel, the rest of the team in tow. You reached up and turned on the scanner to ensure that even though you were about to have the most amazing sex of your life, you needed to be vigilant about the job you came to do. 

After a short drive, you arrived at the hotel and muted the scanner. “So… where do we go from here?,” you asked nervously. Emily leaned over the console and placed her hand on your cheek lovingly. 

“We can start by going inside… whatever happens after is up to you.” You nod in agreement before getting out of the SUV and going to check in to the hotel. 

[missbluez]

Angel Pt. 1

Spencer Reid x reader

Ao3 Part 2

I am still figuring out how to post on here, so if you have any tips please comment.

SUMMARY: With a traumatic past that isn’t quite behind you,you join the BAU. Love,hurt and hate are thrown into your life again… will you be able to escape unscathed or will you lose it all…

-----------------------------------------

The wind whipped around her, stinging her face and bare arms like a burn. It was one of the coldest nights, she remembered, her best friend mentioning it as she grabbed her jacket before heading out for the night.

Her feet ached as the underbrush pricked at the bareness of them. She didn´t slow her pace, though. She was determined to get to her destination, but it always seemed to get further and further away. She could hear their whispers calling out to her. Though she couldn't make out the words, she knew they were meant for her.

She hugged herself as she pushed forward, trying to keep what little warmth she had until she saw them. The lifeless bodies of those she loved, her family, were massacred and bloodied to the point where she could barely recognize them. And that's when she screamed. She couldn't tell how long it had been, but her throat felt raw, and she could taste the familiar metallic taste of her blood in her mouth.

The distant beeping of your alarm slowly woke you from your slumber. With a groan, you rolled over to your side to grab your phone. Blinking repeatedly to remove the remaining fogginess of your sleep, you tried to look at the time. It was 7:07 AM. You cursed under your breath, you were running late.

As fast as you could, you got dressed, and you grabbed your phone and keys before heading out to your car.

The drive there was uneventful; you tried to respect the speed limits even though you were in a rush.

You entered the building and got the visitor pass that would allow you to be there until you were hired. You were sure that you would be hired; you just needed to not mess anything up until you got the position.

Working for the government was not something you were particularly fond of, but you´ve been doing the same job on your own for years. And honestly speaking, the BAU team piqued your interest, and you really wanted to work with them.

You exited the elevator and made your way towards the bullpen. You looked around, and the first person you saw and recognized was Derek Morgan. Even though he is not your type, you could appreciate that he looked even more handsome than in the pictures you had seen of him. Next to him was Dr. Spencer Reid, the one you were most eager to meet. You didn't recognize anyone else, so you guessed that the rest of the team was elsewhere.

You confidently head towards SSA Hotchner´s office, and you knock a couple of times. When you were given permission, you entered the office. “Good morning, Sir”

“Good morning, you’re…”.He said your name, and you nodded “I guess you already know, but this interview is just a formality; the position is yours. I've read your resume, and I can say that you´re more than qualified for the job. You just have to fill out this paperwork, and you´ll be a part of the team.” 

Your expression looked calm and collected, but you were relieved on the inside. You knew Gideon wouldn't lie to you, but some things were out of his control.

“If you follow me, I'll introduce you to the team, and you can get started on that paperwork”

Hotch added before getting up and making his way out of the office, you promptly followed behind.

As you approached the bullpen, your mind was running rampant with all sorts of thoughts. You wanted to make a good impression, and to do that, you would have to talk only when necessary so you don´t say anything that may potentially harm your position on the team. You know that from experience.

Once you walked down the stairs, you felt multiple eyes on you, and you recognized a few members of what would soon become your team.

Hotch looked at you before gesturing towards where the members were gathered.

“Guys, this is…” he says your name “, she is the new member of the team." Before he could say anything else, his phone started ringing. He excused himself and walked away to answer.

"Hi, I'm Jennifer Jareau, but everybody calls me JJ", the blonde smiled, introducing herself. 

"Nice to meet you, JJ", you said, smiling back at her. 

"I'm Emily Prentiss"

"I'm David Rossi"

A few of them introduced themselves when you were walking into the meeting room.

Before anyone could say anything else, Hotch came back. 

"Further introductions can be made later, we have a new case; we'll debrief on the plane”

" Where are we headed?"

Doctor Reid asked. He didn't introduce himself, but you already knew who he was. 

"New York"

"Five shootings in 2 weeks. It's about time we got the call"

Rossi said 

"I want to take Garcia with us, hopefully, they'll give us access to their surveillance systems"

Hotch added

"What do we know?"

Asked Prentiss

"All the killings are mid-day, single gunshot to the head with a 22"

"Any witnesses?" This time, JJ asked

"No"

"22 caliber pistol's only 152 decibels. New York streets and subways are routinely well over 100. It could be people aren't even registering the gunshot until the unsub is already leaving the scene"

Reid stated

"They sound like Mob hits “, added Morgan 

“Except none of them have ties to organized crime”, Hotch was quick to answer.

“Do they have any connection to each other?” Prentiss asked

“None they´ve found”

“How about communication with the police? Has the unsub tried to make contact?”

This time, it was you who asked. Hotch turned to play a video on the TV

“Surveillance cameras have captured video of 3 of the murders”

“This is the latest,” Hotch said while playing the video

“They´re all the same; he wears a hood and keeps his head down” Footage of what Hotch explained was playing on the TV.

“This guy is bold. Crowded areas, broad daylight,” Prentiss added while gesturing towards the hooded man in the footage.

“So... they're completely random?” You asked, looking at the footage

“It  seems that way”, Hotch answered while nodding slightly

“Son of Sam all over again”

“We've got to go. Garcia will come with us. wheels up in 30 minutes”

That's the last thing Hotch said before exiting the room.

“Do you have a go-bag ready, newbie?... I'm Derek Morgan, by the way”

“Nice to meet you, Derek, and yes...I packed it this morning in case we had to leave”

You said, walking out of the room and going towards the bullpen.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

"An urgent case on your first day- well, that gotta be exciting," JJ said with a slight smile.

"Well… I was expecting to be on desk duty or something for a couple of weeks…Usually, they don't want me in the field right away."

You said shrugging

"Why is that?"

Before you knew it, a snicker left your mouth.

"Most of my former bosses were older men that were too proud to let me do any significant work. I'm a woman in my early 20s, and in their eyes, I wasn't a real agent; as they kept saying, I'm only a shrink"

"You're a doctor?" Asked Derek with his eyebrows raised. 

"Oh… " You thought they knew about you; they were profilers and had access to your resume. 

"Yes, I specialized in Clinical Psychology."

"So we have another genius on the team," Derek said, wiggling his eyebrows with a smile. 

Right after that, Hotch and who you assumed was Garcia entered the plane. 

"Oh, Oh, Hiiii! I'm Penelope Garcia!"

She said with a bright smile before sitting next to you as you introduced yourself. Everything about her seemed bright: her blonde hair, her vividly colored clothing and her bubbly personality. You talked to her for a little while before you had to start debriefing on the case. 

"The victims were killed in a completely different neighborhood, Hell's Kitchen, Murray Hill, Lower East Side, Chinatown, East Harlem… "

Hotch said while you were looking at the pictures of the victims, they were so different, they seemed to have nothing in common. 

"It doesn't make any sense, there's no common victimology. No sexual component. No robbery. No geographical connection"

Reid said, and you nodded in agreement, you were thinking the same thing. 

"Do the police have any leads?" Reid added.

"He's killing roughly every two days, the press is having a field day, and it sounds like the mood on the street's getting pretty edgy" Hotch was quick to respond. 

"It's a joint FBI-NYPD taskforce? "

Rossi asked

Hotch nodded while answering.

"Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office, she's running point on the case and called me directly, she's starting to butt heads with the lead detectives and wanted a fresh set of eyes"

"Joyner, I know her… She's a Brit, right?"

Derek asked

"Well, dual citizenship.Her father's British, her mother's American." Hotch corrected

"She was a big deal at Scotland Yard before coming to the bureau"

"I heard she can be a little bit of a pain in the ass"

"I didn't think so", Hotch said, looking at Morgan

"Oh, she can… " You mumbled under your breath. Morgan seemed to notice, but he didn't comment on it

"You know her?" Prentiss asked  Hotch

"We liaised when she was still at Scotland Yard"

"And she's good? "

" I think we're lucky to have her"

You inhaled deeply before focusing on the files you had in your hands. .you didn't want to say anything about Joyner; you met her when you worked overseas as a consultant for Scotland Yard, and it was not a good experience. But you refrained from saying anything, it seemed that Hotch liked him, and you didn't want to annoy your boss on your first day on the job. 

“And we´re cleared for takeoff” You heard the pilot´s voice through the intercom.

Everyone stood up and walked to different seats to get ready for the takeoff. Garcia sat next to you, with Morgan right in front of both of you.

“You know Joyner...and I'm guessing you don't like her very much”

Your eyes left the file you were reading as you looked up; Garcia and Morgan were watching you intently, waiting for your answer.

“Yeah..I´m not particularly fond of her”

“And that's because…?” 

You sighed

“A few years ago, I worked with Interpol, I was overseas assisting Scotland Yard on a case. I was there to make a profile of an unsub. And I did, but Joyner and her team discarded it because, according to her, I was too young and inexperienced, and there was no way I could have come up with that profile with the little information I had. That wasn´t the end of it, she kept on ignoring everything I had to say about the case. They ended up arresting the wrong guy. I gave up on trying to be heard, so I came back to the U.S a few days later. I received a call from the lead detective of Scotland Yard, He wanted to tell me that they ended up getting the right guy and that my profile was dead on.”

The look of shock on Garcia´s face made you chuckle

“I would have ignored that completely, I´m used to being second guessed and ignored by superiors because of my age and sex, but it annoyed me because she was a young woman and if anyone would understad my struggles it would be her, but she ended up being a bitch.”

 When Morgan heard you curse, he tried to bite back a laugh

“Oh, sorry...I tend to curse quite a lot”

“Don´t worry about it, sweets. Just try to not do it around Hotch,” she said with a smile, waving away your worries

.“I'll do my best”

After that, everyone settled into a comfortable silence. You carried on reading the file you were picked up earlier. When you were done with it, you left it on the table as you looked around you, observing the members of your new team. You knew you shouldn´t profile them; they were your coworkers, but you couldn't help it. You've been watching and analyzing people's behaviour since you were a child; it came naturally to you. 

The pilot's voice brought you back to reality, he announced that you'd be landing soon. 

The ding of the elevator doors brought you back to reality. 

Everyone stepped out and followed Hotch, who was approaching a blonde woman. Much to your dismay, it was Joyner; you were hoping to avoid her a little longer. 

"Is it just me, or does she look exactly like Haley?" you heard JJ's voice whispering. You didn't know who Haley was, but from the looks JJ and Garcia were shooting each other, you guessed that she had something to do with Hotch, maybe his wife, and that would explain his affinity with Joyner. 

Hotch and she exchanged greetings, and then he introduced the team. 

Joyner's eyes lingered a while longer on you. She tried to hide her surprise, but it was still noticeable. 

"Thanks for being here. anything that you need just tell me," Joyner said

"What can you tell us about the city's surveillance system?" Garcia asked

"Em… It's run by the NYPD. It's still in the infant stages. It's been rather controversial. American Privacy laws, but they've had some success"

"And I'll have complete access? "

"They're already expecting you"

After that, Garcia left with a smile

"I'd like to get a map of the borough. I want to do a comprehensive geographical profile of the area in order to ascertain the unsub's mental map before it's clouded by our own linkage blindness," Reid asked.

"I see you brought your own computer,, A man who had just arrived said with an annoyed tone. 

You forced yourself not to roll your eyes; that certainly wouldn't help. 

"Detectives Brustin and Cooper, I'll let you do the introductions", Joyner said before asking Hotch to talk in private.

"You caught the first shooting?" Asked Rossi

"They've all been in different precincts. It wasn't until the third murder that anyone even made the connection" 

"I guess this is where we play nice and ask you what you need"

The grumpy cop, as you started calling him in your mind, said. 

… … .. . … . … .. . … 

Hours passed, and you were sitting on a chair reading more files from the different precincts with Prentiss while drinking a cup of coffee. Garcia was running the face recognition program on the hours of footage she had. Reid was working on the geographical profile. Hotch was with Joyner. Rossi, Morgan and JJ had left to go to one of the crime scenes with Detective Grumpy. 

You left the folder you were holding on a desk before you stood up and walked towards the board where Reid was working on the geographical profile.

"We're gonna need records over the last 6 months for any arrest on gun violence or gun possession in every borough except the ones where the shootings have taken place", Reid said, looking at Detective Cooper.

"Uh… I don't get it," He said

"He won't strike near where he lives”, you answered

"What makes you so sure?" He asked

"It's anti-geographical profiling.” You stated

"Now it's anti-geographical profiling? " He scoffed "You wonder why we're so skeptical"

"The unsub is organized; he strikes at the same time of day, he knows where the cameras are placed, that means he's doing his own pre-surveillance", Prentiss was quick to answer.

"A need-motivated killer operates within his own comfort zone. An organized killer with some other motivation will make sure to stroke outside that zone," You explained.

"Not exactly where he lives"

"Unfortunately, that means that every other neighborhood in the city has a reason to be terrified"

All of you got back to the files you were reading, that was until a call came in. Another body was found. 

… ,..............,.................... 

"What have we got? " Hotch asked as soon as he walked in

"The latest shooting", Prentiss said while playing a video

"This was the previous murder”, she said, playing a different video

"He sprints off in one and walks calmly in the other. It's two entirely different demeanors," Morgan points out

"Six kills in, his behavior should be set…" You commented

"Prentiss, play them again.” You asked. She played them again. 

"Again, please"

"Oh shit… ah sorry… They're different people… Garcia, are you still there?"

"Would I ever leave you? As you asked, I did a digital perspective analysis rendering on the shootings where we have footage. Now the first two are inconclusive, but the last two I found something very weird, your calm walking type, he is about 6'1''  but your sprinter he's like 5'9", 5'10", tops."

"We've got more than one Unsub. " Hotch said while you nodded

"So, we have more than one Unsub. What does that tell us?"

Rossi asked, looking around.

"Most teams stick together.. uh, Ng and Lake, the Krays, Bittaker and Norris. They don't usually kill separately." Reid was the first to answer; whenever he talked, you found yourself listening carefully. Every word that came out of his mouth was so knowledgeable. It weirdly resembled his works that you've previously read. You liked it. You could listen to him ramble nonstop. 

"Could be some kind of gang initiation"

Morgan's deep baritone voice broke your train of thought before it got way out of hand. 

"Gangs will kill if you encroach on their territory, not random people all over the city" 

Prentiss quickly dismissed the option. 

"I'll coordinate with the gang task force, make sure we have an overview by morning", JJ said before leaving.

"Do you think we have enough for a working profile? " Joyner asked

"Broad strokes", Rossi answered

"Dave, you, Reid and L/N talk to the agents here. Morgan and Prentiss brief the police when each shift comes on duty tomorrow." 

"I think we should get out on the streets… " 

You sensed the beginning of an argument, so you left to get some more coffee. Not sleeping the day before was not a very good choice. But you were nervous as it was your first day on the job. 

A couple of minutes later, Morgan appeared next to you; he looked enraged. 

"I guess Joyner's not very friendly with you, is she? " You said looking at him while taking a sip from your hot delicious coffee. 

"Not at all. she keeps antagonizing me"

"I know the feeling, but I can't figure out why she dislikes you"

"Hotch told me that if she fucks up this case she will be reassigned and I'm on the top of the list to replace her, guess she didn't like that"

"Ooh… She doesn't like it when someone shines brighter than she does, trust me" 

"Are you saying that I shine bright, newbie?" Morgan asked with a flirty tone

"Maybe" You winked at him before walking away. You heard him laugh, which made you smile. You really wanted to be a part of the team, and breaking the ice with the members of said team was a beginning, a great one at that. Morgan, JJ and Garcia seemed to honestly like you, and that was an amazing start. You felt comfortable with them, which was new to you, even though you've known them for a few hours. 

As Hotch ordered you to, you spoke to a few agents and exchanged your conclusions with Reid and Rossi. Since there was nothing else you could do, you all left for the hotel for the night. You were the first one to leave since you wanted to make a few phone calls. 

As soon as you got inside the room, you threw yourself on the bed with a tired groan. 

"Well, that was a hell of a day,, you mumbled while you kicked off your shoes. Still lying on your stomach, you reach for your bag to take out your laptop. You checked your emails and answered a few of them. A few minutes after that, an incoming video call came through. You smiled when you saw your best friend's face on the screen.

"How was it!? Tell me everything. Was any of them hot?" She shot one question after the other

"Hello, Katy, I'm great. Thanks for asking. How are you?" You asked with fake annoyance

"Sorry babes, you know that I'm just so fucking excited for you! "

"I know, and I love you for that" You smiled softly

"Wait…where are you? I know your apartment, and that's not it. Don't tell me you hooked up with someone on the first day of the job!"

"What!! No..God no… I'm in… New York.. for a case…"

She looked at you wide-eyed.

"On your first day?? Damn girl…wait, don't tell me your on that case about the random shootings"

She shot you a worried look

"Yep… that's the one," You said, sighing

"Anyway, I don't want to talk about work. Tell me, how's everything in Ukraine??!"

"Everything's great! We found some pretty well-kept journals from the 40s that talk about the painting. We're still researching, but it seems like we're on the right path. And I might be able to go to Romania next week to visit my grandparents, so that's exciting! "

She said with a bright smile on her face. Your best friend Ekaterina, or Katy as you called her, is a historian and her latest project is taking her all over the world. She is looking for artwork that was looted during WW2. 

For a few more minutes, you talked, but your call was cut short because of the time difference. You had to go to sleep, but she was getting ready to go to work. 

You weren't feeling tired enough to sleep yet, so you decided to take a shower. But you realized that there were no towels in the bathroom so you went to the reception to get some. When you made your way down, you found the team in the lobby. You approached them

"Look at this", Prentiss said when you were next to them "Late edition doesn't miss a beat" You took the newspaper; the latest murder was already on the news. 

"JJ", Reid said, signaling with his head. All of you looked behind, and they all seemed to recognize the man that was sitting on one of the chairs.

"Will?" JJ said, surprised

"I'm sorry for showing up like this, but I can't stand you being on this case and me not being there, not with what's going on. " Will apologized, looking at her. 

"Is there a problem? " Hotch asked 

"Uh… I'm pregnant," JJ smiled

Everyone was shocked after hearing this. 

"Oh my god, JJ! Congratulations! " Prentiss hugged her with a bright smile. Hugs and congratulations were shared before you decided to give the couple some privacy. 

You asked the front desk for towels and then made your way back to the room. After taking a shower, you were basically knocked out. 

…....    

Part 2 This is going to be a slowburn coworkers to friends to lovers. It will focus on the cases and on the character's development. I don't really know how to tag here lol.

[theblue6ook]

Shit Interview PT 2

Summary: Interestingly, Y/N meets Alfred Pennyworth, and he offers her a new interview for a different assistant position? She's hesitant but decides to take the opportunity. Little did she know who she'd be working for. [B (23) & Y/N (21)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce]

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Well hello there. If you liked this story, it’s a part of my “Out of My League” series. There will be more to come ;)

John and Alfred chattered along, making pleasant conversation. Y/N had politely said hello when introduced, but since then, she firmly planted her feet in front of the petunias. When Alfred arrived... well, it was embarrassing to say the least. There was a silence after his greeting with John, and Alfred seemed like a smart man; he clearly noticed the tense energy between them. It made her want to crawl out of the flower shop on her hands and knees.

She drew in a deep breath, it was time to escape. Moving down the back end of the aisle she was in, Y/N tried to wander towards the front of the store… nonchalantly. She stepped around the cracked tile and drains carefully. This shouldn't be hard. She knew this store like the back of her hand. Scooting around the bags of soil in the corner, Y/N was in the last aisle near the front of the store. She felt guilty she had nothing to bring to Carrie, but flowers die anyway. She shrugs to herself, I’ll grab some Chinese food on the way home, and she’ll be just as happy-

Her heel snagged on a hose. A hose that is not normally lying on the floor, so much for a stealthy exit. She tried to gather her balance, but her foot literally flew out of her stationary heel and sent her flying forward. “Shit.”

“Y/N!” John watched, bewildered, as Y/N disappeared behind the back of the potting corner. “What are you doing-”

“Yeah, that hose should really be up on the rack, John,” she quipped. Frustration tore through her, and her palms dug into the tile floor. I might actually have to crawl out of the store on my hands and knees. She felt a tug on her shoulder. 

“Stop playing on the floor,” he smiled down at her. “You okay?”

She sighed and pulled herself off the ground, “That’s a safety hazard. I should report you.”

“Okay, tough girl, let me get you that arrangement for Carrie, and then I’ll get out of your hair,” he teased, pulling her towards the register. She stood by Alfred as John passed the oak door behind the counter. “Let me just add some finishing touches. I’ll be quick. Don’t let her leave without it, Alfred.” 

Alfred chuckled and turned to her, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms.Y/N. I’ve heard quite a bit about you from John. Good and bad.”

“Oh, you can just call me Y/N,” She chuckled politely and wrung her hands together. There was a pleasant but awkward silence between them. It was… a little uncomfortable, to say the least. “Are you here to get an arrangement?”

“Nah, I just wanted to pop in and see how John was doing.” Alfred looked toward her like he wanted to say something but refrained. Where is John? “I hear you had quite a busy day today. Job interview and all.”

“Oh yeah,” she sighed. “You know… jobs. It’s kind of a work in progress.”

“Well, I did want to let you know if you ever need anything,” he started. “-well, any friend of John’s is a friend of mine.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to take advantage-”

“It’s called networking,” John appeared in the doorway, bouquet in hand.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked bewildered, but John only waved her off. 

“Long enough to hear you pass up a great opportunity,” he turned to Alfred unimpressed, “as per usual.” 

“Don’t be cheeky,” Alfred lowly warned him, shifting his weight. He turned, looking back toward Y/N, “There is actually a position open that I know of. It’s an assistant's position, but trust me, it will pay well.”

He dug through his sweater pockets and presented her with a thin business card.

“I hope to hear from you soon, Y/N. John, it’s always a pleasure.” He tipped his head toward the tall, thin man and made his way out of the flower shop, a slight skip in his step. She turned to John.

“Meddling, John. Really?”

“What?”

-

It’s always terrifying when Carrie's appointments take extra long. She was only supposed to have her session of chemo today, but Dr.Miller had suggested a follow-up appointment. Y/N sat slumped in the waiting room, her bouquet for Carrie tucked in her elbow. John had put it together sweetly and added the lilies, pink roses, and baby’s breath, all of Carrie's favorites. When Y/N went to pay, he refused the money, telling her this one was a gift for Carrie. She didn’t have the heart to argue with him about it.

Digging in her pocket, she pulled out Alfred's business card and flipped it around her fingertips. For some reason, it felt heavy in her hands. John had taken so much time to encourage her, and she needed the money desperately, if not for her, for Carrie. 

“I cannot fuck this up,” she whispered to herself.

“Hey!” Carrie yelled from down the hall. Y/N quickly shoved the card into her pocket and stood.

Dr.Miller smiled at her and clapped a hand on her shoulder, “It’s good to see you again, Y/N. Make sure this one gets home safe and into bed.” 

“Trust me,” Y/N laughed, “I’ll strap her in if I have to.”

“Well, I’ll be seeing you in two weeks, Carrie. Let me know if you have any issues before then.” Dr. Miller looked down at her watch and started moving further into the hospital. “You know how it is girls. Gotham never sleeps. I’ll be seeing you!”

They both yelled out goodbye and watched her disappear into the hallway.

“Y/N!” Carrie smacked her shoulder. “You did not have to grab flowers.”

“Well, you know I had to see John, and he had a whole bouquet planned for you, so how could I say no?”

They laughed, moving out of the hospital. Y/N told her about her van and how they’d, unfortunately, have to walk home, and Carrie quipped back that it would probably be faster than Gotham traffic anyway. They made their way block to block. Then, onto the bus and down several blocks after that.

After Y/N's dad had quite literally kicked her out of the house at seventeen, she moved in with Carrie. Carrie had just moved out of her mom's house with barely enough money for a one-bedroom and had joked that she didn’t have any money for living room furniture anyway. So they threw up curtains to separate the living room and kitchen. Y/N bought a rug and a mattress, and her makeshift room was made.

Walking into the apartment was pretty much like walking straight into the kitchen. Y/N sat her bag down and opened her curtains, throwing herself onto her bed. Carrie threw herself down next to her. 

“Bad day?” Carrie asked.

“Meh,” Y/N muttered. “Probably not as hard as yours, but still sucky.”

Carrie bonked her on the head. “Stop it. I bet your day was just as sucky as mine. How’d the interview go?”

Y/N really didn’t want to explain for the third time today how she had been late. She couldn’t even get past the receptionist, and she felt like a failure. She thought for a moment, pulling the business card out of her pocket and looking up at it. “I uh… got an opportunity for a different position actually.”

“What the hell!” Carrie tugged at Y/N's arm. “That doesn’t sound so sucky to me; we need to celebrate! I’ll call for some Chinese delivery.”

Y/N was left alone on her bed, staring up at the business card. She flipped it in her fingers for the last time before she pulled out her phone.

-

Alfred was standing in front of the stove making dinner, and he watched out the window. The sun was getting lower and lower in the sky. I need to finish this quickly before Bruce leaves tonight, he thought. He stirred an assortment of vegetables in the pan before popping the lid back on as his phone rang. Alfred didn’t recognize the number, but he answered anyway. 

“This is Alfred Pennyworth.” He rubbed his hands on his apron, waiting for the response.

“Hey, this is Y/F/N Y/L/N,” she spoke softly. “Um, we met earlier at Dorthie’s Flowers. I was with John.”

“Ah, yes!” he responded. “Thank you for calling back, Miss.Y/N. Have you thought about what I said earlier?”

“Yeah, actually, I have,” she thought for a moment. “I really wanted to thank you for the opportunity, and I’d love to have an interview… If the position is still available, of course.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “Are you available tomorrow at noon?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Where should I meet you?”

“Excellent! Don't worry about meeting me anywhere. John told me about your car issues earlier. I’ll have one of our drivers pick you up. I would pick you up myself, but I have some business to attend to in the morning.” The business is getting Bruce out of the house before he can stop me, he smiled to himself.

“You really don’t have to do that-”

“It’s my pleasure, Miss.Y/N,” he said. “Go ahead and send me your address for the driver, and I will see you then.”

[neverniko101]

MASTERPOST // NEXT // PREVIOUS

[cowboy-heart]

also, i recently gathered all of my favourite poems (by other writers) into a single PDF for myself and decided to share it on my ko-fi!

it’s 106 pages, 62 poems, with an index, and links and credits to all the writers! and it’s free!

it’s a mix of published poets, blog excerpts, and internet poets, covering themes of love, grief, living, butch-femme, LGBT, nature and justice! - full list of contents in read more :)

it’s free since it’s not my own original work, but if you wanna tip for making the PDF then it’s much appreciated!! 🧡

(sidenote: if you/your work has appeared in this and you want it removed or edited, let me know and i’ll do so immediately!)

After The Threesome, They Both Take You Home’ - Sue Hyon Bae

‘Come, And Be My Baby’ - Maya Angelou

‘Witness’ - Crystal Wilkinson

‘lady macbeth-macbeth’ - @two-bees-poetry

‘how to spend an august afternoon in love’ - @cheruib

‘Chocolate Chip Pancakes’ - Caitlyn Siehl

‘The Teapot’ - Robert Bly

‘Little Weirds’ (excerpt) - Jenny Slate

‘Writing Prompts for the Broken-Hearted’ (excerpt) - Eden Robinson

‘Perhaps The World Ends Here’ - Joy Harjo

‘The Serious Downer’ - Jill McDonough

‘Summer Was Forever’ - Chen Chen

‘For Grace, After A Party’ - Frank O’Hara

‘A Vow’ - Wendy Cope

‘Laura, I Want You Pulling Your Hair Back’ - Natalie Dunn

‘Watching you talk on the phone, I consider the empty space around atoms-‘ - Rhiannon McGavin

‘Gram Loves You. Please Call’ - Amy Gotliffe

‘The Quiet World’ - Jeffrey McDaniel

‘the undone cowboy writes to his sweetheart’ - Silas Denver Melvin ( @sweatermuppet )

‘Song of the Anti-Sisyphus’ - Chen Chen

‘RURAL BOYS WATCH THE APOCALYPSE’ - Keaton St. James

‘A Possible Exit’ - Jarrett Moseley

‘poem on my fortieth birthday to my mother who died young’ - Lucille Clifton

‘ANSWERING HER QUESTION’ - Alice White

‘when the one you thought, finally, wouldn’t, does’ - Marty McConnell

‘fourth grader’ (excerpt)

‘Poem’ - Langston Hughes

‘For M’ - Mikko Harvey

‘A Drink of Water’ - Jeffrey Harrison

‘Cold Solace’ - Anna Belle Kaufman

‘Boot Theory’ - Richard Siken

‘Love letter as an autism diagnosis’ - Arden Kowalski

‘Tea’ - Leila Chatti

‘Night Walk’ - Frank Wright

‘Don’t Hesitate’ - Mary Oliver

‘For A Student Who Used AI To Write A Paper’ - Joseph Fasano

‘Rain’ - Raymond Carver

Unnamed/‘who’s afraid of hoverflies?’ - @a-chilleus

‘The Orange’ - Wendy Cope

‘Failing and Flying’ - Jack Gilbert

‘Can’t Get Enough Of My Love’ - Shuyler Peck

‘Invitation’ - Mary Oliver

‘Dead Rat’ - Mervyn Peake

‘Wild Geese’ - Mary Oliver

‘I Imagine The Butch’s Stripper Bar’ - Jill McDonough

‘FEMME SHARK MANIFESTO’ - Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

Unnamed (fake interview) - @llovely

‘Butch Please: A Letter To Baby Butches’ - Kate

‘ROUND TWO: the body as protest’ - Joelle Taylor

‘ROUND SEVEN: the body as uprising’ - Joelle Taylor

‘Angel’ - Joelle Taylor

‘Catallus 16’

‘15. Fan Letter’ - James Crewes

‘Make Out Sonnet’ - F. Douglas Brown

‘Hey Cowboy’ - Silas Denver Melvin ( @sweatermuppet )

‘Fat Top/Switch’ - Emilia Phillips

‘On a Night of the Full Moon’ - Audre Lorde

‘The Gardens’ - Mary Oliver

‘Want’ - Joan Larkin

‘Social Skills Training’ - Solmaz Sherif

‘Bullet Points’ - Jericho Brown

Unnamed - Marwan Makhoul