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undercoveravenger · 26 days
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I need the next chapter like immediately like I need to see more of Cato and reader
haha, I'm hoping to have it ready to be posted in the next couple weeks or so. It's like halfway done right now, so hopefully it'll be pretty quick to finish up :)
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undercoveravenger · 27 days
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Just read the new chapter of Through the Games and it was AMAZING!👌
Thank you! I had a lot of fun with that one since it's where the chaos really starts :)
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undercoveravenger · 27 days
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psst, chapter 6 of Through the Games went live on AO3 today, for those following it (also, there is more interaction with Cato this chapter!)
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undercoveravenger · 1 month
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Part three of Hooked Hands and Cheshire Grins?
Sorry, I don't write for descendants anymore and I no longer accept requests for continuations unless the post otherwise specifies it. You can check the list of fandoms I write for with the link in my bio for an up to date list of what I write for
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undercoveravenger · 2 months
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Sorry for the inactivity recently you guys- my laptop decided to die and I've been struggling to write on my phone. I'm hoping to get it fixed soon, but not sure exactly when that will be.
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undercoveravenger · 5 months
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Venomous
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Pairing: Venom!Billy Hargrove x Male!Reader
Requested: Yes
Request: “venom!Billy Hargrove confusing reader (dressed as spiderman for Halloween) as actual spiderman!Steve and going after him. take it however you want to”
A/N: Happy Halloween! Here’s part 2 of your Halloween surprise (I really like this AU by the way- if anyone wants anything else in this au, please feel free to request it!)
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The streets of Hawkins were practically empty this late at night, especially with pretty much everyone either asleep or at one of the dozens of Halloween parties raging on across the city. Hell, you were just coming from one that Tommy H and Carol had put on and Steve had dragged you to. You’d put up with about two hours of costumed young adults dancing and partying around you before you finally managed to make your escape, the cold autumn air chilling you through the thin spandex of your cheap Spider-Man costume as you wandered down the abandoned streets in the direction of your home.
The normal sounds of the city echoed around you, distant car horns and alley cats rustling through trash and music pouring through the doors of packed clubs. Tall buildings rise on either side of you as you turn down an alleyway that you’ve used as a shortcut a million times, but today you aren’t as vigilant as you normally are, not with the slow buzz of alcohol in your veins and the edges of the eye-holes of the mask limiting your vision. 
That’s probably why you’re so knocked off guard when something slams into you with all the force of a semi-truck, brick fracturing around you as you’re thrown up against the wall of some long-closed business. “Gotcha now, Spider-Man,” a massive fanged maw snarls, wide white eyes narrowing as an alien face looms before you, “And there’s no getting away from me this time.” A huge dark hand curls around your throat, the flesh shifting and flexing and crawling against your skin in a way that was certainly not human. “Today, Spider-Man, you die.”
As it speaks, you realize what must’ve happened. That this creature - Venom if you remembered the headlines of the trashy newspapers correctly - must’ve seen you walking home in your costume and mistaken you for the real hero of Hawkins. With the darkness blurring the poor quality of your suit, you must’ve looked enough like the real deal with your mask on for one of the vigilante’s foes to target you. 
You squirm, trying in vain to get yourself even a fraction of breathing room only for the viscous material of Venom’s hand to follow you, keeping the pressure constant and unyielding. The edge of your vision has started going dark by the time you manage to sputter out a weak, “‘M not him-” you fight for every ragged gasp of air, “Not Spider-Man.”
Venom hesitates at that, grip loosening just enough for breathing to come easier. His head cocks to the side as he examines you, seeming to only now notice the differences between your build and Spider-Man’s - your height, your physique, everything that sets you apart from the hero he had been looking for. His hand moves then, catching against the edge of your mask and tugging it up and off then. Venom’s eyes widen as he sees you without your mask and you can’t quite tell what he is thinking before he drops you, hands flying away from where they’d been touching you as though he’d been burned.
You’re left reeling, chest heaving as you scramble to catch your breath, the towering alien pacing wildly before you. You can catch snippets of conversation, bits of growled words in Venom’s harsh tone met with something quieter, smooth and honeyed and just a little familiar. Eventually you’re able to push yourself back to your feet and you start to edge back down the alley the way you’d come, feet scuffling quietly over gravel and debris. You are almost convinced that you’ll be able to get away before a piece of glass shatters under your shoe and the hulking creature whips around to face you, wide white eyes narrowing to almost slits as he stalks toward you.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Venom snarls, hand jerking forward to grab at you, only to freeze before he could touch you, like he was unable to actually touch you. You watch the oozy substance of his face waver before you, parting and falling away to reveal a face you recognize.
You’d seen Venom’s true face before- in class watching you from across the room. Studying you from the opposing team when your gym class was broken up for basketball. Looking up from his place across from your best friend, fists bruised and bloodied from splitting Steve’s lip and darkening his eyes. Between throngs of drunken and dancing people, alluring blue eyes never faltering from where they met yours, intent and fixated from where he was watching you, lips moving faintly like he was having a conversation you couldn’t hear. And now, as you’re putting together the pieces of Billy Hargrove’s secret identity, you realize that maybe he was. Maybe Venom had known just as much who you were as he had known of his enemy in Spider-Man. 
The look in Billy’s eyes isn’t aggressive though, not the way they were when he looked at Steve or his step-sister Max or when someone talked a bit too loudly about Spider-Man’s heroics. His eyes are soft, warmer than you’ve ever seen them as the inky black murk of Venom retreats back into him and he steps toward you. A hand comes up to cup your face as he guides you up to face him. “Quite the costume choice,” he says, lips twisting up into a way you’d come to recognize as sarcastic. “Had both of us fooled for a minute there.”
You struggle around words for a long moment before you manage to speak, “I won’t tell anyone-” you manage to force out. “That you’re-” You swallow sharply, “I won’t say anything.”
Billy laughs and for a second you’re sure you hear an echo. “I know you won’t darlin’,” he drawls, voice like honey and eyes like oceans. “You wouldn’t believe what V thinks about you, y’know?” He snickers a little, pressing forward into your space and crowding you back against the battered brick wall behind you. “I know what I think about you isn’t always fit for polite conversation, but he takes it to an entirely different level. He’s always trying to tempt me into doing something I shouldn’t- something fun. You want to do something fun?” He hums then, ducking forward to nose against your throat and up under your jaw, and you know you should be struggling, pushing him away and running as fast as your feet can carry you, but there had always been something so alluring about Billy Hargrove and to hear that he’d felt the same about you, that the proverbial devil on his shoulder had been tempting him with thoughts about you- 
Well, it was certainly an interesting revelation.
Your head tips back against the wall behind you as Billy presses closer, kissing and biting at your neck and jawline. You knew you shouldn’t- not after finding out he was a supervillain certainly, but God, the offer is beyond tempting, especially with Billy so eager against you. Almost without your bidding, your hands come up to clutch at his waist, fingers tucking through the belt loops of his jeans to pull him closer. You tell yourself that this doesn’t have to mean anything- that it doesn’t have to come with strings attached even as you feel the loose ends of the rope pulling taught around you, tying you to Billy and to Venom too. You’re sure that Steve will have a lot to say to you later about your choice in men and how you really shouldn’t make out with his alter-ego’s nemesis in dingy alleys, but with Billy’s mouth pressing aching hungry kisses to yours, you can’t really bring yourself to care.
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undercoveravenger · 5 months
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Hearts Aflame
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Pairing: Peeta x Fire spirit!Male!Reader
Requested: Yes
Request: “Peeta bakes and meets a fire spirit who falls for him”
A/N: Happy Halloween! Here’s part 1 of your Halloween surprise, though there’s more to come. Hope you enjoy!
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Peeta had always been afraid of the basement in his parents’ house- dark and dingy and always a bit cold despite the fire raging away in the bulky furnace in the corner. Mostly though, he was afraid of whatever lurked within the flames in the furnace. He’d seen it once when he was a kid, glowing golden eyes watching him through the swirls of fire, only just able to make out the edges of the figure as it stepped forward, holding out a hand like it was going to get him. He’d turned and ran then, running away up the stairs and bolting the door behind him. Ever since then, he had done everything he could to avoid going back into the basement- offering to do his brothers’ chores in exchange to get one of them to go down there instead of him, hiding and enduring his parents’ punishments when he was found to get out of it. 
Now though, with District 12 in ruins and little but the foundations left of many of the homes of the village, he’s left waist deep in rubble and debris trying to take stock of what was salvageable and what would need to be completely rebuilt. He’s faced worse in the last year and a half of his life than what he thought he saw when he was little, so as much as unease is beginning to build in his stomach, he presses on, hefting charred beams out of the way as he tries to unearth what’s left of his family’s home.
His heart lurches in his chest as he moves a couple of splintered beams out of the way and reveals that same old furnace, the big glass window in the door spiderwebbed with cracks but otherwise unchanged. The fire inside had long gone out, but even still Peeta could see a faint glow from a couple of lightly burning embers. 
Almost without conscious thought, his fingers drift to the handle of the furnace. The cold metal bites into his hand just enough to get him to hesitate, but the promise of confronting his old fear has him pressing on, twisting the heavy metal handle and wrenching the door open. The gust of fresh air rushes over the coals, sending sparks skittering throughout the furnace and the few coals that had a bit of heat left flare up, shooting from the dim red they’d been glowing to a brighter gold and he can feel a bit of heat coming off of them now. 
As Peeta watches, something shifts within the waves of heat emanating off of the coals, shifting and rising from the pile of ashes to coalesce into something more tangible. It starts to take shape as it’s exposed to the air, smoke and sparks and flame cooling and hardening over into skin and hair and admittedly handsome features, completed by those glowing golden eyes that Peeta had remembered from all those years ago. 
The spirit steps forward, emerging from the furnace for the first time that Peeta knows about, standing tall before him with squared shoulders and a bright grin, and looking very nearly human for all that Peeta knows that he isn’t.
“Thank you,” the spirit says, voice low and warm like a fire crackling lowly in the hearth on a cold day. Comforting in a way you wouldn’t really think about but can’t help recognizing. “For freeing me.”
Peeta blinks then, startled by the calmness of the creature he’d feared all these years. “You were… trapped in there?”
He nods slowly, the glow in his eyes dimming to a soft (e/c) and Peeta really can’t find it in himself to be intimidated any longer, despite the creature’s power. “I was. I made a deal decades ago to help your father’s father succeed and he double-crossed me. I’d been there ever since, until you let me out.” 
“I’m sorry,” Peeta says because he can’t really think of anything else that he can say. “I’m sorry that I didn’t help you sooner.”
The spirit shrugs, bright grin sparking back to life and the spark in his eyes reigniting, “You didn’t know, I can’t hold it against you.” He takes a look around then, seemingly fascinated by all the changes from the last time he’d seen the outside world. He turns back to look at Peeta then, grinning softly as he takes Peeta’s hand in his, “There’s things that need taken care of now that I’m free, but I can assure you, this won’t be the last you see of me Peeta,” he presses a soft kiss to the back of Peeta’s knuckles and seems to spark along the edges of his figure, the firm outline of him breaking apart into little wisps and sparks of fire before Peeta’s eyes as he starts to dissipate, flaking away until all that’s left of the spirit are those glowing eyes, and then even those extinguish.
Feeling a little foolish for being afraid of the fire spirit all this time, Peeta finds himself hoping that he’ll keep his promise as he returns to his work.
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undercoveravenger · 5 months
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The Haunted House
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Pairing: Remus Lupin x Male!Reader:
Requested: Yes
Request: “getting dared to go into the shrieking shack on Halloween (wow, a full moon on Halloween? How weird...) and finding a big scary werewolf waiting for you. Except he's really not all that scary, he just won't let you leave because Remus really likes you and his wolf form can't quite say that, just wants to keep you there.”
A/N: This is post number 4 for the 2023 Spooky Month event. Y’alls trick or treat is coming next Tuesday, October 31st. Hope you’re ready.
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The Shrieking Shack had well earned its name throughout the years you’d been at Hogwarts, with guttural screams and groans echoing from it each month around the time of the full moon. You’d heard dozens of different stories- ghosts, ghouls, poltergeists like Peeves. Someone from your Transfiguration class even thought it was some long-abandoned merfolk in a tank that’d grown too small.
Whatever it was though, you were going to find out.  The lot of you had had to sneak out of your commonrooms and were nearly caught by patrolling professors or prefects a couple times, but now here you are with your friends crowding around behind you clamoring encouragingly, you stand just past the fence separating the Shrieking Shack from the rest of Hogsmeade. The full moon looms ominously just over the ramshackle eaves of the decrepit building, providing just enough light for you to pick your way through the snowy yard and up to the front door.
A mumbled spell is enough to break away the locks and rotting boards holding the door closed and you’re able to force it open the rest of the way with a forceful shove. You only allow yourself one fleeting glance over your shoulder at your friends before making your way into the house and closing the door behind you, resolved to completing your friends’ dare and staying the night in the haunted house.
The floorboards creak with every step you take, wavering slightly under your shoes as your weight puts pressure on long-damaged planks as you make your way deeper into the house, each room revealing deep gashes carved into the walls and floors. Tattered strips of fabric from what might have been blankets or clothes are strewn about, stained a dark rust color in places from what you can only assume is blood. Some rooms even have shards of what would have once been furniture, a splintered chunk of wood that may have once been the arm of a couch tossed thoughtlessly against one wall of a ruined living room and the stuffing from a gutted chair cushion decorating an old bedroom, but no matter how many torn apart rooms you explore, you aren’t been able to find the source of the screams.
It finds you.
You’d wandered into what you think was once-upon-a-time a study, an ancient oak desk sitting on two broken legs in the middle of the room and its chair upturned nearby. The contents of the desk had proven uninteresting by the time you’d dug through the second desk drawer and you’ve gotten to the point of boredom that you’re considering just leaving altogether when you see it standing in the doorway. You’re not sure how long it had been watching you, but it stands, still as a shadow, with pitch dark eyes locked squarely on you.
You can see the beast’s raised hackles over the top of its head, lowered so it can fix you with a brutal stare, and a growl so low it rumbles through you like thunder fills the room as it takes a looming step closer. As it creeps forward, a brush of moonlight from the cracked window pane behind you catches it, giving you just enough light to make out further details of the creature.
At first glance, you might’ve thought it was just a wolf, but the longer you look the more your situation begins to sink in. The creature before you was nearly double the size of any wolf you’d ever heard of, back easily brushing the doorknob as it stalks into the room. Its legs are long and its paws splay when it walks like they’re not quite right, but the real telling point are its eyes. It doesn’t look away from you as it approaches, not even for a second, weaving through discarded furniture and debris like it was second nature until it stands just on the other side of the desk from you. It doesn’t look like it’s questioning whether you’re a threat like any other wild animal would, and the growl has started to subside now that it’s gotten a good look at you. The look in its eyes, while certainly somewhat wild, is too human to be anything else.
You’re not quite sure what to do at this point, not with a massive werewolf between you and the door, but being in a werewolf’s den during the full moon certainly can’t be a good idea. With that in mind you begin to move, edging slowly around the corner of the desk in order to not spook the wolf, already surprised by its calm demeanor and unwilling to test its good graces. The wolf allows you to pass by it and slip from the room, though you can hear the heavy footfalls of its paws as it follows you. You move back toward the front door, intent on leaving the same way you’d come, but you’re stopped by the massive wolf letting out another thunderous growl and shoving its way between you and the door. It bullies you on with more furious growls and pointed nips to your heels and hands, further into the house and up a narrow back staircase into a near demolished bedroom.
You obey when it gives you a pointed glare, settling down against the wall opposite the door. A satisfied huff escapes the wolf and it pads after you, flopping carelessly down to lay beside you and resting its large head heavily on your lap. The reason behind the werewolf’s behavior was confusing, certainly, but werewolves had been known to be territorial and prone to violence from what you’d heard, so if sitting here for a few hours while you waited for the wolf to shift back meant it’d keep you safe, then that was a small price to pay. 
-----
It’s not the watery morning light that wakes you, but the shift against you. The aching, tortured gasp of pain that escapes as the person curled against you moves. The sound has you on high alert straightening against your back’s own cry of pain from sleeping sitting up all night, eyes blinking open blearily and finding the now-human werewolf trying to shift away from you.
It takes you a moment to recognize him without his signature posse of idiots and the bright red Gryffindor robes, but you are able to place the jagged pink scars across his face and his curly brown hair from some of your shared classes - Remus Lupin. 
“Remus?” His name escapes you before you can stop yourself from speaking and you can see the way the tension takes root in him, joints and muscles coiling under his skin like he was preparing himself to run from some threat.
He seems to have to force himself to settle before he can speak, dark chocolate eyes examining you thoroughly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? When I was-” He cuts himself off with a clear of his throat, eyes dropping back to his lap. He must’ve managed to track down his clothes from before he’d shifted since he was using them to cover himself. “I can’t really remember anything when I’m… like that.”
“No,” you say, and you can see the relief wash over him, tension easing in his shoulders and he no longer looks like he is going to accidentally shred his jumper. “No, you, uh, well you brought me here and then decided it was a proper time for a cuddle apparently.” You try to force a laugh, though the situation is certainly still awkward, “I thought that werewolves were s’posed to be scary, y’know? Think you’re just a were-lapdog instead?” 
A startled laugh slips out of Remus and he looks almost as stunned by it as by your words, “I- I don’t know. This is kind of a new reaction? I’m, uh, I’m usually not so nice when I’m not myself.”
“Huh,” you say, more curious than ever about the wolf’s odd behavior, “I wonder why you were acting like that then? It didn’t really seem to be aggression, even when you growled at me - more like herding behavior like my uncle’s collie.”
Remus flushes at that. This close you can see the dozens of tiny freckles that scattered over his cheeks and down his jaw and neck. “I… have a theory,” he says quietly, like he almost can’t bring himself to say it. His gaze drops back to the bundle of cloth in your hands and you almost wonder if he would’ve tried to sneak out before you had woken up. You wouldn’t have blamed him if he did. “I think it’s some sort of passively shared consciousness? I can’t really connect to it at all, but maybe it can get a sense of my feelings? Like if I strongly disliked someone, it would probably act accordingly, and if I liked someone…” Remus trails off at that, flushing impossibly redder.
An amused little snort escapes you then and you lean forward, supporting yourself with your arms as you push yourself into his field of vision. “Is this you saying you like me, Remus?” You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you at the way you can already see him scrambling for a response, but you lean forward to press a light kiss to his cheek before he can find the words. “Cute,” you say, grinning as you watch the realization hit him. “Sit with me at breakfast?”
He nods slowly as he wraps his mind around your words, eventually letting you help him to his feet and back into his clothes. The two of you eventually make your way back to Hogwarts through the secret passage under the Whomping Willow that he shows you, taking breaks when he needs them and trading banter and kisses all the way.
And while your friends were curious about the shy Gryffindor sitting beside you at breakfast with his hand curled tight with yours, none of them questioned what really happened to you during your night in the haunted house.
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undercoveravenger · 5 months
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Teen Wolf Masterlist
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All of my oneshots and longer fics listed alphabetically by character; just click the link to go to the fic!
Isaac Lahey
Motivators [Spooky Month 2023]: To help catch a ghost, sometimes you need a good motivator
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undercoveravenger · 5 months
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Motivators
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Pairing: Isaac Lahey x Scientist!Male!Reader
Requested: Yes
Request: “okay for the spooky request could you write Isaac lahey x scientist reader who doesn’t believe in the supernatural but they are hunting a ghost and reader and Isaac make a bet where if they do find the ghost reader owes Isaac a kiss or something”
A/N: This is the third fic in the 2023 Spooky Month event! The next post will release on Tuesday, October 24th. Hope you enjoy!
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While your best friend Scott McCall and his pack were no strangers to your lab, you still found yourself a bit on edge with Scott’s beta, Isaac. You had known of him before he was turned, and he had seemed nice enough the few times you had interacted with him, but there had always seemed to be something off, even after Scott had told you the truth about his friends. You weren’t sure exactly why Isaac made you so uneasy, but the weight of his eyes, whether glowing their infamous werewolf gold or his pretty every-day blue, was ever present and unreadable. 
Even now, with the rest of the pack off investigating the most recent victim of a vengeful spirit, Isaac lingered, perched on one of the spare lab tables pushed against the wall and watching you intently. 
“You didn’t have to wait here,” you say, ardently refusing to look at him, studying the strange glowing sample they’d brought you through the viewing lens of your microscope. “You heard Scott- He thinks he’s got a lead. You could’ve gone with him to check it out.”
A soft huff escapes Isaac and you can hear him shift behind you, moving from his seat on the opposite table to come lean against the one you’re working at. “No,” he says quietly, “I needed to be here.” He’s silent for a minute and you almost think to press him further when he continues, “I know you don’t need me to be here, but I need to be.” He clears his throat awkwardly when you look up at him, but he presses on, in spite of the thick blush clouding his cheeks. “I worry about you a lot when I’m not around you, y’know? Not just that you’re just a human, but that you’re you.”
You studied Isaac for a long moment, a sort of self-satisfied amusement creeping through you as he fidgets under your gaze, clearly having said more than he meant to and exposing his emotions in the process. 
“You really think that you’re going to catch this ghost?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched him. 
He nodded, grinning shyly, “Yeah. With you and Scott working together to find it? No way we don’t.”
Whenever you’d caught Isaac looking at you in the past, the look in his eyes was always intense, but he was unreadable in the same way that the old Latin tombs that Allison had swiped from her family’s archives for you had been. But in the same way you had learned to decipher those ancient books, you were starting to see the meaning behind those lingering stares and Isaac’s looming presence. He’d never seemed malicious to you, not even before he’d joined Scott’s pack, but now you could see that determined distance for what it was.
You rolled your eyes and turned back to your sample, but couldn’t stop the edge of your lips from quirking up as you spoke. “You find it and I owe you a kiss.”
While you were no longer looking at him, you could pick out the exact moment Isaac realized what you’d said since you could hear his sneakers squeak against the floor as he struggled to catch himself from falling. “I- I, uh, I-” he stammered and you could practically hear how flustered he was. “I’m- I’m gonna go call Scott and see if his lead panned out. Y’know, we uh, we really need to get rid of this ghost thing before it hurts someone else. We should- We should really do everything we can to catch it as soon as possible, right?”
You couldn’t help but laugh as he hurried out of the room, and you laughed even harder when you were able to pick up the excited whoops echoing in from outside of your lab from Isaac and Scott over the phone line.
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undercoveravenger · 6 months
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Rising Tides
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Pairing: Siren!Finnick Odair x Male!Reader
Requested: Yes
Request: “Siren finnick odair trying to enchant the reader with his song and beautiful muscles but can’t get it. Take the story whatever direction you want”
A/N: Happy Spooky Month! This is post #2 of my Spooky Month writing event - #3 will be launching on Tuesday, October 17th. Hope you enjoy!
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Throughout Finnick’s years he’d seen the other sirens of his pod pick off humans with ease, using their stunning looks and alluring voices to draw their prey below the inky waves of the sea. The human’s mistake dooming them to be torn apart by the pod, sirens ripping and tearing the human apart until the wisps of blood in the water is all that remains of them.
He’d doubted he would have any issues when his turn for the Hunt arose- he’d grown up knowing he was beautiful, with fins and scales the same cool seafoam color as his eyes and hair that shone almost golden. He had learned how to be charming, to play coy, and to use his looks to draw people in. He hadn’t learned how to deal with someone like you.
Finnick had known you would be his prey as soon as he saw you, a sharp pain seizing in his chest when he saw you walking along the seaside edge of your district, picking at bits of seaglass and shells absently as you meandered along the sand. He’d been transfixed by the way the sinking sun made your skin glow, the soft look in your eyes as you looked out over the waves reminding him a bit of himself and his family. 
He hadn’t been quick enough to sing for you that day, too distracted by you to remember how to string notes and words and melodies together before you wandered back up the beach and into town, but he had plenty of other chances. Apparently you were no stranger to the beach, making it a nightly habit to stroll down the sand, watching over the waves and examining the small treasures brought up by the current. Sometimes you were joined by one or two others, but Finnick could never really bring himself to pay them any mind, fixated on you the same way he always was.
He’d tried to sing for you on one of the evenings that you wandered the beach alone, voice echoing quietly over the low rush of the waves coming and going, smooth and soft and sultry just the way he’d been taught. Like he had expected, you perked up at the sound of his song, taking a thoughtless step closer to the waves lapping at the shore before seeming to snap yourself out of his spell, turning swiftly on your heel and making your way home with your hands clasped over your ears to block out his voice. For the first time, Finnick doubted himself. Was his voice not as alluring as he’d been told? What if you didn’t like his song? Was he not perfect enough to draw you in? Would his pod think him a failure?
His doubts gnawed at him further when you continued to flee from him when you heard his voice, and further still when he had laid himself out along a large rock protruding from the water so you could get a good look at the way the light gleamed off his muscles and still turned away from him.
He got lucky one day though, arriving at the shore just in time to see you set off in a small boat - something he’d heard you call a ‘kayak’- with several of your friends paddling off ahead of you in their own small crafts. He smiled a bit to himself as he heard a laugh escape you, slipping soundlessly back into the water and darting swiftly after you, tail propelling him effortlessly through the water in pursuit of his prey.
With your friends’ head start, it was pretty easy for him to separate you from them, waiting until they had rounded the edge of the bay before latching onto the small handle at the front of your kayak and tugging you further out to sea. You had scrambled to try to paddle back toward the bay and to your friends, but Finnick was stronger than you. He was faster. Built to cut through water without faltering. He was an apex predator.
Eventually Finnick deemed that he had you far enough from shore that you could no longer ignore him, releasing his hold on your tow line and moving to circle your boat, watching you curiously from just below the surface of the water. A laugh bubbled out of him at the way you twisted sharply in your boat to keep your eyes fixed on him and then having to scramble to right yourself when the sudden movement threatened to overbalance you.
He surfaced right beside the kayak, clawed hands gripping tight to the edge of the kayak, just beside your own. Finnick does his best not to put too much weight on the plastic vessel, knowing he could tip it easily and not wanting to scare you more than he already had. He wasn’t sure when his fixation on you had shifted from hunger to something so much softer but he didn’t want you to fear him. He didn’t want to hurt you, he just wanted- Well. 
He just wanted you.
He opens his mouth and for a moment he is torn between singing and speaking to you. There is a split second when he thinks about how easy it’d be to tip you out of the boat, to drag you beneath the waves and present you to his family like he was supposed to. He thinks about it for longer than he should’ve, but he knows he can’t. 
“Why do you keep running away?” He finally forces out, words twisted and strange on his tongue without the saccharine sweetness he’d been taught to use. “Why wouldn’t you look at me? Why did you leave when I called for you?”
You are visibly shocked by the way he looks at you and he knows it must seem strange, to see a predator like him begging at your side like a love-struck dolphin. 
“Because you’re going to kill me,” you say simply, edging back in your kayak despite there not being far to go. “I’ve heard the stories about your kind. If I got too close-”
Finnick’s brows furrow as he looks up at you, “Was.” he says, releasing your boat in favor of swimming slow circles around you. “Not anymore.” He tips his head back, studying the way the clouds drifted in front of the sun. 
“So you’re… not trying to kill me?” you ask cautiously, eyes not wavering from Finnick even as he started to preen at the attention.
Finnick laughs, tipping his head to look at you and flicking water at you with the fluke of his tail. “No, not anymore.” He dips under the water, reemerging on the other side of the kayak and propping his head up on the edge of it, studying you intently. “I should, if you listen to what my family says, but I don't want to. You’re… interesting." 
He can tell you're really not sure what to make of that, but his heart jumps in his chest at the hesitant smile you give him in return.
"Swim with me?" The words escape Finnick before he can catch them, coming out breathy and desperate in a way he'd never expected to find himself sounding. He rushes to continue before he can consider the weight of what he'd asked you to do, the way he might brush against you or his tail might curl around your legs and the way he might get a look at you in something less… covering… than your usual clothes if you agreed to swim with him. "Maybe not now," he amends, eyes dropping sharply to where one of his pointed claws taps out a rhythm on the thin plastic of the kayak. "You don't trust me yet and I don't blame you. But maybe meet me tomorrow? Give me a chance?"
Finnick could see the way you jerk up straighter in your seat and your grip on your paddle shifts as you pick up on the sound of your friends calling for you. He's not sure if your answer is just an attempt to shoo him off in time to get back to your friends or to keep them from seeing him or just something you said without thinking, but the second that yes escapes you he's pushing himself up out of the water to press a sea-salty kiss to your cheek and promising to meet you at the beach at sunset the next day. 
He dives then, submerging himself well below the waves and trailing slowly after you until he's sure you and your friends made it back to the beach and then watching for just a bit longer as you disappear out of view before beginning to meander back to the labyrinth of sea caves his pod calls home.
Sure, Finnick isn’t sure if you’ll actually show up, but for the first time in weeks, his confidence has been restored and his charm feels as secure as ever. He’s definitely going against his pod pursuing you like this, but with his luck rising with the tides, he can’t bring himself to care, not with someone like you at stake.
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undercoveravenger · 6 months
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Intoxication
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Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Male!Reader
Requested: Yes
Request: “love potion mix-up with Billy Hargrove??”
A/N: Happy Spooky Month everyone! Here's the first post for the 2023 Spooky Month event - the next post will be dropping on Tuesday, October 10th. Hope you enjoy!
-----
Things had been strange ever since the arrival of Billy Hargrove and his little sister, Max.
Well, things in Hawkins had been weird for a lot longer than that, especially since you and your best friend Steve had befriended the group of misfit kids that called themselves “the Party”. They’d introduced the two of you to a secret side of Hawkins, where magic and curses and strange creatures ran amok. One of the kids, a girl named Eleven, was able to control objects with her mind and see beyond what was there. Another, Will, was psychic and could connect to other planes of existence. Dustin had a way of knowing how things fit together before anyone else could even guess. Steve’s coworker from Scoops Ahoy, Robin, was a witch. And now, Max and her brother. Werewolves, if what Lucas had told you was to be believed.
But you really couldn’t bring yourself to care much about Billy Hargrove. Not when so much of his life seemed to be spent antagonizing your best friend and trying to disrupt your comfortable station within the school’s hierarchy, seemingly dead set on turning your life upside down. Even at stupid parties like this one, you could hear people chanting Billy’s name while he faced off against Steve in a match of beer pong somewhere deeper in the house while you try to coax the sticker-covered flask away from Robin in the kitchen.
“Robs, babe,” you murmur, sidling up beside her and leaning back against the kitchen island, “I think Vickie likes you already. I know it’s scary to risk rejection, but a love potion isn’t the solution here.”
Robin nods slowly to herself, but her fingers don’t loosen around the metal. “But what if I can’t do it?”
You cock your head, smiling as she meets your eyes. “But isn’t asking her and knowing better than using that and not knowing how she really feels?”
It takes a moment of consideration, but your friend nods, setting the flask on the chipped marble countertop. 
“It’s more of an enhancer than-” Robin starts and it’s clear that you’re about to get one of Robin’s infamous lectures on the science of magic when she is cut off by someone snatching the flask from its place in front of the two of you.
“Aww, so sweet of you to have my next drink ready for me,” Billy Hargrove leers at you, unscrewing the cap of the flask even as his usual infuriating smirk slips over his lips, pretty blue eyes fixed on yours in with that intense, holier-than-thou look he always had. Just because he was tall and handsome and had pretty eyes and hair that you kind of want to curl your fingers into and use to pull him closer to shut him up with a kiss, doesn’t mean he could do anything but irritate you by looking at you like he knew something he wasn’t willing to share.
Your heart lurches in your chest as he raises the flask, you know you have to at least try to stop him, especially since Robin seems so stunned you’re not entirely sure she could say anything at all.
“Probably don’t wanna drink that, Hargrove,” you say, reaching out just in time to catch his wrist. “Might end up with something worse than a hangover.”
Billy leans forward against the counter, using his other forearm to prop himself up, raising an eyebrow pointedly as he looks at your hand, holding tight around his wrist, before his eyes shift up to meet yours. “You threatenin’ me?”
A derisive snort escapes you, and you gesture subtly for Robin to make her escape. The last thing you’d want is for Billy to figure out she had anything to do with whatever happens if he’s stubborn enough to drink the potion and start targeting her once it wears off. She catches your hint and mumbles an excuse about finding Steve, disappearing quickly into the crowd. 
“Of course not,” you say, releasing him and holding your hands up placatingly. Sure, you didn’t really want to spend longer than necessary around Billy Hargrove, but you wanted to spend time with a pissed off Billy Hargrove even less. “Just think it probably wouldn’t be something you would like, so I was just hoping to get it back,” you reached for it as you spoke, leaning across the island yourself to try to make a grab for the flask. 
Billy snatches it away, taking a long gulp from the mouth of the flask, grinning at you all the while. He pulls a face, but doesn’t wince the way one might at the burn of alcohol, but you can see the moment the look in his eyes starts to shift and the realization hits you with all the weight of a semi-truck.
Billy Hargrove had just taken a love potion while looking right at you. Billy Hargrove was about to be convinced that you were the love of his life.
“Well,” you say, eyes flickering around to look anywhere but at Billy, “I should really be going.” You push back upright, swiftly turning to make your way out the back door of the house and starting off down the sidewalk in the direction of your own home before Billy could speak. You don’t make it far before you realize you’re being followed, the scuff of Billy’s worn leather boots giving him away as he trails behind you.
“You’re not as stealthy as you think you are,” you call back over your shoulder, pace remaining steady even as Billy speeds up to walk beside you.
“Wasn’t tryin’ to be,” he drawls, lips quirking up into something softer than his usual sneer. “Just walkin’.” 
You study him for a long moment. “Didn’t you drive to the party? Surprised you’d leave your precious Camaro behind.”
“I’ve been drinking,” he shrugs, clearly trying to appear nonchalant. “Drunk driving’s dangerous, y’know.” He’s quiet for a minute and you find yourself almost wondering what he’s thinking.
“You don’t have to walk me home if that’s what this is,” you say, shoving your hands in your pockets and focusing your eyes on the way the lights on the stoplight a few blocks down flicker. “Steve already made me promise to call him when I get home.”
Billy huffs and he almost seems to be pouting when you glance over at him. “Don’t see why you’re with that loser in the first place. ‘s not good enough for you anyway.”
His words shock you enough that your steps falter and you have to turn to face him to see if he’s joking or not. Billy looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him, steely blue eyes fixed firmly on you. 
You have to fumble for words for a minute, the first thing you’re able to force out being a weak protest. “Steve’s not a loser!” Then the rest of his words catch up to you, “And he’s just my best friend, anyways.”
Billy seems to brighten at that, a more genuine smile crossing his lips than you’d ever seen before. “So,” he says, moving toward you slowly. The dull orange glow of the streetlights makes his hair shine almost copper and his eyes flash that distinct werewolf silver as he stalks toward you, gently herding you backward until your back is pressed to the brick wall of some long-closed business and Billy’s in front of you, arms caging you in on either side. On any other day, you might’ve felt claustrophobic- trapped and threatened by someone determined to fuck up your life. But today- with that love drunk look in Billy's eyes and that fond grin on his face, you were hesitantly pleased with your position. "If you're not with Harrington," Billy starts, leaning just a bit closer, until you can almost feel the breath of his words against your lips, "Does that mean you're available to go out with me on Friday?"
Part of you is tempted to say yes- to give in to this sweet, intoxicating side of Billy and let this go as far as he wants to take it- but the rest of you knows that what's happening is wrong.
You press a hand to Billy’s chest, pushing him back enough to give yourself some breathing room. 
"I would, but this isn't real, Billy." You force yourself to say, "You drank a love potion tonight- this- you don't mean any of this."
Billy laughs then, full and unrestrained and the most genuine you've ever heard him be. "That shit doesn't work on werewolves. Metabolism’s too fast for it to really do much of anything," he says, grin unable to be helped even as his laughter subsides. "And even if it did, the stuff that your buddy whipped up just makes feelings that's already there easier to act on."
You blink, the pressure you'd been using to keep Billy at bay slacking as you think through what he'd said. If he hadn't been affected by Robin’s potion then- 
Billy nudges closer, slipping his arms around your middle and tucking his face against the side of your neck. "The reason I was always so shitty to Harrington is that I was jealous," he murmurs softly, and you can feel the way he grins just a little wider as you start to relax against him, "I wanted to have people look at me like they look at him. I wanted to have you look at me like I was him." 
You can’t help the way your hands come up to curl around him too, the way your fingers curl into his shirt, or the way you press just a bit closer to him. You can’t help the answering grin from carving its way across your cheeks at the thought of how pleased Billy seems to be at being the center of your attention, but you also can’t stop those few little questions from itching away inside your mind. 
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” The thought escapes you almost unbidden, before you can second-guess yourself, and you can’t help but keep talking. “Why didn’t you ask me out? Or- or just say hi? Something other than-” you gesture vaguely back in the direction of the party.
The tired sigh that escapes him makes it clear he knows you’re talking about his grudge against Steve and all the drama he’s stirred up for the two of you.
“It’s-” he has to pause and think over his words for a moment before he can continue. “My experience with love is… complicated. My mom died when I was little and my dad- he changed after that. Got mean. Angry.” He swallows hard, pulling away far enough to look at you, to really look at you. “He made it clear that he expected pretty specific behavior from me and anything that didn’t meet that wasn’t… good for me. Liking a guy- well, that was pretty far from what he’d expect.” His hands drop from your sides and he steps back a bit, arms crossing over his chest like he’s trying to distance himself from his thoughts. “So I was rude and sarcastic and I was mean to Harrington because at least that kept me in your peripheral.” He meets your eyes again, bright and open and honest in the orange glow of the streetlights, “But I don’t want to just be in your peripheral anymore.” 
With all of what he'd said playing through your mind, finding the right words is proving difficult. "If we’re gonna try this, you've gotta leave Steve alone," you start finally, heart squeezing with more fondness than you're ready to admit as you watch the realization of what you mean starts to sink in and a million-watt smile pulls at Billy’s lips. "And Robin and the kids, too.”
A giddy laugh escapes Billy and he takes your hand in his, tugging you back down the street in the direction the two of you had been walking. “That’s a deal I’d make a thousand times over,” he says, grinning brightly as he walked with you, fingers intertwined with yours, hands swinging easily between the two of you.
Conversation flows easily as the two of you walk and you’re more at peace with Billy now than you could ever remember being with any of your exes, he insists on walking you home no matter how many times you tell him he doesn’t need to. 
“Go out with me on Friday?” He says as the two of you stop at the foot of your driveway. “We could go for a picnic or to the drive-in if you want?”
When he’s looking at you like that, you can’t help but agree, quickly finding yourself more and more excited about your pending date. 
Billy kisses your hand before he lets go, stepping back as you turn away from him and head for your house. 
Billy smiles to himself as he watches you make your way up the driveway, keeping watch until you're safely inside, before turning and heading off in the direction of his own home. No, he knew he'd never have needed that love potion- not when it came to you. Billy Hargrove had been intoxicated by you since the first time he met you and he knows that isn't going to change any time soon.
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undercoveravenger · 7 months
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Red, White, and Royal Blue Masterlist
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All of my oneshots and longer fics listed alphabetically by character; just click the link to go to the fic!
Alex Claremont-Diaz
The Flower Patch: When something is wrong, your boyfriend Alex always knows just where to find you.
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undercoveravenger · 7 months
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The Flower Patch
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Pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz x Male!Reader
Requested: Yes
Request: “Okay so since you are doing red white and royal blue can you do an Alex x male reader. He doesn’t have the best family so he’s always working at the florist shop And photography business. Alex being the amazing boyfriend he is starting to notice and just sets up something cute or just wraps him in his arms asking what’s wrong. (Also I don’t know if you remember but I requested that Hamish duke and sad reader request and I don’t think I thank you enough because I still read it sometimes. Long way of saying love your work and what you do)
A/N: Okay, your ask was so sweet I almost died. This dynamic ended up being so fun though! I loved this ask (and your last one too!) so if you’ve got anymore, feel free to send them my way. Glad my writing can make a difference for you ♥️
—--
In the year and a half since Alex and you had started dating, he’d quickly learned that you tended to hide out at the flower shop you worked at when something was wrong. The bright colors and sweet smelling flowers had always helped lift your spirits in a way that nothing else seemed to, so when he hadn’t heard from you in the past two days, he had a strong suspicion of where he’d find you.
Sure enough, he’s able to spot the back of your head over one of the rows of potted tulips as he makes his way into The Flower Patch. You’re slightly crouched, the sleek black camera in your hands directed at a bundle of roses, lilies, and babies’ breath in a crystal vase, clearly preparing to take another of the photos that decorate the shop’s website and social media.
“Excuse me, sir,” Alex calls out, a smile tugging at his lips as he stops to watch you, “Can you point me toward the love of my life?” He tries (and fails) not to snicker as you jump, startled by your boyfriend’s appearance.
“Not funny,” you say, but Alex can still pick out the slight grin twisting at the corner of your mouth. 
Alex hums, moving to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “A little funny,” he corrects, setting his chin on your shoulder and watching you work. He’d always been amazed at the way you were able to capture a moment with your camera, to frame your subject perfectly in order to freeze time. You were able to capture lighting and highlight textures in a way he’s never seen from other photographers, to make him feel like he could reach through the frame and touch the things you photograph. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened or are we just going to pretend you’re working on your day off just for fun?”
Alex can feel the way you tense against him, shoulders stiffening and knuckles paling as you clutch tighter to your camera. 
“Not sure what you mean,” you say and Alex knows you well enough to know what must’ve happened.
“Right, you were meant to be working today all along, huh?” He knows you weren’t. You always have Wednesdays off- that’s why they’d become date nights. So for you to be working today means that something must’ve happened that made you want to get out of the house and work was the easiest excuse. He knows you well enough to know that you don’t want to think about what must’ve happened if you’re dodging his questions the way you are. “Well, how would you feel about coming over after your shift? My mom and dad are going to be stuck working late, but you and I can take over the theater and have a movie night if you want? I’ve got all your favorite snacks?” Alex can’t help but smile as you relax back into him again, his heart warming at the pleased little sigh that escapes you. “Yeah,” you say, setting your camera aside and turning in his arms to tuck your head against the side of his neck. “Yeah, that sounds good.” As much as Alex hates what you go through with your family, he’s happy to know that you feel safe with him. That your escape had extended past your camera and the beautiful blooms of The Flower Patch to include him.
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undercoveravenger · 7 months
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Hey, for those of yall waiting for the Cato fic, the first chapter just went live at AO3! I've got the first 7 chapters done and plan to post the next chapter every couple of weeks. Feel free to let me know what you think or send me any questions you have about the fic!
Here's the link: Through the Games
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undercoveravenger · 8 months
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In Your Arms
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Pairing: Finnick Odair x Male Reader
Requested: Yes
Request(s): “I heard you wanted HungerGames and came running 🏃‍♀️ Alright so it’s after the book series and Finnick and reader are finally living the life they want and obviously Finnick is alive and well because fuck that he deserved so much better. Finnick isn’t on his capital diet and he has a little fat on his body and reader loves it and always touches it but Finnick gets insecure because he thinks reader hates it.” + “Can I request a finnick x male reader with angst and comfort where they comfort each other after the quarter quell?” 
A/N: Combining these two requests since they seemed like they could fit together well
—--
For the first time since the revolution, Finnick wakes up alone. He is cold - the damp sand at his back has long since lost its warmth - and freezing water laps at his legs as he jolts upright. His first instinct is that he’s back in the Arena - that something, someone, is coming after him. He scrambles to his feet, sand sucking his feet down in a way that feels claustrophobic rather than the way it normally grounds him and the cold rain plasters his hair to his face.
Thunder booms in the distance, the sound echoing the canons that haunt his nightmares and sending him further into his panic. He’s jerky, out of practice in a way that he can normally take comfort in but now only serves to make him feel all the more on edge. He could see shadows flickering in his peripherals, tree branches and whispering grasses coalescing into hunters, other tributes just out of sight and beyond his perception though just close enough for him to feel like a fish being hunted by a heron.
As he struggles to regain his balance he realizes that he is alone, the indent you had left in the sand beside him long abandoned. His heart stops in his chest, feeling suddenly like he’s had the air kicked out of him - if you were gone, did that mean you were…? No. No, you couldn’t be. If you were dead-
“Finn?” Your voice snaps Finnick out of his spiral almost instantly and he whirls to face you, a massive smile breaking across his lips as he stumbles up the beach toward you. 
“Where were you?” He gasps, tucking his head into your shoulder as he throws himself into your arms, unable to even pretend to care as he knocks whatever you’d been carrying out of your grasp.
His nerves start to settle as you clutch him close to your chest, arms curled tight around him. “I’m sorry,” the words rush out of you quickly as you realize what he must’ve been thinking, “I’m sorry Finnick. I woke up and it looked like you were cold so I went to get blankets from the cabin. I meant to be back before you woke up and then it started raining and it took me longer to get back-” You trailed off as you took in his state, pulling back just far enough to look at him, “God, you’re freezing. C’mon, Finn, let’s get you home and warmed up before you get sick. I’ll come back for the blankets later, when it’s not raining.”
Finnick allows himself to be tugged along after you, stumbling over the slight hills in the sand as he follows you back to your shared cabin at the other end of the cove. He’s still a little out of it as the front door swings shut behind the two of you, but he has enough presence of mind to toe off his shoes and follow you into your bedroom. 
“C’mon love,” you say, digging through his dresser to find him some dry pajamas. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”
He blanches at that, suddenly far too aware of the way he’d changed since the Games. His wet clothes clung to him, sticky with water and plastered to the soft stomach and curves that’d formed in the years after the Hunger Games had been ended. He knew that you liked knowing he was comfortable and felt safe enough to relax, but he couldn’t help but feel less worthy of the attention, especially with the way he had been treated in the years between his Games and the Quarter Quell. He eventually follows your request, tugging off his soaked shirt and holding it in front of his chest and stomach subconsciously.
You turn back, eyes narrowing as you notice his defensive body language. “You okay, Finn? You seem… tense. Is it still the nightmare?” 
He shakes his head, slowly forcing himself to approach you, dropping his shirt as he gets close. “‘M’okay.”
You step toward him, cupping his face in your hands fondly. “Sweetheart, I’m here for you. You know I love you, right? And whatever you’re dealing with, I’m here to support you.”
Finnick hesitates, but presses into your palms and closes his eyes after a moment. “I don’t feel strong enough for you anymore.” He can feel the way your hands start to shake where he rests against him and he knows that you must be heartbroken to hear what he had been thinking. “I just- I don’t know if I could protect you if something happened and I don't look-” his voice breaks a little as he voices his insecurity.
You interrupt him with a fond eye roll and a tender kiss, “You look like the love of my life,” you murmur quietly, pressing soft kisses across his cheeks and forehead. “And I love that you are safe and don’t need to be fighting ready unless you want to be. I love who you are, Finn, not just how you look and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you if that’s what it takes for you to know it.”
Finnick feels like crying - to have gone from being treated as little more than a toy for strangers’ pleasure to being so wholly loved in just a few short years was a little overwhelming to think about, but he knows that he couldn’t be happier if he were anywhere else and he wouldn’t want to be. He is more than happy to be here, safe and loved and willing to carve out a new place for himself in the world with you. He knows that there is nowhere he would rather be than in your arms.
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undercoveravenger · 10 months
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Put to Rest
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Pairing: Beelzebub x GN!Reader
Requested: Yes
Request: “Hi. How you doing? I read your “can’t sleep without you” post for Mammon and I was wondering if you could possible do something similar like that but with Beelzebub?”
A/N: SPOILERS FOR LESSON 15-16!!!! (Please by all means send in more requests for Beel - I love him with all my heart)
—-
While you had only been in the Devildom for a few months, your time living in the House of Lamentation meant you were no longer a stranger to waking up to company when you were sure you’d fallen asleep alone. Asmo had slipped into bed with you more times than you could count, Mammon had awoken next to you claiming he “must have sleep-walked in here and fallen back asleep” next to you, and you couldn’t even be surprised anymore when you woke up with Belphie curled up beside you, sleeping peacefully. There was something different about tonight though. 
When you had woken up this time though, it wasn’t to Belphie’s peaceful breathing or to Mammon’s snoring or to Asmo’s persistent snuggling, it was to a firm weight pressing against you, heavy enough to restrict your movement and limit your breathing, but not enough to be claustrophobic. You squirmed a bit, craning your neck to be able to catch a glimpse of your surprise bedfellow. 
It was hard to make out much detail in the dim lighting, but you were able to pick out a bit of copper hair poking out from under your blanket. 
“Beel?” you murmur softly, trying not to wake him, but more than a little surprised to see the Avatar of Gluttony in bed with you since he’d never been among your nighttime visitors in the past.
His arms tighten around you as you speak, the blankets shifting as he lifts his head to look at you. His pretty violet eyes are bright and alert - he has clearly been awake the whole time. 
“Sorry,” Beel says, shifting to lay beside you rather than on top of you. “I couldn’t sleep and Belphie said you wouldn’t mind if I came in here.”
A yawn escapes you as you sit up, scrubbing a hand over your eyes as you prepare yourself to kick off the covers and head down to the kitchen, mind racing as you think of something quick that would satisfy a bottomless stomach like Beel’s. “Yeah, it’s fine. You wanted me to make you something to eat, right?”
He shakes his head, arm curling tighter around you. “‘m not hungry.” 
“You’re… not hungry?” Alright, now you’re worried. “Are you feeling okay?” You press the back of your hand to his forehead to check for a fever. You’re not really sure if demons can get sick, but if Beel isn’t hungry-
His eyes drop, intently studying the fabric of your pillows like he can’t bear to look you in the eyes. “I can’t sleep because I can’t stop thinking about what happened today.”
Right- when Belphie had attacked you. Killed you? Killed a version of you? Even if you were fine now, you suppose it really wouldn’t change what had happened earlier - that he would have seen his brother kill you.
“It’s okay,” you reach out to cup his face in your hand. You can’t help but smile as he shifts, leaning further into your palm. “I’m okay.”
He finally meets your eyes, more serious than you’ve ever seen him. “I should have stopped him- I should’ve done something. I never thought Belphie would have done something like that-”
“I didn’t think he would either when I let him out of the attic,” you reply, slowly settling back down and relaxing back against your pillows. Something about having Beel curled up next to you, voice soft and soothing and warmth radiating off him the way it always does, has your eyelids starting to drift closed again,  “And I know he regrets it and wouldn’t ever do something like that again.” You shrug sleepily, curling up against Beel, “I forgive him. And I don’t hold it against any of you guys that it happened.”
Beel stays quiet, holding you close as you fall back asleep even as he gets lost in thought.
He’s not really a worrier most of the time. He knows he will never have to worry about having a roof over his head or food to eat. He knows he and his brothers are strong enough to handle whatever comes their way. But while he had always been confident in his brothers’ strength, he had never thought of it as a bad thing before. Not until today, when he’d had to watch Belphie use his strength to hurt you. 
Sure, he knows you’re right and that Belphie would never hurt you again, but seeing it had shaken him to his core. He’d known he liked you since you arrived, but he hadn’t ever really thought about how much you meant to him until he almost lost you. Now though, with you sleeping soundly tucked up against his side, he can feel the soft shifting of your breathing and the gentle thump-thump-thump of your heart where your back is pressed up against his chest and he knows that he would do whatever it takes to keep you safe and by his side. For the first time since you had been hurt, Beel finally feels his muscles start to relax and sleep begin to creep up on him. With you in his arms, he finally feels like his worries have been put to rest.
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