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storiesofsvu · 2 months

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Joe Velasco SFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s surprisingly soft and affectionate. He’s seen enough of the dark, dreary and dangerous side of life that he doesn’t want his partners to experience that, he’s all about keeping things warm and filled with love. He’s not great with words, but he’s big on physical touch and quality time for love languages. Almost always has a hand on you, on your thigh on the couch, on the small of your back or ass while out in the city, hand tangled with yours, he’s always about it.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Even as a friend, he’s pretty introverted, quiet, takes a bit of time to warm up to new people. He likes to sus people out before he truly trusts them or lets them in, but once he does.... he’s loyal and protective as fuck. While Sonny’s our golden retriever boy, Velasco’s a rottweiler. He’s the one who’ll come pick you up any time of night, walk you home from the bar, or run a potential date’s name through the system.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

The biggest cuddler. He adores wrapping you in his arms, tucking your head under his chin, leaving a soft kiss on your hair, legs intertwining. He’s normally the big spoon, linking hands with yours, leaving gentle kisses on the back of your neck/shoulders. Late hours of tv watching are often with you lying on his chest, or your legs across his lap, and Joe isn’t afraid to be the small spoon, lying on your chest while you softly scratch at his head.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Joe really isn’t sure about settling down, he hasn’t had a whole lot of actual relationships. There have been some one-night stands, friends with benefits is more his style, maybe a situationship or two. It’s also just dating in this age that truly sucks, he’s tried some dating apps with not much luck (and even in canon, had a very not great experience) so he doesn’t like those. He’s very much a bachelor and living the single life and is okay with that, but at the end of a long heavy day he does wish he had someone to come home to. While it is an eventually end goal of his, it’s not something he actively pursues every day kinda thing.

When it comes to cooking and cleaning, he’s decent enough. I’m thinking he lives in a studio apartment, a small one bedroom at *most*. He keeps it tidy, doesn’t have a lot of stuff in the first place to get it cluttered. There’s likely a coffee mug that moves between the coffee table, the sink and the kitchen counter, gets rinsed but never put away, that kinda vibe. He can cook, and enjoys making dinner for a partner but doesn’t really like to do it daily for himself, being single and living alone don’t help that much, so he relies on take out a lot.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’s not against ghosting in this day and age, especially if it was just something casual or a one night thing. You’ll just never hear from him again. If it was a long term relationship, he’s gonna do it privately and as gentle as he can, he’s not going to put you down, he’s going to do his best to not hurt you more than a break up already does, and he’s definitely gonna slam a few beers after leaving.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Joe does ideally want commitment, he wants someone who is loyal to him, who loves him, who he trusts and loves with his whole heart and wants to spend the rest of his life with. He’s not specifically looking for marriage, but it’s not something he’s against. When he does find the right person, he’ll know he wants to spend forever with them, but he’s not going to jump into it until things are settled, one step at a time, make sure things actually fit into all the right slots, that he and you want the same things from life, have similar goals, etc. He’s only going to do it once and he doesn’t want to fuck it up. You can expect a long dating period and a long engagement. As for the wedding itself, it’s a more casual affair, nothing too crazy and perhaps even an elopement.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Extremely gentle. Physically his touches are always soft, light, caressing across your body, hand trailing down your arm before he links his fingers with yours. He only gets rough when you ask for it, after you’d have the conversation about rough sex and that you do like it will he initiate one of those kind of nights. When it comes to emotionally, he can definitely come off cooler. He keeps his walls up, might not want to talk about certain things, emotions and the like, he just shoves them deep down or tries to forget about it. This can lead to some arguments/little fights until he realizes that he can open up to you and trust you with this kind of thing.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Not the biggest hugger when it comes to friends, only if he hasn’t seen you in a while. But with a partner, and touch being a big thing for him, he will hug you every time he greets you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, holding you into the crook of his neck and squeezing softly for a minute while he breathes you in. His hugs are warm, tender, full of affection.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He’s not quick about it. He’s slightly unsure of what romantic love actually even feels like, he knows he likes you, knows he wants to spend time with you, having you around feels good, feels right, but he’s not saying it anytime soon. And even when he does realize it, he’s going to show you rather than tell you, you’re probably going to be the one to say it first, accompanied by a “you don’t have to say it back yet, i just thought you should know” and if he doesn’t say it back that night, he’s definitely going to make it known another way, even if he’s scared to say it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

You know what, I’m gonna lean on the fact that he *does* get jealous. Joe doesn’t have a big circle of friends, he’s very much on his own, lone wolf, kinda always has been in NYC. Each of his friendships/relationships holds a lot of weight cause he hates being the new kid/meeting new people. Sometimes it’s more of a feeling left out kinda thing, but he also really doesn’t like seeing you get hit on by other people. He doesn’t worry about you cheating, he knows you would never, but it still makes him feel crappy, ya know? He’ll usually down an extra drink, try not to wallow so much before eventually interrupting the situation to wind an arm around your waist. If it was some kind of function of yours or an event that he doesn’t want to make a scene at, he might just leave, thinking you’re better off without him kinda vibe.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

This man *knows* how to kiss and you cannot tell me otherwise. While there is a time and a place for a quick peck, cheek kiss or the like he puts everything into those deep kisses. Soft lips, his hand cupping your cheek, the back of neck, cradling you into the kiss. Your first kiss is enough to make you weak in the knees and that’s every longer kiss with Joe.

He adores kissing your neck, seeing the reaction he gets from you, kissing your thighs before going down on you, this is a man who will absolutely kiss every inch of your skin.

When it comes to you kissing him, he absolutely melts at the way you’ll grab his hand and leave a kiss on the palm of it.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He’s good with kids, a little awkward sometimes, but he thrives with younger ones. He’d be a total girl dad and you cannot fight me on that lol.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Doesn’t strike me as a morning person. Mornings are quiet, reserved for coffee and gearing up for the day. Weekends are for sleeping in, lazy morning sex and a late brunch, probably ordered in and eaten in bed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Evenings are more fun. He likes to wind down with a few drinks, whether out at a pub or cracking a couple of beers at home. He’s got more energy, is ready to let loose and relax from the day. He likes to meet you for dinner/drinks, sometimes it’s a calmer, more fancier place, but most of the time it’s somewhere sports is on the television where the crowd is a bit louder and you can blend into the crowd a bit more.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He definitely keeps things hidden and there would likely be some things that he would plan on never telling you. He’s got a dark past, he doesn’t want to be judged for it, doesn’t want you to hate him or think differently of him for something that happened 20+ years ago, he’s grown up, he’s not a kid anymore, ya know? He would let things come up naturally, slide little bits here and there into conversation. I can high key see things coming up late at night, when the lights are off and you’re curled up naked in bed after a few rounds, feeling more intimate and vulnerable. You’re lying on his chest, his hand cascading up and down your bare bake while you ask about his past/his time in Mexico, etc. You can’t see his face, esp if he holds you tighter to him and that mask helps the vulnerability come through.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I like to think he’s pretty patient and in times that he isn’t , he walks away. He wants to regain his composure before sitting down to have a conversation. He’s seen what a bad temper can do to people and he doesn’t want to be like that around you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He’s got a decent memory, and because of the way he shows his love, he’s going to remember as much as he can. You mention a favourite candy once in passing, he’ll pick some up for you every time he picks up a loaf of bread. He makes sure to write down your birthday, assign a date to be your specific anniversary and always makes sure to have flowers and something planned.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

I think it’s gotta be the first I love you. It’s the moment that bursts in his chest, fills him with warmth and just a feeling he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

While Joe understands independence, he is also fiercly protective of you. He’s never afraid to step in when someone is making you uncomfortable and he’s not against flexing that he’s a cop to get them to back off. He’ll also read the room and if a cop isn’t a big enough of a threat, he’ll drop a couple of lies to have them running.

The longer he’s with SVU the more protective he’s going to be of you being out in the city alone, especially at night. He will *always* pick you up, telling you to wait inside until he gets there, he’ll arrange an entire fleet of cabs/ubers to make sure that all your friends get home safe too. He’s the perfect guy to watch your drink in a crowded bar and is likely the one who sees a creep being a creep to a woman in public and will automatically be all “hey baby, sorry I'm late” and loosely put an arm around their shoulders to get the guy to fuck off.

In terms of him being protected (and this gonna sound hella sappy lol) he just wants to know that his heart is protected with you. He’s got walls up for ages and to let them down, let you in and be one with you means he really trusts you. He wants to know that you’re not going to hurt him, that he’s safe with you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

It’s mainly in the every day tasks, making coffee for you, picking you up a danish on the way to work, stopping by with lunch, making dinner. He’s about being thoughtful when you need it the most. He’s not a fancy date kinda guy and not because of the cost, but because he doesn’t feel he fits that vibe.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Hear me out, but Joe definitely does have a dependency on alcohol. As I’ve said, he’s pretty introverted, relatively shy, he needs a little boost to help him be more outgoing and talkative. We’ve seen in canon that he’ll go out by himself for a few beers, during one of their first cases Amanda asks if he’s alright and he replies “could use a drink”. It’s not a problem yet, but could easily slip into being one.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s not obsessive but likes to look good. He works out, keeps it fresh, styles his hair when it’s longer.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

I’m ngl... Joe is one of the few characters I write for who I’m gonna say *would* feel incomplete. He’s got a rough history, not a lot of people in his corner, so when you come along and show him your heart and love, he blooms into who he really wants to be. With you around and your support, he finally feels like a whole person again.

X = Xtra (A random head canon for them.) Isn’t big on breakfast. He’s not ready to eat when he wakes up in the morning, and likely doesn’t consume anything but coffee until he’s been at work for an hour or two. And while he does consume a lot of take out/food on the go, he’s still more about the healthier options and doesn’t dig the super processed foods.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) He’s not into hard drugs, he’s done enough and seen enough of what they can do that he doesn’t want anything to do with someone who parties like that. He also doesn’t have the patience for someone who picks fights for no reason/their own entertainment.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?) He almost always has a drink or two before bed, again, to help him wind down. And he struggles to sleep, laying awake a lot at night. It's when he gets his thinking done and why he’s not a morning person. He’s a late night owl and would rather be awake when the city sleeps. He doesn't like to bring it up, but there’s honestly a pretty high chance that he has some kind of journal beside the bed, some nights it’s filled with nonsense, other nights its the weight of life that’s dragging him down, others its random thoughts he has about cases/work that he’ll revisit in the morning. I also wouldn’t be surprised if there were pages with poetry attempts and other pages with drawings scrawled across them.

_______________________

@witches-unruly-heart @fandom-princess-forevermore @cycat4077 @xoxabs88xox @alwaysachorusgirl @plaidbooks @thatesqcrush @im-just-a-mississippi-girl girl @wandas-wife @katieslotherford @momlifebehard @dondivajade @misscharlielulu @alexxavicry @rosaliedepp @legit9thlunaticwarrior @daffodil-heart @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @silversprings-mp3 @hanbow

#joe velasco #joe velasco x reader #law and order svu #svu #law and order #law and order special victims unit

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escapingrealtiylovinginsanity · 2 months

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Joe Velasco: (Untitled for now) Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: Sexual assault (not to reader), talk about sex and sexual situations.

Time didn’t slow down when it happened. It felt more like flashes of a camera lens. You walk into the room. Flash. You see that you weren’t alone. Flash. The man that was on top of the woman noticed you. Flash. Her clothes ripped. his fly unzipped. Flash. She is not moving. Him lunging at you. Flash. Pain searing white hot through you, glass shattering. Flash. Him on top of you. Eyes cold and hard. Flash. You struggle underneath him as he tries to restrain you. Flash. Your hand hits a cold plastic in your purse. Flash. The weight of him falls on top of you as you press the taser trigger down holding it against him. Flash. The sound of voices outside the door. Flash. He's getting up and running. Flash. A yell for someone to call 911.

You don’t remember exactly how you got to the precinct, but you're now sitting on an exam table. You had been asked if you wanted to go to the hospital, but you refused saying that you were okay and the EMTs had reluctantly cleared you. You knew that you would have to give a statement to the police. It shouldn’t have, but it surprised you when instead of setting you down in front of a detective to take your statement you were ushered down to the medical examiners to have evidence taken.

The door opened but instead of someone in a lab coat, there were two detectives. A woman that you didn’t know and a man you did, Terry Bruno. His bright blue eyes were worried. Your brain felt fuzzy as they entered. Time was becoming a fickle thing and it felt like there were short but disorientating time jumps. You felt slightly woozy. You're jolted by Bruno saying your name to the woman telling her that you are a forensic tech for the department. He eyes you again clicking at his phone. Your mind blanks, trying to shield you from the memory.

“Can you tell me what happened?” You look up at the woman realizing that she is now talking to you. She repeats herself the words echo in your mind a few times before you can understand them.

“I was- I was at a convention for training. I-I,” You swallow hard not recognizing your own shaky voice. You try again, “I was late and was just trying to cut through that room when I saw... I saw that guy over that woman-is she okay?”

“We aren’t sure yet. She got hit in the head pretty hard. We will know more when she wakes up.” The door opens again. Melinda walks in with another young pretty tech a few paces behind her. Melinda walked up to the table greeting you and setting her clipboard to the side. She looks you over and you shift on the table awkwardly. Your eyes bounce between the four people in the room.

“I think you know the drill. I’m going to have to take your clothes for evidence.” You nod. “I want to do a full workup to look for fibers, hairs, blood, and other body fluids. This guy might have left something behind in the struggle.” You sat up a little straighter at that.

“Melinda, I-” You don’t know why but you feel embarrassed. It has to be the stress of the day or strangers staring at you. You take a deep breath, and you suddenly feel the pain in your ribs. The adrenaline is starting to fade. You steal yourself, “I’m going to have DNA. I had sex this morning. I didn’t have time to shower, so.” Melinda smiles reassuringly at you.

“That’s okay, we will just match those samples-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how it works. I was just...” You trail off self-consciously. Everyone was still staring at you like they were waiting for something. You wished you knew what it was so you could get them to stop.

“I feel the need to remind you that you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” Melinda’s voice was as soothing as it was definitive. It was motherly, in a no-nonsense way, and like balm to your wrecked nerves. You knew the woman well. There was a lot of information sharing between your two departments. You had a coworker friendship but it didn't go to a more personal level. You supposed it would now.

“I know,” You state simply, you can feel the tension in the room as everyone waits on your next move, “It’s okay, it’s just-it's a lot.” You are saved from having to continue explaining yourself when the door swings back open. Joe is on you in seconds, his gait eating up the distance between you. The woman calls his last name and asks him what he is doing here. Bruno takes another step back making more room for him to stand next to you. There is fear and anger in his eyes as he halts beside you. His eyes are scanning you, taking in your appearance. “I’m okay.” You assure him, or maybe yourself. It’s not a complete lie- you're okayish-Alive, breathing, most unscathed. He scoffs at the statement, obviously not liking your minimization tactics.

“So, we are lying to each other now? Have you seen your face?” His hand reaches out to touch you before stopping a couple inches away.

“Actually, I haven’t.” You honestly didn’t know what you looked like post-attack. You weren’t sure if you really wanted to. You still mostly felt numbness in your body, but it was slowly fading leaving a deep ache on your face and right side. “I look that bad?” He pauses clearly unsure how to answer that without offending you. He chooses instead to ignore the question and start whispering soothingly to you in Spanish. He pulls you into a light but encompassing embrace stroking your hair. It sends rivulets of warmth through your chilled body. You soak in the loving contact while pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Wait, how did you even know I was here?”

“I called him.” Bruno cut in, “He is your emergency contact, isn’t he?”

“You should have called me, mi amor.” He pulled back to look over your now throbbing face again. You apologize grabbing his forearm, and he slides his hand down to intertwine with your fingers instead.

“Hold on,” The woman who was interviewing you earlier called out. Everyone turned to face her, and it was clear that she was in charge. “You know her, on a personal level? Velasco, you can’t be anywhere near this. Matter of fact, everyone out, this needs to do this by the book. We collect the evidence. Then a statement.”

“You kidding me, Captain? I’m not leaving,” Joe's grip on your hand tightens. You then realize the woman is Joe’s higher-up, Captain Olivia Benson. You had heard a lot about the women but had never met her yourself. She had put Joe through a hell of a time because of his past. Joe respected her but you were still a little angry with her for the pain and heartache that she had caused him. The lack of understanding or compassion. You were petty like that.

You begrudgingly agreed with her on this one. You know the strict rules of collecting evidence and keeping it from cross-contamination. it would be better for you to be alone while you did this anyway. You doubted Melinda would be able to do her job with him in here. Your normally calm and collected detective boyfriend was not okay in the sight of you getting hurt. You squeeze Joe’s hand, and he looks back at you. You tell him it’s okay. “No te dejaré cariño (I’m not leaving you sweetheart).”

“Really, it’s okay,” You run your hand across his clean-shaven jaw. “It’s not like anything is going to happen to me in here. Melinda needs to do her job. Besides I’m going to have to leave my clothes here. I was hoping that maybe you had some spares I could wear? Maybe get me something cold to drink? Por favor Corazón.” The reluctance is written all over his face. He doesn’t want to leave. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t. His hand is still tight on yours. His green eyes are searching yours trying to find even a hint that you don’t want him to leave. You seem to reassure him because he presses a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Okay, but if you need me-” You kiss his hand and tell him you know. The three detectives file out. Joe gives you one last glance as Bruno puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him moving forward. When the door clicked closed you felt a sigh escape you. The detectives' eyes had been analyzing and seeing Joe that upset and worried had been hard.

“You have quite a guard dog with that one.” You turn to Melinda and smile a genuine smile. Throughout your relationship with Joe, he has proved that he showed love through actions first, and words second. You knew had you asked him to stay or told him that you wanted to leave, it wouldn’t have been a conversation, it would have simply been done.

“You have no idea.”

“Just make sure you lean on him throughout this. It’s clear he doesn’t want you to have to do it alone.” Melinda turns to the young tech, who walks closer with her camera. “You ready to start?”

You try to sit still as the camera flashes in your face taking pictures. You remove your top and put it in the evidence bag that is held out to you. The tech asks you to lift your right arm. You go to do so, and a zap of pain flares up your side making you wince and drop it back down. You look down to see the entire length of your ribs is an awful shade of black and blue. That small dose of pain opens the floodgates as you start feeling just how sore and rough you really are. You pull your arm across your chest instead which hurts significantly less. Pictures are snapped.

Next to go into a bag is your pants. Your thigh and knee are photographed. More big ugly bruises on your right side. The tech catches sight of bruising on your inner thighs and asks you to spread your legs. Embarrassment floods through you. You had never felt awkward talking about your sex life, but this was far more intimate than bragging about having hot sex on the kitchen table. “Oh, no. Those are...old. Consensual.” It feels strange to say that about bruises, but you recalled in vivid detail the night Joe had held you hard enough to leave fingertip-shaped bruises. Telling him to stop had been the last thing on your mind.

They had run a black light over you when you were in just your underwear. You lit up like a Christmas tree on your inner thighs, stomach, neck, and chest. You blushed bright crimson, even though neither woman made any comment. You had sex that morning and a few times the night before. That was why you had been running late to your conference meeting. Even so, Melinda took samples of everything regardless reminding you that it would be better than accidentally missing something. She prodded at your injuries with more swabs hoping for touch evidence. It hurt like a bitch but you tried not to fidget. You didn’t think they would find much. You had been pushed into a coffee table and you were pretty sure that was what had caused most of your injuries.

You are asked for your bra and underwear as well, even after your weak protest that he hadn’t made his way under any of your clothes, Melinda persisted. They too went in evidence bags. Along with your necklace and ring. You were given a loose gown to wear as she finished with scrapping under your fingernails taking clippings and combing through your hair looking for anything that may have been caught in the strands.

The process was invasive and tiring. By the end of it, your whole right side was throbbing, and your face hurt. You just wanted to go home and lay in bed and never move again. The tech left and Joe was standing in the doorway. It was clear that he had been waiting outside for some time. It was also very apparent that he wasn't happy about not being allowed to stay. “You can come in Detective Velasco. We are all done.”

He doesn’t waste any time in closing the distance between the two of you. He gently sets a pair of sweats on your lap before pressing a cold bottle of water in your hand. He untwists the top for you like he thinks you might not be capable, but you don’t take offense. Any unnecessary movement is something you want to avoid. You take a sip, and it feels good in your mouth and throat but doesn’t settle well in your stomach.

“While you're here,” Joe turns to see Melinda holding up another swab. Joe’s eyebrows furrow uncertainly. You know he doesn’t like having his DNA in evidence. “Just need a sample to exclude any of your DNA that is found. Open up.” He obliges and she swabs the inside of his cheek before closing it into a bottle and writing his name on the side.

When he turns back to you, you have already shrugged on his oversized NYPD sweatshirt and were pulling up the pants. You are swimming in them and have to roll them multiple times to get them to stay. The loose fit is a relief because it doesn’t rub up against your injuries. They smell good too, comforting even if there is a slight lingering tinge of his sweat under the smell of his deodorant and cologne. You're done with the first step, now you steal yourself to face SVU and give your statement.

#law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #svu #jose velasco x you #jose velasco x reader #joe velasco x reader #joe velasco x you #joe velasco #jose velasco

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zqmbiescorpse · 1 year

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GLADIATOR, PART 2

johanna mason x female reader

a/n: yay johanna is in this part, sorry if any parts seem messed up? i don't know if copying it from ao3 affected it.

summary: after winning the 72nd hunger games, quite a name had been made for you in the capitol - quickly becoming a favourite across panem. because of this, naturally, you find yourself thrown back into the horror of the games due to the 3rd quarter quell, representing district 5 one last time. though, not all is lost, fellow tribute and close friend, johanna mason of district 7, finds herself in the same position.

tags: graphic depictions of violence (sometimes), johanna mason, katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, finnick odair, johanna mason x female reader, catching fire, mockingjay part 1, mockingjay part 2, 72nd hunger games, 75th hunger games, gore, eye gore, detailed descriptions of eyeball squishing, disabled reader, female reader, reader is missing an eye, reader is missing limbs, missing fingers, traumatic events, blood, choking, johanna mason needs a hug, rebellion, slow burn, mutual pining, scared of feelings, fluff, angst, making out, kissing, confessions, peeta has his prosthetic leg, maybe smut idk, tension, awkwardness, wlw, i love johanna so much

warnings for this part: trauma, mild violence - a lot lighter than the previous part, also mentions of forced prostitution

word count: 3.01k

(part 3) (masterlist)

You woke with a start, having been thrashing around in your sleep, evident in the many luxurious duvets and plumped pillows scattered around everywhere, that same nightmare fresh in your mind as you processed your surroundings. Every single night you relived the terror of the events that occurred during the games; your victory and merciless killing of the District 1 tribute whose name you hadn't even known. That was bordering on three years ago, of course, his name was engraved into your everyday thoughts now.

Lonnie Velasco. Funnily enough, his name was the only one you could remember out of all the 23 other tributes. His name was the only one you wanted to forget. Without fail, you'd see his face each time you closed your eyes, the memory of his golden curls slicked back with a grim, homemade gel consisting of sweat, blood, and grease - his perfectly kept tanned skin splattered with patches of crimson. Worst of all, it was the fear-stricken look in his eyes, silently begging you to let him live while he tried to breathe; the pressure of your hands squeezing his bruised neck, purples, greys and blues flourishing beneath your fingertips, the life draining from the blonde who was really just a boy.

After countless interviews celebrating your 'honourable' victory, every moment you had unfortunately shared with Lonnie in that arena was seared into your mind, constantly hanging over your head, the guilt clinging to your entire being, its nails digging into your flesh solidifying its position there.

Returning home to District 5, you and your family soon moved into a new, very expensive house provided by the Capitol as a reward for winning the games. It was much larger than anything you had lived in before; an appropriate accommodation for a family of six, but, a lot of the time you wished you could have the spacious building to yourself. You were happy they were happy, delighted that the elongated torture you had endured brought a little positivity into your life.

Yet, here you were, back in a Capitol apartment years later, being reaped for a second time. The third Quarter Quell. You couldn't exactly describe how you felt hearing your name get read out from that stupid slip of paper. Your stomach dropped in an instant, twisting and threatening to throw up any food you had consumed earlier in the day, your knees suddenly feeling weak, shaky, the lower half of your body easily mistaken for a wobbling jelly struggling to support the upper half.

There was no hope for a volunteer as you and an elderly woman were the two female victors of District 5, understandably she acknowledged the fact that her name wasn't called and moved on. Still, it wasn't fair that you had to plunge back into the nightmare, tearing open all gradually healing mental wounds wide open, re-exposed to the trauma of the games you had been working on overcoming. On top of that, you were also, very clearly, unsuitable for combat, your dominant hand having three out of five fingers made it almost impossible to grip anything, let alone a weapon. Not to mention you were half blind.

Crashing waves of anger, misery and hopelessness washed over you, not stopping anytime soon - causing your muscles to tense, teeth grinding against each other in order to stop yourself from lashing out in front of everyone, not wanting peacekeepers to view your perfectly natural, valid human emotions as acts of defiance.

That was days ago, time passed and so did your intense negativity, allowing yourself to take a calmer approach to the situation in front of you. You wanted to make it out alive, meaning you had to prepare yourself the best you could, mentally, more death and tragedy were coming, finding their way toward you, its dirty filthy ways of eternally fucking a person over crawling into the fresh, open flesh representative of your trauma. Then, you were provided with a shining beacon of hope.

That morning, Haymitch had caught up to you somehow, discreetly pulling you aside, out of sight without a single soul noticing your absence. At first, you hadn't thought it was weird, knowing Haymitch for a good while now made you close friends, leading you to believe that he had plans about something. You figured the girl from District 12, Katniss, who had won the Games alongside Peeta the year prior, was involved because of rumours circulating about rebellious acts committed in their games.

Although you were correct about her, you weren't expecting Haymitch to come out with this ridiculous plan to ensure the survival of Peeta and Katniss. Supposedly, he wanted you and, about, eight other tributes to secretly work together to get as many survivors as possible out of the arena, and the two victors of District 12 to District 13. The entire concept made your brain short circuit and you weren't sure if you fully understood what was going to happen, or why it was, yet, you leaped at the opportunity to aid in the rebellion, flattered to be so trusted by Haymitch. He was glad, feeling more secure that you were in on it too.

You let out a sigh, the breath wavering as you stared up at the ceiling of the unnecessarily huge apartment. Chances of getting back to sleep were slim, extremely slim, especially after being coated in an uncomfortable sweat from an incredibly vivid dream and the thought of Haymitch’s plan wouldn't leave you be.

Most of the other tributes, you found, suffered the same fate of constant night terrors, even combined it would be a miracle if between you a full ten hours was achieved. Restless, you'd heard that the others would venture down into the training rooms at night, though, not a single person laid a finger on anything dangerous. It was more of a social thing, they would go down there to clear their minds or maybe talk, depending on whether anybody else was down there with them.

Besides, the rooms had to have been left open for a reason - you speculated it was for the audience, to show strong friendships between past victors, making the upcoming games more exhilarating, entertaining, and possibly sad? Did the people of the Capitol have it in them to feel sad, to sympathise? You weren't sure.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you made sure your sleepwear looked somewhat presentable in case of finding company tonight, shuffling quietly through the apartments to avoid waking anyone who might've been resting. Surprisingly, the corridors and elevators were well-lit at this time, each bright shine leading you closer to your destination.

Eventually, you approached the set of heavy, double doors (metal you were sure) indicative of the training room and social areas. You brushed your shoulder up against it, jolts shooting down your body at the cold surface, slowly cracking the right door open, producing a limited amount of noise.

Squinting at the fully illuminated room, it took a second for your eye to adjust to the space. However, it didn't take long to spot the spikey, red-headed woman sitting not too far away from where you were standing; seemingly busy, not yet noticing you, her fingers running carefully along the edge of an axe, resting in her lap.

You'd known Johanna since the 73rd Hunger Games, the pair of you mentoring for your respected district tributes (7 and 5), thus giving you the opportunity to meet in person. Unbeknownst to you, she had watched your games as closely as you had watched hers the previous year, logical due to your similar age range - her older by just over a year. Because you and Johanna were the youngest mentors for that year, you remembered trying to make conversation, and a friend, so your time back in the Capitol was manageable.

"Can't sleep?"

Ripped away from your mindless daydreaming, you were met with an alerted Johanna, her entire attention fixated on you, a wide grin apparent on her face like she found humour in her own dumb question.

"No…I can't," You managed, the inner workings of your brain coming to a halt the second her eyes were on you. Normally, your mind works at a fast pace, and speaking to people was never an issue. Until it was. Until it was Johanna you were speaking with. "How are you feeling?" You offered, asking an unintentionally dumb question in return.

"How am I feeling?" She echoed, fired up and amused, but in an angry sense. "Pissed off, for starters."

"Sorry, I don't know why I asked that," You trailed off, feeling a bit awkward but really, your short-tempered friend wasn't all that bothered by it, she wasn't mad at you per se.

A sigh.

Watching as Johanna looked back down to the weapon, you didn't know if that was your sign to leave, frustrated at yourself for being so stupid and messing up a conversation before it even had a chance to get going. Tentatively, you turned toward the metal doors, about to walk away.

"It's fine." Shaking the hair out of her face, she lifted her head to gaze at you, catching how quickly you quipped back around to face her. "I'd rather have you for company than anyone else" Johanna cracked up, adding a swift, "Not like there's anyone decent about anyway," to the end of the sentence, retracting the affection immediately after it was given out.

"Well, thank you. It's been a while, kinda sucks this is the way I get to see you again" You paid a short amount of attention to what she had just said, possibly flustered and not wanting it to affect you.

"Kinda sucks?" Johanna laughed, that uniquely menacing laugh that you adored, "This is a load of shit, Y/N and I can't believe they're putting us through it again."

Her tone shifted, the irritation seeping from her words. You noticed her hand around the axe start to tremble furiously, chuckling still while gritting her teeth. You took it upon yourself to join Johanna, sitting down beside her and waiting for her to calm down. She did, the tense atmosphere becoming a comfortable silence.

Sympathy; it was all you could feel. A huge part of your admiration for Johanna came from the fire that burned so dangerously within her, her adamant refusal to sell herself away to the capital as a prostitute, to be used once more by those disgusting, thieving mutts. She lost her family because of it, because she wanted to have some of her life back after losing so much of herself in that damned arena.

You knew that, deep down, a part of Johanna resented you because you escaped the threat of it. The injuries that permanently mangled your body, from the brutality of that final brawl, made you unfit for it, undesirable to the citizens of the profound Capitol. Prosthetics and whatnot had been offered to 'fix you up', but you couldn't let them do that to you. If it weren't for the sheer entertainment your suffering brought for the Capitol, your family would also be dead because you defied them.

Pride was the last word you felt regarding your wounds; they didn't make you feel like the warrior you had been made out to be, they were just a constant reminder of the trauma you have endured - haunting any possible peaceful moments, taking over your life. For crying out loud, you couldn't even try to see the world how you used to before your games, literally and metaphorically (since you lost an eye and have to deal with wonky depth perception, on top of everything else.)

Her breath was in sync with yours, the inhaling and exhaling being the only noise in the room. From the corner of your eye, you could see her looking at you, observing you, while a smug yet warmish smile crept onto her lips. Sheepishly, you averted your focus from a random spot on the training room floor to glance at Johanna. She tilted her head and raised her dark eyebrows at you, expecting you to say something.

"I don't think I'm making it out of there alive this time," You said, honestly. You sensed it wasn't what the pretty redhead wanted you to say, however, you didn't miss the way her eyes softened slightly at your comment.

"We've all done it once, we're all capable." Johanna renounced, sharply intaking a breath, disturbed at what she had implied. "You'll be fine," she added, reaching out to pat your shoulder in support, trying to reassure you. You appreciated it deeply, a light flutter in your stomach.

Unexpectedly, her arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders, pulling you forward slightly, forcing you into an embrace, your arms mirroring the position of hers, your hand brushing against her back. It was silent for a moment. You could hear your own quickened heartbeat and you were sure she could hear it too. There was so little space between you that the sound of her opening her mouth to say something was impossible to miss; her breath tickling your earlobe as she leaned in even closer now.

"Are you in on it too, Y/N?"

All the tension built up in your cramped muscles loosened, providing a sensation that made you feel like you were deflating. The hug was merely a cover to disguise her question, so anybody watching wouldn't have heard what she was asking you, instead assuming that you and Johanna were sharing this moment of melancholy, in each other's arms. To be honest, you mistook it for the same thing. Working yourself up like that, hoping for something different than what you got. She was playing with you.

"Yes…I am," You responded, sensing she'd pull away at any second. She didn't.

Johanna let you stay there for a while. It comforted you both. You had no idea how she would be feeling exactly, but you knew it made you feel safe and appreciated, and hoped that it made her feel similarly positive, taking your mind away from the games for a brief instance of relaxation. Being pretty much cuddled into Johanna, she was all you could think about, as she often was. Occasionally, you would wonder if you made your feelings for her obvious, and of course wanted to know if there was any chance she felt the same, no matter the complications it would bring.

"We should get back," the redhead whispered, the soft, smoothness of her words enveloping your ear, cushioning it, steadily releasing you from her grasp.

"You're right, I'm starting to feel sleepy, for a change. I don't know what you did Johanna, but you've helped loads. Thank you." The gratitude slipped from your lips while a small hint of blush appeared on your cheeks.

Again, Johanna laughed, retrieving the axe she had set aside, standing up and waiting for you to follow, which you did with great haste. The pair of you sauntered toward the large metallic doors, remaining close to one another with each step, brushing shoulders every now and then.

You grabbed the handle, the metal as chilled as it was earlier. Getting the door for Johanna, opening it wide for her to pass through, she had stopped right in front of it, clutching the training axe, an unreadable, maybe frustrated, expression present.

"And what are you gonna do with that? Bring it back to bed with you?" You joked, finding yourself funny.

"No, silly," She chuckled back, for a second seemingly genuinely amused by you, then to your surprise, the District 7 tribute pivoted sharply and hurled the axe across the training room, the weapon wedging itself into a padded area on the wall. With a new sense of pride in her step, Johanna walked on ahead, exiting.

"Hurry up Y/N!" She called out, nearly halfway down the hallway.

You had been standing frozen in place, still holding the door wide open, processing what had just happened (and figuring out if you were attracted to it). Remains of a dumbfounded look lingered on your face as you caught up to the fiery woman.

Eventually, you and her arrived at your apartment, stood outside your room. She didn't have to come all that way with you, in fact, getting off the elevator two floors earlier was quite an inconvenience, but, there she was, right in front of you.

"I appreciate you walking me here," You mumbled, the words barely audible - wanting to show your gratitude, though, you ended up making yourself visibly flustered.

Johanna hummed, lifting her line of sight to lock eyes with you. She had no issue holding eye contact, her gaze intense while she stared you down, a certain something glimmering inside the organs. On the other hand, you struggled, not bearing the same confidence she had. Everything began to feel quite tense, gulping at the sensation of blood rushing to your ears and your cheeks, listening while your heart gradually picked up pace, quickening, slamming recklessly against your rib cage.

She looked like it was taking every bit of her strength to hold back, to not give in to the urges suffocating her senses. You looked desperate. Both of you refused to let the moment end, craving something from one another, neither willing to do anything about it.

Your mouth twitched, about to speak. Nothing aside from a small stutter came out, Johanna's eyes widened for a split second, like she was begging you to talk.

"Goodnight, Johanna." You uttered, offering a smile because you knew that the pair of you were hoping for much more.

"Sleep well, Y/N."

Disappointment flashed over her and you felt just as gloomy. Those minutes between you loomed over your mind while you settled back into bed, different outcomes and things you could've said and done occupying your thoughts. At Least the drama of romance kept the nightmares away for the rest of the night, you slept better than ever, drifting off thinking of Johanna.

Rejection held you back. Fear held her back.

#the hunger games #The hunger games catching #catching fire #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason #x female reader #fanfiction #lqbtqa #finnick odair #katniss everdeen #haymitch abernathy #peeta mellark x reader

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micuentodeelfosytrolls · 2 years

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#troll vigilante #vandor #troll vandor #troll de dos cabezas #troll noruego #troll nyform #wish velasco #wishimation

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wish-velasco · 1 year

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#wishimation #wish velasco #troll #youtube #magic #elf #nyform #troll chester #wishtrolls #troll doll #norwegian #trolls latinos #trolls noruegos

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muncysvelasco · 11 months

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Hey guys! So, i’ll be most likely wont be posting a lot this week and next week bc finals start for me next week (Yay) i’ll most likely be back June 19 with a new fic fic and back to normal then.

See you then, Meg

#svu 24 #joe velasco #veluncy #velascy #wish me luck i’m gonna cry this week.#i have a job interview tomorrow #finals week #i also have two regenets #why do we have finals

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bullet-prooflove · 5 months

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Hallmark!Series Part Six: Compromise: Mike Duarte x Reader

Tagging: @resonmalvo @@littleone65 @thesandbeneathmytoes @mydarkestsecretlol @evee87 @wooshwastaken @hearthockey @justreblogginfics @rosaliedepp @thatesqcrush @storiesofsvu @whateversomethingbruh @burningpeachpuppy @legit9thlunaticwarrior @kiwiithecrazybird @spooky-pomegranate @telepathay @weiwei0210 @spaghettificationandpretzels @plaidbooks @misscharlielulu @witches-unruly-heart @magic-multicolored-miracle @cycat4077 @deekaag @cixrosie @upsteadlogic @imaginecrushes @anime-weeb-4-life @hey-dw @alwaysachorusgirl @telepathay @nu1freakshow

Hallmark (feat: Mike Duarte) - Joe watches you fall in love with another man.

Be With Me (feat: Mike Duarte) - Joe tells you how he feels.

Placeholder (feat: Mike Duarte) - Mike fears he’s a placeholder.

Think About It (feat: Mike Duarte) - Joe recalls what happened the night of Fin's engagement party.

Positive - Mike finds out about what happened between you and Joe.

You’re five months pregnant when Mike next lays eyes on you. You look radiant, your skin is glowing, and you have a small baby bump that your palm rests on as you order a decaf tea from the coffee kiosk by the courthouse. It’s a sign that you’re taking your pregnancy seriously because he’s never known you to drink a decaf anything.

“Let me get that.” Mike says handing over a folded bill after he submits his own order.

He’s coming off an overnight stakeout, running on fumes. There’s a bail hearing you’re both attending in an hour, and he hasn’t had time to run home. He wished he’d at least taken the time to shave before travelling over to Manhattan.

“Can we talk?” He asks you, handing you your drink before gesturing towards the bench opposite the kiosk.

“You did buy me a drink, so I figure I owe you a couple of minutes.” You say with a small smile.

You take a seat alongside of Mike, your hip bumping lightly against his. You miss being in his proximity, the security that comes with being in his presence. You miss him. His smile, his laugh, the way he used to touch you like you were the most precious thing in his world.

“How’s the baby?” He asks you, his thumb playing over the lid of his takeaway cup.

“She is happy and healthy.” You say placing a hand upon your bump. “She’s started kicking recently so that’s fun at three in the morning.”

“You’re having a girl.” Mike says, his lips pursed together into a firm line. “Velasco must be happy.”

“He is and he isn’t.” You say softly, you palm smoothing over your stomach. “I think he thought that once you were out of the picture we’d get together and play happy families…”

“It didn’t work out that way?” Mike asks, taking a sip from his coffee.

“I don’t love him.” You say, cradling your drink to your chest. “Not the way he wants me too. We’ve decided to co-parent instead.”

“How is that going to work?” Mike says, his thumb skimming over the ridges of the cardboard cup.

“We’re still figuring things out.” You tell Mike, with a sigh. “He wants to be involved as much as possible and he has a right to that.”

“But…” Mike prompts because this man knows you better than anyone else, he can sense there’s something else, it sits just bennet the surface of the conversation.

“I draw the line at letting him move in when the baby comes.” You tell Mike. “He read on a website it’s the best thing to do if both parents are amicable.”

Mike laughs bitterly, tilting his head up towards the sky.

“Of course, he did.”

“He’s not wrong.” You explain. “It is recommended for the first few months so that the father has the same opportunity to bond with the baby. I just didn’t envision that I’d end up with a baby and a roommate.”

There’s silence between the two of you before Mike swallows hard against the ache in his chest.

“We really fucked things up, didn’t we?” He says with a mirthless smile.

“No, I did.” You correct him, popping the plastic lid off your cup. “I was insecure, I heard a rumour you were seeing someone else; I should have come to you about it, I was going to, but you got that call out…”

It’s not an excuse, you know it isn’t. You had been hurt at the time because you’d thought things between the two of you were getting serious, only to find out he was supposedly fucking someone else. Then Joe had looked into your eyes, someone who wanted you unconditionally and you’d ended up fucking him in the bathroom, conceiving his baby.

“You know it’s been three months, and I still can’t get you out of my head.” Mike says quietly, toying with his empty cup. “I still love you, I’m still in love with you…I know it’s complicated, that I told you I didn’t want children but she’s your daughter, she’s a part of you and I know if we decide to give this another shot, I will love her like she’s my own.”

“What about Joe?” You ask him, tilting your head so that you can study the profile of his face. “He’s her father, he’s going to be in our lives. If you want us to move forward, you need to get on board with that. I can’t have any animosity around the baby, she’ll pick up on it.”

“I will find a way to make peace.” Mike says, his voice tight because when he thinks about Velasco’s hands on you, he still wants to murder the other man.

“It’s going to be a lot of compromising and it’s not just us anymore. Are you sure this is what you want?” You ask him softly.

Mike reaches over and takes your hand. His thumb traces over your ring finger and he smiles to himself because this isn’t the way he saw the relationship going but the two of you are anything but conventional.

“I love you.” He tells you. “It doesn’t get much simpler than that.”

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#mike duarte #mike duarte x reader #mike duarte x you #joe velasco #joe velasco x reader #joe velasco x you

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