#is stronger than i ever meant for it to be. 🙃

[sentimental-sil]

i'm gonna cryyyyyyyyyy

[truthundressing]

.

[girlgenius1111]

all of my pain and all your excuses

part 2 of family line ingrid arrives home, and realizes how much she's missed with her sister. her and mapi try to figure out how to put the pieces back together. r struggles with the mess inside her head. cw: mommy issues galore 🙃 mentions of poor mental health. solstråle continues to be sad.

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It took you a few minutes of crying into Mapi before you realized what she’d probably done. At this realization, you pulled away from her in a panic, practically falling onto the ground. 

“Mapi, please don’t tell Ingrid about this, please please, you can’t, she’ll be so mad, she’s already mad, I can’t,” your gasps for air cut your words off and Mapi took your face in between her hands. 

“Breathe. In and out pequeña. Just breathe.” She instructed, dramatically exaggerating her own breaths. 

“Please, Mapi,” you whimpered after a minute. 

“I’m sorry, nena, I had to. I had to.” She said, seemingly begging you to believe her that she’d had no other choice. You couldn’t really blame her; you’d gotten yourself here, after all. You’d written the letter. You’d meant every word you’d said, and every word you didn’t quite have the guts to say. You’d collapsed into her arms. You’d given her no choice. 

“I’m really scared,” you mumbled. 

Mapi pulled you back in, tucking your face easily into her chest. “I know. You don’t need to be, but I know you are. Everything is going to be alright. I promise you.” 

You wrapped yourself tight around the defender, hoping with everything in you that she was right. 

When Ingrid burst through the front door, eyes immediately finding you on the couch, crumpled up into a little ball in Mapi’s lap, she knew it was bad. Mapi was holding you so tightly, expression unreadable when she glanced up at Ingrid, murmuring inaudible words in your ear. You looked so small, visibly trembling in your baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, Mapi’s arms engulfing you. Ingrid practically ran to your side, sitting as carefully as she could next to the both of you. 

“María, what..?” Ingrid asked, trailing off when Mapi silently held out a piece of paper to her. Ingrid took it, having no idea what she was about to read. Having no idea what she was about to feel. 

You were hiding your face in Mapi’s sweater, much too distraught to care about how pathetic you probably seemed. You’d heard Ingrid enter, and you knew it was just a matter of time before you had to leave your safe little bubble and confront this. When it had been silent for too long, and you knew Ingrid must be done reading by now, you shifted away from Mapi. It was time to be brave, and it was time to take whatever was coming your way. 

The look on your sister’s face made you want to take it all back. Because, fuck, you weren’t sure your happiness was worth making Ingrid this upset. She was scanning over the paper over and over, as if she was hoping the contents would change with each reread. 

You acted stronger than you felt, sliding off Mapi’s lap and moving a bit closer to Ingrid. She didn’t look away from the letter. 

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. 

Your sister’s head snapped up to look at you so rapidly, you almost jumped. 

“Solstråle,” Ingrid began, and you felt like the last stable part of you broke sharply at the nickname. Sunbeam, it meant. Ingrid had called you that your whole life. Her sunbeam, always breaking through the clouds to shine a bit of light. She’d assumed you’d grown out of it, recently. You looked so small, though, so scared and so desperately sad, that it just slipped out. She didn’t regret it, not when you practically fell towards her. “Oh, honey.” 

If you were crying with Mapi just minutes before, you were bawling now. Hysterical, hyperventilating cries that were painful to hear, and painful to let out, but somehow so cathartic. Ingrid pulled you into her, beginning to cry herself. 

When Ingrid spoke, it was in Norwegian, and nothing had ever sounded so safe. “I am so sorry, my perfect baby sister, I am so so sorry. I love you. I love you, I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you.” 

And though you still cried, you relaxed marginally at the comfort hearing her speak in your native language brought you. You relaxed, going completely limp against your sister. You probably would have slid off her onto the ground if she hadn’t had her arms wrapped around you so tight. Ingrid wasn’t sure she’d ever let you go. You weren’t sure you wanted her to.

-------

Ingrid stood in your doorway, eyes fixed on your sleeping form. She’d brought you up to bed, carrying you like she used to when you were little. You’d fallen asleep on her downstairs, and she hadn’t dared to move you for a while. She and Mapi sat in a rather stunned silence for a while, before Mapi suggested she bring you up to bed. So, Ingrid tucked you in, pulling the covers up to your chin the way she knew you liked them. She noticed something tucked under one of your pillows, and carefully pulled it out. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the plush polar bear in her hand. Snø. She’d given him to you when you were three, for your birthday. She thought you’d stopped sleeping with him, but apparently not. The thought that you’d pulled him out of your closet for some comfort upon arriving in Spain made tears flood Ingrid’s eyes. She carefully kissed your forehead before rushing out of the room, almost colliding with her girlfriend. 

“Oof,” Mapi grunted, steadying Ingrid, when she caught sight of the other womans’ face. “Amor,” 

Ingrid shook her head, wiping harshly at her eyes, and pushed past Mapi towards their bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled the folded letter out of her pocket, smoothing it out, and began to read it. Again. Mapi had followed her into the room, and took the paper out of her girlfriend’s hands. 

“Give it back.” Ingrid said through clenched teeth. She sounded angry, but Mapi saw the tears in her eyes and knew better. 

“No, you’ve already read it.” Mapi said firmly. 

“María, give it back, I need to read it again.” 

“Mi amor, it's just going to hurt more, and you don’t need that right now.”

“Yes I do,” Ingrid cried. “I do, she’s been hurting like this for god knows how long. Wanting to–” She cut herself off, shaking her head almost frantically. “She said she felt like no one would care if she was gone. Reading this hurts but it is nothing compared to what she has been feeling, and it is all my fault, so let me read it so I can fix this, because I need to fix this, I can’t lose her, María, I can’t lose her.” Ingrid was sobbing by the end, making little to no sense, and Mapi placed her hands on Ingrid’s cheeks, forcing her to make eye contact. She noticed in that moment that while you looked alike normally, you looked just like Ingrid when you cried. 

It wasn’t enough, though, Ingrid was crying so hard, every sob shattered a part of Mapi that she hadn’t known existed. She climbed onto the bed, pulling Ingrid with her, guiding the younger woman’s head onto her chest. Ingrid clutched at Mapi’s shirt almost desperately, muffling her sobs there too, although her body shook heavily with the force of them. Her world was falling down around her, and it was all she could do to hold onto her María, and not let go. 

“I know, mi princesa, I know.” Mapi murmured, running her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair. “You aren’t going to lose her. We aren’t going to lose her. We’ll fix it.” 

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Ingrid whimpered. Mapi tilted the Norwegian’s head up, until Ingrid was looking at her once again. 

“That’s okay, mi amor. You don’t need to have all the answers now. We’ll figure it out together. For now, just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her.” 

Ingrid nodded pitifully, scooting up and cramming her face into the crook of Mapi’s neck.

“Thank you. For helping her and for texting me and for being so perfect. You’re always so perfect.” Ingrid mumbled. 

“I’ll be perfect for you any day. I love you, and I love your sister. Now relax, mi princesa. Relax, breathe, calm down. We’re going to be okay.” 

And like you had earlier, Ingrid hoped with everything in her that Mapi was right about this. 

-------

Ingrid and Mapi fell silent the minute you walked into the kitchen the next morning. They’d been talking about you, clearly, and they looked at you nervously the minute you were in sight. You’d woken up irritated, though, as you sometimes did, feeling like your blood was boiling, as if one wrong thing would set you off. You wished you had more control than that, but you knew the minute you heard your sister’s voice, you would fly off the handle. Because this morning? You weren’t sad. You were furious. 

The room was a complete contradiction to how you were feeling. Ingrid and Mapi’s home was bright with sunlight, and warm with color. They were both holding matching coffee mugs, and looking at you with matching concerned expressions, and all of it made you want to scream. Why did Ingrid get to have this perfect life, and you didn’t? Why did she get to be happy so easily, and you didn’t? 

You were lost in your thoughts, taking the coffee Mapi handed you with a quiet thank you. The kitchen was uncomfortably silent. 

“Hi, solstråle. How are you feeling this morning?” Ingrid piped up. You clenched your jaw. How did she think you were feeling?

“Fine.” You snapped. 

Ingrid remained quiet and soothing when she spoke next, and it made you even angrier. “Honey, last night,”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.” You said harshly, cutting her off. Ingrid tensed, trying to keep her reaction in check. 

“I’m sorry, solstråle, but that is not an option. We need to talk about what happened, we can’t wait on that.” Ingrid insisted, voice measured. 

Still it was like she’d hit you. Your head snapped up, your features contorted with rage, and you set your coffee down dangerously softly, glaring at your sister. “Oh now we have to? Now we have to talk about it? I’ve been here for 6 fucking months Ingrid. It took you months to realize something was wrong, and you didn’t even realize! I had to write it out for you. You told me last night that you love me, that you want me here, well then why didn’t you fucking show it before now! I said I don’t want to talk today and I meant that.” You yelled. 

Ingrid shook her head, her hands clenching tight into fists. “Do not yell at me. I am trying to help. I understand that you’re hurt, and that you’re upset, but-” 

You scoffed loudly then, interrupting her, and Ingrid got visibly more frustrated with you, her lips turning down into a disapproving frown. 

“You can’t-” 

“Ingrid, just take a sec.” Mapi cut in, her soft voice a sharp contrast to how you and your sister had been conversing. “Nena, we do need to talk, but it doesn’t have to be now. Let’s just all take a breath.” 

Ingrid was shocked when you slowly nodded your head and took a step back from her, inhaling deeply. It was like magic; she’d never seen an argument that you were involved in get de-escalated so quickly.  

“Go get your homework, okay? You’re coming with us to training.” Ingrid said after a minute. There was no room for argument in her words, and you fought against another surge of anger, fought the urge to yell. 

“Is this because of what I wrote?” You asked evenly. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances. 

“Listen, nena, we just want to keep an eye on you.” Mapi told you, realizing that you were a lot less reactive when she spoke to you than when Ingrid did. 

“I know what I said. I wasn’t going to do anything, though. Really. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t do that to you.” You defended quietly. 

Mapi felt Ingrid’s hand slide into hers and grip tight. I wouldn’t do that to you, you’d said. Not I wouldn’t do that, period. Everytime she thought about what you’d written, Ingrid felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if Mapi hadn’t gotten home when she did. She wasn’t sure how close she’d come to losing you. She was so scared. 

Ingrid had never been good at letting you see how she was feeling, and maybe that was why, until this point, you’d gone out of your way to hide your own emotions from her. She decided to take Mapi’s advice from the night before. Just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her. 

Ingrid approached you like she was worried you would lash out at her, which may have been fair. When you made no move to step away from her, she carefully stood directly in front of you, and put her hands on your shoulders. 

“What you wrote really scared me. I’m not mad, solstråle, I’m just really scared. And I trust you, I do, but if I left you here alone, I would just worry, and we haven’t talked yet, and I have no idea what you’re thinking other than the things you said on that piece of paper. So it would make me feel a lot better if you came with us to training today.” 

You blinked up at her for a minute, before you slowly nodded your head. “Okay. I guess that’s fair.” 

Ingrid seemed equally as surprised as you did, removing her hands from your shoulders, and gesturing for you to go get your bag. Once you’d disappeared from the room, she turned back to her girlfriend, who had a ridiculous grin on her face. 

“Look! You communicated! Like a real human being!” Mapi joked, opening her arms. Ingrid instantly melted into the hug, though she scowled at her girlfriend’s teasing. 

“I communicate.” She said stubbornly. 

“Sometimes,” Mapi allowed. “You’ve definitely gotten better. And you’ll keep getting better because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as determined as you are right now to make sure that your solstråle is okay.” Mapi whispered, kissing the side of Ingrid’s head. 

“My solstråle.” Ingrid smiled. “I started calling her that when she was 3, and she had this shirt with a sun on it. I told her I liked it once, and whenever she saw me sad after that, she’d run off to put the shirt on and come show me. I called her my little solstråle. My sunbeam. She used to be so smiley, María. So happy. She’s so different now.” Very quickly, the smile faded from Ingrid’s face and she held Mapi closer to her. 

“It’s all gonna be okay, mi princesa,” Mapi promised. 

You cleared your throat from the doorway, then, and your sister and her girlfriend sprung apart, blushing like high schoolers caught in an awkward position. “Are you guys done making out?” 

“We weren’t making out,” Ingrid groaned, as you all headed towards the door. 

“No, we only make out after training,” Mapi said seriously.

You made a fake retching sound, Ingrid slapped her girlfriend in the arm, and Mapi laughed to herself, but the tension was broken. And you had smiled, a real smile. Ingrid didn’t care what she had to say to see you smile again, she’d do it. 

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As was the norm when you went to training, the younger girls immediately latched onto you, yanking you away from Ingrid and pulling you into some scheme to get back at Mapi for the prank she’d pulled on them last week. It was the usual suspects; Pina,Vicky, Salma, and a couple others pulling you from the room, already giggling. They kindly didn’t say anything about the bruising and cuts on your face, and for that you were grateful, although you did get a few raised eyebrows from the older players. Ingrid watched you go anxiously, only turning her attention away from the door you’d walked out of when Mapi squeezed her hand.

“She’ll be fine.” Mapi promised. Ingrid nodded, but she didn’t stop worrying. And when Mapi went off to work in the gym herself, the Norwegian had no one to pull her out of her head. 

She worried all through the gym session, paying very little attention to what she was supposed to be doing. Which wasn’t normal for Ingrid, and it caught the attention of pretty much everyone. 

Ingrid was staring intently at where you were sitting against the wall in the shade, working on your homework, when Alexia and Frido approached. 

“Everything okay, Engen?” Alexia asked. 

“Yep.” Ingrid said distractedly. 

“What did our dear solstråle do this time?” Frido joked, having known your sister long enough to know precisely why you were living with her. Alexia knew, too, and smiled, joining in on the joke. Until Ingrid’s eyes inexplicably filled with tears, and she turned away from you, wiping harshly at her face. 

“Ingrid? What happened?” Frido wondered, running a hand up and down the Norwegian’s arm, while Alexia looked around anxiously, searching for anyone, anyone on earth, that would be better at dealing with whatever was going on than she would be. 

“It’s a long story.” Ingrid said, her voice cracking. Frido and Alexia exchanged looks, before the captain turned to Jona across the pitch. 

“Ingrid needs her ankle taped!” She shouted, before leading both women off the pitch. Jona nodded knowingly, despite the fact that Ingrid hadn’t done anything to her ankle, and it was rather odd for 2 entire people to accompany her to tape it. Jona knew that Alexia wouldn’t be asking for a minute for Ingrid if she didn’t think it was necessary. 

Ingrid let them pull her into the locker room, rather desperate for some advice and some honesty. Because Mapi loved her too much to tell her how badly she’d really messed up, and both Frido and Alexia were known to be brutally honest. She needed brutal honesty right now. No matter how much it hurt.

-------

You were busy struggling through an essay you were supposed to be writing entirely in Spanish when Frido sat down next to you. One look at her face told you she knew exactly what was going on. You weren’t that surprised. She was your sister’s best friend, and you’d known her for a long time. If there was anyone that Ingrid was going to talk to, it would be Frido. 

Frido always spoke to you in Norwegian, a thing you were endlessly grateful for. It instantly put you at ease, and today was no different, as she tugged playfully at your ear.

“How is my favorite Norwegian?” She asked. 

“I know you already asked your second favorite Norwegian.” You replied jokingly. 

“Why would I ask Caro how you are?” Frido deadpanned. 

You threw your head back, laughing loudly, and Frido grinned, continuing on to tell any and every joke she could think of. 

Ingrid watched from the doorway of the building, and when Mapi turned the corner and saw her watching the two of you, she knew exactly what her girlfriend was thinking. 

Ingrid saw Mapi coming, though, and forced a smile onto her face. “How was the gym?” She asked. 

“Fine. I was distracted though. How is she doing?” Mapi replied, nodding in your direction. 

“Well. She’s joking around with Frido. So, better I assume.” Ingrid said evenly. 

“She’s joking with Frido because Frido speaks her language, and she trusts her, and she didn’t just get into a screaming match with Frido. Frido didn’t read a letter containing her most upsetting feelings. She loves you, Ingrid, she just needs time.” Mapi assured her. Ingrid kissed her cheek softly, very appreciative that her girlfriend always knew what she needed. 

“What if she doesn’t want to talk when we get home?” Ingrid asked, after another minute. 

Mapi sounded wiser than normal when she spoke. Ingrid wasn’t used to her being the voice of reason in their relationship, but she appreciated that the defender always stepped up, and was always willing to be what Ingrid needed. “What happened last night was a big thing. She needs to process, and she needs to take her time with it. She’ll talk when she’s ready. And until then, we keep an eye on her, we give her hugs, and we tell her that we love her, vale?” 

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed. It was going to be a long and difficult evening of not suffocating you with questions, it seemed. She’d do it, though, if it was what you needed. Ingrid thought that she would probably quit football or cut off one of her limbs if that was what you needed. 

-------

You didn’t talk much the rest of the day, as Mapi predicted, and as Ingrid feared. Your sister did her best not to push you, and was mostly successful. Mapi kept the conversation going, able to talk about nothing for hours. She knew exactly which topics to discuss and which to avoid, and she knew how to make both you and Ingrid laugh until your stomachs hurt. Thank god for Mapi. 

You were… relatively alright. Until later that evening, when you got up to head upstairs to finish some homework. You’d accidentally picked up Ingrid’s phone thinking it was yours, and saw a few texts from your mom to her. All about how much she missed Ingrid, how she was thinking of her, how she made Ingrid’s favorite for dinner that night. Nothing about you. You put it back down silently, grabbed your phone, and tried not to think about it, to no avail.

Instead of doing your homework, you sat on the floor of your room, thinking of the fact that your mom had missed your birthday, and not even noticed. Ingrid had, too, but she’d apologized over and over, and she’d promised to take you shopping over the weekend, and to dinner. Ingrid was trying. Your mother hadn’t tried in a while. 

You didn’t realize you were crying until Mapi knocked on the door to say goodnight. She peaked in, frowning when she saw the fresh tears on your cheeks. 

“Hey,” she said softly, carefully lowering herself to the ground next to you, minding her knee. She texted Ingrid to come upstairs, and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because I know that you aren’t. But Ingrid and I love you. Ingrid and I want you here. Ingrid and I are gonna fix things, and that is a promise.” 

You registered the words, though you didn’t believe them. Still, you gave Mapi a watery smile and leaned into her a bit. Ingrid’s footsteps were quiet in the hall, but you recognized that she was walking faster than normal. She appeared at your door, then, giving Mapi a meaningful look, and took Mapi’s place, sliding down onto the floor next to you. You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and holding tight. It looked as if you were trying to physically hold yourself together. 

“Hey, solstråle,” Ingrid said softly. You murmured a greeting, not moving your chin from your knees, and not turning your gaze towards your sister either. It was quiet for a minute before Ingrid prompted you. “Talk to me, please.” 

You sighed, a tear rolling down your cheek. “‘I just miss Mom.” You said finally. 

Ingrid’s chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were so stubborn, so willful, sometimes she forgot you were just a kid. Just an 18 year old kid living in a foreign country, who missed her mom. “Do you want to call her?” She asked, not very confident in the suggestion, but not really sure what else to say. 

You instantly shook your head. “No. She doesn’t want to talk to me.” 

“Kjære, of course she does,” Ingrid began, but she wasn’t really sure. Your parents were so different, now. And whenever Ingrid called her mom, she never asked about you. She only wanted to hear about Ingrid. Your sister wasn’t stupid, she knew she was their favorite, but she didn’t expect them to write you off completely when you moved to Spain. They seemed happier, now. Without you there. It was something Ingrid couldn’t understand. Neither could you, really, but you had long accepted it. 

“No she doesn’t. I stopped calling her, just to see. 2 months ago. She hasn’t called me once. She doesn’t want me, anymore, Ingrid. I know I was an accident, but if they were going to hate me for ruining their early retirement plans, I don’t know why they didn't just…” 

Ingrid was speechless. At a loss for words, and so so angry. You filled the silence, though, things you’d never said out loud falling out of your mouth like you couldn’t help it. 

“I miss what mom was like before, when I was younger. When you were still at home. I miss that mom. I don’t miss the one that I could call right now.” 

“I don’t understand,” Ingrid said quietly, her hand resting on your head, and pulling you closer to her. 

“Ingrid, I know mom is always nice to you, but,” 

“No, solstråle. I don’t understand her. How she could bring someone so perfect into this world and not want to spend the rest of her life watching you grow up. I’ll never forgive her for how she’s made you feel, and I’ll never forgive myself for not noticing earlier. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it better. I promise you.” 

“Thanks, Ing.” You mumbled, looking up at her for a minute before resting your head on her shoulder. 

The problem was, Ingrid could tell you didn’t believe her. She could see it in your eyes; they were still so guarded and so hurt. You were still angry with her, she knew. You thought she just felt guilty, and eventually she would go back to how she was before. Ingrid didn’t know how to make you believe what she felt and what she told you. She worried so deeply that she wouldn’t be able to. That too much damage had been done, and that maybe she wouldn’t be able to fix it. Late at night, early in the morning, right in the middle of a match, she worried about that. All the time until it consumed her, and all she wanted to do was sit with you, and promise you over and over that she loved you more than anything on this planet. What if you never believed her? 

-------

doesn't everyone feel so much better now!

[meshlasolus]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 1

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: The Hunger Games reaping. Canon typical angst. Reader has a speech impediment.

Chapter Summary: Lukas Artanhour is your best friend since childhood who makes the worst decision of his life when he volunteers as tribute for the 71st annual hunger games... Luckily, he won't be going alone, and you didn't even have to volunteer.

Word Count: 2.8k

Don't be detered by the OC in this chapter, he is just someone I made up to make the hunger games more emotional of an event 🙃

The representative from the Capitol being the same every year was almost a comforting sort of repetition through the years, but compared to the annual tradition it surrounded, you were hardly relaxed at seeing him make his dazzling appearance. A new outfit every year, made from the finest fabrics and silks that eight had to offer… And you wore the same green top and skirt. At least this year there were seashells. 

“Good afternoon, District Four!” His shout of happiness was hardly felt by any who stood here in this gathering. “There’s nothing like being here, amongst the beautiful waters and sandy beaches.”

It’s cold and windy down by the docks, with the sand getting kicked up from time to time. District Four is one of the most beautiful places in all of Panem, and it’s known, as all districts are, for its main production to the Capitol. Fish. 

The people here are wealthier than most in the districts, a close third in rank to both one and two, who reign supremely amongst the favorites. The Hunger Games have obviously played a serious part in all of that. Four being a career district meant that the Capitol goers were far more likely to invest. Careers are the favorites, no matter which district they come from. 

The reaping is today, and you don’t want to think about it. It is why you arrive at your work station an hour before you need to be there. You’ve spent years of your life down here by the docks, whether it was waiting for your father’s boat to return, or your friend to bring you the boxes that needed to be loaded onto Capitol trucks. You’re a mover, it’s your job. It doesn’t pay well, because the real money is in fishing, but you wouldn’t dare go out on a boat. 

“You’re early,” Lukas nearly spooks you, smiling after watching you jump from surprise. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s r-reaping day. I couldn’t s-sleep.”

He was used to the skip and stutter of your words, un-phasing him as you spoke each one. 

“I get it. My mom keeps hounding me about it. Every year I grow taller, stronger, she tells me I could win,” he sat down next to you in the sand, handing you a shell he found on his way here. “Another for the collection.”

“Thanks,” you took it gratefully, placing it in your pocket for safekeeping until later. You journeyed back to his previous words, what he meant by them. “Does your mother w-wish you’d gone through the career program?”

He shrugged, looking out into the sea, his mind just as full of indecent thoughts as yours. 

“I’m not sure what she wants. Ever since dad died she’s just been… different.”

“My parents have s-said, if it ever gets t-too bad, you c-can always stay with us.”

He nods, his appreciation shown through a single sideways glance. He knows he has places to go, he knows that there are others that are willing to treat him as a son should be treated, but he wants his own mother to do it. He longs for the woman she once was, and hopes if he can make her proud enough, maybe she will be that way again. 

“I’ll think about it,” he said, but he’d been saying that for the past year. 

So far, you’d learned she’d been hitting him, been yelling and screaming about how he would never measure up to his father. You never saw these interactions of course, because if you had you may have broken down for him, your friend of eleven years. In school, he was the only one who would talk to you, the only person who ever gave a damn about the girl with the stutter. He defended you when they made fun of you left and right, for nearly everything they thought was wrong with you.

“You s-shouldn’t listen to her,” you shook your head, the waves crashing on the shoreline several yards down. It was the only thing that would remain peaceful about today, when later on two children would be hauled off and expected to fight or die. “She isn’t in her r-right mind anymore.”

“I know that.” 

He agrees, he knows. He is well aware that her mind slipped maybe even before her husband died. She had been driving him to the long hours that he’d worked, and eventually made him work out on a ship during a storm. The boat sinking was just fan to the flame of her deteriorating mental state. 

He picked up a rock from the sand a few feet over, standing up and tossing it to skip over the water before it began to wash on the shore. He gave you a hand to your feet, pulling you up until you were steady. 

“Boat leaves in a few minutes, I’ll see you when we get back,” he said, turning on his heel in the sand. You nodded at him before he walked off, into the working hours of the day. You shouldn’t even be here for another hour. You know that they’ll be gone for two or more and you don’t need that long to prep the boxes. But you can’t sleep. 

-

Lukas returned to the docks with a much better mindset. The water always made him feel serene. He came to land, lugging the giant nets tied together to keep the fish from falling out. Today’s catch was good as any other, and the songs the boys sang on board nearly made him forget everything else. 

“Salmon are catching like crazy this time of year,” he muttered, meeting you halfway to help you untie the knots and start packing the boxes. “Thinking I might sneak one home if there’s extra. You probably can, too.”

“I’ll t-try. My pa could use s-something more to eat.”

He weeded through all the skimpy ones, pulling the biggest catches out first and laying them sideways in the boxes, filling the middles with ice before adding another layer. It was the same thing everyday, but he never tired of it. He was content to live the life of a district four fisherman, and he was good at it. 

“How’s his arm doing?” He asked, since you’d brought up your father. 

He’d broken it in a rigging accident about two months ago, and the slow healing process was not doing your family any favors. You’d been hungry several times, so obviously extreme measures had to be taken. You won’t think about that right now, though.

“Not any better, n-not any worse.” The fish box was nearly packed, but you paused to think for a moment. “Maybe I s-should try and catch. It pays a lot m-more, and we could use the money.”

He grabbed you by the shoulder and turned you to face him. 

“You’d be scared to death. If your family needs some money, I can help out. It’s the least I can do when they offer me free lodging,” he half joked, completely serious in all aspects about the help with financial assistance. 

“Lodging that y-you’ve never taken.”

“Listen, I’m happy to help if you need me to. Especially with your brother, now,” he mentioned, making you think about the sweet little sleeping face you’d passed by on the way out of your home. Your baby brother, born not a year ago. You hated the idea of him growing up hungry, or having to start work early in his life like you did. 

“Well, t-thank you. I’ll think about it.”

He shook his head, seeing as how you quoted him from all the times your family offered him help before. 

He waved you off when you finished stacking the prepared boxes onto your slab dolly, tilting it back and beginning to push it towards the truck that pulled in not too long ago. It was a steep climb, up the ramp from the docks and onto the street, but it made you quite strong over the years. That and all the heavy lifting, becoming easier with every twenty by thirty of fish. 

Lukas would be taking off early today, as would most of the other boys of age. You would be heading home after loading this shipment as it were. You had to shower, had to clean up your hair and skin and make yourself presentable for the reaping. 

You opened the back of the truck, tossing the boxes up one at a time, before climbing into it and stacking them neatly in one of the four corners. You always managed to obtain a single splinter from every shipment loaded, but luckily today’s wasn't too bad, you could probably dig it out with a small pin. 

Later in the day, your mother gave you a solemn smile as you walked out the door, having just been readied and dressed in your best clothes. Even in a wealthier district, they still had mended holes in the bottom of your skirt. That’s the sad thing about every district. Even amongst the wealthier ones, there’s still poverty that simply cannot be helped. The Capitol's greed and thirst for luxury, needing every little thing that life has to offer at their beck and call. You can’t even imagine what it’s like in places like eight or twelve. Places where food is not the primary cultivation of the people. 

It was light green, your outfit. It had white seashells on the waist of the top, and a few along the edge of the skirt as well. They hadn’t always been there, but you insisted they should be. You didn’t really have much else of a use for all the shells you stole from the sands of the shoreline. You hated wearing the same outfit to this single event every year. You hardly wore it any other time, which made a distaste for it grow every time it came out of your closet. 

The way your mother did your hair was simple. A single french braid down the back of your head, tied off with a light green ribbon to match everything else. She watched how it fell a bit looser with every step you took, making your way across the streets and into the city’s center. It’s your last year, and having avoided every year before, you know you should feel a semblance of relief, but you don’t. 

Your mother waits for the peacekeeper behind a stand to check your name off a list before she parts with you, hugging you tightly one last time and allowing you to kiss the head of the baby on her hip. He’s primarily the reason you remain so nervous. Even if your name doesn’t get called, his could be, someday.

You line up in an open space, next to the last girl that checked in. She wasn’t in your row last year, you would have remembered her. She was pretty, with blue eyes and dark raven hair. Her skin was tanned like most in four, but had a certain glow about it. She’s too pretty to be reaped, you thought. It didn’t make a difference, though. As you stared head on to the bowl on the stage, centered in front of the girl’s side, you got tense. Your name is in there six times this year. That’s three more than last year, and five more than the year before. 

Someone could still volunteer. But the career program had not made mention of producing a female tribute this year. It all depended on the luck of today’s draw. For all you knew, your name would be surpassed by someone else. There were other poverty stricken areas in four besides yours, and it made sense that somebody else could have been hungry enough to outgo you. 

You looked around to the boy's side. Lukas was there, and further up in the rows. He must have gotten here quickly after leaving the docks. His face was sullen, and something had changed, but you were unsure of what it was. When he looked around, you almost thought he’d been looking for somebody, but his expression told a far different story. 

The last few children in the line were filing in, and the musical fanfare blasted through the speakers by the stage. You were grateful not to be so close to those this year. 

The representative from the Capitol being the same every year was almost a comforting sort of repetition through the years, but compared to the annual tradition it surrounded, you were hardly relaxed at seeing him make his dazzling appearance. A new outfit every year, made from the finest fabrics and silks that eight had to offer… And you wore the same green top and skirt. At least this year there were seashells. 

“Good afternoon, District Four!” His shout of happiness was hardly felt by any who stood here in this gathering. “There’s nothing like being here, amongst the beautiful waters and sandy beaches.”

His rabble was boring, and nearly the same as it was last time. The anticipation was killing just about every girl and boy in this crowd, knowing there were no careers at the ready this year. It was always easier to rest at night while knowing if your name was called, another courageous youngster would step in to take your place. 

“I’m so excited to be back and reaping this year’s tributes for the 71st annual Hunger Games!” 

There was a surge of excitement coming from the sidelines, and it was only now that you looked past the blockades to see that there were actual Capitol civilians standing there this year. How nice, some onlookers for when an innocent child gets sent away to their death. Absolutely wonderful. You looked on past them, towards the victors standing close by. They seemed anxious as well, the old woman holding one fist to her mouth while the other clutched her chest. She rocked back and forth on her heels, and had to take a step every few seconds to keep from becoming too restless. The young man was stiff, his arms behind his back and every muscle in his body tense as a board. His eyeline never left the bowls on the stage. They went through this once, too.

When you refocused on the man at the microphone, your heart beat rapidly. He was approaching the boy’s side of the stage. 

After a small flourish of his hand, the Capitol rep stuck his hand into the glass, two papers in his hand before he dropped one. The dropped paper’s namesake got immensely lucky this year. 

“Harley Miggsen,” he read the paper, but before the peacekeepers had a shot at cornering the poor fourteen year old kid, with his eyes wide in horror, another voice spoke up. 

“I volunteer.” 

Your head snapped to Lukas, his hand raised high in the air. Murmurs started almost immediately about how everyone thought there weren’t any careers prepared. They spoke softly and wondered if there would be a career for the girls, too. Lukas isn’t a career, why would he do this?

“I… guess we have a volunteer,” the man at the mic clapped his hand, watching the young man getting ushered up the stairs to stand beside him on the stage. “What’s your name, son?” 

“Lukas Artanhour, sir.”

“Lukas Artanhour, everyone!” He raised his hand as to signal applause from the capitol guests, and they cheered, happy to see that there was now a potential victor as opposed to that poor boy from before. “Now for the ladies.”

You spared a glance at the victors once more, and they looked even more on edge for this pick than the last. Female victors were obviously more rare in every district, so getting a decent tribute that wouldn’t die right away was probably preferable. You couldn’t imagine all the people they’ve tried and failed to save over the years. The young man won only six years ago, but with no other victors since, that means he’s gone through twelve tributes. All dead, all gone. 

Your mind had been momentarily distracted, or at least it had been until the next name came over the loudspeakers. 

“Mercedes Blythe.” 

It almost didn’t register. 

It almost went in one ear and out the other.

It almost was paid no mind or attention…

But that is your name, and you’ve heard it said a million times since you were a baby. Not once did it ever sound like that, though. 

You stood still until you realized there were peacekeepers on their way to grab you. 

It was slow, the way you took steady steps from your row towards the stage. You couldn’t be rushed even if they tried to make you. You could only look at the ground. You didn’t want to chance looking up and seeing your mother past the blockades. God only knows what she’s thinking and feeling right now. After everything bad happens to a family, the mother of that family should not have to wonder whether her child will live or be killed in an arena. 

You finally looked up when you got to the stairs, meeting Lukas’ eyes first, and seeing they were sad and full of pity. You stood beside the Capitol rep on the other side, allowing him to raise your hands together while the tears finally welled up in your eyes. The delay in your mind was the only one to blame for that. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, district four’s tributes!”

-

Tags (open):

[ophelia-ophelian]

“I could take you,” “No, you couldn’t,” “Oh, I didn’t mean in a fight.”

Older brothers 1-4 (HERE) | Younger brothers 5-7

Summary: MC is messing with the brothers by saying they could take them and not in a fight. I might write more for a different fandom (Genshin), but I wouldn’t know who I would write about. 🙃 Fun fact: As soon as I started writing Satan’s, his song started playing since I listen to music while I write.

CW: suggestive jokes, I wrote this while my dog watched…I’m ashamed.

“You know, I could probably take you.”

“Excuse me? I honestly don’t think you could. Demons are stronger than humans in every way, in physical strength, and considering we are able to use magic more proficiently, you wouldn’t stand a chance, even with our pact. There is no way you could take me, I’ve defeated lower demons and not to mention–.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean in a fight.”

Lucifer:

Takes a minute to just stare at you, then his look shifts to that one look scares me (it’s the one where he’s like “You belong to me”). 

“Oh? Do you think so? I did say that I am stronger than you in every way.”

He would 100% be cocky about it

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he turns to you blankly. Worried that he took the joke too seriously or considered it unfunny, you begin to panic. As you were about to suggest he should forget it, his gaze shifts. The intense eye contact has you looking away, heat rises to your cheeks as he slowly walks up to you. Expensive leather shoes click closer and closer until you feel his presence in front of you. Delicately, he lifts up your chin between his pointer and thumb – similar to how he reads the newspaper or looks over reports. It reminds you of the time where he praised your report of your tasks and your grades by treating you to dinner and a lavish evening, his sweetened gaze from then made your lips upturn, eyes meeting his. 

He seems to take in your expression and brings you in closer by the waist. Ghosting over your lips, he whispers ever so softly, “Oh?  Do you really think so? I did say that I am stronger than you in every way.” Leaving the thought to simmer, he pulls away nonchalantly, continuing his previous task.

Mammon:

Another one who just looks at you for a second to process what you just said.

“What’re you tryin’ to say?”

He gets flustered pretty easily in game. I would say he would be a mess.

You smirk as he looks at you bewildered, as if questioning if those words did come out of your mouth or he misheard. Even if you did say that, were you messing with him or truly meant it? 

“What’re you tryin’ to say? You can’t be serious,” he seems to shrink before puffing up. Obviously a facade to make himself seen as unfazed. You would never admit it, but it was endearing when he did this, whenever he pretended he was on top of the world when underneath you knew the truth. He was charming in his own way, and you loved doting on him, even with the knowledge that it made him flustered in a myriad of ways. He was so cute.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you. Although, the statement is still standing. If you’d like,” you stroll over to him and lower your voice, “we can see if it’s true.” His cheeks darkened, how dreamy. Giving some space between the two of you, you decide to stop teasing him and give him a final wink before walking away.

Leviathan: 

Understands you quickly and turns beet red.

Hides behind his hands and pushes you away while cowering away.

“Why would you say that oh my gosh??”

His cheeks flushed a cute shade of crimson, eyes widening and letting out a nervous chuckle, instantly looking anywhere but your direction, desperately trying to avoid your eyes. He wouldn’t be able to look at you without melting into a puddle of embarrassment. After deciding looking anywhere would be fruitless, he raises his hands to his heated face, finding cover in them and attempting to grow smaller. 

“Why would you say that? Omg this is so awkward.”

Others may find it annoying when he would say internet slang outloud, but you found it cute in a way you would find a shivering chihuahua to be adorable. Pathetic, but sweet in its own way. Deciding to tease him just a bit more, you continue to pick on him by saying things such as Why are you getting so flustered? Would you like to try it out? And I truly don’t know why you’re getting so worked up over a simple joke.

His blush on his face soon spread to his ears and down his neck. As you continue to goad him on, he begins to swat you away, exclaiming that you’re being too much and he can’t handle you right now. However, you’ve had your fun for now, you change the subject to something else to calm him down and carry over to various subjects. Teasing him is oh so fun, maybe you should do it more.

Satan: 

Smirks.

Another cocky guy because I said so.

“Interesting you would say that, would you like to test it out?”

As the words leave your lips, he smirks and stops his homework to look up at you and prop his head on his hand and gives you a knowing smirk. He motions you come over and pats his thigh, instructing you to rest on him. After doing this, he rests his hands on your waist and looks up at you. Green eyes bore into yours with love and mischief, reminding you of the times where he would caress your face while talking about his recent shows, cats he saw on casual strolls he would take to calm down at night, and even sometimes nothing in particular. Talking about anything and everything -- just so he could be with you a little longer. Some conversations would involve him ranting to you about his brothers and the next trick he’ll play on the eldest. His handsome face captivates you as he does so, and it just so happens that you are currently taking in his aquamarine eyes, the beautiful curve of his nose and how kissable his lips look. 

He soon spoke, taking you out of your trance, “Interesting you would say that, would you like to test it out?” He knew your intention was to joke around with him. Of course he would know, jokes like this were all over the internet; however, he decided it would be more entertaining to try and make you flustered instead. Softly squeezing your hips and trailing his hands up, tracing patterns into your skin ever so gently, letting you know how much he cherished you. 

Shifting, ever so slightly, you dart your eyes away from him before asserting yourself and making your own remarks. Of course, he would banter back, making his words more and more taunting. This was now unofficially a competition of who could make the other more flustered. Although, he was incredibly well-spoken considering how much he reads.

[peachsayshi]

i just wanna say i’m glad i have found my people!! when that whole thing about gege saying gojo couldn’t be faithful to a woman i immediately took it as he COULDNT, not that he necessarily WOULDNT. i have always taken it as him being the strongest sorcerer means leaving a target on his and his loved one’s backs, or just generally not wanting any distractions. or even maybe his own personal demons… *cough*geto*cough* but it blew my mind that people ran with gojo the womanizer after that as if the man hasn’t proven he is an actual marshmallow inside. it’s still fun to joke about.

i also have a question that i’m curious about. do you separate geto from pre and post darkness take over? or do you think about one more than the other? before geto seemed to want to be polite, follow the rules, trying to uphold shaman standards… do you think he ever really wanted to live by shaman standards, it was all an act, and he was always a manipulative dark man that was just waiting for something to click? sometimes i find myself with hcs for two very different people when it’s only meant to be him 🙃 i hope that even made sense

Anon! 💖 I'm answering your q's below since this is a little long:

I agree! I feel like the fandom really just dwindled Gojo's character down to either an idiot or some type of playboy and while I think it's fun to explore characters in whatever version you choose to see them, I can't help but be a little protective over Gojo 🥺 I feel like his immature behavior shouldn't equate to him being so two dimensional ...but I'll stop myself from rambling!

This is an interesting question!!

A part of me wants to separate Geto as the "good" version and "bad" version, but honestly that's hard to do. I feel like Gege does a great job at emphasizing the qualities of humanity - in which nobody in the world is perfect, and the constant question of morals and reason are one of the major themes in the story itself.

There is tragedy in being a jujutsu sorcerer, and what I love about the story is that they highlight that.

As evil as Suguru was, he embodies the morally grey character really well to me - the turning point of what made him become a villain is rooted in a reason that I can empathize with, which was Riko's death.

I think he's always had an ego, which is why I'm not surprised about his ability to be able to manipulate, but I think Riko's death was his biggest failure and maybe even had him questioning the purpose of his responsibilities that he once strived to uphold. I also think that's the point where his own darkness starts to make it's presence known, and I think for somebody who once was following the "right" path, it must have been difficult for him not to cross over, especially when he was so impacted by what happened.

Suguru still really cares, because his snaps after finding Mimiko & Nanako caged and beaten. He immediately sees himself in those two girls, and I think that was his deciding factor.

My point is, his reasons for being "bad" are still centered around compassionate emotions. Like, a good contrast would be Mahito, who I feel like is evil for evil's sake.

I literally just read a SatoSugu fic today by @half-baked-biscuit and she said this line which I feel like perfectly describes Suguru's character: “...I learned I’m only appreciated for what I can do, not for who I am.”

His downfall fed into some crazy ideals, but honestly all I keep seeing is somebody who is broken. I think in a way he balances Gojo's character really well - because as Gojo grew stronger and began to follow the path that Suguru was already leading, Geto just wound up crashing and burning in the end.

This is the reason why I love villains/morally grey characters because they are so multi-dimensional and complex as hell! I totally get what you're saying, but I think the fun part of Suguru's character is understanding that he is neither inherently good or evil 😊

I'm so sorry for rambling...I literally just love him so much lmao

let's chat

[dainty-business]

why i don’t like fasting and counting calories(yes, i will try both again during summer cuz i never listen to myself)

for like more than a year i fasted 21-24h a day, i only ate breakfast and then started fasting and did that everyday with no breaks

what happened?? fcking nothing bro 💀 i just got obsessed with fasting and i had a panic attack everytime i had to break it early. so i started to eat bigger breakfasts to not break the fast midway through and guess how that turned out 🙃 i’ll give u a hint: the word starts with b and ends with inge

so ye, my breakfasts turned into binges + i literally just couldn’t sleep, i woke up at 3-5 every single morning, didn’t matter when i went to sleep cuz i just couldn’t sleep + i had b12 and magnesium deficiency which meant i had the WORST leg cramps in the middle of the night 🙂 like my whole leg, yes, my foot too, would just randomly cramp so bad i couldn’t even stand up to walk it off + my thumbs also started uncontrollably shaking 😭which was very weird but it was annoying cuz they shook like they were fcking blenders istg

so ye, i slowly tried to stop fasting cuz i was deathly afraid of eating after certain times and i wanted to cure my binging problem, i wasn’t able to eat after lunch for months and then idk why but i had to eat after eight once and it’s been okay ever since lol, like the last thing i want is a fasting obsession cuz i wasn’t even obsessed with losing weight or starving at that point, i was literally obsessed with fasting and the fasting part only

now.. calorie counting.. 🚬 haven’t heard these 2 words together in a long time..

okay so.. calorie counting was my downfall as a human being 💀 like that’s the bitch that started everything for me

first i started eating healthy foods ONLY, which i was so fcking good at?? i made such good foods and i weighed like 50kg no matter what i ate, i was super strong, whenever i got my blood taken they would tell me how i was as healthy as a extremely healthy adult, it was just great, i had so much energy and i was more active and ye, should go back to that

then i started counting calories and- oh fck.

i started cutting down the calories i ate in a day, i decided to finally start losing weight when we were moving out of our old house cuz i knew no one had the time to focus on what i was eating

so, i cut down the calories. by like, A LOT

and i continued doing that and boom, i was suddenly scared of eating over 100 cals 🙃 i think the first time my mom actually noticed was when i blacked out infront of her lol

okay so i started rapidly losing weight, i was always in a shit mood, i was always super tired, i literally looked dead tbh, my mom told me that she could instantly tell that my face was weird, like i was a living corpse

and boom, i reached under 40 kg in like a month or so :// wasn’t worth it at all btw

so ye, i will start counting calories again but i’m sure i won’t start cutting them down that extremely anymore, i don’t think my health allows that, like i will LITERALLY die in my sleep if i do that and as much as i WANT to die, i’d like to actually be happy before that happens lol

so for summer, i’d just like to be more active and work out more + i’d want to get back into my healthy eating habits because they really worked, they didn’t do much when it came to weight loss but i DID look 100 times slimmer and i just felt stronger and healthier so ye lol

[hotdamnhunnam]

Kutte the Cake

A/N: Here’s a short and sweet fluffy smutty little fic about you and Jax tying the knot 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨This is set in the KutteVerse AU but can also be read as a one shot! This fic also fills the below request that I got (like ages ago, but better late than never you know? 🙃)

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex Request: anon request for slutty wedding sex

Word Count: ~1.9k

“I do.”

“I do.”

Other words have been said on this day—just a few—but they all fade away. Hearts swept up in the vows that you’d made years ago and have finally chosen to say, though for over a decade they’ve always been true.

I do. Nods and smiles at you. God, his eyes are so blue. All the heavens above, ain’t got shit on the skies in his eyes as they shine full of heaven-sent love. Love that may well be hell-bent on ruining you. But now that the dream is at last brought to life... two of you man and wife... you’ll just ride out the tide, of your time by his side, for as long as it’s meant to continue.

You’ll always remember, when you first considered yourself Mrs. Teller. Just a month after you and Jax first got together—fresh out of high school, so giddy in love like a couple of fools, making trouble all summer and breaking a million rules—he had popped the question with a ring pop he bought from a candy dispenser. All the stars had told him that your love was forever; he was just the messenger. 

The crown prince of Charming had made love to you on that hot summer night rough and fast, slow and tender. A love made to last, past the cut of the reaper patched onto his leather. Wrapped you up in nothing but his kutte. Sealed your fate as his slut. As his princess, forever, with stars in the heavens to witness, as he made a promise to spend every day of his life loving you more and better.

Eleven years later—through all of the tears you’ve both wept, even through all the years spent apart since you left... still that promise has always been kept.

You’ve been swept off your feet by Jax Teller in every damn way that a girl can be swept.

As he finally slides the bright wedding ring onto your finger, those blue eyes search yours for a moment and linger, piercing to a whole other core of your soul that had never existed until he first charted that depth. He’s the reason for your every breath. He’s the reason you live and you’ll love him to death.

No one till Jax had ever been so deep inside. No one else ever will. Any love that cuts so deep is destined to kill. Cuts your heart and your soul—not to mention your holes—open wide. All the pieces of Jax fucking swallow you whole; from the moment you met him you’d already died.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Yeah, damn right. 

Here at the altar Jax’s smile makes it clear that he has no patience to wait, to consummate this marriage that’s eleven years too late. Kiss makes it crystal clear he’s gonna fuck you long before the wedding night.

***************

Once the ceremony is finished, your man’s alpha male urges ignite even stronger than they’ve ever been and it’s clear he means serious business.

If he had it his way one kiss at the altar would quickly have turned to a million kisses. He’d suck out your soul till the guests got the hint that they all were dismissed. Or if they never did, then he’d say fuck that shit, and just fuck your brains out here and now with the whole room to witness.

Luckily Jax has just enough class to hold back. Fights the urge to give your newlywed ass a sharp little smack. But his sex drive is strong, and his self-restraint won’t last for long, and this newlywed kiss really shouldn’t have so much damn tongue... if he doesn’t stop soon all of your self-restraint will no doubt go off track. Wouldn’t be the first time that the power of Jax made your brain cut to black.

The way he clasps your face and sweeps his thumb across your cheek... making you weak... stirring the fire of desire deep inside you till it hits a whole new peak...

Thank fuck you’ve given your I do because by now you’re quickly losing the ability to speak.

The long look that you share when Jax finally pulls back from the kiss, as his beautiful face beams at you now you’re finally his missus... screams right after this, promise I’m gonna throw your ass down in the first fucking bathroom we find, and blow your fucking mind, and show you the true meaning of sweet matrimonial bliss.

You don’t doubt it, for one fucking minute. Jax Teller just made it official that your heart is his, and although your cunt already is... he won’t feel official about it, till he shoves his newlywed dick in it.

***************

There’s a bathroom close by. But it’s occupied.

God, why... Your pussy is painfully soaked at the thought of your husband’s cock slamming inside.

The reception starts soon and to miss it would be an unspeakable crime, even for such an outlaw as Jax. You two don’t have much time. Surely all of the guests would suspect that he carried you off to have passionate sex, but you want to show up before they start to ask.

His blue gaze sparkles as he notices a random set of double doors behind you. Wastes no time bursting right through.

Pushes you past the doors, with savage force. Lips locked on yours. His kisses blind you, to whatever is around you. As they always do. Heat of his love unwinds you, renders you oblivious to all the pots and pans and piles of pantry items that surround you.

It wouldn’t be the first time Jax has fucked you in a kitchen. There is no surface on earth where he can’t pound his little slut into submission.

Thankfully there’s no one else around, as he presses you up against the cold hard countertop and swiftly pins you down. The doors swing shut behind him as he smiles down at you spread out in such perfect position.

With a rough sweep of his forearm shoves aside a stack of plates and rack of knives. Fine china shatters, metal clatters, to the floor, as he makes more room on this surface for his pretty little whore. You’ve never felt so damn alive.

“My fucking wife,” he growls the word, and it’s the hottest goddamn thing you’ve ever heard. So hot it hurts. Heart beats for him until it bursts. “Can’t wait to love you and fuck you all day and night for my whole fucking life.”

You are officially the luckiest damn girl in the entire fucking world.

Jax smirks in that devilish way that never fails to make your toes curl. Lip curls up into a snarl. Knows he has to make this quick, as much as you’d both like to stay in here for hours with him feasting on your sweet pussy then feeding you his mouthwatering dick. Making you moan and beg and plead, desperate for what you fucking need, as he stirs up your aching heat and gets your cunt all wet and slick...

That’s what the wedding night is for. That’s what the rest of all your lives will have in store. This here and now is where Jax pounds you in the kitchen like a piece of meat because there’s nothing both of you want more.

And now that you’re Mrs. Teller, you’re already so much wetter than you’ve ever been before. No greater pleasure, than for this god of a man to fuck you for the first time ever, as his lawfully wedded whore.

He drives his massive length balls deep between your thighs, as you kiss long and hard and deep and breathe each other’s heated sighs. It makes no sense the way that every single time you’re still surprised, at his enormous fucking size. Shocked, at the downright godlike glory of his cock. Of all the wives on earth you’ve really won the biggest and most gorgeous fucking prize.

Barely a minute has gone by, before it feels as if you are about to literally die. Stars in the sky could never hope to fly so high.

Sex just hits different now you’re finally his bride. As if the promise of forever opened up a new dimension of pure pleasure where he makes his home inside.

He floods your hole and fills your soul, splitting you open wide, in ways that make you whole. Like he was put on earth to love you and to fill no other role. Your love is honestly the only road he ever needs to ride.

It’s only after you’ve both come down from the afterglow that you finally realize where you are now and can’t help but softly laugh. Not even caring that the laughter hurts when his thick shaft just shattered you in half. Pain is a small price for the greatest fuck and greatest love that anyone could have.

A set of knives and heap of dishes weren’t the only things that tumbled to the floor, while Jax was furiously fucking up his whore.

Turns out your wedding cake had also been upon this countertop and sadly met the same disastrous fate.

Well, that’s just fucking great. Worth it as hell, but still just great.

“Don’t worry, bitch,” Jax reads your mind as he pulls out of your wrecked pussy with a pleasured groan that makes your inner slut tremble and twitch. “We’ve got a back-up in the fridge.”

“You serious?” you ask him as he showers you with kisses, all across your breathless face.

“Yeah, I asked them to bake another just in case.”

You didn’t even know that Jax had been in contact with the caterers but he’s constantly surprising you in all the most amazing ways. “In case of what? You ravaging me like a slut?” you tease him as you come down from the post-sex daze.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he laughs and takes a playful punch, your fist landing soft on the leather of his kutte. “It’s gonna be a constant hazard now we’re married, darlin’. Gonna fuck you up so hard it’s scary. Till the sky starts falling.”

“Well Prince Fucking Charming, that sounds pretty fucking promising...” you purr up at him like a cat in heat, as he helps you back to your feet. “Just hope the sad fate of our cake doesn’t bring us bad luck or something...”

“Babe, our luck is ours to make.” He cradles your face and the blue of his gaze is too much to fucking take. Still every time the blue is so stunning it’s shocking. “And it’s tradition for the bride and groom to cut the cake. We just cut ours by fucking.”

“God, you’re so bad...” you groan although you can’t argue with that. Best fuck you ever had. As long as the back-up cake still has a signature ring pop, a symbol of your past love perched proud and tacky on top, hell you’re not even mad. But you go on grumbling, because it’s fun to tease your king. “You’re lucky you’re so goodlooking...”

“I’m lucky for a lot of things.”

He says it basking in the warm glow of your loving. Just the one thing that means everything. Every moment he spends loving you is infinite—every minute—every second lasts forever and transcends the fate you’re tempting, tragic end toward which your star-crossed love is heading.

And that was the story of how you and Jax cut the cake at your wedding.

***************

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