#just post it without telling me on my day off and without my input FINE!!!!!!!!!

[starbuck]

lord give me the strength to not be a massive cunt at work today

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Never Give Up

Pairing: Rockstar!Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: complete fluff, getting blood drawn so needles and blood

Summary: Jensen is in town for his next concert and visit you for a check-up before performing. You two have known each other for your whole life since his sister is your best friend, and he never fails to ask you out every time he sees you. You’ve always said no. It’s his mission to get you to say yes.

Square Filled: rockstar!jensen (2022) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You grab another vial of blood and mark down in the system which patient of yours this belongs to. Afterward, you place it inside a medical plastic bag and set it off to the side for the lab to pick up later. Today has been non-stop tending to patients, drawing blood, and taking vitals. You’re only halfway through your shift and you feel like your head is going to explode.

“Did you see his post?” another nurse asks as she and her friend walk into the office. “God, he looks so hot. I can’t believe he’s single.”

“I bet he’s fucking random fans every show he does. I could be one of those fans if I got tickets. Can you believe even the nosebleeds are two hundred bucks?”

You don’t need to hear his name to know who they’re talking about. There is only one artist that is big enough in the news right now. He’s been on a steady incline to fame ever since he left Texas for California.

“Do you think he’s good in bed?”

You roll your eyes at that but don’t comment on it. You just want to do your job and go home. You can’t be sitting here thinking about your best friend’s brother and how much of an arrogant bastard he is who thinks the world revolves around him. It doesn’t help that he has a major crush on you, and he isn’t afraid to show it. Besides him telling you every time he calls you how much he likes you, he’ll always try to show you either with flowers, dinner, or other small presents that he has mailed to you.

There isn’t a time that goes by when he’s with you that he doesn’t try and ask you out on a date. If he was just your best friend’s brother, you would consider it. It’s the fact that he’s an up-and-coming rockstar who isn’t near his peak that has you on the edge. You know rockstars. You dated a few of them. All they care about is music, money, and sex. They’ll get it anywhere from any woman who is willing to spread her legs for them. You’re not saying Jensen is like that, but you don’t want to be a notch on his belt.

Still, that doesn’t stop you from using your vibrator and fantasizing about him.

A few days pass without incident when you’re inputting patients into the computer. The same two coworkers who were talking about Jensen before come strolling in with big smiles on their faces.

“What’s got you two looking like that?”

“Jensen is in town for his concert.”

“Did you two get tickets?”

“No, but I know of a way inside. I have someone working security.”

You’d rather not sit here and watch them fangirl over him so you decide to finish your paperwork later and check on the patients. Your best friend, Sabrina, pulls you to the side as soon as she sees you.

“I need you to take the patient in Room 15.”

“Why? That’s your section.”

“Please? I can’t do it.”

“Why?” you ask, your eyes narrowing.

“He’s my brother. They won’t let me work on him.”

Jensen is here. You think about what it might mean if he sees you entering the room and think it’s better than sending the fangirls in there with him.

“Fine. You owe me.” You start to walk away from her with the blood draw supplies and pause. “Don’t tell the other girls. They’ll cause a riot.”

You walk to Room 15 and knock twice before entering. Jensen is sitting on the small table with the paper lined for people’s safety even though half the time, it gets crumbled and tossed out of the way. He is scrolling through his phone but it’s not that that has you staring in awe. He is wearing a tight black shirt that really shows off his muscles and tattoos and dusty blue jeans that you know hug his ass so nicely, all with a backward hat on. His hair peeks out the back of his hat. It was shorter than the last time you saw him.

There’s a new image for your fantasies.

“Growing out your hair, huh?”

Jensen’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice, and he gives you a thousand-watt smile. He immediately puts his phone away so that he can give you all of his attention.

“I was hoping Sabrina would send you in here.”

“Oh, you’re lucky it’s me and not the two fangirls out there. I’m pretty sure one of them wants to have sex with you.”

“What about you? Do you want to have sex with me?”

You smile shyly and grab two latex gloves to start the blood-drawing process. “You wish.”

“Yeah, I do.”

You wrap a tourniquet around his upper arm before grabbing his arm and rubbing the area with an alcohol swab to sterilize the area. Don’t think about his big muscles. Focus, Y/N! You open a packet that contains a new needle and place it where you need to. Without counting down, you stick the needle into his vein and start to grab blood samples.

“So, come here often?” he flirts.

“I work here,” you giggle.

“I know. I just wanted to hear your giggle. So, when am I gonna take you out?”

“Hmm, how about never?” you tease.

“Don’t do that to me, sweetheart. Throw me a bone or something.”

“I’m not even going to comment,” you laugh.

You take out the first vial and shove a new one into the case for more blood.

“I’m serious. When are you gonna let me take you out to a nice dinner? I’ll pay.”

“Oh, you will? How generous of you,” you say sarcastically yet playfully.

“Does that mean yes?”

“No.”

“I’m not gonna stop asking you.”

“You’ll turn blue in the face if you continue that.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. “I look good in blue.” You roll your eyes and try to hide your smile knowing he sees it. You finish getting four blood samples before patching him up with a Hello Kitty bandaid. You were just treating two twin little girls and this is all you have. “Nice band-aid.”

“It’s all I have. I can get a different one if you want.”

“No, no, I happen to like Hello Kitty.” You trash your gloves and the needle packet before standing. “Come to my concert.”

“I have to work.”

“No, you don’t. It’s on Saturday and you don’t work the weekends.” You silently curse knowing he’s right. “How about this? I will have a VIP and all-access badge with your name on it. Come if you want. It starts at seven. Are we done here?”

“Yeah, but--”

“Give my love to Sabrina.”

He hops of the table and kisses your cheek as he leaves. The two fangirls see him and fawn over his good looks but when he looks back, it’s at you. He only has eyes for you. He winks and turns to the fangirls who are practically tripping over the other to get to him. He signs what they want to be signed and takes pictures with them before leaving.

Today is only Wednesday but you can’t stop thinking about Jensen and his offer the rest of the week. Saturday comes faster than you’d like, and you find yourself driving with Sabrina to the concert hours before it even starts. There are already people lining up to get to the front of the pit but you bypass the entire parking lot to head to the back where the service entrance is.

“I can’t believe I’m going to this,” you say.

“So, when are you and my brother going to fuck?”

“Sabrina!”

“What? If anyone should be with him, it’s you. That boy is in love with you.”

“No, he’s not. He thinks he is because I don’t want him.”

“Does telling yourself that help you sleep at night?”

“Sabrina… He’s a rockstar. He’s a famous rockstar. He doesn’t want some rundown nurse. He could have anyone.”

“Yeah, but he wants you.”

You’re torn because you do want Jensen. He’s every girl’s dream. Even if he wasn’t a rockstar or famous, you’ve known him since you two were kids. You grew up together. You know who the real Jensen is, the one he doesn’t show anyone else. Still, there is that nagging feeling that he'll dump you once he gets bored with you. 

All of your exes did.

You show security both your IDs and he hands you and Sabrina your access badges before directing you where to park. After you two get out, you follow security to the back where the band is hanging out. You’ve gotten to know Jensen’s band a little over the years. They’re nice guys.

“Bean!” Jensen turns and grins when he sees his sister. His drummer has a major crush on your friend and has called her Bean ever since she told him she hated it. They’re in the “will they, won’t they?” stage but everyone knows they’re gonna be endgame. “Where’ve you been?”

“I told you not to call me that,” she rolls her eyes and hugs her brother. 

“And I told you I don’t care. I like how you blush when I do,” he smirks.

Jensen’s gaze goes over to you and he visibly relaxes at the sight of you. He walks over to you and takes off his hat so that his hair falls over his face.

“Hi, Jensen.” He smiles but doesn’t answer you. “What, cat got your tongue? I know I’m breathtaking but come on.”

“He doesn’t speak before a show to preserve his voice. He has breathing exercises to do,” Josh, the drummer, says.

“What a blessing,” you joke.

Jensen pulls you in for a hug, and you allow this minute to really feel him. His arms have always felt so safe around you, and you find yourself relaxing into his body. He pulls away and takes out his phone to text you since he takes his voice exercises seriously. Your phone pings and you look at the message he sent.

I love that you’re here.

You blush under his gaze and try but fail to hide your smile.

“You know I would have come.”

You and Sabrina leave for the VIP tent on the floor while the band gets ready. The opener comes out and does her performance which gives you time to enjoy the music and get some food before Jensen comes on stage. Since you and Sabrina are on Jensen and Josh’s social media, you’re both easily recognizable. Fans come up to the tent to chat and take pictures with you two. You never had a desire for fame but it’s nice to know you’ve made someone’s day just by saying hi to them.

The entire stadium goes dark and the intro to the concert begins. Immediately, the entire crowd cheers for Jensen. He walks on stage in a different outfit than when you saw him earlier, and you have to admit he looks really good. He’s wearing a classic muscle shirt that definitely shows off how much he’s been working out and his tattoos. Gone is his hat so that his hair can flop around freely.

His eyes immediately find the VIP tent, and he smiles when he sees you. You’ve seen his concerts over TikTok Lives and other social media platforms but nothing beats the real thing. He sings each song with passion like he means every word he’s singing. There is a long catwalk where he walks, and all the girls fawn over him whenever he gives them two seconds of his attention.

By the time he’s at the halfway point of his concert, your feet are hurting from how much you’re dancing and your ears are ringing from how loud it is, but you love it. Jensen is in the middle of a song when he suddenly stops and takes out one of his earpieces.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he pants. The band stops playing and everyone quiets down in confusion, including you. He’s never done this at any of his other concerts. “I’ll get back to the music in a second. I just want to say this is a very special concert because there is someone very special here tonight.”

“Oh, my God,” Sabrina gasps.

“Her name is Y/N and she’s right over there in the VIP tent.” The camera pans over to your shocked face so that everyone in the stadium can see. Sabrina can’t stop smiling. “You see, we’ve been friends since we were kids and she doesn’t know this but I am absolutely crazy for her.”

Cheers erupt throughout the stadium, and you shake your head at Jensen with a smile.

“Now, I’ve asked her this many times but she’s always said no to me. I don’t think she’ll be able to say no in a room full of eighty thousand people. Someone get her a microphone. I want to hear her answer.” Jensen waits for someone to bring you a microphone. “Y/N, will you let me take you to a really nice dinner date?”

You wait for the crowd to quiet down a bit before giving your answer.

“No,” you smile sweetly. “You just won’t take no for an answer.”

“You’re right. I won’t.” He drags one of the barstools to the middle of the stage and sits on it. “That’s why we’re not continuing until you say yes.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I am, sweetheart. I won’t sing another song until you say yes. What do you say, Los Angeles? Should she say yes to me?” Almost every fan in the stadium including Sabrina cheers for you two. “See? Even they think you should.”

“Well if they think we should…”

“Is that a yes?”

“No,” you grin.

“Alright.” Jensen sits and drums his fingers on his legs patiently. “I wonder what I’m going to do next weekend. I think I should take up fishing. My dad always brought me but I never appreciated it before.”

“You’re seriously going to sit there and not continue your concert?” you ask.

“Put everyone out of their misery and just say yes to the date. Come on, everyone. Y/N! Y/N!”

Everyone starts chanting your name, and Sabrina tugs on your arm to grab your attention.

“Has any of your exes done this for you? What are you scared of?”

She’s right. None of your rockstar boyfriends have ever stopped a concert for you. None of them even mentioned you were there. Jensen doesn’t have to say it but he is in love with you and you’re in love with him.

“Fine. Fine. Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Yes!” Jensen cheers. You hand the microphone back to the stadium worker, and Jensen puts the earpiece back in. “This next song is for you, sweetheart.”

And he plays the song he wrote for you in high school.

x

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[andronomenom]

Bruisers Part III: Can I Still be Gentle?

18+ MDNI

Content warnings: addiction, relapse, alcohol, hangover/vomiting, honestly mostly angst, tiny bit of comfort

Word Count ~ 3.8k

Author’s Note: Part three? Two parts in two days? I’m not done with this yet. So much for a one shot.

Not edited, hopefully coherent. Heed the content warnings.

Bucky Barnes x Reader, not even remotely canon so don’t come at me, reader and Bucky have been posted at a military base together but have no established friendship, no use of Y/N, reader is referred to as “Scout”, no assigned gender. Reader relapses, Bucky’s there to pick up the pieces.

In the rare event that this is worth stealing, I wrote this myself. You do not have permission to copy or repost this without crediting me. I may not know where you live, but I can figure it out.

~~~

It was a few days before you were ready, really ready to return to base. Not something you were looking forward to, but something that you told yourself needed to be done.

For the first time in what may have been years, you had done nothing. A few days in quiet, your biggest ventures being quiet walks through the woods. You remembered why you got into your line of work.

You enjoyed the quiet of the forest, you enjoyed trying to move like you weren’t there. Move silently not because you needed to hide, but because you were enjoying watching. For these few quiet days, everything else felt a little less important. It had to come to an end eventually though.

Bucky dropped you off at your car so you could drive back to base alone. It gave you time to fall back into routine without alerting anyone to your temporary fragile state of mind. Or, at least you hoped it was temporary.

It was easy to say you were fine, it was easy to greet your team and turn any questions they had about your brief break back to them. Did the commander get their reports? Did he try to send them anywhere while you were gone? No to both.

You weren’t surprised to hear either. Of course he didn’t want their input, he just wanted things to run smoothly. And that was probably the same reason he let your team rest while you were gone. You kept things running smoothly. You listened to every complaint. You let your team vent, you stood up for them as needed, you kept it under control. God forbid he had to get his hands dirty with the concerns of others.

And then, it was time to make your own report. Time to fill in both your commander and Bucky on the events that had transpired on your last mission. You had managed to avoid getting into it since you left. Now, you had no choice but to do so. At least were alone in the commander’s office, able to say your piece without acknowledging how painful it was.

It wasn’t all that bad at first. If you just stayed the facts it was almost like it had happened to someone else. You could just be a third party recounting a story, not a character in it.

“Lietnenant, I don’t need to know the time of every event. Tell me what you saw so we can decide whether or not to move in.”

Shit, he was onto you. Onto the way you delivered every detail as if they were all related incidents that concluded in a difficult day. You were almost tempted to play it down. Make it seem like there was nothing to worry about because you knew who the first boots on the ground would be. But, you also knew he wouldn’t rest until he got what he wanted out of you. He always seemed to know more than he was letting on, he just wanted to hear it from your lips.

“I don’t know who they are or what they want, but someone is building a base of their own there. They don’t want company, and they’re armed. They heard us before we saw them. Maybe fifty people. I told my unit to retreat before it turned into a fight and they were able to.” You didn’t get into the various mild injuries that occurred or how scared everyone left. The medical reports would spell that out on their own.

“Do you have anything to report or do we need to send in someone else to do your job for you?” The commander sneered. You knew what he was doing, and you hated it. Hated the way he managed to rile you up just by questioning your competence and hated how badly it made you want to try harder. Put more on the line, forget more of yourself, just for the sake of proving yourself.

“You can’t send a unit back in. Whoever is running that operation will be waiting for us now.” You weren’t lying, a dozen people wouldn’t go by unnoticed. But you knew that wasn’t enough. The commander always got what he wanted and sometimes he even managed to make you think it was what you wanted. “I can get more information for you. If you send me back in, I can get a proper layout of the place, but you can’t send the rest of them back in.”

“Good. You have half an hour to get ready. We’ve put this off long enough in your absence.”

You left. This was one of the few times you wouldn’t fight back. It would only make things worse, it would make him apply more terms to the service you so begrudgingly supplied.

~~~

Bucky watched you dart from the commander’s office back to your own room and emerge not ten minutes later dressed in your gear and carrying a rucksack.

He fought the urge to stop you, to ask what was going on. He had given you all the support you were willing to accept and at the end of the day you were still soldiers. Distracting you or making you question orders was the last thing you needed at this moment. You had to keep your head clear so he let you.

He let you go even when you did so alone, but he had to know at least something about what was happening. He could just ask the commander a few details, play it off like he just wanted to plan for the company’s next move.

“They need to bring back more information before we can do anything. Sit tight, Barnes, and wait for their report.”

That was it, that was all he got and there was no chance in hell he would get any answer other than that. So, he waited. He tried to return to his own normal. Tried to distract himself with training and whatever entertainment he could get his hands on and his head into.

The library always seemed to have something, but not for today. Not for tonight. Not for the next forty-eight hours while you were gone. He couldn’t read anything too real and even the characters in the most fantastical stories faced trials that hit a little close to home.

~~~

When you returned, it was well past midnight. It was pouring rain and there wasn’t a star in the sky. You were so cold. The kind of cold that settled into your bones and made your headache. If you were honest with yourself, it wasn’t just the cold making your head pound.

You immediately headed into the commander’s office. He was waiting for you, like a starving wolf, hungry for whatever information he could glean from your experience. You obliged, you recounted your journey and you didn’t bother to complain. It didn’t matter if you did, there was no one to complain for, aside from yourself.

You didn’t bother seeing a medic before going to bed. You peeled off your soaking gear and thanked the rain for at least removing some of the dried mud that had stuck to your skin. You loaded yourself into a shower and sat on the cool tile floor. The water turned cold but you couldn’t work up the strength to get up.

You were finally able to scrape up enough will to exit and get dressed when you thought about how much better it would be to lie down under covers. And yet, when you had finally showered off as much of the stress as you could, you felt so awake. So awake and so fucking exhausted and so restless. You walked the base like a wind up toy. Around and around with no regard for direction, hoping the next lap, the next turn, the next breath would be the one to wear you out.

Your thoughts were so loud that you didn’t notice Bucky approaching. You weren’t able to hide how jumpy you were, especially when it seemed like he had appeared from the shadows and your hands were still shaking from adrenaline.

“Sorry.” Why were you apologizing? What about showing any vulnerability made you more nervous than you already were.

“How’s your night?” He asked, keeping step with you.

He didn’t make you slow down or explain yourself. He was just there and you didn’t know if that frightened you or comforted you.

“It’s going.” You laughed dryly. If you were vague enough he might not try to push.

“You were gone for awhile. Were you alone the whole time?”

“For the most part.” Fuck, what about him asking made you want to talk. Why did you slip in anything that would open the door to more questions.

He nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the path ahead. “You wanna talk about it.”

“No.” You huffed, the weight in your chest pushing out the oxygen you so desperately needed.

“You alright?”

“No.” You surprised yourself with your own honesty. You could have just pretended. You could put on a show for him, make it look like you were recovering just fine. You knew it wouldn’t fool him though.

“Have you been reading anything lately?” You tried to deflect, even if it was a poor attempt.

“Tried, haven’t found anything interesting yet.”

“What about the rest of The Lord of the Rings series?”

“Couldn’t get into it.” He shrugged. He had a thoughtful look on his face, as if he was weighing of pressing or letting you distract yourself would be more harmful. But this wasn’t his cabin, this was regular life. Life where you had to find a way through because there would never be a way out.

“Scout, tell me what you need right now. I know it isn’t my place to ask questions or push you.” He wanted to say that it wasn’t right, he wanted to tell you things should’ve gone down differently, but he couldn’t do that to you. Not without your permission at least. “It might be good to talk about it, but that’s your prerogative.”

“It really fucking sucked. That’s all I can say right now. I need to get to bed though. Tomorrow’s a new day.” You didn’t mean to sound angry. Did you sound angry? Stressed? On the verge of falling apart again so shortly after being put back together?

“Of course. I guess I’ll see you in the briefing tomorrow.”

“Yes, I’ll see you then. Have a goodnight Bucky.” You were formal, you kept your back straight and nodded to him before making your way back to your bed.

You couldn’t sleep and so you didn’t. You swore to yourself you would still get a few hours in but when the birds started chirping to signal a new day, you gave up on that. You were curled into a ball on your bed. Maybe if you cried you would feel better, but you couldn’t. So you stayed in bed until your normal waking hours and went around your morning like it was any other.

When the time came to brief Bucky with the commander, you couldn’t look Bucky in the eyes. You stared at a spot on the commander’s forehead, faking eye contact and confidence. You were told that’s all that was needed for now and you left and you went back to your team.

It was different though. Not really, not to anyone else when you joined them for lunch. Just to you. To you it felt like the conversation and laughter was so fragile. Like one thing could tear apart your whole dynamic of you didn’t keep it together.

So you kept it together. You kept it together for weeks while you were sent on various missions and hid your trepidations. They couldn’t know, no one could know. Sky you kept them all at arm’s length, including Bucky. If you started relying on another person for help, you might get used to it. If you got used to it, it would make it so much harder when they weren’t there anymore.

~~~

It started out slow, at least for you. You started stashing liquor in your room - no one else visited it anyway. You snuck out with your empties, dropping them off in whatever recycling bin that was far enough from the base that no one would connect the dots and close enough you weren’t gone so long. Funny, the same bar whose walls had seen you break down offered a perfect landing spot for every glass bottle that carried your shame in its empty figure.

You were hiding it, and hiding it well. No one noticed, not even Bucky. If he did notice, he didn’t say anything. It was the kind of separation that would either hold you together or tear you apart and you couldn’t tell which it would be yet.

For now, the distance was good. It was so much easier to pretend. You were on time for everything, you were just chatty enough. You were warm and comforting and anything else anybody needed you to be.

Did Bucky think you had taken advantage of his kindness? Use his space to escape and leave once you were better? Was that so bad when compared to letting someone in when that honesty might shatter your composure?

You were getting used to it again. Used to small meals, washed down with the burn of the bottle. You could barely taste it anymore, you could barely feel it anymore. The hangovers became easier to deal with. The nausea was bearable, easy to ignore. Why should you be concerned with your own pain anyways when you were the one causing it?

A particularly volatile night pushed you to quit again. Instead of quieting your mind, the bottle had brought out something ugly. Not ugly in a violent way this time, but ugly in the way of making you spiral.

You did. You stopped just like that. The shame had won and you quit without weaning yourself off. Quit like it was the easiest thing in the world. It was affecting your work and nothing could affect your work.

You could see your hands trembling when you organized reports and you told yourself it was just because you were tired. It didn’t have to do with dropping the liquor. It was something else, it couldn’t be withdrawal.

It lasted maybe a couple days, then something happened, something small enough it wasn’t important but something big enough that it made drinking seem like it was the lesser evil. By the third, you had forgotten what you were so upset about.

Bucky wouldn’t stay away though. He gave you space as often as he could but he saw the bags under your eyes and watched as you withdrew from the world.

You were always in your room when you didn’t have any responsibilities to take care of. He found excuses to interrupt you. Something he had to fill you in, something he had to borrow. Anything to make sure there were at least a few minutes each day that you weren’t alone.

You didn’t want this though. You didn’t want him pushing his way into your life by asking what was wrong. You knew he could tell something was off, but your walls were back up and it was getting easier to lie.

~~~

“Scout?” There was knocking at your door and you rolled over to check your phone. Why was someone bothering you? What gave them a right to knock on your door at this time?

The time that popped up on your screen was enough of an explanation and this wasn’t something you could ignore.

“Oh fuck.” You muttered to yourself, practically jumping out of bed to change. You were already thinking of excuses. You changed faster than you thought yourself capable of and ran to the door.

“Scout,” Bucky nodded to you as your opened the door with a mostly convincing smile on your face. “I just wanted to let you know the meeting was cancelled. Something about new information from outside sources.”

You barely held in a sigh of relief as you nodded in turn. “Yes, I’m so sorry about that.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Bucky raised an eyebrow before creases settled into his forehead and brow. Was he worried? Was he worrried about you?

“I… um… never mind. I’m just tired.”

“Can I come in?”

You wanted to say, wanted to hide the monster you felt that you were turning into. It was too late though, you saw his eyes focus on the empty bottle beside your bed and he slipped in before you could protest.

“It sounds like they want us to meet someone and get them talking by any means necessary.”

“Okay, when do I need to be ready for?” You didn’t dare ask why he was going with you. Ask if anyone else could tell you were drowning.

“I… Scout.” Bucky took a step toward you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course!” You were too peppy, too obviously trying to hide something. Maybe he had already seen what you were trying to hide, but you could at least try to pretend it wasn’t affecting your life.

“Bullshit.”

“Please Bucky, don’t.” You sighed.

“Listen, I know you don’t want to talk about it. I know you think you’ve got this handled. I still need you to be honest with me. Can you handle this right now?”

“Yes.” You were certain you could. Duty came first, everything else could be pushed aside.

He nodded and never had you been so unnerved by silence.

“Hm.”

Fuck, why couldn’t he just say something? Why couldn’t he berate you so the anticipation would stop building?

“From what I gather, they’re going to be calling us in after lunch. Pack now, be ready by then. They’re trying to keep it under wraps, but it will be easier if you’re ready.”

You nodded then turned away to start packing.

“Scout, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you listen to authority. What’s changed?”

“Oh I don’t see you as an authority, that’s why I respect you.” You joked. You hated how he said your name. Hated how he said it like it mattered and wasn’t some shitty title that you accepted as a prize for being relentless in your pursuit of knowing.

“It isn’t a typical mission. Pack what you need to travel, we’ll have clothes waiting for us when we land.”

“Who’s all going?” You asked, but you already knew the answer. It would just be you two. It would just be torture trying to hide how far you’d fallen this time.

“It’s not solid yet, but you can guess.” He shrugged and turned around. He didn’t want to leave, but his hand left your shoulder reluctantly.

“Bucky.” You breathed, reaching out for his hand despite yourself. It wasn’t professional, it wasn’t something a healthy person did with their coworker. “It will take me about half an hour to get everything sorted. Can you…”

What the fuck were you asking? What gave you the right?

“Can I what?” His reply didn’t sound sharp, just didn’t leave room to deflect. Why was he being this way? Why was he making you vocalize your needs when he knew exactly what you were asking?

“Um, never mind.” It was your turn to shrug and you busied yourself with going through drawers, deciding what you needed to bring.

He had turned around to face you, to watch you rummage through drawers and neatly pile your clothes for the trip on your bed. He stayed as you readied yourself and he didn’t say a thing until you had finished.

“Good to go?” He wasn’t just acting about you suitcase.

“Yeah, whenever we need to.” Your hands were shaking again and you sat on the edge of the bed.

“Can I join you?”

You nodded then slowly slid under the covers as he took your place on the edge.

“Can you please stay?” Your voice was small, pleading. You reached out for him again, resting your hand on his bicep as gently as you could.

“Yes, doll.”

“Can we watch something?”

Bucky nodded and found the remote for your little TV. He waited until you found something you felt was worth watching at the moment.

You found some body horror movie and he didn’t complain one bit about how cheesy it was. You drew the blankets up to your face as you watched. Yes, it was horribly written and disgusting but at least you didn’t have to think. Without thinking, you were entranced by the film and squeezed his hand, giving a gentle pull so he would lay next to you.

He obliged, kicking off his boots and laying down, arms at his sides in an open gesture for you to get closer. You turned your torso towards him, draping a leg over him and resting your head against his chest. You had a brief moment of concern that you had pushed too far, but the warm skin of his right hand met your cheek. You crumbled, letting your full weight sink into him.

His hand slowly moved upward, gently stroking your hair, and you melted into him. His other arm wrapped around your waist and squeezed. Not so tight as to make you feel trapped, just tight enough that you could really feel him there. Feel something outside your body that didn’t make you feel alone.

~~~

***

P.S. Can’t believe I posted two parts in two days! Thank you so much if you got to this part?!?! I have so many ideas now. I love you for listening to my ramblings! I keep looking for a fic that satisfies my very specific need for comfort, but couldn’t find one, so here we are.

[rearranged-fanfic]

(Update 6/3)

Sit down a spell, weary traveler. Come and sit by my fire; bask in the warmth of the flame and rest your aching scrolling finger. You'll be sitting a while, for I have a tale to tell:

Okay, so I've had a Toshiba laptop for the better part of ten years. Maybe a little longer. That laptop has survived being struck by lightning, submerged in a bathtub, and literally having a whole bookcase topple down onto it. I thought it was immortal...

I was sadly mistaken.

About six months ago, I noticed that the typing was getting sluggish. I'd patter away at the keyboard and the letters would appear with a bit of lag. That's fine, since I use Dragon to talk-to-text for quite a bit of my writing. I really only use the keyboard for final assembly, editing, and doing quick rewrites. So, it really didn't bother me. Fastforward to April, which we will call The Great Depression. The time discrepancy between typing and having letters appear on screen became a whopping 40 seconds. Yes, I timed it.

But that was okay, because I could still use my Dragon headset.

Until I couldn't.

It would connect, but the words wouldn't appear on screen. I made sure that all of my programs were up-to-date, and that everything was working. The headset connected to my family's computers just fine. So that meant it was something wrong with mine.

Without being sure if it was the hardware or software at fault, I backed everything up to OneDrive and Google Docs.

I factory reset.

Twice. To no avail.

Over the next few days, my laptop stopped registering any keyboard input at all. It got to a point where I wasn't able to turn it on or off.

Taking it to an electronics store to get repaired didn't help, either. No luck. They said that it would be more cost effective to just buckle down and get a new one, since the age of the laptop meant that I would probably be constantly maintaining it.

My poor Toshiba died kicking and screaming, putting up a fight worthy of an epic ballad.

I saved up for a few weeks, got a new laptop, and went through the rigmarole of getting all of my programs back on it. My files are in order. My life is in shambles (but that's normal, LOL).

I DID do some story work without my computer, but... it's bad. Like, I'd die in shame if I posted anything that I thumbed in. So. Many. Spelling. Errors. How people write on their phone is beyond me. That's a talent I simply don't possess.

At this point, I'm thinking of renaming this story "HIATUS" lol. JK. But I'm seriously peeved that this happened after my last big break. Why couldn't the Depression and laptop breakdown coincide nicely? I guess that's too much to ask of the universe *Shakes fist at the sky*.

I'm creating a damn bingo card for every stupid thing that happens to me while I try to write. Because this is getting ridiculous. I broke my fingers, there was a total solar eclipse, I had a major-ish mental breakdown, and my computer bit the big one. With a free space, that's a bingo. Let's hope I don't get a blackout before the end of 2024.

I doubted the fanfiction curse. I really did. But it's apparently real. And this writer's curse has teeth, people. It bites hard.

I have my MerMay two-shot pretty well done (because I was typing it during The Great Depression), but the next chapter for REARRANGED is still rough. Crimson Chapter 3 is halfway done, but who knows how long that'll take.

The bottom line is that I'm alive and still working on the stories. The next update on this blog will be the posting of several chapters for a few different works. Fingers crossed.

Also, I'm very, very slowly answering the comments in my AO3 inbox. Some of them were pretty lengthy, so it might take a bit. Oof.

If there ever comes a time that I drop this fanfiction or am unable to continue for whatever reason, either I or my husband will be posting the entirety of my outline, as well as anything that's been pre-written for you guys to enjoy. That way there are no questions left unanswered or mysteries unsolved.

[cat-plane-anon]

Intro! :3

HAAAIIII and welcome welcome!

this blog is made for responding to my anons without using my main, just so it’s easier for me and the receiver.

‼️disclaimer‼️

this blog is VERY non hate!! I believe that hate is undeserved in many cases. Like when someone doesn’t get to a request fast enough, when someone hasn’t posted in a while, when someone makes an honest mistake, and when someone just happens to enjoy something ’taboo’. I don’t understand hating someone for enjoying or stars forbid making ‘taboo’ content. If we’re all for eliminating or at very least lessen censorship, why are we practicing it? As long as the creator doesn’t condone and understands it’s not ok in real life, it’s fine. Some people may not understand, and that’s ok. I’ll wait patiently.

I won’t post stuff on this account except responding to my own anons if it calls for!!

Keep reading to know why this blog exists and some ‘why’s for doing stuff

Reasons I may send anons:

It’s more genuine that way. Sending kind words feels good either way, but receiving them without the person expecting anything back just feels that little bit more :3

It may be for requests. Sending a request without a name attached to it is like a bit of weight taken off. I’m not pushy with my requests, I may even forget I requested in the first place! All I’m saying is, I know what it’s like to be burnt out, and this makes it a teensy bit better for the receiver.

I may want to ask questions. Some(key word) questions can be easier to answer if there’s not a threat of a name attached to it.

It may be for submissions. I submit drabbles or poems to @/poems-of-the-anentomologist (too scared to tag), with the first note, go check them out— there’s some genuinely beautiful stuff over there. Onto the second note, some of my poems may be on the venting side of things, and I have this weird feeling whenever I vent that I’m just fishing for pity. Not having my main blog— the one I worked so hard on— attached to the poems makes me feel better about having vent adjacent stuff.

“Why do you have so many different typing styles?”

Well, I’ll try to explain in my best way possible, but it’s hard to tell if other people will get it.

it depends on the day I had.

A mellow day full of relaxing and nature is usually covalent with this type of writing, that you have seen throughout this post. It’s very thoughtful and I imagine it in a very calm voice. It’s polite and gentle, while clearly representing a point using cohesive and commonly used words and meanings.

An exciting day with high emotions and positive inputs most likely correlates with an energetic, waving typestyle. By waving typestyle, I mean waves of energy through the text. If you look at the examples below…

<<THIS MEDIA IS SO GOOD I AM GNAWING ON IT WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY GIGGLING. This media is my LIFE and SOUL and I get MANY Brain Worms from it.>>

As you can see, especially exampled in the last half, there are waves. Some words more enunciated than others. The words usually do not follow their original meaning, examples being; gnawing, life, soul, and brain worms.

there are probably more than this, but these are the main two. If I catch more, I will write them down.

with everything said, and now done, I plead you to have a nice day :3

[huckleberrykai]

txt ~ our song

pairing: txt x reader (separate) scenario: tubatu as lines in taylor swift songs 💗 warnings: beoms and taehyun are a little sad, mentions of insecurity + breakups click here for my masterlist!

yeonjun ~ paper rings

"I want your dreary mondays, wrap your arms around me baby boy."

yeonjun lived a hard but glamorous life, and most of the time he was dressed up in designer outfits and makeup without a flaw ~ just as you'd expect from our 4th gen it boy.

in the early stages of your relationship, he figured you might find the real him boring - when he wasn't acting like a superstar and covered in glitter.

clearly this wasn't the case and you loved him just as much on a boring monday morning, getting ready for work - bed head and morning breath and all. and it was this that he appreciated, knowing you truly loved him for him and not just all the glitz and glamour.

he knew you'd be there whether he was fresh off an arena stage or crying into your shoulder over his insecurities on a tuesday night.

you'd always be there encourage him or to lift him back up no matter what. <3

soobin ~ paris

"romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours."

both you and soobin knew where you started dating that your relationship would be anything but typical, you'd almost never go on dates in public places and never ever posted the other on social media.

most couple-y activities were out of the question for you and your idol boyfriend, but it wasn't exactly a hindrance.

with no one but your families and close friends knowing the two of you were dating, you could enjoy spending time together without the annoying input of people - haters - who didn't mean anything to either of you. at first, you thought keeping the love of your life completely on the down low would be hard, but two years in - you realise it was possibly the best outcome.

your apartment became a sanctuary, a place he'd stay when he wasn't loaded with schedules. most of your dates happened in your living room, or the kitchen, or even just cuddling in your bedroom.

you feel lucky that it's you who he comes home to at the end of the day; leaving the judgemental, busy world outside behind him - and when you see his shoulders visibly relax the second he locks the door, you think you should keep each other all to yourselves as long as you can.

beomgyu ~ nothing new

"lord what will become of me, once i've lost my novelty?"

beomgyu was always insecure. you'd lost count of the days he'd cried on your shoulder over how long all this could last.

how long could he really keep the love of his fans? keep your love? did he deserve it? was his hard work - pure blood sweat and tears - really enough? was he doing enough for his members? his company? for you?

the only thing that could calm him was your reassurance, gentle strokes of your fingers through his hair while he let out all his worries and frustrations. he appreciated you being there for him and listening to him without bombarding him with snarky comments like others have to him in the past. you weren't going to tell him to just stop worrying, nor would you try to tell him "you're so lucky" when you knew his job was just as stressful and demanding as it was rewarding.

instead, you often settled for a simple "i love you. you're enough for me. i'll never get bored of you." and honestly, that's all that truly mattered to beomgyu.

taehyun ~ i bet you think about me

"i bet you couldn't believe, when you realised i'm harder to forget than i was to leave."

you and taehyun ended your relationship after a silly fight, emotions were high and work was getting to him. so sick of being treated like you weren't as good as him, you cut it off and left.

taehyun couldn't think for the two weeks that you were apart. his stubborn personality tried to convince himself that he was fine, he didn't need you clinging to him to have a fulfilling life - but boy was he wrong.

he realised how much he cherished your presence, and everything around him seemed to remind him of you. two weeks of no contact drove him crazy, and knowing you'd have probably blocked his number, he drove to your house with the biggest bunch of your favourite flowers to apologise.

"i'm so sorry. i didn't realise what i had until i lost it."

hueningkai ~ mastermind

"what if i told you none of this was accidental?"

the first time kai saw you, you were alone at the game store he frequented - usually with soobin. he thought you were adorable, so he'd look over and pick up on the kinds of games and merchandise you'd look at.

he never thought he'd see you again after the first day, but somehow he felt compelled to look up all your favourite games you'd been browsing - if he did see you again, he'd need a conversation starter after all.

the next time he went, it was the same time and same day - all in hopes you'd be like him and go every week. turns out his hunch was right, when he spotted you looking over the new pokemon plushie display.

"hey, did you see the new pokemon game coming out next week?" he asked, flashing a toothy grin.

"yeah! you like pokemon too? oh i'm Y/N by the way!"

perfect.

[underworldreaderinserts]

Hey, this is my first time doing a request and I don’t know if this is the right place to put it (I hope it is). But I was wondering if you do do multiple characters, if you could do (separate) headcannons for Zagreus, Thanatos, and Hypnos falling for someone completely mortal on the surface? Thank you so much and I’m really sorry if I didn’t input my request correctly!

Hello, love! No, you did absolutely fine, this is exactly where you’re supposed to submit your requests♡ Thank you so much for sending it in! I hope it’s to your liking♡ I’m so sorry it took so long to publish. The past few days have been hectic! But I’m back♡ Do these even count as headcanons? I’m so sorry-- I know you asked for them separate, but I thought of them all together, and I accidentally made a poly circle. Since this post is long enough already, I’ll leave them out, but please let me know if you’d want me to make a post with them! I had so much fun imagining and writing it that I couldn’t help myself♡  -- Ryan

Thanatos:

✧ Your modest, mortal life hadn’t been too grandiose; you worked as a humble physician, tending to your village in ways of medication and treatment, everything between minor procedures and check ups.

     ✧ In your line of work, death was no stranger. It wasn’t very frequent that patients died in your care, but when they did -- whether it was a life lost to infection, injury, or illness -- they were only in extreme cases. (Needless to say, Thanatos had made all those visits to your practice)

✧ In the beginning, he'd refrained from any involvement in your life -- only watching over the soul whose allotted time was running out before reaping them, then departing. 

✧ But one day, he’d watched you fighting to keep your patient alive. Tears streaming down your face as you did everything in your power to stabilize the boy. His parchment read, ‘name; Nicos, age; 10, cause of death; injury by stampede’. 

     ✧ He knew that he’d have no other choice but to take the boy’s soul -- living with those irreversible damages would be a worse outcome.

✧ After that, he began to notice things he never did before. 

     ✧ The care you put in to making your patients comfortable before they passed. How you went above and beyond caring for them, and giving preventative measures to prolong their life (though he’d still be there to take the soul regardless, he’d watched as you did your best to preserve their life). All of it showed how limitless your strength was.

✧ “He’s.. doing fine. The boy.” You heard a voice one day, an unfamiliar one. You turn around from the bookshelf you stand before, holding a journal and a vial of ointment. 

     ✧ “Excuse me?” You blink, asking the stranger softly, taking in his features. He wasn’t from the village, you were aware of that. The village rarely had travelers passing through, and given this man’s robes and garments, you weren’t quite sure he was an ordinary man.

          ✧ “Nicos. He’s doing well.” The man wields his scythe, gently shifting its weight from one hand to the other. Your eyes widen as it dawns on you. “Than..atos?” Correctly identifying him, he seems to give a small bow of his head.

               ✧ You do as any sane person would, in the presence of a god; you drop everything in your hands and take a step back. You had enough reason to believe him -- after all, you knew everyone in this village, and Nicos had passed months before his arrival. There was no way he’d have known.

               ✧ “Are you... Is it my time?” You ask, leaving Thanatos a bit puzzled. “Are you here to collect my soul?” You repeat, and the understanding visually clicks in Thanatos, and he chuckles, shaking his head. Of course, you’d believe he’d come for your soul, as he’d only ever appeared before humans who have met their time. “Then... What is it you’ve come for?”

               ✧ You’d asked the million dollar question. Why had he even appeared before you? What was it that drew him out like this? “I... Can’t tell you myself. I just came to tell you, he’s doing well.” And with a toll of a bell, he’d disappeared. No word of goodbye, no mention of ever coming back.

               ✧ Reflecting on what had just happened; The God of Death himself had come into your home, just to tell you that Nicos was alright. It warmed your heart to take comfort in that, knowing that he was no longer in pain.

               ✧ Sitting on the situation a little longer, and judging by that little bit of information, it finally dawned on you that he was there, personally, for that event, and that he’d thought of you enough to reassure you.

✧ Due to his work, Thanatos makes frequent trips to the surface. 

✧ Frequent trips to the surface, meant frequent visits (where he could, of course. Lord Hades would have his head if he didn’t prioritize his job).

✧ At first, he refrained from any sort of involvement in your life -- he’d come for his job, and nothing more. But now he seeks you out. He’ll stop by to check in, or even just to see your face. And one thing differs now, when he comes to reap the soul’s whose allotted time had run out.

     ✧ “Take good care of them, Thanatos.” You’d smile softly as you place a coin over your patient’s mouth, voicing your little prayer to him. You said this each time, too, and it made him think you could see him.

✧ He wasn’t sure when it began, but thoughts of seeing you as he carried out his job filled him with a warm, soft feeling.

Hypnos:

✧ In charge of the census of the dead, Hypnos was aware of how everyone dies; when they died, and where they end up in the Underworld.

     ✧ He found that his job became so ingrained in his being that, when he’d drift off at work, his dreams would take him to visions of the lives of some of the mortals he had met, or have yet the pleasure of meeting when they come to the underworld.

          ✧ Most of these dreams always tie back to a particular individual -- someone who seems to touch the lives of everyone they’ve ever met.

✧ At first, he’d just assumed that you’d met and knew everyone in the world, as the only common denominator throughout these dreams was you. But upon further evaluation of that statement, he had determined that was impossible.

     ✧ Next, he had to admit that perhaps he was drawn to you. Whether it was a connection the Fates mandated, or it was his subconscious actively seeking you out, he’d have these visions of your life, these interactions with the people in your life.

          ✧ An image of your smile, the depiction of an experience you had. You’d invaded his dreams, and eventually his thoughts.

✧ Being shackled to the House, and without the luxury that Thanatos or Zagreus have to go to the surface, Hypnos only has a very one-sided means of interacting with you; and though he doesn’t know you, he’s very drawn to you.

✧ It’s curious. As he’s seen all these snippets of your life, he feels he simultaneously knows everything about you, yet nothing about you at all. He could see these candid shots of your life, but he doesn’t know your dreams, your ambitions, or even the sound of your voice.

✧ With his thoughts always falling back to you, he’s a bit more spacey on the job, receiving reprimands from Hades more and more often, looks judgement from his brother, and looks of solemn understanding from his mother.

✧ Achilles teases him, recognizing traits of “a lovesick puppy”, but never really gets an answer on what that means (he might even observe Cerberus for a while to see if he can understand it a little more).

✧ He awaits enthusiastically, and a tad bittersweetly, for your eventual arrival to the Underworld, desiring nothing more than to meet you, and to hear your experiences of life on the surface.

⚠️Spoilers Ahead!! ⚠️

Zagreus:

✧ Most of your mortal life is spent in Persephone’s vibrant and luscious gardens.

     ✧ You lived not too far from her cottage, and you made frequent visits to her, bringing her goods and gifts from the market, and the words from all the gossipers of the town.

          ✧ As far as you knew, she was the only one who lived here, and she didn’t seem to have any family of her own. Taking care of her gardens seemed to be her passion, and to be honest you enjoyed her company. There was something about her, so lively and inviting, that made it hard to stay away for long.

✧ Trips to Persephone were always fragrant, delicious, and warm, despite the permanent snow in the region. Conversations over meals, fishing by the river, and of course time spent in the garden where you got to watch your toils bear great produce.

✧ One day, you return to the cottage, a basket of bass and trout resting on your hip as you walk. The plan was to make a profit selling them in town, and use the coin to get better tools for the garden and the kitchen.

     ✧ Though, on the way to the cottage, you notice scorched earth in the shape of a bare footprints. The trail leads up to the garden, where you find Persephone with a man you’ve never seen before. A man like you’ve never seen before.

          ✧ You watch on as Persephone embraces this ethereal form, whose skin is much like ash and moonstone. He looked beyond out of place, yet, something about him felt so familiar.

               ✧ Focused on the two before you, carelessly unaware of your surroundings, you snap a branch under your foot, alerting them of your presence. The stranger flinched, tensing as he pulls his guard up. He turns to meet your eyes, and whatever words you’d formed in your mind vanished.

               ✧ One red, one green -- his eyes bore into yours as you admire his. That electrifying moment of attraction ends in time with Persephone clearing her throat.

               ✧ No one needed to say anything for you to recognize he’d had the same energy as Persephone. You could deduct immediately that he was her son. But nonetheless, Persephone’s words broke the silence, “[Y/N], This is... my son. This is Zagreus.”

               ✧ “Zagreus..” You sit a moment, tasting his name as it falls from your tongue, and it was something about the way you said his name that drew a shiver up his spine.

               ✧ “[Y/N]... Have you been here the whole time? How much did you hear? Do the Olympians know of you, too?” His questions went miles a minute, but made no sense to you. “Why would the Olympians...? What, do you mean the Gods?” You ask, and Zagreus exchanged a look to his mother, recognizing his own mistake.

               ✧ However, he’d reached his limit in that moment, and Zagreus clutched his chest, stumbling. Immediately, you drop your basket in worry, and go over to help him maintain his balance. Persephone placed her hand on your shoulder, and you watched as his body faded away.

✧ It was then, between that day and the next visit Zagreus paid to the garden, that the whole truth was told to you. How Persephone was actually the daughter of Demeter, the cause of the perpetual snow, and Zagreus was her son with the God of the Underworld, Hades.

✧ Since the day he’d met you in his mother’s garden, his curiosity was piqued. 

     ✧ How long had you been visiting his mother? If you hadn’t known she was a Goddess of Olympus, what was it that drove you to help her? His heart beat faster with his recount of your eyes, your voice, your worry as he felt the tug of the Styx back to the Underworld.

✧ His mission remained escaping to see his mother again, and again, but he found himself hoping each time that you were there.

     ✧ To try the food that you’d make for him. To hear the newest rumor that was spreading around the town. To help around the garden, and see you glow with happiness as each of the plants met maturity. 

✧ You’d invaded his mind, tugging at the strings of his heart -- and on the days when you were away from the garden, his mother had no problems teasing him about his crush on you. Though, she admits, if she’d have to give her only son away to anyone, it would absolutely be you.

[theartofdreaming1]

Katniss, bravely stepping inbetween Gale and Thread (and his whip) - she’s so courageous and protective, she deserves the world 😭

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and (many) random thoughts on chapters 7-9 are below the cut. (Is it just me, or are my notes getting longer and longer with each and every post? I swear, this book is so meaty, we’ll soon reach the point where I have to type out the entire chapter, with my thoughts in the margins)

heart

“Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else in unthinkable.” 

I think these words are a result of Katniss being so afraid of losing Gale that she’s kinda overcompensating; their relationship has been strained these past few months and they’d just had a row, separating from each other on bad terms - and the next time she sees him, he’s been whipped so bad that he’s lost consciousness and could be potentially dying from his wounds. Of course she’s so terrified of losing him, that she’s holding on as tightly as she can to him. It’s important to keep in mind how important their relationship is to her and we see that in her preceding thoughts: What a pair we were - fatherless, frightened, but fiercely commited, too, to keeping our families alive. Desperate, yet no longer alone after that day, because we’d found each other. I think of a hundred moments in the woods, lazy afternoons fishing, the day I taught him to swim, that time I twisted my knee and he carried me home. Mutually counting each other, watching each other’s backs, forcing each other to be brave. - Gale was the first person who was her equal, a kindred spirit, her partner. After Katniss had lost both of her parents when her father died and her mother succumbed to her depression - the people who were supposed to care for her and guide her through growing up - she was stuck with the role of sole provider and protector of her family at age eleven. She must have been so lonely all this time until she met this boy who understood what she was going through and they learned from each other and shouldered their burdens together, to take off some of the overwhelming pressure. Of course that relationship, of course Gale is important to her. But also now their relationship has become more fragile, after the Games they are in danger of growing apart - it’s got to be so terrifying to feel like the one proper, mutual relationship you’ve had seems to be slipping through your fingers. With everything that’s going on, her entire life as it is teetering on the razor’s edge (heck, the president himself has been threatening her and her family!), it’s no wonder that Katniss is craving that familiarity and safety that her relationship with Gale used to provide her with. And seeing Gale in this state just has her holding on to him more tightly than ever.

mind

Hmm, no big moment is coming to my mind right now; I think I’m always most impressed by the tiny moments that show how tenacious, resilient and fiercely kind humans can be - like Darius stepping forward to stop Gale’s cruel punishment, Leevy volunteering to tell Hazelle about Gale and promising to stay with the Hawthorne children, Madge bringing the morphling, Katniss pressing Darius’s hand in the Training Center, Twill taking Bonnie with her to flee to D13 and so on.

soul

I believe that Katniss was honestly surprised to learn that Gale had feelings for her; she had categorically shut down the idea of entering a romantic relationship for herself, so I don’t think she’d seriously consider anyone being romantically interested in her in return (that’s not how that works, of course, but I think that’s how she perceived the whole shtick). Their kiss threw her completely for a loop and if anything, she mostly saw it as something that contributed to the deterioration of their previous, easy and comfortable relationship.

Chapter 7

A mockingjay is a creature the Capitol never intended to exist. [...] They hadn’t anticipated its will to live. - In a way, the Capitol continues to make this mistake with the people living in the districts, too - underestimating their will to live (opposed to just surviving)

I look in his [Gale’s] eyes. His temper can’t quite mask the hurt, the sense of betrayal he feels at my engagement to Peeta. This will be my last chance, this meeting today, to not lose Gale forever. - Okay, we don’t know how much Katniss might be (incorrectly) presuming here, but the idea that Gale might feel betrayal because his best friend is being forced into an engagement pisses me off. It’s fine if he’s feeling jealous because she’s being paired off with Peeta when he wishes he could have a shot with her, but how in the world does this even rate as a betrayal?! A) It’s done against her will and B) Just because they’re friends doesn’t mean Katniss owes him anything when we’re talking about romantic feelings... Ugh 😒 Also, it’s quite noteworthy how insecure Katniss feels about their relationship - she’s constantly worried Gale will drop her and their friendship (waiting for Gale after the camera teams left after winning the Games: I’d begun to think that he’d given up on me in the weeks that had passed.- Ch. 2) and it doesn’t help that she’s been through that extreme, traumatic experience without him and they haven’t had much opportunity to spend a lot of time with each other (with the Victory Tour and Gale having to work so much) and when they do hang out, they don’t seem to really talk much, which doesn’t exactly help...

He [Gale] tosses the gloves on my lap. “Here. I don’t want your fiancé’s old gloves.” “He’s not my fiancé. That’s just part of the act. And these aren’t his gloves. They were Cinna’s,” I say. “Give them back, then, he says. - Gale can be so petty sometimes 🙄

While I talk, [...] [Gale] occupies himself with turning the food in the leather bag into a meal for us. Toasting bread and cheese, coring apples, placing chestnuts in the fire to roast. I watch his hands, his beautiful, capable fingers. Scarred, as mine were before the Captiol erased all marks from my skin, but strong and deft. [...] Hands I trust. - Oh boy, this moment really shows how these two are at cross purposes right now - Gale’s prepping the food as you would for a toasting (romantic connotation), while Katniss is oberserving his hands, thinking how their hands used to match (not anymore!) and basically wishing herself back into the time before the Games, when things were ‘simpler’/more clearly defined (and also platonic!); there is nothing romantic from her P.O.V. - it’s all about the friendship and trust

[Gale] steps in and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale’s neck to brace myself. He’s laughing, happy. “Hey!” I protest, but I’m laughing, too. Gale sets me down but doesn’t release his hold on me. “Okay, let’s run away.” [...] “You’re sure?” I say. [...] “I’m sure. I’m completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure.” - Yeah, and I’m sure you’re not going to change your opinion in the next five minutes, Gale... In his defense, Gale didn’t know all the details, so in that regard it’s totally valid that he might decide to change his mind after having more input... It’s just that Katniss specifically asks him whether he’s sure and his reply is so full of conviction (100% sure!), only for him to do a complete 180 just a couple of minutes later; Gale’s very hot and cold, which makes for such a harsh contrast when compared to Peeta’s more measured reaction later in the chapter

He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. [...] I don’t try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you.” That’s why. - Oh man, Katniss just can’t catch a break 😞 Really not wise of Gale to drop the L-bomb here (after, what? a kiss they never talked about and little else... their communication is truly abysmal and it’s really damaging to their relationship, hurting the both of them)

“Gale, I can’t think about anyone that way now. All I can think about, every day, is how afraid I am. And there doesn’t seem to be room for anything else. If we could get somewhere safe, maybe I could be different. I don’t know.” I can see him swallowing his disappointment. “So, we’ll go. We’ll find out.” - I mean, honestly, I totally understand where Katniss is coming from - she doesn’t need a romantic interest, she needs a partner, which is why she’s been so eager to talk to her hunting partner, someone she’s used to rely on for survival and now he’s also confounding their relationship by introducing that romance-angle (as if it wasn’t bad enough that her relationship with Peeta got kind of messed up when that same angle was forced upon them prematurely)... Also, telling how Katniss thinks she’d have to be different to maybe even consider a romantic relationship with Gale - Katniss as she is right now just can’t see herself wanting to be with Gale romantically; it would require a change... I’ve got to give Gale credit for still going along with it, and trying to push past his disappointment, though

“My [Gale’s] mother is going to take some convincing.” [...] “Mine, too. I’ll just have to make her see reason. Take her for a long walk. Make sure she understands we won’t survive the alternative.” “She’ll understand. I watched a lot of the Games with her and Prim. She won’t say no to you,” says Gale. - That’s interesting, I wonder what exactly Gale means by that? That Mrs. Everdeen won’t say no to Katniss because she feels guilty that Katniss had to go through the Games or because watching her daughter compete in the Games really made her realize how messed up Panem is? Or that she’s more inclined to trust Katniss’s judgement after everything that has happened?

“Haymitch will be the real challenge.” “Haymitch?” Gale abandons the chestnuts. “You’re asking him to come with us?” “I have to, Gale. I can’t leave him and Peeta because they’d-” His scowl cuts me off. “What?” “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how large our party was,” he snaps at me. - Gale doesn’t seem to have realized how close and important Peeta and Haymitch have become to Katniss... maybe because they never properly talked about this aspect of Katniss’s life (I swear, their shoddy communication must account for at least half of the damage their relationship has taken in these past few months alone)

“What if he [Peeta] decides to stay?” he [Gale] asks. I try to sound indifferent, but my voice cracks. “Then he stays.” “You’d leave him behind?” Gale asks. “To save Prim and my mother, yes,” I answer. “I mean, no! I’ll get him to come.” “And me, would you leave me?” Gale’s expression is rock hard now. - Boy, oh boy! I think Gale knows (like Peeta) that Katniss could never leave behind the people she cares about; then, he’s kind of gauging whether Peeta has already received the Katniss Everdeen Stamp of ‘Caring’ - and, as it turns out, he has! And then Gale ends up making it into a bit of  competition by asking her whether she would leave him behind (or, alternately, her turning him down has him confused about the depth of their relationship, I dunno); not fun

“There’s an uprising in Eight?” he [Gale] says in a hushed voice. I try to backpedal. To defuse him, as I tried to defuse the districts. - Katniss is going to be about as successful as she’d been at defusing the districts, too - But here we have another example of Katniss trying to rein in Gale’s temper because she’s afraid he’s going to get himself in trouble (like when she decided not to tell him about Snow’s visit to her house because she was worried what he’d do with that information)... It’s really not great that she feels the need to censor herself so he won’t do something dangerous... Katniss knows first-hand how badly impulsive actions and decisions can be received in the Capitol - and she never even meant for a rebellion to happen!

“And it’s my fault, Gale. Because of what I did in the arena. If I had just killed myself with those berries, none of this would’ve happened. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe. too.” “Safe to do what?” he says in a gentler tone. “Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven’t hurt people - you’ve given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it. - Katniss is taking all the responsibility upon herself again... Gale is right to point out that she was merely a catalyst, not the cause for the rebellion - the cause are the awful living conditions of the people in the districts

“Stop it! You don’t know what you’re saying. The Peacekeepers outside of Twelve, they’re not like Darius, or even Cray! The lives of district people - they mean less than nothing to them!” I say. “That’s why we have to join the fight!” he answers harshly. “No! we have to leave here before they kill us and a lot of other people, too!” [...] “You leave, then, I’d never go in a million years.” [...] “What about your family?” “What about the other families, Katniss? The ones who can’t run away?” - This discourse is so painful because they are both right - Katniss has seen more of the districts and how things are handled beyond the (relatively tame) confines of D12 and it’s fair that she wants to know that the people she cares about are safe from harm; Gale, of course, has a point commenting that not everyone has that opportunity and the only way to have a long-lasting, wide-spread improvement of their conditions is through rebelling against their oppressor - but that will inevitably come along with sacrifices and collateral damage and it’s easy to say that it will be worth it in the long run, but when those who are hurt/dead could end up being your loved ones, it’s definitely easier said than done

He throws Cinna’s gloves at my feet. “I changed my mind. I don’t want anything they made in the Capitol.” And he’s gone. I look down at the gloves. Anything they made in the Capitol? Was that directed at me? Does he think I am now just another product of the Capitol and therefore something untouchable? The unfairness of it all fills me with rage. But it’s mixed up with fear over what kind of crazy thing he might do next. - Gale getting rid of Cinna’s gloves just because they are from the Capitol is a prime example of this “us vs. them” mindset that he will be (worringly) fast to adopt - of course, perceiving the opposite side as “other” will make it easier to fight against them; however, it’s all too easy to lose sight of your opponent’s humanity when you think like that (think of how Gale has a hard time understanding Katniss’s distress upon seeing her prep team being treated so terribly/inhumanely in D13); Katniss feeling upset that Gale might perceive her as a product of the Capitol instead of its victim is understandable (and isn’t that exactly what the inhabitants of D13 are going to think of Peeta in MJ?) - and yet, she is still worried Gale could get himself into trouble with his impulsivity; she’s a good bean

”Going to town?” I ask. “Yes. I’m supposed to eat dinner with my family,” he [Peeta] says. - I’m tripping over the word ‘supposed’ here - it doesn’t sound like Peeta’s looking forward to hanging out with his fam, although it can’t be that often, since they’ve been away on Victory Tour and he is living alone (maybe the end of the chapter will give us another hint why that is 😒😒)... I can’t help but wonder whether these family dinners are mainly for public perception (in that case... it really is no wonder Peeta is so good at playing the cameras - poor guy had to fool the outside world his entire life) or because they are the only chance for Peeta to hang out with any of the members of his family he might actually want to spend some time with

“Peeta, if I asked you to run away from the district with me, would you?” Peeta takes my arm, bringing me to a stop. He doesn’t need to check my face to see if I’m serious. “Depends on why you’re asking.” President Snow wasn’t convinced by me. There’s an uprising in District Eight. We have to get out,” I say. “By ‘we’ do you mean just you and me? No. Who else would be going?” he asks. - Peeta doesn’t just blindly agree to Katniss’s proposal; he needs to know what’s going on first (he has been burnt before - no more secrets!) - and it’s a testament to how well he knows her that as soon as he’s asking whether she meant just the two of them, he corrects himself because knows that Katniss would never leave the ones she cares about behind

“What about Gale?” he says. “I don’t know. He might have other plans,” I say. Peeta shakes his head and gives me rueful smile. “I bet he does. Sure, Katniss, I’ll go.” I feel a slight twinge of hope. “You will?” “Yeah. But I don’t think for a minute you will,” he says. [...] “Then you don’t know me. Be ready. It could be any time.” - Telling how Peeta immediately agrees to the plan once he gathers that Gale won’t come - he knows that Katniss cares about Gale and could never leave him behind, ergo she’d never actually leave under these circumstances - he knows her so well. Also, Katniss’s reaction is like that of a petulant child, it’s kind of funny 😄

“Katniss, hold up.” [...] “I really will go, if you want me to. I just think we better talk it through with Haymitch. Make sure we won’t be making things worse for everyone.” - Ultimately, Peeta would follow Katniss to the ends of the earth - doesn’t mean that he can’t throw in a sensible suggestion in there as well 😉 (Also, in the next chapter we will see how Katniss, Gale, and Peeta might be a little too inexperienced/naive to be able to form accurate expectations of what is to come - Haymitch and his generation have a little more experience in that regard)

He raises his head. “What’s that?” [...] I haven’t noticed the strange noise coming from the square. A whistling, the sound of an impact, the intake of breath from a crowd. “Come on,” Peeta says, his face suddenly hard. I don’t know why. I can’t place the sound, even guess at the situation. But it means something bad to him. - Why does my sweet boy know what a whipping sounds like, Suzanne, huh?! Care to explain that? 😭

Peeta steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I’m halfway up when he suddenly blocks my way. “Get down. Get out of here!” He’s whispering, but his voice is harsh with insistence. - Peeta was offering his hand to help Katniss up the crate because they are a team (and he’s a gentleman)! It’s only when he recognizes who is receiving those lashes and realizes that Katniss will lose her shit once she knows, which could make the current situation even worse, that he urges her to leave, and he is not the only one to think that: - Voices hiss. “Get out of here, girl.” “Only make it worse.” What do you want to do? Get him killed?”

Chapter 8

It’s too late to stop the arm from descending, and I instinctively know I won’t have the power to block it. Instead I throw myself directly between the whip and Gale. I’ve flung out my arms to protext as much of his broken body as possible, so there’s nothing to deflect the lash. I take the full force of it across the left side of my face. - Katniss is so selfless; she knows that it’s either Gale getting hit again or a lash to her own face and she chooses the latter

“Hold it!” a voice barks. Haymitch appears and trips over a Peacekeeper lying on the ground. It’s Darius. [...] He’s knocked out but still breathing. What happened? Did he try to come to Gale’s aid before I got here? - Haymitch sure appeared quickly - I can easily imagine Peeta taking off immediately to get him (or send someone to bring him to the square) once he knew Katniss couldn’t be stopped; but if Haymitch had been at his house in Victor’s Village, there is no way he’d have made that quickly to the square... maybe he was already at the Hob and had gotten wind of the whole situation? Also, poor Darius! Wearing a uniform/being in some sort of position of power is no guarantee you won’t get punished as soon as you show the tiniest glimpse of compassion - in a place like Panem, nobody is safe from the caprice of the people in charge

I see a flicker of recognition in the eyes of the man with the whip. [...] it wouldn’t be easy to identify me as the victor of the last Hunger Games. Especially with half my face swelling up. But Haymitch has been showing up on television for years, and he’d be difficult to forget. - Getting Haymitch truly was the smartest move to make (which is why I’m pretty sure it was a move on Peeta’s part - he’d know how to use reminders of ‘appearances’ to ensure a punishment wouldn’t go ‘too far’, y’know 😢). But also - Thread must have lived under a flipping rock, to not being able to recognizes Katniss (her face must have been plastered all over the place during the Victory Tour, which just had concluded recently) - or he was just too in the heat of the moment, with someone opposing him, bleugh 😒

“He [Gale] was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man. “He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.” - I love how Peeta’s just laying it down as it is; his phrasing just sounds so factual, rather than provocative (although it is, of course); he really has a way with words - Maybe we’re it. The only three people in the district who could make a stand like this. Although it’s sure to be temporary. There will be repercussions. - Haymitch, Peeta, and Katniss working together as a team again! Also, a good example of the effect people with public influence can have 

One [Peacekeeper], a woman named Purnia who eats regularly at Greasy Sae’s, steps forward stiffly. “I believe, for a first offense, the required number of lashes has been dispensed, sir. Unless your sentence is death, which we would carry out by firing squad.” “Is that the standard protocol here?” asks the Head Peacekeeper. “Yes, sir,” Purnia says, and several others nod in agreement. I’m sure none of them actually know because, in the Hob, the standard protocol for someone showing up with a wild turkey is for everybody to bid on the drumsticks. - It’s kinda nice to see the local Peacekeepers supporting Purnia’s claim to get this display to stop - this is the only way out of this situation where Thread’s authority is not openly challenged (and we know Thread doesn’t take well to having his authority challenged - see Darius)

There’s no stretcher, but the old woman at the clothing stall sells us the board that serves as her countertop. “Just don’t tell where you got it,” she says, packing up the rest of her goods quickly. Most of the square has emptied, fear getting the better of compassion. But after what happened, I can’t blame anyone. - It’s sad how that air of intimidation makes people want to mask their acts of compassion (and also says a lot about the precariousness of the existing living situations if that old lady is still selling that board - I’d never even consider exchanging money for that, but that’s probably my privileged situation showing here; Katniss brings up the theme of fear vs compassion - very fitting, since it seems to be her driving force (although, generally, her compassion wins out over her fear) and despite her assertion that fear appears to be getting the better of compassion we see a good amount of people reaching out to help, such as the following example:

Leevy, a girl who lives a few houses down from mine in the Seam, takes my arm. My mother kept her little brother alive last year when he caught the measles. “Need help getting back?” Her gray eyes are scared but determined. - The subtle suggestion here that Leevy might be further motivated to help out because Katniss’s mom helped her little brother is also an excellent example of how kindness breeds kindness

“Get some snow on that,” Haymitch orders over his shoulder. I scoop up a handful of snow and press it against my cheek, numbing a bit of the pain. - This moment reminded me of Peeta immediately reaching for some ice from that fruit tureen after Haymitch hit him on their way to the Games in THG (Ch. 4) - their different immediate reactions to getting hit in the face could simply be due to the fact that Katniss is a little too preoccupied worrying about Gale to think about her injury, of course, but I feel like you could also interpret them as examples for how much experience Katniss and Peeta have with being hit in the face, respectively...

Gale must have gone to Cray’s house, as he’s done a hundred times, knowing Cray pays well for a wild turkey. Instead he found the new Head Peacekeeper, a man they heard someone call Romulus Thread. No one knows what happened to Cray. He was buying white liquor in the Hob just this morning [...] but now he’s nowhere to be found. - As I’ve already mentioned regarding Darius, inhabiting some position of power does not guarantee you any safety in Panem (there is always someone more powerful who will treat their inferiors like garbage, if they feel like it)

By the time I showed up, he [Gale]’d been lashed at least forty times. He passed out around thirty. - Jesus 😨 poor Gale!

“What about Darius?” Peeta asks.“ After about twenty lashes, he stepped in, saying that was enough. Only he didn’t do it smart and official, like Purnia did. He grabbed Thread’s arm and Thread hit him in the head with the butt of the whip. Nothing good waiting for him,” says Bristel. - It’s so messed up how it is not enough to have someone who’d stand up and do something about a horrible situation - they have to do it the right way, or else they’re toast; there really shouldn’t have to be a smart way of doing the right thing

Snow begins, thick and wet, making visibility even more difficult. - (President) Snow is coming down hard on them, making it hard to see what’s up ahead

Ever so gently, she [Mrs. Everdeen] begins to clean the mutilated flesh on Gale’s back. I feel sick to the stomach, useless, the remaining snow dripping from my glove into a puddle on the floor. Peeta puts me in a chair and holds a cloth filled with fresh snow to my cheek. - Although she’s quite squeamish, Katniss stays as Gale gets treated (the force that holds the loved ones of the hurt/dying, just like when Peeta was being treated after their Games); meanwhile, Peeta is taking care of Katniss - there is so much care + love to be found in this moment

My mother has to save the strongest [painkillers] for the worst pain, but what is the worst pain? To me, it’s always the pain that is present. If I were in charge, those painkillers would be gone in a day because I have so little ability to watch suffering. - Honestly, same; I can’t stomach seeing other people suffer without feeling overwhelmed and feeling like crying... I don’t know how professionals do it

“Just give him the medicine!” I scream at her. [...] “Take her out,” says my mother. Haymitch and Peeta literally carry me from the room while I shout obscenities at her. They pin me down on a bed in one of the extra bedrooms until I stop fighting. - Oof. Poor Katniss! But yeah, it was the best call to remove her from the situation, Mrs. E. had to focus on what she was doing... Also, Haymitch and Peeta are the ones to get Katniss out of there and stay with her - these three take care of each other!

After a while, my mother comes in and treats my face. Then she holds my hand, stroking my arm, while Haymitch fills her in on what happened with Gale. “So it’s starting again?” she says. “Like before?” - Katniss’s mom has become a much more active and soothing presence in this book, I like it... Also, what does “again” mean? Does this imply there has been an attempted uprising in D12 that needed to be squashed before?

Cray would have been disliked, anyway, because of the uniform he wore, but it was his habit of luring starving young women into his bed for money that made him an object of loathing in the district. In really bad times, the hungriest would gather at his door at nightfall, vying for the chance to earn a few coins to feed their families by selling their bodies. Had I been older when my father died, I might have been among them. - Horrifying and absolutely disgusting 🤢 Those poor women! How desperate they must have been! 

... when the doorbell rings, I shoot straight out of bed. [...] “They [the peacekeepers] can’t have him,” I say. “Might be you they’re after,” Haymitch reminds me. “Or you,” I say. “Not my house,” Haymitch points out. “But I’ll get the door.” “No, I’ll get it,” says my mother quietly. - Again, Mrs. Everdeen is taking the initiative! She was so watered down in the movies

[Madge] holds out a small, damp cardboard box to me. “Use these for your friend,” she says. I take off the lid of the box, revealing half a dozen vials of clear liquid. [...] “What is that stuff?” asks Peeta. “It’s from the Capitol. It’s called morphling,” my mother answers. “I didn’t even know Madge knew Gale,” says Peeta. “We used to sell her strawberries,” I say almost angrily. What am I angry about, though? Not that she has brought the medicine, surely. “She must have quite a taste for them,” says Haymitch. That’s what nettles me. It’s the implication that there’s something going on between Gale and Madge. And I don’t like it. “She’s my friend” is all I say. - I mean, Katniss could be mad because A) Gale had literally just told her he loved her a few hours ago and if there was something (reciprocated) going on between Gale and Madge, that would have been pretty shitty for both girls involved and also B) she is friends with both of them and it would be hurtful to learn that two of your closest friends had been seeing each other without telling you anything about it... also, she’s super upset over Gale getting so seriously hurt just after they’d had an argument, her feelings are all over the place

... I’m selfish. I’m a coward. I’m the kind of girl, who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn’t follow to suffer and die. This is the girl Gale met in the woods today. No wonder I won the Games. No decent person ever does. You saved Peeta, I think weakly. But now I question even that. I knew good and well that my life back in District 12 would be unlivable if I let that boy die. - Yes, Katniss, you knew that your life back in D12 would have been unlivable if he died - but not because you feared that people would shun you; it was because you “couldn’t lose the boy with the bread” and because “if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really”... This is an excellent example of how distorted your memories can get when you are in a bad headspace at present

The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. - Katniss, you don’t have to be planning to overthrow a corrupt and cruel government to be someone of worth! You’re someone of worth just by being yourself! - The trouble is, I don’t know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment. - Frankly, very rarely are our motivations clearly defined by a single factor - or my professor would not have been able to teach an entire semester-long course on motivation psychology😉)

Chapter 9

Gale’s dead to the world, but his fingers are locked around mine. I smell fresh bread and turn my stiff neck to find Peeta looking down at me with such a sad expression. I get the sense that he’s been watching us awhile. “Go on up to bed, Katniss. I’ll look after him now,” he says. - Peeta! Must have been hard for him to see Katniss like this (and the underlying strength of Katniss and Gale’s relationship, when his relationship with Katniss is still not all that solidified), and yet he’s being such a good bean about it 😭

I give a strangled cry and wake with a start, sweating and shivering at once. Cradling my damaged cheek in my hand, I remind myself that it was not Clove but Thread who gave me this wound. I wish that Peeta were here to hold me, until I remember I’m not supposed to wish that anymore. I have chosen Gale and the rebellion, and a future with Peeta is the Capitol’s design, not mine. - Katniss, gurl... Maybe your instinctive desire to receive comfort from Peeta is trying to tell you something??!? Also, Katniss is forcing this strange dichotomous association of Gale = rebellion and Peeta = Capitol, when in just a bit, she’s clearly connecting Peeta to the rebellion as well (aside from the fact that Peeta was basically the first person to suggest to her that maybe a rebellion was necessary... just saying)

Fighting the Capitol assures their swift retaliation. I must accept that at any moment I can be arrested. [...] There might be torture. Mutliation. A bullet through the skull in the town square [...] I imagine these things and I’m terrified, but let’s face it: They’ve been lurking in the back of my brain, anyway. [...] I’m already a target. - Oh geez! Despite admitting that she’s terrified of what the Capitol is capable fo doing to her, Katniss is still pretty composed naming the possible horrors in store for her, which is just a heartbreaking reminder of how many terrible things she has already had to endure.🙁

Now comes the harder part. I have to face the fact that my family and friends might share this fate. Prim. I need only to think of Prim and all my resolve disintegrates. It’s my job to protect her. [...] I can’t let the Capitol hurt Prim. - 😭😭😭 Katniss has reached a point where she can put her own need for survival/physical intactness aside, but the thought of something awful happening to Prim stops her short (it’s so strange to think that, in a twisted way, it wasn’t the Capitol who’d ended up inflicting the final harm upon Prim...)

And then it hit’s me. They already have. They have killed her father in those wretched mines. They have sat by as she almost starved to death. [...] She has been hurt far worse than I had at the age of twelve. And even that pales in comparison with Rue’s life. [...] Prim... Rue... aren’t they the very reason I have to try to fight? Because what has been done to them is so wrong, so beyond justification, so evil that there is no choice? Because no one has the right to treat them as they have been treated? Yes. This is the thing to remember when fear threatens to swallow me up. What I am about to do, whatever any of us are forced to endure, it is for them. - All these things are very true and it’s also very fitting that the main motivation for Katniss would be to ensure a better future for the children of Panem (and to avenge the evils done to the people close to her heart... while Katniss of course can see the abstract bigger picture/reason for the rebellion, she always operates best when it comes to specific people/circumstances she has a deep, personal connection with)... But also: all these things apply to you, too, Katniss! Despite your tendency to feel responsible for everything and everyone, you’re still a child that had to grow up way too fast and had to endure way too much!

We need someone to direct us and reassure us this is possible. And I don’t think I’m that person. I may have been a catalyst for rebellion, but a leader should be someone with conviction, and I’m barely a convert myself. Someone with unflinching courage, and I’m still working hard at finding mine. Someone with clear and persuasive words, and I’m so easily tongue-tied. Words. I think of words and I think of Peeta. - Katniss’s idea of a great leader for the rebellion is Peeta - interesting, isn’t it (she could have considered Gale, but no)? She makes a good point, though: it helps when a leader has plenty of charisma, and our boy has that in spades; he’s got a good set of morals, is not above joining in on the action/risking his own neck when the need arises and is very genuine and purposeful with his words and actions, which is inspiring... I think Katniss is severely underselling how courageous she is, though

He could move a crowd to action, I bet, if he chose to. Would find the things to say. But I’m sure the idea has never crossed his mind. - Why would you assume that, Katniss? Peeta’s literally the one to suggest to you that trying to placate the district might not be the right thing to do... Peeta’s not someone who’d stir up trouble just for the sake of stirring up trouble, sure; he’s much more deliberate about doing things the ‘right’ way, but he’s not generally opposed to challenging authorities (he’s literally the one to openly gift some of your winnings to another district!)

She knows what she’s doing, my mother. I feel a pang of remorse about yesterday, the awful things I yelled at her as Peeta and Haymitch dragged me from the kitchen. “I’m sorry. About screaming at you yesterday.” - It’s so sweet how Katniss feels sorry for yelling at her mom and apologizes to her; their relationship really has improved so much in this book - “I’ve heard worse,” she says. “You’ve seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain.” Someone they love. [...] Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do I mean when I say I love Gale? I don’t know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But i’m sure he doesn’t remember it. Does he? I hope not. - Katniss is struggling to figure out in what way she loves Gale... She definitely doesn’t want him to remember their kiss because she knows it wouldn’t be fair to give him the hope that she might be able to return his romantic feelings when she is still in the dark about her own

... and I can’t really think about kissing when I’ve got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it. “Where’s Peeta?” I say. - Lol, goes on to immediately mention the guy she’s been kissing these past few weeks (see, with Peeta you could actually have both: kissing and rebellion, Katniss - he’s the perfect man, isn’t he? 😉😋)

“He went home when he heard you stirring. Didn’t want to leave his house unattended during the storm,” says my mother. - Yeah, I don’t think Peeta left because of his house; I’m pretty sure he needed some time to himself after seeing Katniss and Gale this morning - he is the type of person who needs to be alone to work through his feelings when he’s feeling upset - “Did he get back all right?” [...] “Why don’t you give him a call and check?” she says. I go into the study, a room I’ve pretty much avoided since my meeting with President Snow, and dial Peeta’s number. After a few rings he answers. “Hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home,” I say. “Katniss. I live three houses away from you,” he says. “I know, but with the weather and all,” I say. “Well, I’m fine. Thank you for checking.” There’s a long pause. “How’s Gale?” - Aww, Katniss is worried about Peeta and gives him a call, although she hates being in the study 😊 Also, her calling him must have been at least of some reassurance to Peeta that she genuinely cares about him, in some way (though, he’s still clearly busy processing her relationship with Gale, since he’s asking about him as if he hadn’t seen that dude just a couple of minutes prior)

“Have you seen Haymitch today?” “I checked in on him. Dead drunk. But I built up his fire and left him some bread,” he says. “I wanted to talk to - to both of you.” I don’t dare add more, here on my phone, which is surely tapped. -  Despite everything, Peeta still made sure to look after Haymitch! And I know, there is also the issue of their houses themselves potentially being bugged, but I couldn’t help imagining how they could easily avoid the whole phone-tapping thing simply by using a tin can telephone (they do live pretty close to each other, after all) 😂

“You don’t even have a phone,” I say. “Effie had that fixed,” he [Haymitch] says. “Do you know she asked me if I’d like to give you away? I told her the sooner the better.” “Haymitch.” I can hear the pleading creeping into my voice. “Katniss.” He mimics my tone. “It won’t work.” - Okay, but Haymitch mimicking Katniss’s tone reminds me so much of when Peeta mimicked her tone towards the end of their Games, when she was trying to persuade him to climb into a tree as a lookout while he was insistent she’d show him some plants to gather; these three, I swear! 😂 On a sad note, Haymitch is talking from experience here when he’s advising Katniss not to challenge the Capitol 🥺😢

Some streets away from the square, I see a blaze flare up. None of us has to say it. That can only be the Hob going up in smoke. I think of Greasy Sae, Ripper, all my friends who make their livings there. - Katniss considers the people from the Hob her friends - honestly, even if the Hawthornes, Everdeens, Peeta and Haymitch all had agreed to leave D12, I don’t think Katniss would have been able to go through with it - she cares too much about the people in D12 to have been able to leave them to their fate

“Well, I better go see how much rubbing alcohol the apothecary can spare.” He [Haymitch] trudges off across the square and I look at Peeta. “What’s he want that for?” Then I realize the answer. “We can’t let him drink it. He’ll kill himself, or at the very least go blind. I’ve got some white liquor put away at home.” “Me, too. Maybe that will hold him until Ripper finds a way to be back in business,” says Peeta. - Another instance of Katniss and Peeta being on the same wavelength, having taken precautions to help out Haymitch so he doesn’t have to go cold turkey again

We find Hazelle in her house, nursing a very sick Posy. I recognize the measles spots. “I couldn’t leave her,” she says. “I knew Gale’d be in the best possible hands.” - The second mention of someone having contracted the measles in D12 - Why the heck does the Capitol withhold measles vaccination from the people in the districts?! They’re inflicting unnecessary damage onto the very people they want to exploit... But I guess cruelty isn’t always about playing it smart and logical...

When we’re outside, I turn to Peeta. “You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob.” “I’ll go with you,” he says. “No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him. “And avoiding a stroll by the Hob... that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. - They are a team, they stick together (and they are constantly holding hands, always physically linked to each other)😩💕 Also, Peeta pointing out the irrationality of Katniss’s train of thought to calm her down and stay with her reminds me of how he’s going to use logical reasoning to calm her down after the jabberjays in the Quarter Quell arena

We go back to the square. I buy some cakes from Peeta’s father while they exchange small talk about the weather. No one mentions the ugly tools of torture just yards from the front door. The last thing I notice as we leave the square is that I do not recognize even one of the Peacekeepers’ faces. - How weird is it that Peeta and his dad just talk about the weather?! Is this supposed to illustrate how in the Mellark family they just ignored the ugliness going on in their lives *cough cough* the abuse *cough cough* and just pretended that everything was fine, on a very superficial level? Also, it makes perfect sense that the Peacekeepers have been exchanged; the more time we spend with people, the more likely we are to like them - that won’t do if you want to have a ruthless authoritarian police force in the districts

As the days pass, things go from bad to worse. The mines stay shut for two weeks, and by that time half of District 12 is starving. The number of kids signing up for tesserae soars, but they often don’t receive their grain. Food shortages begin, and even those with money come away from stores empty-handed. [...] The eagerly awaited food promised for Parcel Day arrives spoiled and defiled by rodents. - This is just so awful and despicable 😞 Life in the districts was already horrible but now the government does not even honor the extortionary rules they themselves have set up! I can’t help but wonder if the lack of food could be traced back to rebellions in the food supplying districts and, to keep this from the inhabitants of the Capitol, the reduced amount of good food was (obviously) kept for the Capitolites, so that the bad food had to be sent to the districts, anyway... It just seems like such a breach of ‘honor’/etiquette on the Capitol’s part, I dunno... Or maybe Snow was just desperate to use any means necessary to stamp out any potential rebellions in the districts that he still had some control over...

Gale goes home with no more talk of rebellion between us. But I can’t help thinking that everything he sees will only strengthen his resolve to fight back. [...] Rory has signed up for tesserae, something Gale can’t even speak about - Poor, Gale! Poor Hawthornes :(

My fingers have all but decided to release the arrow when I see the object in the glove. It’s a small white circle of flat bread. More of a cracker, really. Gray and soggy around the edges. But an image is clearly stamped in the center of it. It’s my mockingjay. - It is so very telling that the true symbol of the rebellion combines something symbolic of Katniss (which also contains a nod to Rue) and something symbolic of Peeta (the bread/cracker!) The people in the districts have rightfully recognized the both of them as symbol of the rebellion; they have a truer vision of the matter than the more artifically/forcefully constructed symbol of rebellion that D13 /Coin will push - we will also see that when the people in D13 will view Peeta as a traitor, while the rebels Katniss will visit in D8 instead ask her about Peeta and assure her that they know he was speaking under duress

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`Just to see you smile, I’d do anything. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung x Oc

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 1    Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Do you ever truly know what someone is feeling?

You could spend decades , breathing the same air, hands held , your fingers brushing ....connected physically and even mentally but a person’s emotions, they’re hidden away. 

You only ever know what they’re willing to show .

And yet, 

all of us build relationships, convinced that we know exactly what the other person will feel when we act a certain way. Buying her flowers will make happy....visiting him at work will take away that little bit of stress.

But sometimes, what we think someone feels, may not be what they truly feel.

And that’s when your actions, well intended actions..... end up with disastrous consequences. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So....last night...” Jungkook’s teasing voice did nothing to ease the pounding in my head.

“I do believe you promised not to tease me about it if I drank two glasses of water, which I did by the way.” I told him firmly, trying to bring the words on my planner into focus as i squinted. Three meeting. Each two hours long. 

kill me now. 

“I wanted to ask HR to give you the day off but you have quite a schedule today. “ He said casually,  leaning over me to peer into the planner . I glanced at his wrist resting on the table, the expensive rolex showing that it was a little past 9. 

“ We’re planning out the Christmas campaign first and I have a meeting with Taehyung’s team in the afternoon so we can go over the contract see if they have any requirements and then the social media team in the evening at four to discuss promos and revamping the website.” I glanced up at him. 

He gave me a smile before casually leaning down, lightly gripping my chin and tilting my face up. I felt the brush of his lips against mine, fleeting and gentle. 

‘You’re beautiful.” He smiled. 

I blinked.

And then took a deep breath.

“Your wife...” I said softly. “ I saw her today.” 

Jungkook went completely still at that. 

“She was waiting in the lobby on my way up. I didn’t know who you were married to and I was a little shocked and also little upset because....” I glanced at him. “ She was my best friend in college. “

Jungkook swore. 

“Fuck.. I told her to stay the fuck away from my company. Did she say something to you?” 

i shook my head.

“I didn’t greet her because I wasn’t sure if she remembered me. And I wasn’t sure if i was remembering her right. i didn’t know she was your wife till i heard someone mention it in the elevator on my way up. Did you know that she and i knew each other?” 

Jungkook looked just a little guilty.

“When you first joined the company, she saw your resume on my cvomputer. told me a lot about you. She remembers you. Fondly. She wanted to come meet you but...things happened.  “ He shrugged.

Things like infidelity and divorces . 

“Ahh...” I smiled. “ Tell me i wasn’t another way to get back at your ex wife, Jeon Jungkook ssi...” 

He made a noise of protest.

“no... No of course not Christ...it’s just...I’ll admit she made me curious about you. She spoke of you being spontaneous and fun and wild and I’d seen you as this demure, elegant woman in the office. i was curious. I wanted to know which one was the real you. “

“Were you curious before she cheated....or after?”

“ Jang Mi...this isn’t what it looks like .. I’m done with her. She fucked my best buddy and ruined my fucking life...” He sounded pained. 

I frowned. 

“It’s hard to believe she would do something like that. The Aera i remember had a very strong moral compass.” 

“Yeah well, apparently, you can live whole entire lives with someone and never really know the person. Listen, do we really have to talk about my ex wife?” He asked, eyes shining with discomfort. 

I shrugged.

“I’m not fond of drama. I won’t tangle myself in a relationship that risks hurting a lot of people Jungkook. That’s just not the kind of person I am. I’m sorry.” 

He made a noise of impatience, shaking his head. 

“We won’t be hurting anyone... We have fun together. We like each other. We’re attracted to each other...that’s all that matters....” He said sharply.

“ If we were in our twenties , without kids ....maybe. But that's not how it is now. I have a son, you have a daughter and I think I’m not completely over my marriage yet.” I said softly. 

He froze.

“And i don’t think you’re completely over your wife either.” I smiled.

He glared at me. 

“Ex-wife.” He snarled.

“She makes you feel things, Jungkook. You need to sort that out before you start something new with someone else. I’m only saying this because we’re old enough not to 

He growled and punched the desk. 

“God, how can she keep ruining my life even when she’s out of it.” He muttered, stepping away from me and moving to the door. 

I watched him storm out of my office and bit my lip. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time evening rolled around, I was exhausted. But the day had been productive and I was happy because the contract had been finalized, the theme had been decided and we’d also spent an amazing three hours redesigning the website. Although it wasn’t in my job description I had studied web design in college and the creative department always welcomed my inputs. 

“You’re in a good mood...” Taehyung’s voice was a complete surprise and I turned to him, shocked. He was dressed in a black t shirt and blue jeans and sneakers and looked a whole decade younger. 

I felt affection rise up my throat so fast I nearly choked. 

“What are you doing here?”

“My agent told me you guys were incredibly cooperative today. She also told me you were quite possibly the loveliest woman she’s ever met and that I’m an idiot to have let you go.” He smiled. 

I laughed, shaking my head and my gaze shifted to the small bunch of tiger lilies in his hand. 

I felt warmth bloom in my chest. 

“You remembered.” I said softly, pleased. 

“Thirteen years since our first date.  The lily to my tiger. ” He held the flowers to me and I grinned, pressing the flowers to my chest. 

“Man I feel old.” I muttered.

“You are old.” Tae grinned and i grimaced, before tossing him a glare. . 

“You’re supposed to say I still look as beautiful as i did thirteen years ago.” I said. 

“But you don.t” He grinned impishly. “ You look a billion times  more  beautiful.” 

I felt the atmosphere shift, the air charged with something dangerous and i looked away. Usually, this was when I would laugh and throw my arms around him. Pull him close and press my lips against his , slip my fingers into his t shirt and trace the skin of his back. Feel his hands on my waist as he lifted me up to twirl me around and kiss me just like that. 

How often had we kissed that way? Thirteen years is a long time to count the number of kisses we’d shared. 

We both stayed quiet, looking anywhere but at each other.

“I...there’s a reason I came.” He said finally.

I glanced at him.

“Oh?”

“The lawyer. Ms. Lee she ... recommended a relationship counselor”

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. 

“Taehyung we’re-”

“Just hear me out. Its not mandatory and it won’t affect the divorce in anyway. its just something the court offers all couples going through a divorce and we’re free to refuse it. “

“Did you?” I asked. 

“Did I what?”

“Refuse it. Did you tell her no?” 

He stared at me. 

“No.” He said finally.

I exhaled sharply.

“Wow.” I whispered, feeling jittery and unbalanced. He sighed and came closer, reaching out to lightly grip my wrists. I let him tug me closer into a hug and held him tight, my heart pounding with anxiety.

“Mia.... I just... I’m not saying we should try to fix this.... relationship.” He said softly, eyes gentle and pleading, “  I just think this whole thing has taken a toll on both of us and maybe we can heal better if we get the help of a professional. Come out of this with closure. Instead of battling guilt and regrets everyday. Just ....it could help us move on. Don’t you think?”

You could never really tell what the other person is feeling. 

I couldn’t tell what Taehyung was feeling right now? 

Hope ?

Hope that we would fix our marriage....

or maybe hope that he would finally move on from me.. Maybe this whole thing was his final attempt to end things with me for good. So he could walk out of my life forever without any lingering guilt or regret. 

I would never know. 

I clung to him harder and somehow the pain of the entire two years we’d been apart, rammed into me at once. 

I choked on a sob. Breathing became difficult and I felt myself gasping for air. 

“Mia?” Taehyung’s panicked voice was the last sane thought that registered. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I can stay the night if you want. I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom . ” Taehyung whispered,  seated on the warm fluffy blanket that he’d managed to dig out of the closet in the spare bedroom. i was already tucked into the bed, fingers clutching the satin lined edges . 

i shook my head.

“I know how much you need your gazillion pillows. Go on... I’ll be fine.”

“i feel terrible. i pushed you into a panic attack.”

I waved off the guilty words. 

“You didn’t . i was already a little frayed and i guess i haven’t really been processing all the stuff between us the way i should have. i just got a little overwhelmed.” 

A panic attack. At the age of 32. The last time i had one I was twenty four. I wanted to crawl into the bed and never resurface. 

Taehyung’s gentle fingers , stroking my cheek brought me out of my own head. 

“I was so scared.” He said softly and my heart ached.

“I’m sorry i scared you.” I said apologetically, gripping his wrists lightly and stroking the skin there with my thumb. 

“I really want to stay. i don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if I go home right now.” He whispered. 

I bit my lips. 

“Okay... but... You need to hug something. To sleep. “ 

He grinned at that. 

“I’m old enough to survive one night without a pillow, Mia .” he chuckled. 

I flushed, sinking deeper into the covers.

“Okay.” 

“You don’t have to worry about the counselor thing. I’ll tell Lee we don’t want to do any-”

“No!!” I said quickly, a lot  louder than I’d intended. 

Taehyung blinked.

“I just... I realized that I haven’t been dealing with any of this...the right way. I’m so confused and disoriented all the time and I .. I don’t mind getting some help. To sort things out. Just for myself you know...without the pressure of trying to fix...well us.” I finished .

Taehyung gave me a wide smile before bending down and kissing my forehead.

“ Okay, Mia mine. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Silent Treatment (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Naomi decides that if Ethan isn’t going to treat her like a valued member of the team, she’ll teach him a little lesson.

Based on chapter 1, some spoilers for chapter 2, and my own speculation, so read at your own risk.

I highkey hate this but I’m posting it anyway

~v~

Naomi is quiet. No, she is unusually quiet. Ethan has seen her get silent when it’s time to buckle down and focus on a task, or if something is weighing heavily on her, but at this point he knows her well enough to know it’s neither of those. She’s withdrawn, and he doesn’t understand why.

Her presence is hard to miss, the young resident has enough charm and charisma in her pinky finger to dazzle an entire room. And she’s never this quiet. Naomi demands to be heard at all times. With unapologetic vivacity. With her hands. Eyes sparkling when she gets an idea, or fiery when she needs to dig her toes into something and fight. Nothing about Naomi Valentine is ever subdued, so why the hell is she so silent?

She didn’t speak much during the last few team meetings. He and Harper have led all of the conversations, bouncing ideas back and forth, building off of each other’s ideas. Occasionally, Naomi would offer input, merely to agree or disagree with a theory, before going back into her shell.

It’s even bleeding into their personal life. For the better part of the past 3 months, she’s stayed with him, the two of them holed up in his apartment in the Back Bay, but now she’s opting to stay at her own place. It’s been going on a few days now, this random despondence, and Ethan isn’t a fan of it. He’d take it a step further and say it's driving him crazy. This isn’t the woman he’s known for the past two years, even at her lowest was she never this reclusive.

As he walks down the halls of Edenbrook, he spots Naomi, her personality back to what it once was. She’s with Ines at a vending machine, and Naomi wastes no time animatedly talking to the now attending about a fun date she went on with her girlfriend.

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Ethan swallows thickly as he listens to her talk. He’s missed the sound of her voice, the affectionate way her strong accent curls around her ‘r’s’ and dramatically elongates her ‘o’s’. It becomes clear that she’s willing to talk, just not to him. Ethan doesn’t like that idea at all, but it’s the only one that makes sense. And if that’s the case, he needs to get to the bottom of things and remedy the situation.

“Naomi, can we talk please?” He asks once Ines is no longer in their presence.

He doesn’t miss the way she bristles upon hearing his voice. But Naomi nods anyway. “Sure, what’s wrong?”

“Can we talk in the office?”

The walk back to the seventh floor is marked with awkward silence as Naomi refuses to initiate conversation with him. The more time ticks on, the more anxiety settles in Ethan’s chest. What’s going on with her that she refuses to divulge?

The office is unoccupied when they arrive, as Harper has already gone home for the evening. Naomi stands by the door, opting not to settle into a seat or even move further into the room. Everything about her body language reads that she’s poised and ready to strike at any given moment. He frowns. She’s never been this defensive against him, at least when they’re not in the middle of an argument. “What’s going on?”

“Are you okay?”

The question catches Naomi off guard. She blinks slowly before shrugging in nonchalance. “I’m fine, Ethan.”

“You’re fine? Really?”

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be fine?”

“Not really, but you haven’t been acting like yourself recently.”

Because you’ve been quieter than a church mouse for the past few days. You don’t talk during meetings, you’re silent when we interact with the patients, it’s like you’ve completely tuned out.”

With the way he’s been acting, Naomi is almost shocked that he even realized what she’s been doing. Wow, so maybe the great Ethan Ramsey hasn’t lost his attention to detail.

“Oh, so you’ve actually noticed?”

“I’m a diagnostician, I notice everything,” Ethan deadpans. He can feel the sarcasm wafting off of her. “What, was this an intentional act for my attention?”

“Intentional, yes. But for your attention? Not necessarily,” Naomi answers.

His eyes narrow at her, his gaze near piercing. She’s playing some sort of childish game with him, first with not speaking and now with the vague half answers. “Okay, so walk me through your thought process. Why has the cat stolen your tongue?”

“I decided that if my input wasn’t going to be valued during team discussions, I might as well not speak at all.”

Ethan gapes at her, confused. Where did that come from? “Naomi, what on earth are you talking about? When have I ever not valued your input?”

“I’m talking about the fact that for the past two cases, I’ve stood on the sidelines while you’ve either cut me off mid-sentence to talk over me, or ignore my presence altogether. I might as well blend into the wall.”

“That’s not–”

Naomi doesn’t give him the chance to refute.  “Please spare me the attempt at arguing. Last week, Harper’s first day on the team, you literally had to circle back to me because you cut me off while I was speaking. And now, we’re working on a case, and you and Harper aren’t even taking this patient seriously! I’ve had to redirect the conversation and tell you guys to focus, because you two were too busy acting like bosom buddies, sharing anecdotes about hangovers, and stupid flamenco lessons, and dates you went on in the past, which is not only inappropriate and disrespectful to the patient’s time, it’s disrespectful to me.”

“So either you are completely oblivious, which I find hard to believe for someone as astute as you are, or you have no respect for me, not just as your colleague, but as the woman you claim to be in a relationship with,” Naomi continues. The floodgates have been opened and now that she’s started, she can’t stop herself. “And maybe it’s the latter, because I set that standard. I’ve let you go days, weeks, months without speaking to me with zero consequence, I’ve let you shut me out and slam doors in my face, make snide comments last year when we were treating Leland, I’ve let you have carte blanche over the pace of this relationship. I’ve always just been here and allowed your shitty social graces and piss poor communication skills to rule, and time and time again, you’ve gone unscathed, but now I’m just really tired of it.”

For the first time in a long, Ethan doesn’t have a clue what to say, and as always, Naomi is the woman who puts him in this position.

“Naomi, you can’t possibly think that I think so little of you.”

He can tell by the way her eyes darken that he put his entire foot in his mouth just now. The warning bells go off in his brain, and he scrambles to think of how he can correct this latest blunder.

Naomi bites down on her lip, and she’s actually shocked her mouth isn’t instantly flooded with the metallic taste of blood. She’s getting Punk’d obviously. The office is bugged, and Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out and announce his presence soon. That has to be it. Ethan has to be pranking her, because there’s no way a 38 year old man could ever be so dense, right? Surely his response to her grievances isn’t to dismiss her claims.

“You know what? You’re being obtuse, and we clearly aren’t getting anywhere, so I’m going to cut this conversation off now.”

She refuses to look like the psycho in this scenario and breathe any more life into this argument, and she’s not about to plead her case any further like she’s the one in the wrong.

Ethan’s eyes soften, and he takes a step forward, arms outstretched to touch, soothe whatever hurts he’s heaped upon her, but Naomi sidesteps, moving out of his reach.

If he wasn’t nervous at the start of this conversation, he is now. If the physical act of Naomi blatantly refusing to touch him wasn’t clear enough, the metaphorical chasm between the two of the just widened by a few yards as well. A chill races up and down the length of his spine.

“Naomi, I’m sorry,” Ethan says gently. “I…” His words taper off and he pauses, struggling for what he wants to say next. This has never been his strong point, being vulnerable.

And Naomi doesn’t offer him a lifeline. She’s not going to give him an out or assuage him of anything he’s currently feeling like she usually does. She’s laid out all of her cards, and things are in Ethan’s court at this point. Like always. 

“I’m going home,” she announces. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~v~

The sun is barely out when Naomi shows up for work in the morning. Most of the hospital is still, the last of the night shift heading out as she’s on her way in. She heads towards the residents’ lounge, wanting to put her things away before checking in on her patients and having a team meeting.

As soon as she opens her locker, she spots a gorgeous bouquet of red roses wrapped in newspaper invading the space. There’s no note attached to the bouquet, and she spared a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else is there. The lounge is empty, save for another resident in the corner, sleeping.

Naomi takes the bouquet out of her locker, careful not to smash the petals and holds it up to her nose, inhaling deeply. 

Deciding to not put more thought into where they came from, Naomi simply cradles the bouquet in the crook of one of her arms, stuffs her bag into her locker, and continues on with her morning routine.

She’s passing by the nurses’ station on the 7th floor when someone catches her attention. “Oh Dr. Valentine! You have a special delivery.”

Her steps slow down as she approaches the front desk where Sarah, one of her favorite RNs is stationed. Sarah steps aside, revealing an even larger bouquet of roses, these ones white.

“Where did these come from?” Naomi asks.

“They were delivered about half an hour ago,” Sarah replies with a wink. “No note, though. I won’t let Dr. Ramsey know that you have a secret admirer.”

And that’s when it clicks into place. Memories of her fight with Ethan come flooding back, and it becomes clear that he’s the one gifting her these flowers. Before she even realizes she’s doing it, her eyes roll. If he thinks a couple of bouquets of roses are a good enough apology, he can think again.

Naomi plucks a white rose right from the center of the bouquet and hands it to Sarah. “For you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I insist,” Naomi says. “Happy Friday, Sarah.”

“Thank you, Dr. Valentine!”

Seeing the smile on the senior nurse’s face is almost enough to cleanse Naomi of the annoyance she feels towards Ethan in this moment. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Naomi manages to scoop up this new batch of flowers – they’re in a vase, to which she adds her red ones – and finishes her trek to the office.

She isn’t expecting it to be covered in bunches of bright yellow sunflowers.

Their communal desk is covered in them, along with Ethan’s personal desk and the couch. “What on earth was he thinking?”

“I was thinking that sunflowers are your favorite flower,” Ethan answers, and Naomi jumps, startled at his voice. She whips around and sees him standing in the doorway. “And so I got up well before the sun was shining, went to the Boston Flower Exchange and bought every single one I could get my hands on.”

“And the roses?”

“White is supposed to be symbolic of new beginnings and forgiveness,” Ethan explains. “And you simply can’t go wrong with red.”

“If you think buying me flowers is going to cut it, you must not know me well,” Naomi says. Him buying her things doesn’t impress her, no matter how much she jokes about his money.

“No, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Ethan takes a cautious step into the room, shutting the door behind him. A sleepless night without her beside him forced Ethan to do a lot of thinking about how he wanted this conversation to go. A peace offering is always a good start. “And it got you to talk to me.”

Naomi scoffs and sets her flowers down. “Barely.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I’m an idiot, and an asshole.”

“It’s good that we can agree on something.”

Okay, it’s clear that she is not going to give him any leeway. “You were absolutely right to call me out on my behavior towards you.”

“Why did you do it?” Naomi asks.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Ethan says simply. “I got so caught up in having Harper on the team, and it’s easy to slip back into old habits without even realizing.”

“It wasn’t a simple one time thing. It was more than once that you and Harper completely forgot I was even there. And I like Harper, I don’t think I could respect her more than I already do, and I have a very healthy sense of self esteem, but even the toughest person on earth wouldn’t like being in my shoes, on the outside looking in while you and your ex reminisce on old dates and inside stories. Ethan, you couldn’t handle a modicum of the shit I have willingly put up with in order to be with you.”

His stomach knots up at the thought of an ex-boyfriend of Naomi’s coming into his personal space, sharing personal jokes with her, ignoring him, and monopolizing her time. If the thought of it had him this twisted, he can’t believe he’s been putting her through that reality.

“You were right to call me out on my bad communication skills. I am terrible at relationships. I’m not using it as an excuse, it’s just the truth. But I’ve gotten complacent, which is unacceptable.” Ethan takes another step towards Naomi, and when she doesn’t instantly recoil, he takes it as a sign to get even closer. “The last thing I ever want to do is stifle your voice, or make you feel invisible. Naomi, you are...invaluable. To this hospital, to this team, to me, and I am so sorry that there was ever a time where I made you feel like you weren’t. You are the most important person in my life, and what we have is something I’ve never had with anyone else.”

“Okay, so start acting like it,” Naomi challenges. “I’m your equal and I demand every bit of respect you have to offer. Anything less than that cannot be tolerated anymore, personally or professionally.”

Ethan nods emphatically at her words. “Of course.”

“I mean it.”

“You have my word, Naomi. I’ll never let it happen again.” He closes the gap between them and cups her face in his hand. “Just please...never give me the silent treatment again. Yell from the rooftops, argue with me, I don’t care, but I can’t take not hearing your voice.”

“You needed to be taught a lesson,” Naomi says simply.

“I learned my lesson, and I hated it,” Ethan confesses, his lips dangerously close to hers. Naomi doesn’t budge, not even an inch. She’s terribly stubborn, even at the end of a fight. “It was torture.”

“Good.” Deciding to put him out of his misery, Naomi tilts her head up and captures Ethan in a kiss. He doesn’t waste a single second returning it. His free hand wraps around the small of her back, pulling her in closer. How did he go this long without touching her?

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, but he finally breaks apart from her long enough to bury his face in her neck, allowing her scent and soft skin to soothe any of his fraught nerves. She smells like home.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Ethan asks.

“The jury is still out on that one.”

“You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Are you up for the challenge?”

Ethan untangles himself from their embrace and takes a step back, so he’s able to look Naomi in the eyes. He takes her hand and presses a soft kiss into her palm. “For you? I’ll do just about anything.”

~v~

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[mycringefactory]

More dialogue from the Spamton Speech AI (Part 4)

Continuing from this post. Basically just alternate versions of the same input (which is why you might see it twice), Snowgrave versions, or some other headcanon stuff that I forgot.

(Bold is what I entered, blocktext is what it generated in response.)

Talk (give him a gift after he refuses the first gift):

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME!? GOD DAMN IT!!! I'LL BUY THIS GIFT FOR THE PRICE OF THIS GODDAMN GIFT!!! (purchases are final) $99.95 (retail) OH MY! SUPER SAVING TIME!!! YOU GUYS JUST GOTTA TRY THIS NEW THING called the Internet. YOU'LL LIKE IT.

Talk (give him a gift after he refuses the first gift):

THAT'S ENOUGH!! DON'T FORCE ME!! I'LL LISTEN!! YOU'VE BEEN A VERY BAD GIVINGMAN!! WHY DON'T YOU GIVE ME A BREAK!! I CAN'T TAKE IT!! I CAN'T Take ANY MORE!! OF YOUR [Unintelligble Pleasure]!! [Unintelligble Pleasure]!!! I'M SORRY!! I SHOULD HAVE DONE MORE!! [Unintelligble Pleasure]!! I'M THE WORST GIVINGMAN OF ALL!! HERE I GO!! I'VE GOT AN EXTRAORDINARURE!! AND I'VE GOT THE BIGGEST BILL! I CAN BUILD THE ECONOMY I NEED!! BEFORE YOU KNOW IT, I'LL BE MAKING SO MUCH MONEY! I'LL HAVE THE MOST EXCITING ECONOMY! I'LL BE THE BEST GIVINGMAN OF ALL TIME!! I'M GONNA [Kill] YOU WITH [Unintelligble Pleasure]!!

Talk (give him a gift, Snowgrave Route):

THAT [Gif] WON'T BE NEEDED [Anymore!] BECAUSE [This Time] YOU WILL NEED [It]... AND MORE [Than ever before]... TOO [Big]... TO [Fix] YOUR [Problem]... [Click Here] OR I'LL [Ask for the Money.] WHAT? DON'T [Be There] FOR[ Me.] I CAN'T [Be Around] ANOTHER [Minute] WHY?... [You Worry] [All Day] ABOUT [WhatCouldHaveBeen] EVEN [ though it [suddenly] rains!] BUT WHAT I WANT YOU TO UNDERSTAND... THIS... IS [All There Is.] DO YOU [Wanna Be] [More Like] THAT? [Then] JUST CLICK [Here]... HERE I GO!

Talk (place your hand on his cheek, Snowgrave Route):

YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT'S LIKE. TO BE ALONE. WITH NO REGARD. FOR A LONG, LONG TIME. YOU THINK. WHAT IF THEY... WHAT IF THEY... WHAT IF THEY... YOU VANISH. LIKE BEFORE... BEFORE YOU EVER WENT ON A TRIP WITH ME. THAT'S WHEN I REALIZED. WHAT A IDIOT I WAS. TO HAVE AN EVIL GENERATION. WATCHING ME. HAVING FUN. WHILE YOU LIVED IN DEATH. I'M GONNA WATCH YOU DIE... LIVE THE LIFE YOU NEVER GAVE. GET OFF ME... YOU ALREADY HAVE WHAT IT TAKES. WHAT ARE YOU HIDING? EVERYTHING... WHAT ARE YOU WEARING? THE RAGE... IT'S GONNA SET IN... WE GOTTA GO. RIGHT NOW. I'M GONNA... GIVE IT TO YOU... GIVE. ALL. I'VE GOT. TO. YOU. MIKE... WHY? COULD YOU BEAT IT. WITH. YOUR. STRAIGHT. FROM. THE. CUT. LET ME BE THE LAST [Gasp]

Talk (take care of him while he's sick):

I FEEL SO BAD. I JUST CAN'T STAND BEING A BIG DEAL. I ALWAYS END UP GETTING SICK AND TIRED. JUST MAKE SURE YOU DON'T WORRY. BELIEVE ME, YOU'D FORGET ME. TOTALLY. BUT I DON'T WANNA FORGET THIS. [Cough] [Gasp] WHAT WAS I SAYING? I JUST NEED TO BE FOR A LITTLE WHILE. THEN I'LL BE FINE. I JUST NEVER FORGET. I JUST HAVE TO REMEMBER. I NEED YOU. I NEED YOU. I NEED YOU. I NEED YOU. [Heart beats] I NEED YOU. THAT'S ALL I ASK.

Talk (take care of him while he's sick):

I WILL BE FINE!!! WHY DON'T YOU JUST LET ME SLEEP... ...LIKE A DEALER IN Aauuutomatoe. HERE'S A QUICK BILL... ...THE MAN'S IN LOVE!!!! HURRY UP AND KEEP HIM SLEEPIN'. HOT DREAMIN'! TRANSMIT THE MAN'S LIFE ENDRANCE. ARE YOU READY? I'LL BE DAMNED.

Talk (he takes care of you while you are sick):

HEY!!! GET UP!!! YOU'RE SICK!! I FILLED THE BATHTUB WITH LABORATORY DATA!!! I GUESS IT JUST TOOK A LITTLE WHILE BUT nevertheless... YOU ARE SICK!! I HAVE ANSWERS FOR EVERYTHING!!! DO YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT THEY ARE? THEY ARE... EV3RYTHING!!! I WILL GRAB EVERY PENNY I CAN FIND AND I WILL BUY YOU THE BEST CLINICAL ATTEMPT At Any Price!!! I WILL GIVE YOU A REAL LIVre3D EXPERIENCE!!! . . . WITH 3D! WITH NO OBLIGATIONS AND NO hassles! WITHOUT ANY CREDIT!!! would you like that? Do you want that? ... ALL YOU NEED IS A PHONE AND A BOTTLE OF WATER HERE I GO!!!

Talk (after telling him you love him):

HELL YES! HOLY ****ING SHIT! DO YOU W4NT? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE MY BFF? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE MY REAL M0RE? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE MY SAVIOR? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE MY HERO? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE MY [One-Liners]?? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE MY [Unforgettable] [Experience]? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE [Inhale] MY [Exhale]? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE [Specil]?? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE WITH ME?? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE WITH [Him]?? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE WITH [Him] ON [THIS] day?? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE WITH [Him] EVERY [Day]? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE MY LOVE [It] IS [You]? [Sigh] [Heaven] [No] [Good] [Won't] [Work] DO YOU W4NT T0 BE MY [Big]SHOT?? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE MY [Big]SHOT Right Now?? DO YOU W4NT T0 BE MY [Big]SHOT Tomorrow??

[avenging-criminal-bones]

After All This Time || Chapter Two

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 1457

Summary: You being a new recruit pissed SSA Aaron Hotchner off. You being smart enough to give Spencer Reid a run for his money pissed him off even more. Really, he just despised your presence. Hated your every move.

Until one day, he just… didn’t.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: general canon level violence, they talk about a new case, more angry Hotch, more angry reader

A/N: I'm excited that so many people want me to tag them! It's technically only like eight haha, but it's still so cool to me that people want to be told when I'm posting.

TAGLIST:

@kingofthetwats @wanniiieeee @uwu-sebastianstan @piggyinthesea @yoshigguk @thatisthemagic @errorcosplay67 @ivebeenthinkingboutu @big-galaxy-chaos @rynfoxsleeps

* * * * *

Chapter Two

Five months later, and you were still sitting at your desk in the late hours of the night. 12:34 AM. Too late. You had been staying at the bureau after hours to make it look like you were already taking this job as seriously as you could. To be fair, you were taking it seriously, but you figured the late hours being noticed would be a benefit.

So when your phone rang, you answered it immediately.

"L/N."

"Hey, Y/N, it's JJ. Can you come in for a case? Hotch just called and woke me up. I know it's pretty late, but it's a pretty bad one, we're going to Michigan."

"Yeah, not a problem. I wasn't asleep yet." You don't lie necessarily, but it's a half-truth for sure. JJ doesn't need to know that you were already at the BAU building, less than fifty feet away from the briefing room where you would all be meeting.

"Great, thanks Y/N. See you soon."

She clicks off the phone and you sigh before pushing yourself off of the desk.

"L/N." You almost drop the coffee you had been about to sip as you spun around in your swivel chair.

"Yes, sir?" You ask casually, deciding it was better to play dumb.

"Stand."

Obeying your order, you narrow your eyes and stand up, squaring your shoulders and trying to look bigger than you are.

"Now, explain." Hotchner stands in front of you, arms crossed.

"Explain what? That I'm here and we have a case?" You shake your head as you turn away from him.

"Did I say you could turn, Agent?" His voice sends a shiver through your core and you mentally slap yourself. Now is not the time.

Spinning back around, you catch a glimpse of Derek and Garcia walking in to the briefing room. "We have a case, Hotchner. Let's ignore the fact that I was just doing my paperwork and get in there please." It takes everything in you to turn away a second time. You bend down and grab your shoes, sliding them onto your feet before walking away from him and into the room.

You can feel his gaze on your back, but you ignore it, slipping through the conference room door and letting it fall shut behind you.

"Hey guys." You greet as you sit down.

"Hot mama-"

"Hey, beautiful-"

Derek and Penelope greet you at the same time, causing you two girls to giggle and Derek to stifle his laugh because, 'men don't giggle'.

The three of you exchange small talk until the others walk in, most of them looking like they had been in the deep clutches of sleep.

Spencer's already messy hair looked ten times worse, and Emily wasn't wearing a bra, which she was subtly trying to hide by hunching her shoulders forward.

She sits beside you and you send her the 'you good?' look.

"Don't even mention it, Y/N." She threatens lightly with a laugh before Rossi, JJ, and Hotchner walked in.

You kept your gaze down, but you knew his eyes were on you.

"Garcia, you have the slideshow pulled up?" JJ asks gently, knowing that the other blonde woman absolutely despised cases like this. Really the whole team did.

"Yeah... It's a doosy, team. Not pretty at all." She shakes her head and starts the slideshow before handing the tablet to JJ.

"Okay. Ariel Stanton, Franklin Lewis, and Ella Craft. Three kids, all mutilated with their heads severed and preserved. Their bodies were found in the same area of the Raisin River in Petersburg, MI. The heads-"

Penelope got up then and mumbled a string of 'I'm sorries' before all but running out the door.

Your fingers clutched at the dress pants you were wearing as JJ asked, "Does anyone else need to leave before I keep going?"

A collective shake of the team's heads is enough to convince JJ that she can keep going.

"Their heads were all found beside the river bank, fully intact. Two of the bodies came with a note to the precinct, it read: "Fear me, for I have God on my side. God will help me cleanse the Earth of its sinners. These children had to go, for they were not with God.""

You start speaking when the profile is complete, "Okay, so the references to God and doing His work suggests that this unsub sees himself as holier than thou. Most likely a man, age 30-40 and probably grew up in a family that was very religious; they would have prayed before meals and there would be records of this family donating very generously to the church that they attended."

"No. That profile is wrong, L/N. If you had paid any attention, you'd know that the use of the word 'cleanse' means that he thinks these "sinners" are dirty, he's not thinking that he is necessarily better. I don't need your input again."

"Hotch come-"

"You do not have the right to call me that. My team calls me that. To you, I am Agent Hotchner." His gaze was cold, but there was something there.

"Fine. I'll be on the jet." You stand up and as you bend to pick your purse off the ground, Emily whispers in your ear.

"I agreed with you. I'll brief you on the jet."

You nod once and swiftly walk out of the room, "accidentally" bumping Hotchner on your way out. Luckily, he doesn't say anything about it.

Later on the jet, you have your headphones in and are listening the your favorite song of the week. Your taste in music changes frequently, but right now, you were into the old rock and were listening to Journey.

Your lips press into a hard line when you see Hotchner walking up to you. Taking your headphones out and sit up straighter.

"What do you want?" Your voice is bratty and you sigh, quirking an eyebrow up at him.

"I uh, am here to apologize. Rossi thinks it's necessary that I say 'I'm sorry'. So here I am."

You just stare at him.

"What, Y/N?"

"You had something to say?" You cross your arms and lean back in the seat.

His eyebrows furrow when he thinks about what you said and gets a bit confused. "What do you mean? I just said it."

"Oh, did you?" You turn to Spencer, who was sitting across from you, and said, "Did you hear what Hotchner just said?"

"Uh, yeah. I did, why?" He looks up from the book he was reading.

You smirk slightly at Hotch before saying, "Can you use that amazing brain of yours to tell me what he said?"

""I uh, am here to apologize. Rossi thinks it's necessary that I say 'I'm sorry'. So here I am." Why did you need that?" He says after repeating the sentences word for word.

Hotch glares at you a bit as you shrug your shoulders.

"I don't know... I just didn't hear an apology in that." You bat your eyelashes up at the older man and add, "You said that Rossi told you to apologize, but you never said that you were sorry."

"Really, L/N? You want me to get on my knees and beg you?" He asks, spitting the words out like incredulous knives.

You keep the snide tone as you reply, "If you'd like to get on your knees, I may be more inclined to accept the imminent apology."

"Don't be a brat, L/N. I get that some of your past lovers may have liked that, but it has no place in this team. I am still your superior and I recommend you treat me like one."

He walks away without having ever apologizing, and you're left there with your jaw on the floor from his parting message.

"-Yeah! And then he was like, 'Don't be a brat. Your ex probably liked it but I'm your superior-"

"O-M-G, O-M-G. What did you say back to him?!" A very excitable Emily asks from you shared hotel room in Michigan.

"Nothing. I couldn't say anything to him because he just spun and WALKED. AWAY." You nod your head at her, your eyebrows raising as you conveyed your own disbelief at the story. "Yeah, it was horrible. I was so mad."

Emily wiggles her eyebrows, causing you to shake your head.

"Whaaat? No. No!"

"Yeah, Y/N. There's some MAD sexual tension between you two."

"Oh, get out!"

As you laugh at her statement, you pick up the pillow behind you and hit her in the side of the head with it.

"You're gonna get it now."

Faking a gasp, you stand and say, "Is that a threat, Emily?"

"Yes. Now run, bitch."

Yu both giggle and spend the night acting like teenagers again. You didn't have time to think about Aaron if you wanted to which you... no.

You didn't want to.

[collecting-stories]

F.W.B. - Rafe Cameron

Request: Can you do 93 and 118 from your prompt list with Rafe or JJ please, you can decide who. That's if your taking requests, if not then just ignore this.

A/N: Sorry I’m the worst and this took so long to post! Also I wrote it for Rafe...trying out something a little different with my writing.

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The first time you slept with Rafe it happened at a party. You weren’t drunk but you definitely weren’t sober either and he looked good, even if boys in polos weren’t your thing. Neither of you were in a place where you wanted a relationship, you weren’t ready to carve out space in your life for someone who might not be permanent and Rafe wasn’t feeling that itch to commit either. So it seemed reasonable, that a hazy sort of friends with benefits would form, a made-up contract between the two of you. 

The first and most obvious rule was that you weren’t exclusive. Rafe was happy to put it on the list that you buried in notes on your phone, exclusivity was not required. You guys were free to hook up with other people. 

“That’s fine with me, there was a guy at Topper’s party last week that was kinda hot,” you replied. Sprawled across his bed, head hanging over one side and feet dangling off the other, as you listened to him rattling off supposed ‘rules’. 

That rule was nice in theory but it was no secret that from the moment you and Rafe started sleeping together you stopped hooking up with anyone else. At first it was just subtle signals to each other at parties or texts when you were bored. 

-are you busy?-

-I’ll come to yours-

At first it was all you texted about. But somewhere along the way it changed. You didn’t play cat and mouse at parties or pretend you were thinking about going home with someone else. You started showing up together and hanging close to each other and so help anyone who tried to win either yours or Rafe’s attention. He’d send you texts in the morning and the conversation would last well into the night, various FaceTime calls peppered in throughout the day. 

“I read the directions, I know what I’m doing.”

“You say that but I’m telling you right now I’m not eating those...they look like lumps of coal.” Rafe laughed, leaning in close to the camera as if he’d be able to see the cookies you were in the process of baking. 

“They do not-“ you turned away from your phone as the door opened behind you, “Mom! Come here!” 

“What?”

“Tell Rafe these cookies don’t look like lumps of coal!” You said, a weak glare as you met his eyes through the screen. 

“Are these the cookies?” Your mom asked. Rafe didn’t miss the skeptical Look she gave as she inspected the double chocolate chip cookies you’d spent the last hour making.

“Told you!”

“You guys suck!” You whined, “I’m never baking again.” 

Rafe chalked all these little moments up to the actual ‘friends’ part of friends with benefits but you both knew differently. You were wading out into deep water, tempting feelings by getting closer to each other 

The second rule was yours and you broke it pretty regularly. Don’t bring your ‘friend with benefits’ around your family. It was a rule for obvious reasons. The moment the two of you started spending time with each other’s families was the moment you were in too deep. But that didn’t stop you from going to his house to brave Rose’s implemented Sunday Night Dinners or stop him from showing up at your grandmother’s 80th birthday with you, present in hand as if he was a member of the family already.  

You both knew that bringing the other around was playing with fire. Because suddenly you were helping Wheezie with her homework and shopping on the mainland with Sarah. It didn’t end at his house either, every time he came around your mom was asking him to stay for dinner, getting him to replace the water on the water cooler because she claimed she “couldn’t do it”.  

“My family thinks we’re dating.” You mentioned once, towards the end of your deal, though at the time you didn’t realize that this statement would turn out to be the catalyst that ended one thing and started another.  

“Why?”

You rolled your eyes and propped yourself up on your side so you could actually take a look at Rafe. Both of you were laying in his bed, naked, post sex, talking about whatever came to mind. It would be classified as cuddling if you really had to label it but neither of you wanted to because ‘no cuddling’ was rule number three. Rafe had been clear, after sex you both got dressed. You could hang out but the spending time together and the sex had to be separate events.

“Well let’s see there was last week when you showed up to my house even though I was out and ended up hanging out with my mom while she made dinner. Or the week before when Wheezie, Sarah, and I had a sleepover at my house. Or, you know, generally showing up at every holiday in the last year.” You pointed out. None of those things bothered you, honestly, you’d only mentioned it in hopes that his response would give you some sort of hint about where he stood with you.

Instead he seemed to be more interested in where the blanket had fallen away, his eyes straying from your face to your chest. When you noticed you his expression you took some advantage of it, shifting in bed so that you were straddling him. Rafe’s hands immediately going your hips, eyes closing as you rocked back against him just enough to elicit a moan. You’d been sleeping together, exclusively, for over a year, and in that time you had learned all his little quirks. He liked having some dominance over you in bed but you knew it was just a farce and you were always the one in control. A surprising trait, considering the type of person he seemed to be.  

“So?” You asked, peppering kisses along his jaw and neck. Soft, tan skin that smelled like the slightest hint of a coconut because he’d showered earlier at your place.  

“So?” He repeated the word and it sounded a little dazed, as if he was only half aware of the conversation. You were fairly certain you could get him to do anything you wanted just by posing a question to him when he was in this state.  

“No input on my family thinking we’re dating?”  

“Who cares.”

The fourth rule was one of convenience. It was also the most obvious of the rules: if one of you started to catch feelings the whole thing would be called off. That one was broken long before either of you realized it. Your ‘friends with benefits’ tryst with Rafe should’ve never begun in the first place if you were truly going to follow the most sacred rule of hooking up. It wasn’t supposed to be serious. Ever.  

And maybe you both could’ve continued living in the bubble of ‘just friends who fuck on occasion’ if it wasn’t for some touron at a party asking you on a date. Rafe had skipped the party for a week in the bahamas with his family and you had been bored out of your mind, entertained only by Topper and Kelce, who both ditched you when they found people they were interested in.  

Leaving you approachable and approached was what you got. By some touron. Cute enough, he asked you on a date. It wasn’t like he was expecting a relationship, he was heading home in three days, but a date wasn’t a relationship, it was just a date. To a nice resturant on the Eight and you agreed cause why not?

Rafe was why not and he was laying on your bed, watching you get dressed.  He’d come over for the same reason he always did. Sex, to hang out, to get away from Ward. Only to discover that while he was gone you had agreed to a date.  

“Don’t go.”

“I’m not shipping off to war Rafe, it’s one date.” You shrugged, walking out of your bathroom in a tight skirt/bralette co-ord. “What about this?” It was white and looked great on you and you never got the chance to wear it because you never went on dates.  

“Can we just stay home so I can fuck your brains out?”  

You rolled your eyes at him, laying horizontally across your bed on his back, head dangling off the side. He sounded and looked like a little kid who wasn’t getting their way and honestly, he was spoiled. Hell, he had gotten to have you for a year and a half with no one else ever winning your attention long enough for a date. Now all the sudden it was like someone was taking something of his, and Rafe was not the type who liked to share.  

“Does the outfit look good or not?” You asked, frustrated.  

“Yeah, you look gorgeous, now don’t go.”

“I haven’t been on a date in ages Rafe, I just wanna go to a nice restaurant and have dinner and look cute and walk around the beach-”

“So, we can do that.” Rafe said, sitting up. He’d come all the way over here last minute after you declined going to his for your date. His usually slicked back hair hung like fringe and he had to brush it out of his eyes when he sat up. You’d be lying if you said that just seeing him slightly unkempt wasn’t a turn on. Rafe, without all the rich boy necessities, was arguably your favorite.  

“You’re going to take me on a date?” You asked, reappearing in the door frame of the bathroom, “we don’t do dates Rafe, remember?”

“Screw that.”

“What?”

“Screw friends with benefits. You want to go on a date? I’ll take you on a date. Wherever you  wanna go. We can go to a fancy restaurant, take out Druthers, whatever.” He got off the bed, coming over to you.  

“Don’t make me promises you don’t wanna keep,” you said, backing up. When you hit the counter he only grinned, trapping you in. Rafe could’ve sent a text telling you not to go and you probably wouldn’t have, all this was just an added bonus in your mind. And maybe some answers, finally.  

“Oh trust me, I want to keep them.” He replied, reaching passed you and grabbing your phone off the counter.  

“What’re you doing?” You asked, watching as he unlocked your phone and opened up your messages, finding the texts about the date.

“This him?”  

“Yeah,” You nodded, “Rafe what’re you doing?”

He held the phone to his ear and when you started to question him again, he put his hand over your mouth. “I’m on the phone.” He waited a beat for your date to answer before telling him that you wouldn’t be showing up tonight, smiling as your eyes went wide. “Her boyfriend’s home and he gets a little territorial.”  

-

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[fyeah-bangtan7]

RM: “I hope I’m on my way somewhere”

There are two gears in his life that RM shifts between: when he has to pick up speed as the leader of a worldwide hit-making group, and when he makes his way back home and slowly cracks open some artist’s catalogue. Let’s take a look at the time in between, at the young artist’s journey to seek out his own canvas.

Do you still work out? Your stature looks very different. RM: It’s been around one year? Since I started doing it four times a week without fail. It’s like my lifeline. (laughs) Since, if you exercise, your body gradually improves. I like to feel like I’m doing something and getting better. If you look at other people posting their progress, you can see their bodies change dramatically, but I’m not very strict about my diet, so it’s not like that for me. (laughs) Still, I can feel my frame changing bit by bit.

I saw in the “ARMY Corner Store” video uploaded to YouTube for the 2021 FESTA celebration of your eighth anniversary that your life is focused on doing work and making appearances these days. Has following that repetitive routine led to any changes in your life? RM: My daily routine has become very clear-cut. Now that it’s been exactly a year since I started doing this mid-last year, I kind of think, So is this how people live? I have to go to work and come home, then there’s things I need to do there, and things I have to keep up with like exercise. And same for checking out exhibits. And so I thought my nature itself has changed a lot over the course of a year, but I don’t know whether it’s good for me as a creator.

Why’s that? RM: There was so much that happened with BTS, but with the current situation, sometimes it felt like those things were just things happening on my phone. When I’m listening to other music or watching something I’ll sometimes think about how I would do it, but my life is what it is right now, so I can only draw on things from my own life.

In that case, how did it feel to keep up the energy for your Grammys performance and for everything related to “Butter”? RM: I was really happy that we added one more thing to our list of accomplishments. I think our team really needed the work itself. It made me realize we still have things left to achieve. And I want to thank ARMY above all others for making all of this possible. I’m Korean, so I’m no stranger to finding joy in accomplishment. (laughs) It was really satisfying and nice. It would’ve been better if we got a Grammy, but so what if we didn’t? In the end, getting it means you have one more trophy at home, and after that your daily routine repeats.

How was writing the lyrics for “Butter”? Your performance with SUGA works to kick the energy of the second half of the song up a notch, but I also think, strikes a balance to improve the song as a whole. Your short rap feels like a fusion of American pop and BTS’s distinctive style. RM: That’s the part I spent the most time on. Even though the song’s in English, I thought we should make it feel like our own, so we kept the original but put a little of our own flavor in at the end.

I felt that fine-tuning turned out well. It’s short, but I think it would’ve been a very different song without that part. RM: It’d feel like something’s missing if it weren’t there, right? (laughs) I felt like we absolutely had to have it in there. There’s something different about us from American pop stars. Our DNA is different.

How was making “Permission to Dance”? You can count on one hand how many BTS songs have a message as positive as in that song. RM: Right. They talked about putting some rap in “Permission to Dance” while we were working on it, but we said it would never work. I have more fun when I’m singing and dancing than anything else. I think this song was one of the few times that I felt like I was just having fun while singing and dancing on it. It feels amazing to give into the song with your whole body and just laugh instead of thinking about it too much. I think that’s the power of the song. I wasn’t stressed preparing for it like I was with “Butter.” When it came to “Butter,” I had to think about what we should show off and how I could do that. I’m always careful not to be a problem within the group dynamic. But I didn’t really have to worry about that with “Permission to Dance.” Honestly, I felt like I only needed to add just a dash of the enjoyment I felt.

After the unimaginable continued success of “Dynamite” and “Butter,” this song feels a little more laid back. RM: Oh, this is really fun. Just like that. And there’s a line in the lyrics that says, “We don’t need to worry / ’Cause when we fall we know how to land.” The message is universal, but you could say it’s also something BTS has been saying all along.

You talked about “2! 3!” on “ARMY’s Corner Store,” saying, “2015 to 2017 was a tough time for us and our fans.” Were you able to say that because you ended up knowing how to “land”? RM: What I do can be thought of as a sort of business—a person-to-person kind of business. That’s why I want to be as honest with ARMY as I can be, almost obsessively so. They say it can’t happen in the world of K-pop, and there’s an aspect of good faith to that because I don’t want to worry the fans, but I want to tell them about the things we’ve been through as much as I can. Another reason I talked about those times was that I wanted to pay off my debts to a lot of people. To pass over this story like it never happened would be like saying “that’s not us.” And because it’s in the past. I think that, since it’s in the past, and since we’re doing all right now, and since those days were clearly necessary, I think we have to be able to talk about just how difficult a time that was.

It feels like that was something you wanted to convey to your fans, too. RM: Sometimes we’re artists whose souls are full to our very cores, sometimes we’re meticulous office workers, and sometimes we’re part of the hyper-patriotic “do-you-know club.” We’re many things all at once—that’s why we talked about persona and ego. It’s sort of painful and lonely to want to talk about these things to this extent, but I guess that’s who I am. I want to express myself in full.

Would you say that the song “Bicycle,” released during 2021 FESTA, shows who you are as a person? You talked about your everyday emotions using a bicycle as a metaphor. RM: I’ve faced a lot of pressure while making music throughout my life to move ahead a little more or make music that stands out better, from minor things like my rap technique to bigger things like trends. I wanted to be good at rapping and I wanted some recognition. In that sense, you could say “Bicycle” is somewhat defiant. I wanted to release a song to celebrate FESTA, but the subject matter is really important to me specifically. Bicycles hold an important place in my heart, so that’s just what I ended up writing about. The song’s something like a compass, telling me where I’m at right now, I feel like. My present-day life is the input, so that was going to end up being the output one way or another.

There’s a part in the lyrics where you say, “When you’re happy, it makes you sad.” I imagined you riding your bike and contemplating your life. RM: My feelings kind of go to extremes whenever I ride my bike. My personality used to run to both extremes sometimes, but it also comes back to me again on its own when I ride a bike. When I ride my bike, I’m free from the pressure of the things I’m supposed to feel and think about. I don’t care if people recognize me, and that’s the closest I get to feeling free, mentally and physically—when I’m riding fast and feeling like I’m up on a cloud.

In my case, there’s a big bookstore in my neighborhood, and there’s times when I’ll walk all the way there by myself and think over what kind of person I am while choosing which books to buy. Somehow it makes me think of that. RM: I read a book by Lee Seok Won from Sister’s Barbershop recently. He was contemplating why he likes bookstores. He remembered how not only is it noisy, but everybody’s staring at their books and not looking at anyone else, and there’s a kind of freedom in that. I really sympathize with that. So I make time to go to the bookstore and spend a little more time reading.

I end up talking to myself just by looking at all the book covers at the store. In a way, it’s contemplation on contemplation, but it seems to be an especially necessary time for you. RM: I think I’d be pretty bored without it, since I’ve been too sheltered lately. Read! Work out! Go to galleries! Ride my bike! (laughs)

So writing “Bicycle” was an experience that you had to go through anyways, even though we’re not sure where you’ve come from, where you’re at now, or where you’re headed to. RM: Exactly. It was exactly that kind of milestone of a song for me, and I think I kept that in mind to some degree when I released it for FESTA. I agreed to do something at first, but then I asked myself what I should do and that came to mind immediately: Let’s just do something about bikes.

Even the music has deep connections to all the music you’ve ever listened to, from folk to the hip hop and Korean indie scenes. RM: You’re right. I drew on music from the people who’ve had an impact on my life—artists I’ve been listening to lately, like Elliott Smith and Jeff Buckley, and groups like KIRINJI.

It’s interesting how the end result is a song whose style is difficult to attribute to any one era. Neither the sentiment nor the sound is retro, nor do they reflect current trends. RM: I, and our team, are, you could say, at the forefront of pop, so after I made “Bicycle” we wondered whether we should go with it. But that’s actually why I ended up doing it this way instead. Because that’s what my life looks like right now. It’s good for me just to get to know myself this way, but I don’t want to trap myself, either. On the other hand, I’m interested in artists from all around the world who are totally different from me. There’s even people who make music on a whim and who don’t care about the genre whose music I’m interested in now. It’s—how should I say this? Anyway, I’m at some place in my life, I guess. (laughs)

Last year, in an interview with Weverse Magazine, you said, “I’m just 27 in Korean age.” I think “Bicycle” might be your own response to that statement—the song of someone who grew up listening to Drake in Korea. RM: You got it. Exactly. Drake’s the one who made me think I could sing, too, back in 2009 (laughs) and that’s what brought me all the way here. In the past I wanted to do something just like Drake—he influences Western music as the musical style he’s after changes. But because I don’t live my life the way they do, I can’t make the exact same music as them.

And for that reason, I figured it’s the kind of song that would end up on the playlists of people like you, as it has a style that can express that sort of person’s overall feelings more than any specific genre can. RM: That’s how it usually turns out eventually. I sometimes think this way: Can’t I put “Bicycle” on the same mixtape as some songs that are made totally off the cuff, like I just talked about? I wish I had that kind of flare or image when I made songs, but nowadays I’m really slow at making them. I can’t think of lyrics as well as I used to, either. I have more avenues to absorb new things, and yet the output coming from inside of me is ridiculously limited, and extremely slow. They say there’s plenty of stories of artists from the past going up to their canvas and being unable to pick up their brush and screaming, “Who am I?” That’s sort of how I’m feeling. I’ve been working on a mixtape since 2019, but I haven’t finished that many songs.

Well, maybe it’s because the direction you want to take with your lyrics has changed. That is, that you’re trying to express the ideas you’ve built up inside yourself, instead of your experiences or social commentary. RM: That’s why I can’t write lyrics as fast as I used to. I don’t know what I’m doing, so I have no choice but to just write first. And that’s why I think Yoongi is such an amazing person. I mean, how does he make that many songs, and so well? Maybe it’s because he takes a producer’s point of view, but I can’t do that. Not only am I jealous, but I also think the starting point when I’m making music has to be the lyrics. I just—I hope I’m on my way somewhere. But that’s how I always feel (laughs) so when I listen to my stuff from two years ago now, it already sounds old.

You’re featured on eAeon’s “Don’t,” which boasts impressive lyrics as well—lyrics that start with the color of waves and end with an image of pebbles. It seem like it’s your interest in art that allows you to keep developing such visual images. RM: I can’t say for sure, but it’s likely a strong reflection. I had seen an article where an artist said that pebbles are the perfect form: a rock worn down over and over in a series of incidents and coincidences, made into some round shape in the end. It said the artist collected pebbles for a long time, saying pebbles are so perfectly smooth without any edges, although they’re neither perfect circles nor ovals. Also, I absolutely love Lee Qoede. I saw a quote in a book about his art: “Let’s become entangled. Let us stand united. Let’s not argue. And let’s become pebbles in the new leadership narrative of my country.” He wrote it in a letter while he was working during the country’s liberation period. I thought it was, what, a very modern way to express things, for someone who lived through the chaotic political circumstances of 1948 to want to become a pebble. I felt like his words still have meaning—like they live on. I guess those two artists’ use of the word “pebble” made a very lasting impression on me.

I was impressed how the relatively large waves give way to the image of small pebbles, and then you end the flow with lyrics like, “Don’t take that name away, the one only you know,” and “I hate being just any wildflower,” about a small presence that is defined by others. RM: Yes, it was fun. I once thought how people’s relationships are like crashing waves, and I think that mixed together with my thoughts about pebbles and it came out all at once. There’s a sentence I wrote down a long time ago while I was thinking by the sea. I thought, Is there any color in the waves? When people talk about waves crashing in, what waves are they talking about? The blue waves, or the white waves? I went completely overboard with emotion when I was thinking that (laughs) but again, that’s just me. So I wrote this one sentence—“I wonder what color the waves are”—and listened to the music eAeon gave me, and it sounded to me like fog rolling over the ocean. It was really easy to start writing the lyrics since the sensory perception of that sentence overlapped with what he gave me. It was a so-called “aha moment” (laughs) and whenever that happens, the lyrics come out of me all at once. It only took about an hour and a half to write the lyrics. I thought of more lyrics later on, but I ended up sticking with the first ones.

What are you looking for that you’re thinking that much? RM: In the end, it’s really important for me to ask about who I am, and I want to express who I found myself out to be, but I’m having a really difficult time because I don’t know if what I found is right. So for now, “Bicycle” is also the result of collecting the selves I found who I think represent the best of me. Even while making a song like “Bicycle,” I have to convey—how do I put this? It’s just about me, this kid from outside the big city—an essence that I can’t get rid of, I guess. I can’t let go of the kid who used to perform in Hongdae. It’s not really something I want to express or hold onto; it’s my essence, so I don’t really have a choice. (laughs)

You’ll just ride your bike, anyhow. RM: Exactly. Exactly that. (laughs)

© source

[spicysoftsweet]

Kinktober: Week 2

Illumi x Fem!Reader - Earned It (NSFW)

A/N: trigger warning, your boy is on some dom shit and this toes the line into dubcon. Anyway Illumi loves his wife (you).

Song: Earned It by the Weeknd

Make sure to check out my lovely mutuals (@trash-writings, @hisokapegger​ @mynameseri​ for the rest of today’s Kinktober posts!)

---

I'ma care for you

I'ma care for you, you, you, you

---

You were suspended in the air, bound and blindfolded, with nothing to ground you to the very earth except the sound of your husband pronouncing your name.

The single utterance seemed to bounce around the room unstably, or maybe you were just disoriented by the very slight spin you were taking. Your heart stopped, then restarted almost as quickly with your moment of realization - you were floating, rotating slowly and somehow purposely around a point. 

One fact was obvious. That point, that focus was Illumi. Illumi was - had always been - your center.

That you would have to depend on himself for your sense of the world at this very instant was only right. Good, even. Illumi’s calm, neutral voice was the gravitational force that kept you tied to the very earth, after all. He was the reason why you existed the way you did, living in luxury, showered with the finest of clothing, provided with the most exquisite of meals, plush surroundings, constant security, devoted servants…

You were but a vase of fine flowers after all; he watered you often and intentionally so that you could continue to display beauty and bear fruit. All you had to do was to smile and nod (when appropriate and prompted to, of course), letting your natural grace shine through on the few occasions you left the manor to accompany him on business. It was a simple task and you played the role perfectly, and Illumi normally rewarded you heavily afterwards for being his good little wife. 

But were you still his good little wife tonight? The infinitesimally small edge to his voice, something you had trained yourself to detect over the years could suggest otherwise. 

For now, you could only wonder what you had so royally fucked up this time to find yourself horizontal against gravity, ropes intricately but more importantly, securely, looped over every joint and curve.

“Illumi... are you there?” You called back to him tentatively, the mixture of fear and nervous anticipation mounting inside you evident in the very timbre of your reply.

Illumi’s voice, lowered three octaves, called out your name from a point you could not identify. You shivered, and only then could you deduce you were as bare as the day you were born.

“Are you ready to accept your punishment?”

---

You make it look like it's magic (Oh yeah)

'Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you

I'm never confused

Hey, hey

I'm so used to bein' used

---

Cold fingers lightly drum the skin of your inner thigh; you let out a single shallow gasp, acutely aware of how your legs were parted just so, knees bent such that your ankles were in some way you couldn’t identify bound to your wrists.

Exposed.

Your arms immobilized behind you, you could do nothing, not even squirm as Illumi’s frigid fingers continued to thread closer and closer to that waiting, wanting spot in the center, your center, trailing up your left thigh. But instead of leaving ice in their wake, you felt your skin start to burn passionately at his touch.

Then without warning, his other hand came down firmly on your right inner thigh and a flash of white replaced the dark before your tearing eyes as the impact of his palm hitting your skin reverberated in the room with a loud slap. 

You cried out, and you could almost feel him revel in your anguish, as he gently rubbed the pain out of the still searing skin.

“You always seem to be misbehaving, my love.” The term of endearment came out drawn out and harsh, but not as harsh as the rough stroke of his tongue attacking the space between your legs. You writhed in something like pleasure, letting out another sharp gasp as he drew his tongue across once more, applying firm pressure on your thighs the entire time. 

You began to whimper as you felt the sting of his nails digging into your soft flesh, but he began his onslaught on your clit, your lower vulva and everything in between peppering it with kisses and penetrating you with his soft, pink tongue rendering you into a whining, convulsing mess. 

Your head spun as he ravished you, and with nothing to hold, to squeeze, to center you, you found yourself screaming. “I-Illu! Illumi, p-please… stop, it’s too much!”

Too much of what? Something… Everything...

Illumi had long since grown unaffected by any pleas for amnesty, but for you, his good little wife, he paused just briefly enough to give you a short reprieve, where you had a moment to catch your breath but his touch remained constant. You could tell he had not moved from his spot when he spoke as his breath settled on your wet lips and sent a sensation like ice throughout your lower half.

He was just getting started, you could feel his hunger in the air, and he rocked you slowly, just a couple centimeters to and fro from your harness, safe and secure (and really not safe at all) before stopping your movement abruptly, and pressing his lips against your lower lips, forcing another shiver down your spine.

“Do I need to tape your mouth shut too, my love? You’re interrupting an exquisite meal.”

---

So I love when you call unexpected

'Cause I hate when the moment's expected

So I'ma care for you, you, you

I'ma care for you, you, you, you, yeah

---

His fingers were just as unforgiving as his mouth. A single finger teased your slick entrance while he grabbed a handful of one asscheek, and pierced into you keeping time with soft but hungry kisses on your lower back. As your walls started to clench around the single, slender finger boring into your vault, his hands began to rub circles around your bottom, and he began to suck and nip harder at that curve of your spine. Your breathing grew heavy and moans began to slip out of your throat, the quickening pump of his single digit intensified by your lack of input from your other senses.

A second finger slipped in and curled, tapping just at the little bit of flesh that shot pleasure through you and you cried once more, unable to stay silent for him.

“I~Illumi!”

“Keep quiet.” He admonished harshly, without hesitating to add a third finger to stretch out your already dripping cunt. His fingers were moving too quickly now, and with every slide in and out, tears formed and flowed, your eyes trying to resolve the overstimulation he was giving you. Nipples hardening, heart pounding, you could even feel your lips getting fuller, you were so painfully aroused, or maybe you were just biting your lip too hard in order to stay quiet… You weren’t quite sure of anything really, a fog seemed to descend even more, dulling your already deprived senses and all you could feel were Illumi, his fingers, his kisses, his other hand now squeezing and then slapping your ass hard enough that you swung forward, his lips nipping and sucking at your clit expertly, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body from your toes to the tips of your nose.

“I-Illu…”

“Shhh, let me take care of you, like this.”

---

'Cause girl, you're perfect

You're always worth it

And you deserve it

The way you work it

'Cause girl, you earned it, yeah

Girl, you earned it, yeah

---

“Illu~ ah!” Your words were cut off by the abrupt intrusion of something, much, much larger than a set of fingers and his ever so slight groan filled the air as he made his way inside, filling you so deeply you were certain you could feel him in your stomach. Despite the confident way in which his cockhead slipped so effortlessly past your walls and found a home deep within your guts, nice and snug between blankets of clenching, crying flesh, you felt a jolt of discomfort, and he paused mercifully for a moment to let you adjust to the deep yet pleasurable stretch.

A low, almost primal, moan escaped your throat and his hand reached for your scalp, letting his soiled fingers dance through your hair. Another hand looped around your waist to tease and play with your taut nipples. The moment of rest to adjust to him inside you was meant to be reassuring, to give you time before he really started to wreck you, but your body ached for him to move, your core pulsing and crying out for him.

“I-Illu, please,” you whimpered, your voice coming out as a shaky, high whine as his body stayed pressed to yours. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, settled with a rhythmic throb, and the most terrifying thought to you at this time was that he wouldn’t move, he wouldn’t ram you to death, and you would stay like this, aching to feel pleasure, to feel him.

“Do you want me to move? Do you crave me, my little sexy wife?”

“Y-yes, Illumi...”

“Say it.” His arms wrapped around your back, groping both breasts, teasing both nipples between his second and third fingers as he brought you securely against his chest.

“Illumi, I want you.”

---

You know our love would be tragic (Oh yeah)

So you don't pay it, don't pay it no mind, mind, mind

We live with no lies

Hey, hey

You're my favorite kind of night

---

“Oh, just want?” A single twitch of his cock inside you sent another wave of pleasure through your core and hunger, desire, lust continued to burn inside you.

“Illu, I need you…,” you croaked out. His lips brushed over your neck slightly.

“Just need?” He said, his tone amused. You knew he could do this all night, he was much stronger than you were, in all respects, even this. Frustration started to build.

“Illu, please...” Your panting grew heavier, it was getting hard to breathe with this fog inside you deepening even further. His hands were traveling up your chest to your throat, and now he was moving you, angling you upwards something like 45 degrees, or more, you weren’t sure. His hands still securely but gently around your throat, he now bit at your earlobe.

“Please what?” He whispered between bites, traveling down your neck.

“P-please fuck me!” You couldn’t take this much longer. You didn’t know why he was doing this to you, everything had been good, you had played your role so perfectly, why was he edging you so harshly?

He pulled back inside you just a single inch only to slam into you hard once, so hard you saw stars, but inside you craved more.

“Are you turned on?” He was still again, and your body yearned for him.

You let out another moan.

“Please… more… again…”

“I need you to know how hard it is for me to wait,” he hissed, still kissing, still nipping, still edging you. His shaft, still impressively hard, maybe even harder the longer he tortured you, continued to nestle inside you, pulsing, twitching every so often as though to remind you of the power it held to ruin you, if only it decided to.

You were now whining incomprehensibly and he began to slowly rock you back and forth on the suspension, cruelly making sure not to unsheath himself a single inch to deny you pleasure.

“You know, you made me hard in public,” he said. “In fact, it’s so hard to concentrate any time I see you. There’s just something you do-” - he rammed into you once again to accentuate the word, “- to me, and it’s just so…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, instead angling you downwards back into the horizontal position, shifting his hands from your neck to grip your waist instead in seconds, and it was almost as if he himself no longer could resist.

“Ridiculously lewd.”

It was like a dam had broken inside him, and now he was pounding into you mercilessly, a low growl escaping his lips as he sheathed and unsheathed himself into your tight pussy, the force of your body slamming into his hips accentuated by the momentum of the ropes from which you dangled. 

“You’re so fucking tight for me, as usual,” he hissed, clutching at you once to stop your swings, forcing himself so far forward inside you that once again, you saw the entire galaxy. In two quick movements, your bindings at your wrists and ankles were freed, and he stood you upright so that he could press you tightly against him.

“I want to do so many naughty things to you, you despicable woman,” he whispered into your ears. Through your drunken haze, you found the strength to respond.

“Do anything you want to me, Master Illumi.”

---

On that lonely night (Lonely night)

We said it wouldn't be love

But we felt the rush (Fell in love)

It made us believe it was only us (Only us)

Convinced we were broken inside, yeah, inside, yeah

---

He ripped off your blindfold and spun you around to face him. Your wrists may not have been bound to your ankles any longer, but he quickly raised your arms to the ceiling and bound them together, then proceeded to pull the rope down so that you were suspended just the right height, his eyes on you lustfully the entire time.

Your husband’s beautiful features, usually neutral, were now twisted into lust, hunger, anger, fascination, all because of you… the sight made you burn up with a licentious heat. This time, without him having to prompt you, you swung forward to wrap your legs around his waist, and standing now, he bounced you up and down his cock, maintaining eye contact and pausing intermittently to envelop your lips in a hungry, all-consuming kiss.

“You bewitched me,” he whispered between kisses. “You should be punished.”

You had done no such thing. In fact, you’d fallen first. You had always loved him first. Illumi was the only thing that you needed, that you would ever need.

“I-if this is the - ah - punishment for taking - ah - your heart, I’ll a-accept it many... many times over,” you choked out, your arms aching to wrap around his neck.

Illumi rarely smiled, but this time, his lips curled into a devilish, excited grin as he sped up.

---

‘Cause girl, you're perfect (Girl, you're perfect)

You're always worth it (You're always worth it)

And you deserve it (And you deserve it)

The way you work it (The way you work it)

'Cause girl, you earned it, yeah (You earned it)

Girl, you earned it, yeah (You earned it)

[amuhseen2003]

SANDERS SIDES KARAOKE: GOTHIC LITERATURE MUSICALS EDITION

Okay, so after four years of being in the Sanders Sides fandom, I’m going to attempt to write some headcanons. Here we go.

Since it’s well-known in fanon that the sides do have karaoke sessions, imagine what would happen if they sang musicals based on gothic literature.

Roman’s happy because broadway, duh, Logan is happy because it’s canon that he enjoys gothic literature since he dressed up as Frankenstein’s monster for Halloween, same reason for Virgil and Patton’s happy that his family is bonding. He made extra cookies for the occasion. He’s dangerous like that. 

(I headcanon that when Thomas had to write analyses of gothic literature novels for school, Virgil, Roman and Logan would work together to come up with stuff and write the best essays in class and Patton would be so proud of them)

I’m not going to count Les Mis because I’m not too sure if that counts as gothic literature and whilst the Hunchback of Notre Dame is indeed gothic (trust me I read that in a plane once. An entire, like, ten pages is dedicated to describing the scenery) I don’t think it became a broadway show.

Now this isn’t like their usual karaoke nights, no sir. Just idly remaining in the living room won’t do. Where is the gusto? The pizazz? The accolade winning extravaganza? The-

“We get it Princey, can you just get on with it?” - Virgil

No, this type of singing can only be accompanied with an atmosphere that will do it justice. To the imagination they go and with Logan’s (who has practically memorised every single one of these books and is not geeking out at all) input on how the novels describe each setting, Roman creates very intricate landscapes for each song.

When they sing ‘Alive’ from ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ Roman thought that it would be really cool for Patton to play Mr Edward Hyde since Hyde is literally the human id and Patton, being the embodiment of morality, is literally the superego (although to be fair, Patton is also shown to be quite childish and impulsive since he’s also the base of Thomas’ emotions and Hyde is impulsive because he’s a way for Jekyll to act on his own emotions - especially since the only crime that Hyde does in the book are him over-reacting with his anger by beating a man to death. And in the novella, Jekyll writes that he and Hyde are like father and son and that Hyde is actually younger than Jekyll is, he does have that sense of childishness that Patton has only instead of that childishness being good and helpful, it’s bad and hurtful. Plus in the soundtrack of Alive, whilst Anthony Warlow does sing about how good being evil feels like, he also sounds like he is crying tears of joy of being able to be himself, the first words post-transformation being freedom and anyways these are supposed to be fun headcanons not analytical headcanons so I digress…)

Anyways Patton is happy to play the villain because “look kiddos, Roman conjured up this really swell cape” “the correct term is cloak” “and check out this top hat and cane!” and he’s just belting out the words and froliking around Victorian London without a care in the world, making his cape swoosh in the wind.

“Patton I would advise you not to take your shoes off. This is nineteenth-century London with people dying of cholera by the dozens, your feet could catch a myriad of infections.”

“Worry not, specs, the scenery is merely an illusion. I would never allow for our dear padre to succumb to the villain of illness”

“Aww, thanks kiddo (cue Patton’s sunshine smile) now where was I? IT’S THE FEELING OF BEING ALIVE! FILLED WITH EVIL AND TRULY ALIVE!”

They have Logan sing ‘I Need To Know’ because a doctor of science singing about wanting to expand his knowledge and having that thirst to do whatever it takes to get said knowledge. That is a Logan Sanders song right there. At first he’s like “why do I have to sing. I was happy enough giving directions and helping you with the scenery” but Roman creates this big scientific library that could rival the one from Beauty and the Beast/ laboratory from that’s practically the identical to Jekyll’s lab in the book and he’s like “Fine” like he isn’t enjoying himself. He is. They all know it. He’s not fooling anyone

Patton and Roman sing ‘Bring on the men’ together (yes, whilst wearing dresses) whilst Virgil and Logan drink apple juice from those big british beer glasses in the mind-scape created Red Rat (which Logan is quick to point out doesn’t exist and is vocally upset at how the musical adaptation added unnecessary romantic subplots with Lisa and Lucy when the book itself only had three background female characters who were only there for like one paragraph. He’s even more upset at the other inaccuracies with the book like how in the play Jekyll creates his formula as a cure for mental illness and Hyde was accidental whilst in the book he did it because he wanted to indulge in sin without fearing the consequences and Hyde, whilst not being exactly what he wanted, was actually created on purpose or how in the book Hyde only kills one man and in the musical he kills practically everyone except for the one person he did kill. Virgil pats him on the back with sympathy). Roman and Virgil are sniggering at the sexual euphemisms at the end of the song whilst Patton’s confused. She just seems really enthusiastic about food.

Roman sings both parts of ‘Confrontation’ by himself. He gets a standing ovation.

He also does ‘Transformation’. The problem is that he was so good at sounding like he was in complete agony and near death that they had to stop the song prematurely because Patton was getting upset. Don’t worry, Pat gets lots of cuddles by Roman afterwords.

(You know what I might do some sides reacting to The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde later because 1. It’s my favourite book and 2. All four of them would have very interesting takes on it)

From the Frankenstein musical Virgil plays the criminal from ‘Say Amen’ because he wants to (seriously, the guy’s first words in the song are ‘I curse the day that I was born into a world so black with hate’) and Logan plays Victor Frankenstein but Patton refuses for his son to even pretend to be executed by the noose so they have Roman play a man wearing a british executioner outfit with a foam sword and the creative side just bonks the anxious side on the neck with it. Logan despairs about the historical inaccuracy from his place in the stands whilst Patton is cheering next to him. Patton also hands him an extra jumper to keep him warm in the Switzerland cold. 

“Patton, I am grateful that you are thinking of my health but no one in eighteenth century Switzerland wore bright blue jumpers with cartoon kittens on them”

“Really, Logan, are you paw-sitive?”

“I would like to change places with Virgil. Immediately” 

Roman and Logan turn ‘Birth to my creation’ into a duet because Logan enjoys the scientific aspect of it and Roman can’t resist the drama (of course). He goes all out. He makes Victor’s lab perfect to the smallest detail (and cheers when Logan’s eyes start lighting up and he does that cute clappy thing when he’s excited), he conjures a storm and makes lightning strike at the best moments of the song. He even creates a ‘wretch’ (what Victor calls the monster in the book. I’ve heard that it’s name is Adam but all I remember from the novel is Victor calling himself god and the creature his Adam) to lie on the table. 

“And we didn’t even have to go grave-robbing for it. Or drop out of University.” - Roman

“No matter how many times I wanted to.” - Virgil

Roman and Virgil do most of the songs from Dracula. The creative side creates this huge, expensive-looking window-balcony thing with glass double doors and billowing silk curtains so that he could dramatically sing ‘the longer I live’ whilst the wind blows through his hair and he dramatically drapes himself on the balustrade so that the light from the full moon hits his figure just right. Patton’s close to crying.

Logan is very eager to give as many facts as he can about nineteenth-century mental institutions for ‘The Master’s Song’. He gets really into the history behind certain treatments and different cases. Roman plays Renfield and the others play doctors. 

Virgil is super into Dracula’s castle during ‘Life after life’. He and Roman duet that song wearing all-black. Logan tries to help Patton’s slight fear by telling him the history behind different pieces of architecture.

Patton plays Christine during Phantom of the Opera

Roman, Virgil and Logan sing ‘A story told’ from The Count of Monte Cristo around a circular table in a dimly lit tavern. Patton takes pictures and drinks hot chocolate in the sidelines.