#maybe I should out MAG down for now...

[makeyoumine69]

Oh those other anons are soooo right.

Bruce would be going insane when he finally gets his girl bred. Seeing her trying on gala dresses that are much too small now, her hips getting fuller, tits getting bigger, and swelling with his kid? Way to end up in the gossip mags.

I dont think he'd be able to stop himself at one. You know what the elites are like, kings never just had one heir.

I think he'd want to suck on her tits so bad.

Tbh, i can see Patrick doing that too.

Carrying His Child | Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader, Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader HEADCANON

𝐓����𝐆𝐒: NSFW, implied smut, lactation kink, breeding kink, body worship, pet names, some dirty talk, Pregnant!Reader, breeding kink, pregnancy-related details, established relationships, Husband!Patrick Bateman, Husband!Bruce Wayne, pregnancy sex.

𝐀/𝐍: I couldn't agree more with what anon said and I just wanted to write down some of my thoughts about these two men. Hope you enjoy it!

Patrick Bateman

The recent news of your pregnancy would be both shocking and exciting for Patrick, but he wouldn't even know how to react at first. Should he be openly happy, as all doting partners are, or should he keep it all to himself so as not to look weak and pathetic? This man may not be the best at showing emotion and affection as most people perceive it, but what Patrick is good at is being in control and inflicting it on every aspect of his life, including you and his unborn child. So it's obvious that once your pregnancy is confirmed, Patrick would turn into the most overprotective man, but the dark side of it would be that he would have a grip on everything you do, your lifestyle, what you eat and drink, and who you interact with. And of course it would annoy you sometimes, but this man will try to manipulate you into thinking that he knows what's best for you. When the two of you are out in public, he would hold you close, but not really be clingy, more like allowing you to hold onto his arm, and Patrick would definitely hate any questions related to your pregnancy, like who the two of you are expecting and what month you're at.

Patrick prefers to think of having children as building a lineage - a legacy of his own blood and flesh. And although the burden of parenthood weighs heavily on his shoulders and makes him somewhat unhappy, he can sometimes find the concept of building a dynasty with you quite appealing. But the worst thing is that he doesn't really care about your thoughts or feelings about it, because he sees you as his property—he owns you from head to toe, every little bit of your body is his to possess and ruin. So once the idea of impregnating you again was fully integrated into his twisted mind, there would be no barriers for him to make his fantasies come true. Patrick would patiently wait for you to give birth to his firstborn, maybe even give you time to recover before he'd impregnate you again, using the beautiful and flowery phrases about the love between a man and a woman and how he wants you to give him as many children as he wants because children are flowers of life. There is no obstacle for him to get what he wants. No doubt that Patrick would do everything to make you the best mother because appearances are always important and he wants nothing more than a perfect wife and perfect children—the American dream family. Nothing more, nothing less.

As mentioned, Patrick is not a fan of physical affection, but sometimes, if he's really in the mood or if he thinks it would be easier for him to just give you a hug instead of listening to you vent, he'll do it. Of course, this guy knows how fucked up women can feel during pregnancy, but he can easily be overwhelmed by your depressed mood or your complaints about being tired all the time. On the days when he can't take it anymore, he'd try to escape and lose himself in some nightclub with some other yuppie in the company of pretty blonde hardbodies, but he'd never really try to fuck anyone else because his body would oddly crave only you. It would be annoying for him, especially when he realizes that the changes in your pregnant body only make him more horny. MUCH MORE HORNY. It literally drives him crazy. Whenever he sees you wearing something skimpy, Patrick's dick gets unbearably hard and he has to drag you back into the bedroom or press you against any surface he can BUT he has to remember that the current circumstances are different. You're carrying his child and he can't be as selfish as he always chooses to be—Patrick hates to admit that the unborn child was already stirring something weird in him. But he didn't know how to deal with that strange feeling in his chest when he touches your baby bump with his hands or his lips. It's definitely something different. So different that he forgets about everything else but you—all the blank thoughts about how much money he spent on his new suit the other day, or what tie Tim Price wore yesterday, or which model Craig McDermott boffed at the last fashion show. Fuck all that. If he ever needs to be really gentle, it should be with his pregnant wife. No questions asked. As awkward as he imagined pregnancy sex to be, in reality Patrick enjoyed it even more than before, it was much more sensual and to have you so sensitive in his strong arms, reacting to his every little move, felt like heaven. "Fuck... You're taking me so well, doll," Patrick would murmur in your ear in a passionate tone, spooning you while he covered your neck with feverish kisses, his hands secured around your round belly while he continued to push carefully inside you. "So soft, so round, so warm." Being both insatiable and needy, Patrick would be literally erratic in his craving for your breast milk, acting like a little baby. But, if you ever implied that he was behaving like a baby boy, he would be so fucking offended and grumpy, but in the end, he would suckle at your breasts with full determination, which would make your nipples really sore, especially the moments when he would decide to use his sharp white fangs. Patrick literally can't stop craving the taste of your breast milk—he even considered taking some of your expressed milk to add to the coffee at the office. But this psycho would never tell you about his depraved plans.

Bruce Wayne

When it comes to your pregnancy, Bruce is extremely protective, but not in a babysitting kind of way, because he doesn't want you to feel pressured and obligated to follow a strict list of instructions, as he respects your personal boundaries, but still, sometimes Bruce can be a little too stressed about the safety of you and the baby you're carrying. Giving him a few pecks, stroking his cheek in a reassuring way, and telling him that he doesn't have to stay alert may help. But only until the next time Bruce gets worried about something else. He would also never stop bragging about how proud he is of you and how beautiful you are whenever you show up together at any gala event, and he would even make you wear the tightest dresses to show off your baby bump so that everyone would know who you belonged to. The images of you playing with your child in the backyard of the Wayne Manor would be his most intimate fantasy that he wouldn't share with anyone, claiming it was too personal. After all, Bruce has always been too sensitive about anything family related, but now he was in the process of creating HIS OWN family and he finds himself even more anxious, but he would do his best not to let anything like what happened to his parents happen again. Never again.

The idea of putting another baby inside you after you give birth would live inside his head for a long time like a brain worm, but it would be a very difficult time for him finding the right moment to make a suggestion about it. The man would be nervous because he knows that pregnancy is a very complicated time for any woman, with all those heavy syndromes, including morning sickness and sudden mood changes due to hormones. Bruce sees all this and it makes him insecure if you really want to go through all this again. And he'll never make decisions like this for both of you without your approval. For now, the man will focus on your current pregnancy, take care of you in every way possible, be your shield and shoulder to lean on when you feel down or unsure about being a good parent. Every time you doubt that you'll be a good mother, Bruce will bury his nose in the crook of your neck, deliberately tickling your skin to hear you laugh, and then whisper sweet little things about how happy he is that you're carrying his child and how absolutely sure he is that you'll be the great mother. Zero doubt.

Physical affection means a lot to this man, starting with holding your hand every time you walk together, hugging your waist whenever he can, planting feathery kisses on your temple or forehead. And all of this Bruce does to make sure you know how much he loves you, how much he cherishes every second of his life spent with you. When your body begins to change due to pregnancy, Bruce would be even more focused during sex, making sure you feel good and comfortable, choosing the best position to fuck you deeply but without harming the baby, literally worshipping your body as his personal shrine, telling you how much he loves every little detail of your changing figure: "Uh, darling, you're so beautiful. Uh...I can't get enough of you." In the mornings, you'd usually find him resting between your legs, eating you out with pure devotion, caressing your curvaceous hips and massaging your ample breasts that would soon be so full of milk. One day, when he was playing with your nipples and some of your milk would spill out, he would catch it with his finger and put it in his mouth—the moment Bruce would taste your milk for the first time would be his personal downfall as he would be very paranoid that you would think he's weird. He would try to fight the very idea of asking you to suckle your breasts, and he would be absolutely embarrassed until one day you would suggest it to him, because you'd remember his moan of satisfaction when he tasted your breast milk. Sometimes Bruce would latch his mouth around your nipple as you rode him, his muffled soft moans sounding so perfect and hot, literally becoming your personal aphrodisiac, making you orgasm quite quickly and very vividly. And your round hips, Jesus Christ, your hips would always be touched and teased, fondled and kneaded—simply because your husband can't stop himself, he's literally obsessed. The days when you're struggling with your sore breasts, Bruce would immediately offer you his help, massaging your soft mounds and asking you how you feel and if he can squeeze them a little tighter, because he wants to feel your tender flesh under his fingers—he literally craved it so much. Scattering pillows on the bed for you to rest on would be Bruce's special ritual whenever you decided to get naughty or just relax together, naked, skin to skin, lips on lips. Once your baby bump got too big, Bruce would help you take a shower, including washing your hair and every little patch of your gorgeous body, so after that he can comb your hair and carry you into the bedroom to massage your feet and GOD, his strong hands really know how to work magic and sometimes it feels even better than sex.

[itsgrimeytime]

feelin' flirty || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn!reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Summary: Being a long-lost friend of Maggie's, you wind up at the prison, a line of dead walkers behind you. You are promptly confronted with one Rick Grimes, and it's suddenly your life's goal to flirt with him as much as you can. Rick doesn't usually respond, but what if one day he does?

TWs: innuendos, talk of sex, shameless (and I mean shameless) flirting, mention of both Beth and Hershel's deaths, gunshot wound, blood, guns, knives, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: Tumblr has deleted this THREE times. I am furious, hello??? Also, someone should've been hardcore flirting with Rick, I'll say it. That's what this is based on. Do I have social anxiety? Yes, but am I still writing this? I am. Don't ask questions. ALSO, I do not know the TWD timeline at all, so I am making it up, thank you. Enjoy :))) ]]

With one last stab, you finished off the last... zombie? You didn't really call them anything, since you were alone. Maybe you should think about that a little more.

Wordlessly, you turned and stabbed another square in the head. Undead? No. Zombie? No, too cliché-

Another one.

It went on like that for a few more minutes, before you took a breath -with no answer to your question. Frowning at your knife being covered in... guts, for lack of a better word, you crouched down and wiped it on the grass.

What was that, 15? You didn't really count, but you should have. You were trying to get a new personal best actually-

"Hey!"

You froze, pocketing your knife, before spinning on your heel. The voice was fairly distant, so you weren't worried. Instead, close enough for it to matter, was a big building with high walls and barbed wire at the top of them. A prison. Huh.

"Up here!" The voice called again, and you startled.

Shading your eyes from the sun, you looked up into the watchtower, and sure enough, there was a silhouette. A guy, you think, with dark hair. That was about all you could say.

"Yeah?" You called back, curiously.

"That was cool as shit!"

You laughed out, probably for the first time in months, "Thank you, mysterious stranger!"

"Glenn!" He clarified.

Huh, you pursed your lips, before responding, "Y/N!"

"Nice to meet you!"

You laughed again, before feeling a pain in your stomach. When was the last time you'd eaten? You paused, trying to think. Three days ago (there was a box of Twinkies that hadn't expired yet in a stranded supermarket). Not great.

"Hey, Glenn?" You yelled, a little hopeful.

"Yeah?"

You pursed your lips, before deciding -taking a chance, really, "You got any food in there?"

Now, you were walking through the gate, which was a little dramatic. But, you kinda liked it. It felt like you were kind of a big deal, well, until there was a swarm of eyes on you. All different kinds.

You froze, licking across your teeth.

And then, a man ran up to your side -gasping a little. Was that Glenn? How did he-

He offered his hand to shake, and you accepted it -looking at the crowd, a little defensively.

"Are they going to kill me? Or...?"

"Shit," he turned to them, "-They just want some food, guys, c'mon!"

None of them even flinched.

"I don't bite," you joked, before frowning, "-shit. That was in bad taste-"

And then, a voice called out into the tense air.

"Y/N?"

You peeked over heads, looking, because-

Your eyes locked onto hers, and you nearly jumped in place -big smile blooming along your lips, "Holy shit, Mags?!"

You'd been friends, back in high school. You'd left junior year and tried to keep in touch. It just didn't work out. (You can't even remember now if it was her or you who stopped, at this point.)

Before she could so much as reply, you ran to her -arms wide open. She eagerly reciprocated, spinning a little with the force -you'd gotten pretty good at running at this point.

"What the fuck?" You breathed into her shoulder, and she laughed big and loud, "-What are the chances?"

With a thought, you pulled back -still holding her shoulders, "Are your Dad and Beth here?"

"Yeah," she cheered, and something in you felt relieved. Thank god, they were okay.

"And, you?" She offered, a little hesitantly -notable lack at your side.

You pressed your lips together, swallowing, and shook your head, "Been alone since the beginning."

Maggie frowned, hand coming up to rest on your arm and squeezing once.

"Only lived with my boyfriend," you explained, eager to lighten the mood, "-and he actually cheated on me, so. Wasn't the worst lost."

She laughed a little, before asking -carefully, "And your family?"

Something in your chest stung, you wordlessly shook your head. (Visions of unhinged jaws and blood filling it.)

She frowned, whispering her apologies before hugging you again. You leaned into it that time.

And then, you jumped back, excited, "You have to bring me to your family, Mags, it's been so long-"

"Ya 'ave to talk to Rick first," a voice grumbled out behind you.

You spun on your heel, facing a man. Tall, brunette, dark eyes, arms crossed in front of him (strong, you noted), but you could tell in his stance. He was a layer of stone walls, and you did not want to mine.

And then, your eyes smoothed across his back. Is that a fucking crossbow? Sick.

"Whose Rick?" You asked instead, Maggie still holding your arm.

"Whose askin'?"

That, was a good voice. Was your first thought as you turned back around, and your eyes landed on a figure.

Your voice got stuck in your throat.

He was tall, stood like he owned the place (and based on the recommendation, maybe he did), all broad shoulders and strong gaze. Speaking of gaze, he had probably the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. And his hair was brown and curly, a few hung forward on his face. His jaw was unspeakable, and his button-up shirt had a few extra buttons undone to account for the heat. Holy shit.

Maggie elbowed you, and you blinked.

"Uh, me," you answered, clearing your throat -motioning to Glenn, "-he said you had some food and I'm... hungry."

Maggie promptly stomped on your toe. You pressed your lips together trying not to laugh, carefully looking over his face to see if he'd picked up on it at all. Nothing. A shame, really.

Oh well, maybe next time.

"Look, Rick," she interrupted your thoughts, "-I know 'em, really well. Y/N is a good person."

Rick's eyes dipped to you, looking you over. Oh, the words were right there on the tip of your tongue. It would be so easy-

You're trying to survive, Y/N, your mind pressed, focus.

You bit at your lip, but before you could speak for yourself, Glenn did.

"I saw 'em take on a swarm outside," he added, eyes darting to Maggie (Huh.), "-without breaking a sweat."

There are other things I can do without breaking a sweat, your brain immediately remarked, this really was too easy.

Rick seemed to think about it a second, before turning to you, "Ya got a gun?"

I'd like to be loaded with-

"No," you cleared your throat, pulling out your knife (it was one of those multicolored ones, it's why you liked it clean), "-just this."

He hummed, tilting his head with a mouth shrug, "'At's impressive."

I bet your-

You pinched your arm, swallowing, "So, what? Am I in or not?"

Rick's eyes flicked up and down you again (so easy), before he decided, "Ya can stay."

That brings you to now, sitting with Maggie outside with a can of baked beans and a spoon in your hands.

You currently had quite the view of Rick working on the farm, sweat dripping down his brow, strained arms. You'd never thought about farming in that way, but now you were.

"Is his full name Richard?" You asked, curiously.

Maggie turned to you, watching the trail of your eyes to see what you were looking at. She rolled her eyes, "I don't know."

You put a spoonful into your mouth, humming around it, "There's a reason they call them 'Dick', you know."

"Oh my god," she shoved into you -making you laugh a little. You stared down into your can.

"I'm just saying," you stressed, "-he's hot enough for it."

Maggie paused a second, before deciding to say, "His wife died."

"Shit," your smile fell.

"Died in childbirth," she continued, something distant in her eyes -you wondered what exactly it was.

"How long ago?" You asked gently, looking at him in a new light -sympathizing.

"Few months," she answered, a little shortly. You pursed your lips, debating whether to say anything. Or if you even should.

Maggie clarified, herself, "I delivered the baby. Judith, her name is Judith."

"Fuck, Mags," you fully turned to her, putting the can by your feet, "-I'm so sorry."

She took a deep breath in and out, and you wrapped an arm around her shoulders pushing her into your side, "Thanks."

"No problem," you hummed, picking your can back up and letting your eyes drift to Rick again, adding, "-I'm great with babies, you know."

"You're ridiculous," she laughed, taking the bite you offered her.

"What?" You asked, "-Staring isn't bad. He's practically a piece of art, I'm just..."

He turned to the two of you then, blue eyes flickering along your faces -you did not move your gaze at all.

Instead, you gently waved, finishing, "-admiring him."

Rick furrowed his eyebrows for a second, waving back, and then, shaking his head smiling. Count that as a win.

You gnawed at your lip a second, "Do you think he picked up on my 'hungry' thing? I was looking at him and I-"

Maggie laughed, "He definitely did. Everyone did, Y/N, you're shameless."

"It's the apocalypse," you urged, "-who gives a fuck about shame anymore? Rick is hot, and as long as he lets me, I will flirt with him. The more you resist, the more I commit. You remember James in first period?"

She hummed, "I do."

"I chased him for half a year," you continued, swirling the spoon around the can, "-and it worked, didn't it? Guys hardly get properly flattered," your eyes dipped back to him, tone going low, "-I don't mind taking on that duty for the population."

Maggie laughed again, as you just kept your eyes on him. He had dirt on his hands now, wiping at his brow, and just a few curls hung forward on his forehead. God, how did you find him in the apocalypse?

"How valiant," she deadpanned, "-You're a real hero."

"Look, just because you have a type, Glenn, and you bagged him-"

"How did you-"

"Please," you teased, "-he practically ate you earlier with his eyes. Back to my point, I, at least, get to look."

She turned to you, "Ya don't want to date him?"

"Who said that, Mags?" You smirked, turning to her with a smile with eyes that spoke for themselves.

"You know he has kids, right?" She questioned, looking at you.

"So?" you waved the spoon around in your hand, "-Single dads? Hot. Kids? Cute. Where's the loss?"

Maggie looked at you a moment, before shaking her head, "You are clinically insane."

"Maybe," you offered, still watching him, "-but the world's fucked up too. So, at least, I'm not alone."

She laughed really hard at that one, and you felt eyes all over switch to you. Blue ones too. People didn't really seem to laugh around here, so you decided that was your mission too, get people to laugh more. Maybe they could go hand-in-hand.

Time to get to work.

Daryl was sitting across from you, you'd been bugging him for the past few weeks and he'd finally relented. It wasn't easy, but you were nothing if not persistent (hence the Rick situation). Or maybe stubborn. Both? Whatever.

"Daryl, listen," you pointed out, "-you have to take time to load up the bow."

"'At don't mean nothin'," he countered.

"It does," you stressed, explaining, "-in the amount of time it takes you to put in a new arrow, I would have killed at least two."

Daryl rolled his eyes, "It doesn't take 'at long."

"Who said it takes me long to kill two walkers?"

Rick walked by then, and Daryl stopped him.

"Rick, please, take 'em away from me," he spoke out, gruff, but something in you could tell that he wasn't being serious. The guy wasn't half the mystery you expected him to be.

Rick laughed a little at the plea, eyes on you, "What are ya doin' to him?"

"It's not that bad," you laughed, explaining, "-I was just talking about if we were pit against each other to kill the most walkers in a minute. And who would win."

"An' ya want me to help decide?"

"Daryl does," you clarified, "-I am fully confident in my abilities."

Rick laughed a little (another win), "Well, I kno' Daryl's skills, so tell me yours, so it's even."

You bit at your lip, debating. God, it would be so easy. All you had to do was-

"Well," you smiled, playfully, "-I'm told I'm very good with my hands."

He blinked, and it was silent a moment before you heard a snort beside you. You immediately flung to look at him, you had just made Daryl laugh-

"No way," you stressed out, throwing yourself to your feet -pointing at him, "-you just laughed at me."

Daryl pressed his lips together into a thin line, sniffing once, "No, I didn't."

You spun to Rick, and he was already looking at you, you didn't think about it too much.

"Rick," you begged, "-c'mon. I know you and him are like... buddies, but I-"

"Buddies?" He quirked a brow, smiling. Something stirred in your stomach.

"Look, I don't fucking know," you rolled your eyes, "-just agree with me."

He bit down a smile at you, before turning to Daryl, "Ya did laugh at 'em."

"Ha," you cheered, "-I made Daryl Dixon laugh. And, I would win against you."

"He didn't say 'at," Daryl instantly defended.

"Didn't have to, Dixon," you mocked, playfully, "-it's about time management."

"Time management?" Rick questioned curiously.

"Okay, think of this, Rick," you explained, leveling him with your full focus (god he was handsome), "-when you fight with a bow, or a gun for that matter, you have to reload."

He grinned a little at you.

"Follow me, follow me," you hummed, pulling out your knife, "-when you have a physical sort of attack method, like a knife, you don't have that same time issue."

"Ya kinda do though," he interjected.

You paused, looking at him -thoughtfully, "How so?"

"Body's gotta build up energy again," he reasoned (with too much thought for this dumb conversation, smart too? god has favorites), "-Stamina is key to attackin'."

You rolled your lip in between your teeth, he had to be doing this on purpose at this point. Seriously.

"Trust me, sheriff," you spoke -a teeny bit teasing but otherwise very genuine, "-there is no problem with my stamina."

Rick bit back a laugh, turning his head to the side and smiling. You thought you saw a little red on the tips of his ears. Cute. You were unraveling the layers of one Rick Grimes, that was progress.

Daryl didn't even try to hide it that time, letting a gruff chuckle leave his lips, "'M glad I'm not your focus for 'at."

You patted his shoulder, standing up, "It'll be devastating one day, Robin Hood. Don't come crying to me when it is."

"Did ya just call me Robin Hood?"

Rick laughed at that one, head tilting up to the sky. You smiled wide.

"Look at that," you hummed, proud, "-a two for one. Which-"

They both looked at you, but you stuck to your guns. And you smirked a little.

"-honestly, I would not mind," you added -thoughtfully, "-Think about it, and get back to me."

You walked backward a few steps, watching as Rick smiled at you before turning back to fix his gaze on Daryl. Smiling at the ground, you spun on your heel, and went off to find someone else to pester.

You felt a pair of eyes follow you though, and you maybe grinned a little brighter.

Now, you were wandering off on your own. On your own run, you liked to do that sometimes. Maggie nearly had a heart attack because of it, but what damage you did get was usually minor. Except for once, but that wasn't your fault. Well it was, you smashed a window with your fist to see if you could do it. And you could, which was impressive.

Now, you were strolling through an old novelty store -little knick-knacks. Finding some figurines, you grabbed a superhero one and stashed it away. Your eyes caught on a DVD player, the kind for both music and movies, and you picked it up -turning it over in your hands. Battery powered.

On a mission to find both DVDs and some batteries, you roamed through some aisles -particularly a mug one.

Peeking through at some of them, you paused. Taking your pack off and slipping the DVD player into it (along with the few good DVDs you found, no batteries though) on top of some canned food you'd found, you zipped it up. And with a breath, grabbed a mug.

Smiling big, you made your way out of the store.

When you got back to the prison, Maggie was waiting for you -tapping her feet, anxiously. She was a little like a mother, you weren't sure how you felt about it. But you loved her so, you dealt with it.

"Hey Mags," you cheered, mug handle twisted between your fingers.

She instantly relaxed, eyes scanning you over before dropping to the mug. She frowned.

"Please, tell me-"

"I got some food," you sighed, "-I'm not entirely useless."

She pursed her lips, "And the mug?"

You grinned, holding it up for her to see -tapping your fingers along both sides. Her eyes skimmed over it before she frowned (biting back a smile, you could tell).

"Seriously?" She asked.

"What?" You responded, groaning, "-I can't get gifts?"

She shoved into your side, and before you could take too many steps, you were met with your target -leaning against the fence, few steps from Maggie. Was he waiting for you too?

"Rick," you dropping your hands, particularly to avoid him from reading the text, "-what are you doing here?"

"Ya do 'at a lot?" He asked, a little pointedly. You thought you recognized something a little like worry in it, "-Go off on your own?"

Huh.

"Yeah," you laughed a little, "-you haven't noticed? I've been getting like... half the food we have."

Rick hummed (a little in appreciation) before his eyes dropped to your hands, "And what's 'at?"

"A gift," you extended it to him, unflinchingly.

He pulled himself from his spot on the wall, walking forward and accepting it. His fingers (great fingers, really. Was that weird to say?) wrapping around it, you noticed for a second that your fingers brushed -your breath halted a little in place.

"A mug?" He asked looking at you for a second, eyebrows furrowed.

You took your hand, and spun it around in his hands -brushing his skin against yours, "The other side."

He smiled a little, laughing.

Right there on a rather plain mug, were the words '#1 HOT DAD'.

He bit back a smile, eyes peeking up at you again, "Ya really ain't gonna let 'is go, are ya?"

"Nope," you popped the 'p', before clarifying, "-unless you want me to."

Rick licked a line against his teeth, grinning a little with something in his eye, "Who said 'at?"

"Noted," you smiled back, something fluttering in your chest, "-now, where's Carl? I got him something good."

"Ya got him somethin' too?"

He was looking at you a little curiously, like he was seeing new layers of you. You kind of wanted to squirm a little at his gaze. You were not used to people figuring you out.

You sighed, quickly turning your pack to the front and unzipping it. With a breath, you dug around and pulled out the figurine -Rick's eyes caught on it immediately. A small smile creeping along his mouth.

"He told me once he liked comics," you clarified, clearing your throat, "-figured he would like this. You... You think he will?"

"He'll love it," he answered, something new in his eyes, "-C'mon, I'll take ya to him."

On the way there, he seemed to pause a moment, something on his mind. You patiently waited for him to say it.

"'Saw somethin' else in 'ere," he mindlessly remarked, as the mug swung between his fingers "-What is it?"

"Oh," you pulled your pack foward again, excited, extending the figurine to him for safekeeping (he took it with a smile), "-a DVD player."

You held it in your hands, showing to him.

"Found some DVDs, good ones," you continued, before putting it back in your bag, and accepting the figurine back (your fingers brushed again), "-no batteries though."

Rick hummed, pursing his lips like he was thinking about something. He didn't say a word though.

You didn't have much time to think about it, because a few days after that, the prison fell. You'd escaped with Rick and Carl, but you weren't exactly yourself. Not after everything.

There was Judith, and Maggie, and... and Beth and Hershel. Every day felt like there was bile turning in your stomach; every time you closed your eyes, you saw someone... someone dead.

You were lying against the grass, looking up at the stars -it was still so pretty. Despite it all, the sky was still the same. Bright and twinkly. It was when everyone was on the road, wandering for a place to go. You just couldn't sleep, so you took it upon yourself to just look at the sky. You thought the clouds might be pretty, but the night was a little breathtaking.

"Ya awake?"

You didn't say a word.

"C'mon, Y/N, I know ya are."

"Yeah, I am," you sighed, saying shortly, "-Can't sleep."

There was an echo of footsteps, and then you felt body heat beside you. There was a beat.

"Ya ain't gonna say anythin'?" Rick hummed, turning his head to face you.

You matched his eyes (he's probably more handsome now, honestly), "About what?"

"Me, ya know," he motioned, to your side, "-layin' with ya."

You laughed at him a little, before teasing, "Awe, you miss it, don't you, sheriff?"

"Not a sheriff anymore," he hummed, something a little heavy in his voice.

"Eh," you shrugged, looking back to the stars, "-you still are in my mind."

Rick smiled at you, wordlessly.

Before you added, plainly, "Mostly because I love a man in uniform."

He laughed then, big and bright, and you felt something warm in your chest that you knew but hadn't felt in a while.

You wanted to be genuine, really genuine.

"You are a good man, Rick," you turned to look at him, and he looked straight back, "-We've all done shit we never should've, and maybe it's fucked us up a little bit, moved our path in the wrong direction once or twice, but-"

You looked back up to the sky, still feeling his eyes on you. It was kind of like a dream, like the apocalypse wasn't real for a second, just you and Rick. And maybe you wanted that a lot more than you knew.

"-you've got a big heart, Rick," you finished, soundly, "-And even if sometimes you lose sight of what you're doing, or maybe who you are, that... that doesn't change."

Rick didn't say anything for a moment, words echoing out into the night air. You couldn't find it in yourself to regret them, though. You never really regret what you said these days, there was no reason too.

You really only regret what you didn't say. Maybe to people who aren't around anymore. Your heart sunk a little in your chest, but it felt a little lighter -just a smidgen. (Maybe because of who you were with.)

"I got somethin' for ya," Rick suddenly spoke, sitting up (you followed suit).

You furrowed your eyebrows, "You got me something? When?"

Mindlessly, he replied, "On the last run."

You pursed your lips but waited patiently. He moved over to his pack, unzipping one of his pockets and pulling something out -you couldn't quite see. Trying to peek you moved over a little, but nothing.

With a breath, he stood back up and waltzed over to you (somehow he made walking hot, they needed to research that), extending it forward right into your face.

You blinked, gently taking it into your hands and looking at it closely. It was dark so you couldn't really-

Batteries. He handed you a pack of AA batteries.

"No way," you laughed out, "-you remembered that?"

"I remember a lot of what ya say," he offered casually, and you felt something shoot down your spine. And with a breath, he sat right beside you, so close your knees bumped a little.

Pulling your bag over to you, you dug around in it. You'd kept the DVD player and DVDs, not really with the hope of finding batteries. But, to feel a little human, remember life before.

You'd taken to putting stickers on it when you saw any, so the top of it was covered in an assortment. You ran your fingers over it a second, taking it in, before flipping it over. Popping open the little tab, you let out a breath of relief when it was AAs.

Rick laughed.

"I was going to be so pissed if it wasn't," you spoke, "-you have no idea."

He just looked at you then, in a way you'd seen before but never really thought about. You turned back to your bag, shuffling around to find your stash.

"You want music or a movie?"

"Movie's fine," he hummed, and you still felt his eyes trained solely on you. You tried to shake it off.

"Let's see," you pulled out a few of the movies you had, showing them to Rick, "-I've got... a kid's animated movie, or... a... cheesy romcom!"

Rick stared at you, instead of the movies, before flickering to them.

Rambling, you continued, "I also picked up some horror stuff, but I... I really think that was a bad move on my part."

He laughed again, just looking at you in a way you didn't really know how to label. Or react to. You were kind of a little overwhelmed at the fact that he'd even gotten you the batteries, and then the way he was looking at you-

"Think romcom sounds good," he interrupted your thoughts, scanning over you.

"Alright," you acknowledged, putting the other ones up, and scooting back next to him -not enough to touch. It was a little awkward and you weren't sure how you were going to-

"I don't bite ya know," he quipped, laughing a little.

You turned to him, grinning, "Well maybe I do."

Rick laughed again for a moment, just looking at you. And then he extended out an arm, welcoming you into his side.

You paused a moment, before carefully guiding yourself to slot into him; the back of your head against his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around the back of your shoulders. You brought your knees up, to carefully balance the DVD player (shaped like a little laptop really). A tiny little screen for the two of you to see on. Logistically, that's why you were so close but a part of you thought a little otherwise.

"I don't," you hummed.

"What?"

"I don't bite."

He laughed a little, "Good."

"Unless you want me to-"

And the laughter that filled the night was just between you and him. And maybe in the morning, you were fast asleep on his shoulder and maybe he looked at you a little like you were the greatest thing he'd ever seen and maybe he shushed all the others just to have the moment last even a second longer.

You'd never really know.

Now, you were in Alexandria. You'd gotten Maggie back, you'd gotten Judith back. You were on a new high, and that meant two things. More pestering, and two, flirting with Rick.

You were walking through Alexandria with Maggie, just keeping her on her feet really. She wasn't super pregnant yet, and it was good to be healthy.

"I cannot believe you're pregnant," you mindlessly remarked, holding Judith close to your side.

"I have been," she retorted, "-for a while. Think ya have had time to digest it."

"But, it's like physical proof that you fucked," you commented, "-unprotected, by the way. I know you missed that sex-ed day, but seriously-"

"Carl's proof that Rick fucked," Maggie defended, eyes smoothing over him with a few of his friends.

"Well," you pursed your lips, "-I know that Rick fucked. Just on principle, he's-"

She motioned for you to zip it, "Don't start. I know you are doin' good, which is great. But it also means ya become a lil' unbearable."

"Me? Unbearable?" You turned to Judith, cooing a little, "-Can you believe the nerve of her, Jude?"

Judith smiled at you with her big brown eyes and toothless little mouth. You pinched her cheek, instinctively, "So cute."

"I still can't believe that you're in love with Ri-"

"I told you that in confidence," you interrupted, pointed.

Maggie stuck out her tongue at you and Judith laughed a little at it. Funny faces, right. You could physically see the pregnancy hormones on her face as she cooed at Judith.

You would've said something, but you had just done it yourself.

"Where's your keeper anyway?" You hummed like you'd been stuck with her (you actively searched her out).

"'E's not my keeper," she responded, sternly (mom voice, already?), "-and he's out on run, gettin' supplies."

"If he's not your keeper, how'd you know who I was talking about?"

"You are so-"

Before she could finish such a kind sentence, the two of you were interrupted. A presence waltzing up to your side.

You turned to look who, and-

Your heart lept into your throat. It was Rick, now clean-shaven, and although, you had loved the beard (don't even get you started), his jaw was on full display. Blue, blue eyes. And dipping to his clothes, he was in a damn uniform.

"Look at you, Rick," you complimented, smiling.

"'Heard ya liked a man in uniform," he smiled (a new type of way), and winked. And before you could say a word, he walked forward -past you.

You stuttered to a stop, Maggie right beside you. Blinking you turned to her, and she looked right back at you. And then you both turned to look at Rick, still walking the same way he was.

Turning back forward, you opened your mouth, "Sorry, did that just happen?"

Maggie hummed, pulling you with her, "It did."

"How did I never think of that?"

"Think of what?" She offered, as you smoothed back into a step with her.

You answered, eyebrows furrowing, "That he might flirt back."

She shrugged, "If it helps, I never thought he would."

"I am not against shoving a pregnant woman," you hissed back, with no bite. You never really had any. And you both broke into laughter, as you roamed through Alexandria.

Now, Daryl was leaning against a house as you stood beside him -pestering as always.

"No, listen," you turned to him, attentively, "-it's called fuck, marry, kill-"

"I ain't playing it with ya."

"C'mon, Daryl, it's fun, look-" you flagged down Glenn (who was carrying a box, of what, who knows?), "-Glenn, fuck, marry, kill. Michonne, Carol, and Daryl."

"Easy," he laughed, "-fuck Michonne, marry Carol, and sorry, dude, but kill Daryl."

"See?" You motioned to Glenn, as he walked forward.

"Don't ya 'ave a wife?" Daryl remarked, as Glenn moved along.

"Oh please," you shook your hand dismissively, "-it's all just fun. Just hypothetical scenarios."

"Okay, now," you started over, "-fuck, marry, kill. Deanna-"

"Kill," he answered -unflinchingly.

"See!" you cheered, "-you're getting the hang of it-"

"What are the two of ya doin'?"

You turned to see the one and only Rick Grimes, a little more worn today, which you kind of preferred, still had those bandaids on (how did he make that look hot?), and more casually dressed. In the white t-shirt, we trust.

"I'm teaching Daryl how to play fuck, marry, kill," you answered, eyes solid on him, "-obviously."

Before he could respond, Daryl chimed up, something mischievous in his eyes. You squinted at him, trying to figure it out. And then he opened his mouth.

"I got one," he spoke, a smile teasing on his lips (looking at Rick, directly), "-Y/N, Glenn, and Rosita."

You stared at the eye contact for a moment (everything was so suspicious), before asking, "What am I supposed to do with myself?"

Daryl shrugged, you bit your lip a second.

"I guess I could kill myself, big waste, but-" you paused, "-ooh, wait, I could, like, clone situation fuck myself-"

"Now, 'at would be a sight to see," a low southern drawl interrupted your words, and your voice faltered to a stop.

You turned to him, squinting at him for a second -trying to understand. All he did was wink at you again, and you hated that it made your knees a little wobbly. Especially when he was holding onto the column of the porch, and slightly leaning toward you-

"Before I was so rudely interrupted," you cleared your throat, "-I would marry Glenn, fuck Rosita, and, tragically, kill myself."

Daryl nodded his head, before motioning to Rick, "What 'bout ya?"

"Am I playin'?" He questioned, finger pointing to himself and eyes dashing to you.

"Might as well," you shrugged, "-you're already over here."

He pursed his lips a second like he was thinking, eyes particularly avoiding you, "An' I can't choose one person for two of 'em?"

You swallowed, oh, he was playing dirty.

"Nope," Daryl answered.

And then, he turned into something much softer, something more familiar, "Then, marry Y/N, fuck Rosita, and kill Glenn."

Marry?

Your heart lept into your throat, and your fingers started fidgeting with your shirt -instinctively. How the hell was he winning? I started this game-

"Thought so," Daryl responded.

And out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carol. Her eyes matched yours a second, and you tried to convey how desperate you were to get away from this very scene. Her eyebrows furrowed for a second, but then she spoke.

"Hey, Y/N! Can you come help me with the food?"

"Of course, Carol," you called back, smiling at the two of them, "-sorry, duty calls."

Rick just grinned at you then, like he knew exactly what you were doing. And you were 100% sure he did. Stupid handsome men with stupidly beautiful blue eyes. Ignoring the fact that you physically brushed against him to get off the porch, you frantically caught up to Carol.

You were in the pantry now, gathering ingredients, Carol directing you -naming them as she found them.

"So," she looked at you, "-are you gonna tell me what that was about?"

You pursed your lips, before answering, "Rick's flirting back with me."

Carol raised her eyebrows at you, "Huh."

"And I was teaching Daryl how to play fuck, marry, kill, and he-" you rapted your fingernails along one of the cans, "-and he said he'd marry me. But all... genuine and shit."

"And that's bad?"

"No, no," you shook your head, putting the can into a basket, "-It's not bad. Just... I don't know if he means it."

"You just said that he said it genuinely," Carol pointed out, grabbing another can.

"Well yeah, but-" you scrambled a moment, "-all that time ago, I was flirting genuinely. I mean even though it was playful, it was still genuine."

"And," she connected the dots, "-you're not sure if he's genuine?"

"Yeah," you skimmed along the shelves, gathering the last can she needed.

"Well," she took it from your hand, blue eyes on you softly, "-if it's worth anything, I think he's genuine. And maybe this is his way of showing how he feels about you."

You hummed, wordlessly.

"He's let you flirt with him this long," she continued, bringing a hand up to your shoulder, "-that has to mean something, doesn’t it?"

She had a point.

"Now," she adjusted the basket, "-are you actually going to help me with the food? Or was it just an excuse to run away from Rick?"

You laughed, "I'll help, I'll help. I'm not a total dick. Speaking of-"

She turned to you.

"Do you know if Rick's full name is Richard?"

It was a few weeks later, and they were filled with frustratingly blue winks. And that was one thing, but now you were being stupid. You were stupid.

You'd thought Oh, it'll be just like old times, I'll go out on a run. It'll be so nice-

And now you were walking with a gunshot would, quickly bandaged by a rip of your t-shirt and whatever you had around you. Which in whatever the hell store it was, was not a lot. All you'd managed to find was alcohol so you at least soaked the shirt.

You'd blearily walked all the way home, eyes foggy, and praying that a walker wouldn't come near you. And now you saw it, Alexandria.

"Gabriel," you called, breathlessly, "-Gabriel, please let me in."

You heard him say something but you were delirious. Maybe something with your name? Head fuzzy and eyes bleary, you were coming down from the high of getting somewhere safe. As you waltzed into Alexandria (pain in the abdomen so hot it almost felt numbing), there was a swarm of people around you immediately. Felt like you were back in the prison, when Maggie would be waiting and you think she was now.

"Hey, hey," she chanted, grabbing your face (and you could see her now), "-look at me, Y/N, tell me what the hell happened."

"Some guy, the bitch," you muttered out, a little slurred you think, "-just shot me, because he wanted the last of the damn Campbell soup, who shoots someone for Campbell soup?"

Her eyes dropped to your body, you mindlessly noted that it was sticky. Your eyes dropped too, and saw all the red -so much red.

"I think I lost a lot of blood, Mags."

"Somebody go get Rick, and the doctor, now," she shouted (loud, loud), before turning back to you, "-How the hell did you get here?"

"I walked," you answered simply.

"You walked?" She responded, hands on your shoulders, "-How did you-"

You were safe now, and everything in your body just gave out.

"Adrenaline is a hell of a drug," you hummed, laughing a little, before falling to the ground.

Your head stung from the ground, as Maggie tried to get down by your side -all pregnant belly.

"'S okay, Mags, don't-" you mumbled "-don't hurt yourself."

She frowned, and you thought she might have tears in her eyes, "I have to stay with you, Y/N, whose going to keep you awake-"

"Glenn," you called, and you saw him saunter up to your side, a little slurred, "-take care of 'er, help her sit. Don't worry, Mags, don't worry-"

You heard a slap of footsteps then, quick and brisk, and before you could wonder who, blue eyes and rough hands were guiding your face. He was starting to grow his stubble back, you mindlessly noted.

"Rick," you smiled a little fuzzily, reaching up and patting his face, "-See Mags, Rick'll take care of me."

"Hey, hey," he brought your focus to him, "-keep lookin' at me, okay?"

"Well," you slurred a little, "-'at's not very hard, sheriff."

He turned to the crowd then, voice low and gruff, "What the hell happened?"

You heard Maggie respond then, through sobs, "'Ey said that some guy shot 'em, over a... over some food."

"Didn't even ask if he could have 'em, first. Who does that-"

"Daryl," he motioned -tone low, and he immediately nodded. You watched him leave your eyesight.

Rick instead, brought your face back to him, as you recognized the doctor to be by your side, scrambling with some white stuff.

"Hey, hey, baby," he spoke, low in a whisper, "-I'm 'ere, focus on me. Look at me."

You smiled again, delirious, "You called me baby, that feels nice. Everythin' else burns-"

"I kno', I kno'," he soothed, you felt pressure on your abdomen (hissing in pain, as your eyes got more blurry), "-ya did a good job gettin' back 'ere. To where you're safe. Ya did a good job."

"Just kept walking," you slurred, "-couldn't stop. Wasn't gonna die to some asshole."

Rick laughed then a little, and you felt something a little different than pain. Your hands naturally came to his face, mindlessly rubbing your thumbs against his cheekbones. He's always been so handsome, only gets better with time.

You noticed he leaned into it a little, careful not to hurt you. Yeah, you realized, he was genuine.

God, what if you had missed out on this, with Rick? All because of some stupid can of soup-

"Rick," you started, and he looked at you a little like you held the world, you were the world maybe, "-I think I'm gonna die."

"You're not, no-" he held his hand over yours (it was so warm. Why had you never held his hand?), "-You're not gonna die, baby. You're gonna be fine."

"I'm bleeding," you breathed out, scanning over him, "-Been bleeding the whole time. You're not supposed to bleed that much, Rick."

"Ya ain't gonna die," he repeated, hands gathering your face, "-Look at me, ya ain't dyin'."

Concern clear on his face, you felt the urge to soothe, soothe, soothe-

You looked at him, eyes scanning over his face. He was handsome, yeah, but he was caring, smart, and so, so kind. You wanted to tell him that, see what he'd say. What he'd do.

"'Said that you were a good man, 'at you have a big heart," you hummed, eyes languidly blinking, "-still mean it. Don't you forget it."

He looked at you for a second, eyes flicking all over your face, before looking to the doctor. She must've said something (your ears felt stuffy) because then Rick was picking you up. He was everywhere, smell, sight. All you could feel was Rick, body heat thrumming and blooming into your side.

"Always knew you were strong," you mindlessly remarked.

You felt Rick laugh in his chest, and your eyelids were so heavy then. You slowly began blinking, your brain slowing down. Maybe you could close your eyes just for a little bit.

"Got so much to say to ya."

And then, it all faded to black.

This blanket is scratchy as hell, you mindlessly remarked. It was almost like a thin sheet, barely coating you, and you think if you moved your arms, it would make that noise that shitty bedsheets did. Why were hospital beds so bad? Shouldn't they be comfortable?

And then your nose was hit with the heavy sterilized air. You scrunched your nose up on instinct, it made your throat burn-

"Y/N? Darlin'?"

You slowly blinked your eyes open, heavy and languid; they always had those florescent lights too. How was that helpful?

"'S too fucking bright in here."

You heard him laugh a little, maybe in relief mostly, and you blearily blinked to get a look at him.

"'D turn it down for ya if I could."

You laughed a little and squinted your eyes open, laying gently on him. He looked a little worse for wear, his hair messy and shirt a little crooked. You wanted to fix his curls back in place, and your hand moved before you could stop it.

Gently, you threaded his hair back. He was a breath away from where you laid, so it wasn't too far of a reach.

Rick looked at you so softly, that the words cut off your from your lips. And with a breath, he pulled your hand down from his hair, sliding it against his cheek. Before you could say a word about it, he turned his head and gently kissed your palm.

You bit at your lip, eyes flickering over him, "How long have you been here?"

"Since the doc' allowed me to be," he answered, fidgeting with your hand -not really wanting to let go, you guessed.

"And Mags?" You asked, concern flickering through your eyes, "-Are she and the baby okay?"

"Yeah," he looked at you, a little in disbelief, "-they're alright. She was stressed, yeah, but Glenn kept 'er calm."

"And," your eyes darted to your abdomen, where your wound now hid, "-the wound?"

"Good," he replied, eyes swimming over you like he couldn't quite believe you were okay, "-Doc' says ya just need to rest, not irritate the stitches. Which I kno' will be hard for ya."

You sighed, leaning your head back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling, "I am going to be so bored."

Rick chuckled a little, before falling suspiciously quiet. You turned to him, just to see him looking down and fidgeting with your hand -a little like he was working on saying something. You simply waited.

"'Ve been looking for those batteries since ya said ya wanted 'em," he spoke, a little quietly.

You froze, "Since the prison?"

"Yeah," he offered, "-apparently 'ey're a hot commodity."

"Why?" You questioned, looking at him curiously, "-Why all that work for some batteries?"

"Because," he hummed simply, eyes matching yours now, "-ya wanted 'em."

You pushed your lips into a thin line, the glimmer of hope sparking in your chest. Not saying a word, you just stared at him for a second; not unlike in the early days, you were just admiring him for a lot more than his (still unbelievably handsome) face.

"Y/N, I-" he started, eyes dipping back down to your hands. He seemed to pause a moment, debating.

And then he looked up at you, eyes set in his path -unflinchingly. In a sort of understanding, like everything made sense to him now. The silence was heavy until he leaned forward and brushed his hand along your cheek -carefully. It made you feel precious, and your eyes maybe got a little cloudy because of it.

"I'm in love with ya," he let out a breath, tone heavy and genuine, "-an... and the way ya blatantly hit on me but in the damn most genuine type of way."

You laughed a little and leaned gently into his palm. He looked at you in a way you couldn't label then, or maybe you could (love), and rubbed his thumb along your cheekbone.

"I didn't know how to react to it, at first," he hummed, something settled in his eyes, "-the attention ya gave me. 'S somethin' I've never dealt with before."

"Really?" You let slip past your lips, and his grin grew wide as he let his head fall and shook it, smiling at the ground.

"Even now," he laughed a little, turning his gaze up again, "-ya always said thin's like it was so easy to do. Like ya were tellin' me 'at the sun was hot."

"You did give me some pretty good set ups," you clarified, smiling at him.

"'Never meant to," he added, grinning a little in wonder, "-I couldn't think straight when ya said 'em, so I'm surprised I even did."

You hummed, eyes twinkling at him and he looked at you just a little more like he was in love. It made a spark shoot down to your toes, warmth flooding your chest.

"If it's worth anything," you spoke, a little embarrassed, "-my brain stops working when you do the fond thing."

"The fond thing?"

"It's just," you sighed, trying to articulate, "-It's a way that you look at me, or... or smile at me. When you do the soft stuff."

"What exactly is-" he hummed, gently, holding your attention like your words really mattered, "-'the soft stuff'?"

"Uh," you blew a raspberry with your lips, "-like giving me the batteries, and... and that whole conversation actually."

"Oh," he laughed a little, blue eyes twinkling, "-like I was in love with ya."

"What? No, you weren't... not that early-"

And then you looked at him.

"Shit," you marveled, "-really?"

"Like I said," he smiled at you, a little like you were cute, "-I looked for those batteries for months. For ya. An'-"

His face got a little more serious.

"-I really missed ya. 'At was probably when I first realized it."

You rolled your lip inbetween your teeth, "Yeah?"

"Ya used to make everybody laugh, and were always smilin'-" he explained, "-it wasn't even just the flirtin', it was just... I knew ya were hurtin', an' I couldn't help. Or I... I didn't know what to do to help."

You just stared.

"An' I missed ya so desperately, I just-" he let out a breath, "-It all clicked into place, and I went on 'at run, hopin' to god there were batteries-"

You laughed a little weepily, leaning into his hand.

"-because I just wanted to make ya feel better. Bring ya back to me."

"How the hell did you even find them?" You questioned, wiping at your eyes, "-It couldn't have been that lucky."

"'Wasn't," he replied simply, "-I was only supposed to do a few stores, I did the whole strip."

"God, really?" You smiled, "-For batteries?"

"No," he hummed, simply, "-for ya."

You fell quiet.

"I would do anythin' for ya," he added, voice a little breathless, "-anythin'."

"Anything?"

Rick laughed a little, grin bright, "Ya need to rest, baby."

"That's not a no," you chimed, grinning.

He looked at you a certain type of way then, "'S definitely not a no."

You felt your heart pound in your chest for a moment. That was something to look forward to. Something stirred in your stomach.

"What?" He asked, teasing, "-Ya all bark and no bite, hmm?"

"If I wasn't bedridden," you spoke flatly, "-I would kick your ass."

"Ya would," he agreed.

And you laughed, eyes smoothing over his face. Before noticing something you hadn't quite said yet.

Words fell out of your lips, "Even though you probably already know, because I've chasing you all this time-"

He smiled at you.

"-I love you too," you finished, "-if it wasn't obvious."

"'Was kinda obvious," he leveled -teasing, but something was sparkling so bright in his eyes that you didn't really mind.

"Yeah, yeah," you moved your hand dismissively, "-don't start, sheriff."

You paused for a moment, eyes dancing along the room, "Do I get to go home today?"

"No," he spoke, with a certainty that shook through your bones (this man had literally everything), "-'Need to be taken care of, so ya are stayin' wit' me until you're healed."

You blinked at him, he was doing the fond thing again. Your mind relaxed to a low hum.

"Maybe after too," he added, tone softer but not any less certain, "-if ya want."

You stared at him, wordless.

Rick blinked, looking at you, before grinning, "'At the fond thing?"

"Yeah," you cleared your throat, embarrassed, "-I don't... It's been a long time since I've been cared for. At all. And you're a very handsome man offering to-"

"Not offerin'," he clarified, eyes set on yours, "-just doin'. 'Specially now, 'cause I kno' ya love me too."

All headstrong, decisive, and certain. How was this happening to you?

"'Thought you said it was obvious?"

"It was," he hummed, grinning at you, "-I could just barely wrap my head around ya flirtin' with me. Couldn't really see it."

You thought for a second, before speaking, "Was it Daryl?"

He grinned at you, tilting his head a little, "Maybe."

"Always knew he was a big softie," you hummed, "-read him like a book when we first met. Stone layers to an ooey-gooey center."

Rick scrunched up his nose, "Ooey-gooey center?"

"Sometimes," you sighed, "-Sometimes I say stupid shit around really attractive people. It's a habit."

"'Guess 'at means you're still gonna be flirting with me?"

"As long as you want me to, sheriff," you clarified.

"So maybe forever then," he grinned and you felt your heart leap into your chest (fuck his fond things). You were totally never getting over that.

"Yeah," you hummed in agreement, "-Maybe forever then."

Mission accomplished.

[huntingcupid]

WHAT IF? WITH MERET MANON BANNERMAN

NOW PLAYING : JOPAY BY MAYONNAISE

~ dadalhin kita sa aming bahay 'di tayo mag-aaway aalis tayo sa tunay na mundo sa tunay na mundo 'wag ka nang mawala ('wag ka nang mawala) 'wag ka nang mawala ('wag ka nang mawala) ngayon ....

⌗ MANON — fem!reader, angst, fluff, manon disappears, reader gaslights herself, swearing, mentions of hatred, etc...

⌗ SYPNOSIS — pano kung bumalik ang greatest what if mo?, will you say hi?, or just ignore her — but you can't

college was tolerable, it wasn't memorable whatsoever — all you wanted was to graduate, leave and possibly work a job you didn't like which in today's economy and world is the norm — your days filled with homework and essays with the shortest time to finish

yet it always felt less intimidating when manon helped you — manon's presence saved you from ever dropping out and pursuing your dreams, which was to build a smoothie shop and live by the shore — the ocean always spoke to you, it called your name even, you dreamt of it with her

manon would go over to your dorm and sleepover almost every night claiming her roommate was loud — you never complained since you loved it

you loved her, everything about manon was beautiful

“how about you?, what will you do in the future” manon mumbles as you two lay in your bed listening to laufey songs — for a moment you paused and looked at the woman who seemed so interested in what you will have to say

“i want a smoothie shop, like imagine fresh fruits turned into smoothie, especially when it's near the beach, that's just heaven” you replied, imagining it in your head — the vision was there and it looked amazing, “maybe even running the place with you” you tease smiling

“that sounds amazing — and yes i would love to run it with you” manon replies looking into your eyes, the air is charged with unspoken tension, as manon tilts her head immediately melting you on the spot, she looked so majestic and her eyes, god her eyes they were so doe and perfect

you two were stuck in the moment just admiring each other — enjoying the peaceful silence, manon looked like your future, she was your comfort and home

“it's getting late, we should sleep” you murmur, manon nods and closes the night lamp beside the bed and snuggles up at you, her head buried in your chest, you kiss the top of her head, “goodnight” you whisper — “night night” manon replies softly minutes later you hear her yawn and you knew the girl was down

the next week manon suddenly tells you she wants to stay at her dorm for the night — weird, she hasn't slept there for about 2 weeks now, yet you didn't press further knowing she had her reasons, instead you focused on studying for the meanwhile

you call manon on a friday night hoping she was free, and could stay over — you had planned a movie night and bought snacks you two loved, the phone rung, and rung — until maybe 5 minutes later the girl picks up

“sorry, I was busy — why y/n?” manon's voice was tired and obviously she was hiding some emotion that you couldn't pinpoint — “are you alright, manz?” you ask, a minute passes and you hear the girl shakily exhale from the other end of the line

“I'm okay — j-just tired” she stutter, you didn't want to pry on her anymore so you just humming "i bought snacks, wanna watch twilight?” you follow, smiling ear to ear excitedly

“ i-i- don't think i can come over right now y/n” manon breathes out, her voice cracked and it worried you — “are you sure you're okay?, manz I'm getting worried” you ask your brows furrowed, “yeah” — “you know i love you right?” manon suddenly says which caught you off guard

“i do, why? — i love you too” you replied still a bit worried for the girl, “nothing baby, just reminding you — talk to you tomorrow I'm buried in work” manon quickly reasons before hanging up

confused and somewhat upset you just place down your phone and stare at the snacks you had bought — your bed that you did extra comfy with your laptop ready — you sighed and just laid down, settling on watching some rom-com that miserably failed to make you happy

you open your phone yet again and scroll through social media, yawning you felt bored and most especially confused — you open manon's instagram account only to see it has been wiped — absolutely nothing was on her account besides her bio and profile picture

now you're really worried, what is she hiding? was she getting forced? — questions ran through your mind nonstop, time ticks and you decide to take your bike to manon's shared apartment — she lived closer to campus and so far from your dorm, you text manon telling her your on your way

[you] “bby?, are u still up? I'm on my way there”

[manz 🤍] “y/n, it's late go home”

[you] “too late I'm already here”

[manz🤍] “i love you okay?”

you stare at the message confused, you're gonna see her anyways? what's the point of sending it? — you shrug it off and knock on her door, you wait till you hear footsteps and the door opens — her roommate opens it

“oh hey dani, where's manon?” you ask smiling, daniela frowned biting her lip a bit — she looked behind her and you follow her gaze, the place was empty, only danielas clutter was around, “she left just a few minutes earlier” daniela murmurs

in denial you grab your phone and open your chats, desperately calling manon's number, dani could only look at you guiltily — your eyes formed tears as your call got sent to voicemail for the tenth maybe fifteen time

“manz, answer please..” you plead silently — “where are you?” you murmur, hours passes by and you kept calling and messaging, it was 2:30 am by the time you left daniela's place

you could barely think, where is she?, why did she leave?, why didn't she say anything? — did she plan this?, to leave you and start a new — or did she had to hide it

you coddle yourself in bed, still calling her line, you couldn't text her maybe she blocked you, you were worried and beyond weirded out, “manon please” you plead, the sun starts to rise as you stay restless in your bed the previously bought snacks forgotten

you take a cold shower, and got ready for class, you arrive in the classroom having a glimmer of hope that maybe manon might be there, but she wasn't — the class was eerily silent almost as if they knew

“so class, I'm sure you are all aware that manon has transferred out, we will no longer be seeing her for the rest of this semester” your professor says, everyone looks at you like on cue, you looked around — everyone knew?, is this a sick joke?

“can i go to the restroom please?” you mutter silently your prof only nods seemingly aware of your emotional state — “i'll go with you” lara replies and you nod softly

you two walk to the restroom and you lock the door, letting lara do her thing — “y/n, manon told me that you didn't know, about her leaving” lara starts, she breathes then continues, “she said she loved you, but needed to leave” your heart breaks feeling it fall apart again, your eyes water for the hundredth time just this morning — “w-why? — am i not worth staying for?” you stutter, lara enters the cubicle and hugs you tightly shushing you and comforting you

“trust me y/n, manon did it for the best” lara murmurs, you only nod not knowing why — not understanding, it felt like the world turned on you and everyone was just fine with it

when you got home you melted into your bed, just laying in silence — hugging the teddy manon bought you during your first date — it smelled like her, vanilla and cinnamon, it felt like she was there again hugging you to sleep or laying her head on your chest murmuring her love for you

that week you tried to track her, or possibly find anything about manon — nothing everything led back to her now cleared account, you tried calling everyone, anyone, yet all they told you was manon told them to stay silent

your life barely moved from there, you were stuck, thinking where you went wrong, why she left you without a word — you call her number one last time, it was 2 am, you were sleep deprived and obviously sick

the line rings then clicks, “manon? — my love is that you?” you sob, “please come back, please let me fix what i did, whatever it is” you murmur, manon breathes heavily on the other end of the line — you finally heard her voice for the first time in weeks, “y/n, you have to stop, i-i-” manon hesitates “i found someone new here, you need to move on” she mutters before the line went dead

“new?” you utter to yourself, tears streaming across your face as you try to think, try to make sense of things, you sniffle and drown in your own sorrow

bedrotting and barely going to class to the point that even your classmates got worried you looked sick like truly sick — pale and malnourished, with deep bags under your eyes

“y/n, are you okay?” megan asks — “fine, just you know tired” you respond, you finally chose to focus on school tired of chasing someone who clearly didn't want you anymore

the next months you worked on yourself and focused on studies till you finished your course in business — you work as a business manager for a few years before finally saving enough to move near the shore

you dreams were slowly getting built yet someone was missing, the shop was open, you were comfortable in life — you had everything yet in the late late nights you'd open a familiar box with things manon left and just hug them for hours, letting the idea of her presence wash over you

you manage the shop and hire employees and quickly it grew, selling so much each day, you used your money to adopt animals and buy ex-classmates gifts, yet inside you it felt blank, empty like a void

you'd drown yourself in work but it didn't change the fact that you were alone — you sit in your at home office staring at stocks you had to approve and buy — your coffee long gone cold, “i need to stretch” you hum standing up and wearing a robe, you walk to your terrace, watching as the stars reflect on the sea, the waves providing a calming sound, “hmh” you hum — you take a look around just thinking to yourself, this is your dream right?, enjoy it, why are you busy thinking about her? — live your life a little, but maybe she'd-

“okay enough, i'm going to bed” you cut yourself off walking back inside to your room, laying in your bed as you hug a familiar teddy — snoring softly

the next morning you woke up to the soft chirping of birds as the waves made a soothing music — you stretch away your drowsiness and yawn, “morning” you murmur, you stand up meeting the cold floor which you hiss at, taking a quick shower and wearing something for the beach you walk to your smoothie store — opening it

you check the stocks and if the place was clean like you wanted it to be — your first employee comes in, ezrela she basically did everything and was such a kind soul — “mornin!” ezrela greets, “morning, have you checked if we still have mangoes?” you replied, ezrela checks her phone and furrows her brows, “yup, we have enough till maybe thursday” ezrela estimates you nod, “thanks ezzie, I'll take a quick dip, you get ready here” you replied, ezrela smiles and waves you off

you walk to the shore and dip your feet in the water, the cold water a contrast to the warm sun, you were wearing a white floral maxi dress that you had to hold up careful to not get it wet, “oh it's beautiful today” you murmur to yourself, smiling ear to ear

shortly after you came back to the store seeing the line pile up, you took care of the cashier helping out while ezrela and her co worker made the smoothies — slowly the line was finished and only a few more people to serve, “our tissues are running low” you mutter to the girl behind you, “on it” she replies

“i can take who's next!” you smiled, “really?” you hear an all too familiar voice say, you look up and see her, manon — she looked mature and aged but not in a she looked so old but in a way that she aged like wine

“manon?” you ask, looking up the girl, she smiles softly and for a moment you felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest, “yes, y/n — I'd like a four seasons smoothie” manon replied pulling out her wallet, you blink dumbfounded but put in her order, “that'll be 4$” you replied shortly biting your tongue as you tried not to look at her — “here” she hands the paper bill, your hands brush and a flicker of something tenses up the air

for a moment you two stayed in silence, afraid that one wrong move will set the other off — “i got the tissues miss?” ezrela breaks the contact and you blink just smiling awkwardly, “thanks ezzie” you respond shortly giving manon her change and watching as she sit at the side table

you serve the last few people before serving manons smoothie, “heres, your drink, enjoy your day-” you tried to walk away but manon grips your hands pulling you in a bit “wait, can we talk?” she looked hopefully at you, “yeah, I'm off in a few minutes” you respond despite not wanting to

the clock ticks and just like that you were off, you remove your apron and sat beside manon, she smiled yet again, the same smile you missed and melted for

“I'm sorry” manon starts off, and you already knew it was gonna be bad, just by the look and the sound of her voice — “pfft! it's in the past manz, i don't care anymore” you replied, you're lying, obviously she hurted you more than anyone yet you still loved her more than everyone

“sure?, i didn't mean to leave abruptly, you know” she says, it intruiged you and mildy also upsetted you, so against your better judgement you replied a snarky but soft reply(?), “yeah, you didn't mean to but everyone knew except me, right?” you chuckle, manons eyes draw back sensing your inner turmoil, “it's not like that y/n-” you cut her off yet again

“who's the new girlfriend manz?” you ask, which caugh her off guard, rather than responding directly manon had seemed to short circuit, saying the randomest things ever, “okay….” you awkwardly follow

“where are you staying here?” you ask, “oh I'm actually here to write a article about business near the beaches, im staying at a airbnb near st, dove” she responds casually her hands tapping the table a gesture that you associated with nervousness, you still knew her mannerism woah

“st, dove? — my house is there too!, say wanna have a tour?” you smiled, manon smiles back and nods happily, you two walk out of the store walking back to your street, manon almost tripped with the way she was staring at you like she was memorizing your face

“you look so different, pretty but more youthful” manon compliments, you felt like butterflies roamed your stomach with how happy you were, “thank you ms.meret — here we are” you sigh showing the house manon looked impressed to say the least

you two enter manon dropping her bag at your couch, she looked around often times stopping infront of framed pictures — “this is nice y/n — you really went through with that dream” she hums

you sit at the sofa shortly after her, and nod bringing a glass of water, you take a sip then respond, “worked hard, i got everything i dreamed of, i guess” you murmur — “what about you?, wheres ms.”i found someone new”?” you qoute your last call with manon which tensed the atmosphere yet again — manons shoulder went stiff as she looked at you remorseful

“i-i- lied so you wouldn't wait on me anymore — it hurt hearing you beg every night” manon says, instantly you felt like your gut was wrenched and everything you knew was a lie, manons hands wrap around yours rubbing her thumb across your palm — “but you still didnt tell me anything huh?, i thought i did something” you bite your tongue feeling betrayed yet again, somehow the pain doubled knowing that all she told you was also a lie

manon tears start to form as she frowned knowing her actions made you feel the worst, she felt guilt not telling you anything — “I'm sorry, i was accepted into my dream university and i just had to leave” manon replied explaining where she had gone all that time — “why didn't you just tell me?” you ask looking into her eyes as you tear up too — it felt bitter so bitter, “i couldn't, i had my reasons y/n, but I'm here now, please let me make it up to you” manon replied as she choked over her words, you wanted to scream at her, tell her how much she didn't deserve you anymore yet your body reluctantly hugged her tightly missing her scent, her warmth, and her embrace

manon tightens her arms around you just stringing out apology after apology, as you tried your best to shush her humming a soft tune as she buried her head in your neck

did you forgive her?, no! — she still had to make it up to you and make it up she did

every morning the ghanian would wake you up with flowers and fruits, chocolates and stupidly big teddy bears — visiting you in work everyday just to drop pick up lines that you thought were cheesy

but your favorite was her walking you back home after work — manon would have her hands around your waist and talk about how her life went while she was gone and ask you the randomest of questions

“how did you recover, while i was uhm gone” manon asks as she held your hand warming yours as she felt how cold yours was — “well, i don't know — i just remember finally like locking in, focusing and then i worked loads of part time jobs to somehow get this started” you replied gazing out

“you didn't deserve that — you never did” manon suddenly says, you look at her concerned and saw how she was already biting her lip trying to stop herself from crying out of guilt, “i know manz, but you blaming yourself again won't make me feel better” you murmur, stoping in your tracks to wipe away the womans tears, her eyes were trained on your face as she sniffled

manon looked beautiful, smiling softly as her eyes were shining with tears yet behind that beauty was a fragile girl who still loved you no matter what happened

“i know.. i just can't help it y'know” she chuckles, her hands now on top of yours making your hands stay on her cheeks, and for a moment you two stare at each other, without a second thought you pull in the girl

kissing her softly, her lipgloss now smeared on your lips as you tip-toe to her height, she was sweet and felt so soft, manon grunts and pulls away after a few minutes, her chest heaving as she looked at you adoringly

“let's take this inside yeah?” manon giggles lightly tugging your arm as you two make it inside your home — safe to say it was a long, long night

wc: 3.3k words

a/n: im back with the fourth angst in a row, fluff will be out shortly :)

[s4turns-st4rs]

i know you love me, even when you can’t say it like you mean it !

🎧 ﹐ ♡﹒ dean winchester oneshot﹒ ᶻ ᶻ

𝐚/𝐧: guys who’s back! mars posting semi-regularly?? we must be in some alternate reality! this is some lowkey angst (w a happy ending obv) with peak pathetic dean. it’s pretty different to the one i posted yesterday (? maybe the day before?) SO let me know which one you prefer. anyway enjoy lovelies xxx

requests are always open <3

in which: dean hates it when you fight, but he hates the silent treatment most of all.

words: 0.61k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none!

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: as above, so alone - copeland

it’s still silent when dean returns from the corner store down the road. he tosses his purchases on the small table in the centre of the motel room. two packets of crisps, a bottle of soft drink, three skin mags. he doesn’t make a joke about the latter. that’s the first hint he hasn’t forgiven you. or himself. you don’t know yet.

he doesn’t look at you, sharp green eyes scattering across the room, looking for something to distract him from the way the guilt gnaws at him. the bandages across your body make him feel ill. it’s all his fault. and he blamed you. god, he feels ridiculous. but he won’t admit. you both know it.

sam has long since disappeared, with his laptop, continuing his mind-numbing work on the case. but dean doesn’t want to think about the case. he doesn’t want to think about vampires. he wants to think about you. to apologise, to make sure you’re okay, to beg, on his knees, desperate for your forgiveness. but something deep in his gut stops him.

you still haven’t said anything, curled up on the stained couch. dean wants to stab his eyes out. he sits at the table, burying his face in his hands. anything to avoid looking at your bruised, bloody, beautiful face.

you’re both too stubborn. the two of you sit there for an hour, until sam comes into the kitchen to grab a drink, accidentally stumbling upon your tension filled, unspoken competition. he’s witnessed your fights before, but they’ve never lasted this long.

dean’s eyes flicker between your face and the old newspaper articles that line the walls. he’s close to cracking.

you open your mouth to speak to sam, presumably to explain the mess of a situation you’ve found yourselves in, but that’s his breaking point. if he can’t speak to you, no way in hell is sam allowed to.

“fine! i’m sorry, okay?”

you look shocked at dean’s sudden words, not expecting the apology, especially given in so easy. sam takes his cue, silently treading back to his room, but keeping the door slightly ajar, just in case he needs to eavesdrop.

”i’ve been stupid, okay? you’re right, you’re always right, and i should shut up and listen to ya, especially when your life is on the line. it was dumb of me to run into the stupid vampire nest, and it’s all my fault ya got injured.”

is this a win? dean doesn’t know anymore. he just knows he wants you back. needs you back. it’s only been a day, but he’s practically tearing his heart over this, over missing you. missing your smile, your kiss, your laugh, your touch.

but as he watches your reaction, he doesn’t care that his ego’s taken a hit, because a tiny smile plays at the corner of your mouth, despite your split lip, and his heart soars.

“it’s not your fault, you know.” you respond, voice still a little raspy. “but, yeah, it was pretty stupid.”

dean nods furiously, and suddenly feels tears pricking in his eyes. he wipes them away as fast as he could, but he knew you noticed. he’s red faced and teary, but he smiles a little despite himself, knowing you didn’t blame him.

“… well, i’m still sorry, princess.”

his insistence makes you smile, and you respond. “you owe me a drink, you know.”

dean rolls his eyes and lets out an indignant groan, but the smile now permanently on his face tells all.

“i hate you.” he huffs. but he doesn’t. you both know that. he loves you more than life itself. and he is so glad to have you back.

[simpsdept]

Yandere Alastor x doe! Fem child reader

“Little Doe”

An: not a request but an idea I had while in school! I’m still rusty since it’s been like- 7 weeks since I last posted but I hope you enjoy!

Sorry if it’s bad! I am still rusty on writing and Alastor is difficult to write for

The great and powerful radio demon was taking his usual stroll around the streets of Pentagram city. As usual, demons were freaking out at his presence, some even taking pictures of him only to have their screens shut off. Alastor kept his usual smile as he walked, nodding at a few ladies he passed by, who giggled when he left. In the way to the hotel, he heard a bleat like noise, causing his ears to perk up.

Usually, he’s not sometime to go after someone who’s hurt, but he couldn’t ignore this one. It felt like an instinct. Even if he didn’t have those mother deer urges, he still had an instinct to protect the creature that made the bleat. He walked over to the area, came/microphone in hand and stopped at the scene, raising his brows, keeping his smile.

He saw four, shark like sinners picking on a young, fawn female. You. You were a young, small, maybe about 8 years old, and helpless in the grasps of the shark sinners. You had tears in your eyes, opened wounds from the attacks, bruises on you limbs. Alastors eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke up. ‘Why what seems to be going on here?” Alastor says in his normal cheery tone.

“None of your fucking business, now beat it” one of the shark sinners snarled, tugging on your deer ears. You let out a whimper, closing you eyes tight, you were scared, in pain, and so confused on why they were doing this.

Alastor let’s put an amused chuckle, and didn’t move from his spot. “Are you sure you want to do this? We can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. And trust me…” some green sparks rose around him, his voice more stadicky “you don’t want to choose the hard way”

The shark sinners seemed to get the message, letting go of the fawn, but still trying to act tough.” Yea-well. How do we know you’re tellin the truth? What if ya bluffing?”

Alastor let’s put a small ‘hmm’ sound and shrugged. “I suppose that is what one mag think, but I am not bluffing. I don’t tolerate fools like you harming a young lady.” Alastor informed and walked closer. “So I suggest you make your way out of here before I make you.”

The shark sinners looked at each other for a minute before scoffing and walking away. Alastors smile grew bigger, then he looked at your trembling form. “Now now my dear, don’t be afraid. I’m not here to cause you any harm.” He said with a happy tone “what might your name be Young lady?”

You muster up the courage to look at him, your innocent eyes averting from his “[n-name]” you say in a slightly shaky soft tone.

Alastor chuckled and spoke “[Name]? What a wonderful name little fawn.” He held his hand out for you to take “if you don’t already know me, I am Alastor. The pleasure is mine of meeting you” he said bright and loud. Which gave you slight reassurance. No one in hell is this happy, and that made you feel better when Alastor was happy. Alastor crouched down and checked your body for any wounds, which he found a few.

“It seems that you are injured! Why don’t you allow me to help heal you? The hotel is just a little ways” he offered. You know you shouldn’t say yes to strangers, especially not dangerous ones, but for some reason he seemed genuine, and comforting. The only smiling face in hell you’ve seen so far. So you nod. “Wonderful! Now let us go my dear” he carefully scooped you into his arms. Carrying you small body. You relax a little in his arms, as he takes you to some hotel he was talking about. You’re not sure if you should trust him, but you feel like you should. Even if you didn’t know what could happen when you do arrive.

[fractale-circuit]

ERMMM ERMM ERMMMM hello 👋 how do u interpret hanks soft side 😁 also do you characterize the hanks (e.g. mc6 hank vs mc7 hank) any differently?

ohhh.. ohoho. i like this one. i like this one dearly. this is going to get lengthy.

i think i remember it being canon in some way shape or form.. krink stream maybe? that 2b is the one who sees their soft side, and i 100% agree. not just as a 2bhank enthusiast but also because that's your medic, if he's going to nurse your wounds you can't bite his face off big guy. easy.

but even so, calling it soft is.. somewhat of a stretch. hank doesn't really know "soft", they know neutral tolerance at best. softness with 2b is merely obeying. allowing themselves to trust his word and that he doesn't intend to hurt them is frankly further than they've ever been with anybody.

with time, though.. if i can cheat and give a bit of a cop out.. they learn to express gratitude in their own very peculiar ways. there isn't much of a space between soft and unsafe by way of their attachment.. hank can get brutal when they've realized how much they like you. they flip back and forth between those expressions like a metronome. nice borderline personality disorder, wimbleton, did your parents give it to you? ..oh.. wait.

as for differences in their various states.. absolutely. i love writing them going through these exceedingly fucked up seasons of life. i struggle to remember what exactly happened in what episode (fake fan.. OTL) so bear with my descriptions.

hank pre.. mc6 i think? pre metal jaw situation; perpetually annoyed, full of stupid quips, unafraid to speak their mind. will tell you to fuck off and all the directions you should take to do it if they don't kill you first. dislikes include authority figures and anybody in their business. they aren't exactly cold i wouldn't say, but not approachable.

hank post metal jaw situation; much, much quieter. more of a soft seethe than a blinding aggressive rage. they don't talk much if at all anymore, initially due to the pain but over time they just prefer the silence. things aren't worth words, but they think much more intricately, the quiet allows them to do that now. it sort of causes them to slow down in a way.. not physically, but mentally. still not approachable and just as ready to kill first ask questions later, but.. they're painfully aware. yet still so numb..

i have yet to toy with MAG hank very much, but i think that stage would be more of a mix of the other two.. to give a sort of demonstration with how those stages look compared to one another (and hopefully not go on more tangents explaining my madness fic timeline because jebediah christoff this is long..) the former fic i linked here, along with its currently only entry in my main series, is set after hank loses their jaw. the latter and its accompanying beginning are set before.

i really do think that injury sticks with them most because it was their first "permanent" damage.. even for somebody so steeped in violence, that's jarring. it changes the entire game and makes you wonder what else can happen to you that's suddenly irreversible.

thank you very much for the ask! as you can see, i am.. thoroughly diseased about this one's psychology. cheers.

[jahayla-writes]

FINNICKKKKK🥰

okay what about... r and fin both being victors from district 4 and sent into the quarter qwell? and r being really shy and quite and fin is super protective of her. maybe an established relationship?

The Timid Tribute : Finnick Odair x Reader

(Finnick Odair x Victor!Reader / Finnick Odair x Tribute!Reader / Finnick Odair x District4!Reader / Finnick Odair x Gf!Reader / Finnick Odair x fem!reader)

Descr: 6k wc, Finnick and his timid girlfriend find themselves in the arena for a second time thanks to the 75th Hunger Games being the 3rd Quarter Quell. Despite the odds and their allegiance to protect Katniss Everdeen, Finnick will do whatever it takes to protect y/n.

Warnings: Hunger Games type warnings, violence, trauma, blood and injuries, fighting, death(s) [not main characters], and related. Please let me know if I missed anything!

The News

“Honey?” Finnick frowned. He watched as y/n continued to sit in complete silence, just staring at the now-black screen. “Please talk to me,” he encouraged softly while he scooted closer to her on the couch. “Come on,” he pleaded as he cautiously pulled her to him, hoping to avoid startling her. Finnick knew they were both already drowning in emotions over having heard the announcement from the Capitol just moments ago. Yet, the anguish in his heart amplified when y/n’s timid eyes flickered over to him as she visibly tried to maintain her composure. The second he saw the wobbling of her bottom lip, Finnick nodded emphatically and rubbed her back. “I know, I know,” he cooed.

“Finn…,” y/n attempted, her voice cracking. She tried to swallow the tight lump in her throat. “F-F-Finn, I… can’t, I can’t,” she whimpered, still staring at the blank television screen despite the way Finnick had her head resting on his chest.

“You won’t, okay?” Finnick vowed, his heart beating rapidly. “Chances are, you won’t get reaped,” he argued. He wasn’t sure if that was necessary statistically true. But, it was what y/n needed to hear. And what Finnick needed to be true.

“Finnick,” y/n sighed, leaning back to look at her boyfriend’s face. “M-Mags can’t,” she pointed out as she shook her head. Mags was District 4’s oldest surviving victor and far too sweet for her own good. “Annie, she… still isn’t herself yet,” y/n added, explaining why the only other surviving female victor apart from herself was not a viable option to be reaped for the Quarter Quell.

“What are you saying?” Finnick croaked, his normally honey-coated voice coming out gruff from fear.

“Finn..,” y/n whined softly. She didn’t want to have to say it. Hell, she didn’t want to even think it. But, realistically, she couldn’t let Mags or Annie be reaped. While understandably none of them would want to return to the deadly arena they once won, y/n was the only one who stood a chance. As victors of their own games, none of them were supposed to have to fight in the Games ever again. But, unsurprisingly, Snow and the Capitol changed the rules. As terrifying as it was to think about having to endure that trauma all over again, y/n knew she couldn’t stand by if Annie or Mags had their names drawn for the reaping. It was between the three of them. And while she loved them both, y/n had no faith in either of their survivals should they be chosen.

“No,” Finnick stated firmly. He sharply angled his body towards y/n. He shook his head. “Y/n, you’re not-,” he begged.

“It’s not like I want to,” y/n whispered. She felt horrible about it herself. And even more so when it came to what she was asking Finnick to be okay with. She sniffled as her guilt over worsening his predicament brought tears cascading down her face.

Finnick sighed deeply. He reached over and gently pulled y/n back towards him. “It could be Shaynee,” he argued weekly. No one had heard from the last remaining female victor in nearly two years. No one in District Four really knew if she was even still alive. But, Finnick had to hold onto the small chance that it wouldn’t be the love of his life going into the Quarter Quell. He didn’t want Shaynee to have to either. But, he’d easily admit he preferred it to be her rather than y/n.

Y/n nodded wordlessly against Finnick’s chest. She opted to sit their in silence for a moment, just enjoying his presence. As the overwhelming worry she’d had since hearing the news continued to alarm inside her head, she gripped onto Finnick tightly. “I can’t lose you, Fin,” she cried.

Finnick closed his eyes and tucked y/n’s head under his chin. “You won’t, honey,” he whispered, “okay?” His calloused and sea salt-dried hands caressed her back. “You’re always going to have me, angel”.

Y/n failed to keep her composure. She clung onto Finnick’s shirt as she sobbed. Leaning back, she gazed up at him, giving him a knowing frown.

Finnick read y/n’s unspoken argument and took a deep breath. “There are two other male victors, we’ll both be fine”. He was done having this conversation, done with this being their reality. He was done with everything that wasn’t just holding her and savoring her presence. So that’s what he did. Finnick lifted y/n into his lap and hooked his legs and arms around her as he lightly swayed side to side.

Reaping Day

Y/n timidly gazed over at Finnick from the female victors’ side of the stage. She was struggling to keep her eyes clear after having heard Mags be reaped for this year’s Quarter Quell. She knew Finnick didn’t want her to volunteer to take anyone’s place. But, when saw his evident anguish over their beloved Mags having been chosen, there really wasn’t much thought that had to go into her next move. Mags had been like a mother to him over the years. Mags was one of the only other people Finnick let himself get close to. He couldn’t lose her, and if Mags went into the arena, she wouldn’t come out. Y/n on the other hand, might actually stand a chance. “I volunteer,” y/n’s voice creaked out.

Y/n had spoken the words Finnick feared so quietly that the person drawing the victors’ names barely even heard her. Yet, Finnick’s ears had long ago been trained to pick up on y/n’s timidly soft voice. And this time, her words felt devastatingly loud. Finnick fought to move closer to y/n in order to stop her, but the peacekeepers promptly held him back.

As Y/n stood at the front of the reaping stage, she kept her eyes faced out at the crowd. She couldn’t bear to see Finnick’s anger, sense of betrayal, fear, and pain. She also couldn’t stand to see Mags’s reaction to y/n offering to take her place. Nor could she handle seeing Annie’s -while understandable- tears of relief in having escaped being reaped a second time.

Yet, when Finnick’s name was called out as the male victor headed back into the arena, her head whipped back to face him. Her knees shook as she struggled to keep standing. Her eyes were wide and already drowning in tears. All of her breath left her lungs, making her choked sobs silent.

Finnick of course hadn’t ever wanted to go back into the arena again. But, hearing his name called today didn’t phase him the way he had expected. To be fair, he’d expected that hearing it would’ve meant he’d be leaving y/n’s side. That it would’ve meant leaving her to the riots taking place lately in District 4. That he’d be forced to leave her to fend for herself while he was gone fighting for the ability to be to return to her. Only now, in reality, hearing his name read aloud from the reaping podium meant he could go with y/n. It meant he’d be able to protect her and see to it that she remain unharmed during this year’s games, at least to the furthest extent possible. Nevertheless, his heart broke as he witnessed y/n’s despair over him having been chosen.

The Capitol

Finnick glared pointedly at the female tribute from District 2. He was beyond furious with the tributes, mostly the careers, looking at y/n like she was prey as she wandered around the training facility. He knew that she came across as an easy target. And while he never judged her timidity, he knew he needed to put an end to it. She had to show that she was capable of holding her own against the other tributes. Which she was. They just hadn’t seen that yet. While he was not planning on separating from her at any point in the arena, he needed to make them understand the consequences of trying to harm her should it happen against his wishes.

Finnick smiled proudly at y/n as she cluelessly sipped on the water bottle he’d given her. She just finished unknowingly showing off her skills to a room full of leering competitors. He knew she never felt confident in her abilities, so instructing her to show them off wouldn’t have worked well for the two of them. So, instead, he simply encouraged her to train and freshen up on skills she hadn’t had to use in awhile.

“You look hot,” Finnick grinned, his hands on y/n’s waist.

“Still?” Y/n questioned, trying to figure out why the water hadn’t cooled her face. “Oh,” she giggled, catching on to Finnick’s flirtatious meaning. She playfully hit his chest, smiling as he took hold of her hands and pulled her to his chest.

Finnick chuckled and pressed a light kiss to the top of y/n’s head. He knew he was being rather forward with such an act, but he didn’t care. They were both headed to their potential deaths and he was going to cherish any time he had left with her. Plus, he knew it would act as a warning to the others that his alliance was with y/n. And as such, he figured it would help protect her even further.

Finnick’s nostrils flared as he fought to keep his protectiveness in check. He was backstage with y/n as she nervously waited for her turn to do her interview with Caesar. He knew that several of the male victors-turned-tributes around them were ogling at the lack of coverage from the gown y/n’s stylist had dressed her in for the evening. Finnick could read the impure thoughts and temptations in their eyes way too easily; having recognized those looks far too well. He used his torso to shield as much of her exposed body as possible as he held her gaze.

“Hey, angel,” Finnick cooed, tenderly guiding y/n’s head back towards him instead of on the screen playing back his interview and the message he had intended for her. “Just breathe,” he guided as he watched her try to keep the tears in her eyes from falling. “You’ll get through this and then I’ll make sure our mentors have y/f/f ice-cream ready when we get back to the dorms, okay?” He smiled at the faint grin that formed on her lip. “I’ll be right here, pretend like you’re just talking to me if it helps you connect with Caesar and the audience more, yeah?”

The Games

Finnick had agreed to Heavensbee’s proposed plan to help Katniss the instant they’d offered to get y/n and himself out of there alive. That had been Finnick’s only mission since the moment she volunteered in place of Mags. Now, he finally had a realistic way to make that happen.

Yet, that didn’t stop Finnick from panicking when he saw how far away y/n was when they rose on their pedestals into the arena. He was just glad she had agreed to listen to his guidance to stay away from the cornucopia. He knew she’d be upset that he himself went into that certain bloodbath, but he needed to get their supplies and to inform Katniss of their alliance.

Y/n scanned the arena, hoping to get an idea of the landscape before total chaos erupted. She had located Finnick’s pedestal the moment her eyes adjusted to the fake sun glaring down at them. So, while waiting for the countdown to end, she let her eyes search for any other information that might come in handy later on in the games.

When the game commenced, y/n ran along the stone path to reach the meeting place she and Finnick had discussed. They’d established they would meet at whatever the tallest item was between wherever their two pedestals rose. As she skillfully ran along the wet stones, she glanced over to see much distance Finnick had made so she could adjust her speed accordingly. Only, she caught sight of him making his way to the cornucopia.

Y/n huffed loudly and cursed Finnick under her breath. While they technically hadn’t explicitly agreed that he wouldn’t do anything stupid, like heading for the cornucopia on his own, before meeting up with her, she was livid. She knew why he’d done it, wanting to get himself a trident, and surely (a) y/f/w for her. But he couldn’t be doing that alone!

Y/n whipped her head around to check her left and right for any threats as she skidded to a halt on the stone path. She took a mental measurement of the distance from her location to the cornucopia at the center of the tribute pedestals and sucked in a breath deep enough to hold her through until she crossed that distance. She promptly dove straight into the water. She felt the drastic temperature change the moment she was under the freezing water. But, thankfully her time in District 4 had accustomed her to such.

Y/n peeled her eyes open and frantically swam towards the cornucopia, her fear for Finnick’s wellbeing driving her already impressive speed. Her body relaxed ever so slightly when she saw the refracted image of him above her on the shore. He was safe and not noticeably harmed. As she reached the edge of the cornucopia, she cautiously scanned the surface before pulling herself ashore.

“Y/n?!” Finnick panicked as he protectively pulled y/n’s wet body to her feet and placed her behind him. He quickly cornered her in the back area of the dome at the center of the cornucopia. That way she was shielded from any potential impending harm. “What are you doing?!” He scolded quietly, his eyes searching her for any visible signs of injury. “You agreed to-,” he began to remind her, stopping as his head whipped forward upon hearing someone scream.

When there were two simultaneous splashes and the screaming stopped, y/n let out a sigh of relief. “I panicked,” she explained, gripping Finnick’s wrist. “I'm sorry...I shouldn't have done that, you can look after yourself...I shouldn't have...I'm sorry."

Finnick sighed, and sensing there was no immediate threat, he turned around to face y/n. “No, no,” he whispered guiltily, her sorrow over having come to his defense evident in her eyes and shaky apologies. “Shhh, it’s okay,” he cooed, turning his wrist in y/n’s hand so he could hold hers. “I was just worried about you, angel,” Finnick explained, “it’s okay. Just stay here.”

“I can help,” y/n whispered, squeezing Finnick’s hand.

Finnick smiled lovingly down at y/n. “I know, I know you can,” he nodded. “Right now though, I need you to help by staying put, I just need to find Katniss, and then we’re getting off of this death trap,” he proposed. He kissed her forehead and placed a y/f/w in her hand before he turned around and headed to the entrance of the dome.

“You’re the girl who volunteered for the old lady that was reaped,” Katniss observed. “Right?” She asked, squinting at y/n.

Y/n bit her lip shyly and nodded. Her eyes flickered from Katniss’s gaze to Finnick’s uncertainly. When he smiled and nodded at her reassuringly, she let out a relieved sigh.

“Katniss,” Katniss introduced, holding her hand out towards y/n in symbolic gesture. “That was really brave of you,” she commented kindly.

Y/n sucked her lips in as she glanced at her ally’s extended hand. After getting nonverbal approval from Finnick, she accepted the girl’s hand and shook it. She noticed the expectant but nevertheless considerate look on Katniss’s face. “Oh,” she whispered bashfully. “Y/n,” she answered, offering a shy smile.

Finnick had taken any measures possible to keep y/n in his sights at all times. When their group ventured through the foreign terrain, he’d established y/n’s place as being between Katniss and himself. He elected to remain at the back of the group to ensure he always had eyes on her. By having her stay behind Katniss, he felt reassured that she wouldn’t be risking walking into a trap. He knew the deal they’d made with Heavensbee. But, that didn’t mean he was going to let y/n be put in danger along the way.

Finnick’s measures hadn’t accounted for y/n offering herself up to find Johanna though. As such, he was taken by surprise when she proposed the idea to Katniss as their group made a game plan. He’d tried to shut the notion down immediately, but it seemed y/n was holding her ground.

“I can find her, Fin,” y/n promised. Her fingers timidly picked at her cuticles as she waited for his response.

“We really shouldn’t split up,” Finnick argued, making his way back to her from where he’d been at helping Peeta sit back up after preforming CPR on their ally.

“One of us has to watch them,” y/n reminded him, nodding towards Katniss as she protectively knelt beside Peeta. “But, we also need to find Johanna,” she defended. Johanna was in on the alliance and the sooner their group was together in the arena, the better. They would be less of a target and more of a threat as a unit. Not to mention, y/n wanted to help the girl as she had become friends with Johanna over the years after winning her games.

Finnick hated the idea of y/n parting from his side. Not because he feared she couldn’t defend herself. But because he wanted to be there should she need backup. And because he simply despised the notion of being away from her for any length of time. Yet, Finnick wouldn’t risk making her more timid. Y/n was right about them needing to split up. And she needed to believe in herself in order to handle this. Regardless of if she stayed with the latest victors or if she went to find Johanna.

Finnick scanned y/n’s body once more as he yet again checked to ensure she was fully prepared to venture out on her own. He ensured she had proper attire for any situation she may encounter, a full array of weapons on her, her shoes and hair tied tightly, etc. Only after he’d established an agreed-upon time for her to return, or at least for her to make an audible signal that she was fine if she couldn’t return yet, did he let her leave to find their friend.

Finnick groaned as he hobbled over to the sandy shore to rest his body. He knew his troubled mind wouldn’t be able to rest, not with y/n still not back yet. But his body desperately needed it after what he and the District 12 victors had endured from the poisonous fog and fighting off the monkey mutts.

As Finnick carelessly plopped himself onto the sand, he stared out at the waves. Despite the water being extremely choppy due to the wind, it was nothing in comparison to the turmoil inside of him. Hours had passed. It had been not only hours since the time y/n had parted from his side, but also several hours since the time she was to return or at least alert him to her safety. Yet, she’d not returned to him yet. He realized it might be in part of them having to leave their original location due to the poisonous fog. But, that didn’t explain why he hadn’t heard or seen anything that signaled she was trying to communicate with him.

Y/n walked blindly as Johanna guided her to the water. Her vision was completely obscured from the surge of blood that had poured down on them. The gamemakers had decided to trap them in a rainstorm of blood. Where they’d got the blood in the first place wasn’t even something y/n had the capacity to question. The simple fact that she was soaked in blood that had been pouring on them for an hour straight was torturous enough.

Finnick tossed aside the seafood he’d caught for himself and their District 12 allies when he caught sight of y/n. She was covered in some dark yet shimmering substance, her right hand clasped in Johanna’s as they waded into the water roughly a mile down the shore. Finnick dashed across the sand towards them. His pace tripled when he was close enough to realize the substance coating y/n was blood.

“Y/n? Y/n!” Finnick screamed. “Are you okay?! Where have you been?!” He questioned after she timidly whispered his name in a relieved tone as he neared them.

“Not now Finnick,” Johanna greeted, shaking her head warningly at him as she continued to guide y/n further into the water.

“I found Johanna,” y/n murmured shyly, coughing when the blood still dripping down her head entered her parted lips.

Finnick frowned and rushed into the water. “Hey, hey, hey,” he soothed, cupping y/n’s cheeks in his palms. He squinted worryingly when she flinched briefly at his touch, as if she didn’t know it was him. “Honey, tell me what happened,” he requested.

“Y/n got us out,” Johanna answered, squeezing y/n’s shoulder before heading towards the others. “But that’s when the rain started,” she explained, shaking her head in annoyance. She scooped up water and poured it over Wiress’s head. “We thought it was water… It turned out to be blood. Hot thick blood that was coming down”.

“It was choking us,” y/n spoke up, reaching out and feeling around until she was able to clutch onto Finnick’s forearms. “We were stumbling around…gagging on it…blind,” she whimpered.

Finnick heard Johanna continue to explain the events, but he’d heard what he needed to know already. He rubbed y/n’s cheek with his thumb, frowning sympathetically at the amount of blood that came off with his touch. “You’re safe now,” he promised. “Let’s get you cleaned up, love,” he offered, taking her hands in his.

“You’re okay, keep your eyes closed, honey,” Finnick instructed as he guided her to her knees in the water. He whispered various soothing sentiments as he tended to her, being sure to get all of the blood off of her. She didn’t need any lingering visual reminder of what she’d just gone through.

Finnick watched y/n’s chest closely as he tried to gauge her breathing. She was balled up between him and Johanna. Her head was resting on the edge of his shoulder as her hands were hooked around her knees. Finnick caught Johnna staring at him questioningly and he shook his head.

“Do you want me to make the others leave?” Finnick asked, worried by y/n’s shallow and quick breathing. “Or we could go for a walk, get some fresh air,” he offered. He figured Katniss trying to decipher Wiress’ rambling wasn’t helping y/n clear her mind.

Y/n shook her head. She could do this. She had to do this. She couldn’t fall apart now, they still had so long to go. She tried to take a deep breath, the intensity of its choppy sound making her panic worsen.

“Hey, just breathe,” Finnick guided, spinning around on the sand until he was seated in front of y/n. “Sugar, look at me, look at me,” he whispered, tilting her head up. When her eyes met his, he smiled supportively. “In and out, okay? Copy me”.

Y/n smiled tiredly as Finnick returned to her side. “Thank you,” she hummed shyly. She felt her already stabilizing heart rate relax further as his arms wrapped securely around her.

“I’m never letting you leave my side again,” Finnick vowed. “I was so worried,” he confessed as he rested his head on y/n’s.

Katniss had informed their group that the arena was set up like a clock, and they agreed to head to the Cornucopia to gather weapons, as well as to scan the area and verify her theory. The whole way there, Finnick was being overly protective of y/n. He knew she was already bouncing back from the blood rain, but still wished she could have more time to recover from the mental impacts of it before they had to head to such a risky location in the arena. As such, it wasn’t until Johanna had scanned the back of the cornucopia for threats that he let go of her hand so she could move freely.

Their group huddled over a diagram of the arena Peeta had drawn in the sand as they reviewed the different threats in each sector. Y/n felt eyes on her when Katniss asked if she’d seen anything during her time away from their group. She smiled faintly in appreciation to Johanna when she answered for y/n that all they’d seen was blood.

“It doesn't matter,” Peeta reassured y/n, sensing her remorse over not having known more information about the arena. “If we know which sector is active, we’ll be safe,” he concluded, standing up from his kneeling position in the sand.

“Yeah, relatively speaking,” Finnick remarked, unable to be as optimistic as Peeta given the hourly threats weren’t their only trouble.

Y/n’s eyes snapped away from Finnick at the sound of Wiress’ gasp. She pulled a knife out of her pocket and threw it at Gloss as he stood behind Wiress. She frowned as she noticed that despite her knife and Katniss’s arrow having struck Gloss flawlessly, the man had already taken Wiress’ life.

Finnick moved forward to keep y/n from running to Wiress as the woman collapsed to the ground.

Y/n tactically shoved Finnick aside, spinning to strike Cashmere with her newly obtained trident as the District 1 victor charged towards him. She knocked the tribute to the ground and they promptly wrestled against each other.

Finnick went to help y/n after having realized why she’d pushed him aside. Only, he found himself having to fight off Brutus instead. He growled as he attempted to finish the battle quickly.

Finnick had barely rose back up from his knees after a blade seemingly tossed by y/n scraped Brutus’s shoulder and scared him away when Peeta was running after the monster of a victor. He stopped Peeta’s offensive move, knowing he’d easily be outmatched by the District 2 tribute. He shoved Peeta’s resisting frame back as his eyes searched the cornucopia for y/n. Just as his eyes found y/n’s tousled hair, he was knocked down as the ground underneath him began to spin.

Y/n gasped as she was suddenly thrown off of Cashmere as the cornucopia rotated. Her fingers frantically searched the damp rocks for a place to hold onto. Just when she thought she’d found one, a slab of metal flung off the dome and knocked her hands off of the thin grasp she had on the structure of the cornucopia. She let out an uncharacteristic scream as her body tumbled down the wet foundation towards the water. It wasn’t the water that worried her, it was how fast the surface was spinning above the water that was the problem. If she were to hit the side of it on her way down, she’d suffer the same fate she just watched Cashmere endure.

“Y/n!” Finnick shouted upon hearing her scream. He held tightly onto the surface as he mentally pleaded for y/n to be okay. He instinctively caught Peeta when his body slid down the rocks beside him, keeping him afloat without having to shift his mind off of thoughts about y/n’s wellbeing. His blood ran cold as he heard his love let out another scream.

“Y/n! No!” Johanna screamed, futilely reaching towards the surging water below her. She and Katniss were both still struggling to stay on shore, but y/n had been flung off despite three victors’ best efforts.

Finnick found himself unable to breathe when the cornucopia stopped spinning. But it wasn’t from the surge of adrenaline, nor from the speed of the spinning motion. Instead, his fear and concern for y/n had rendered him breathless. He scrambled to his feet the second the surface stopped moving. The trident in his hand shook nervously as he frantically searched the island for her.

“Finnick!” Johanna shouted, waving him over.

“She fell in,” Katniss explained breathily, giving Finnick a remorseful look.

“F-Fi-,” y/n forced out, choking on the freezing water as she breached the shore. She hadn’t seen what happened to him after she’d thrown the blade at Brutus awhile ago. Long before the very ground they were on literally turned against them. She needed to know he was okay.

Finnick once again picked up on y/n’s quiet exclamation. His eyes snapped in the direction of her voice and he sighed in slight relief upon seeing her alive and breathing. He tossed his trident aside as he ran down the stone trail that lead to where she was. He helped her pull herself ashore, holding her to him immediately. “I thought I lost you,” he whimpered, tightening his grip on her frail and trembling body.

Finnick pulled back after a moment, his eyes searching y/n’s face. “Say something,” he begged. Her timidity was too concerning right now. “Are you hurt?!”

Y/n grabbed Finnick’s bicep as she staggered backwards to show him her leg. During her fight with Cashmere, she’d been stabbed in the thigh. Having been dragged down the rough surface of the cornucopia surely hadn’t done much to help the wound. She swallowed as she took note of just how much worse the injury now was.

“N…no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Finnick rambled, his eyes watering. He dropped to his knees, his hands pressing firmly against y/n’s wound. “Y/n?” He questioned when he didn’t hear her whimper even slightly at the pressure. His eyes gazed up at her as he sucked in short choppy breaths. “Hey, I’ve got you, you’re going to be okay,” he promised, seeing the defeated look in y/n’s eyes.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Finnick instructed, adjusting his hand placement when Johanna ran up to him with a small first aid kit from the cornucopia. “O-okay? Honey,” he whispered, trying to prevent his voice from showing the fear that was surging inside him, “just focus on me… We’re going to be okay!”

As Katniss discussed the plan with Peeta, y/n walked over to Finnick. She tried to hide her limp, not wanting to worry him further. “Do you need anything Finn?” She asked softly as she set her hand on his shoulder.

Finnick quickly turned his head upwards, not knowing she was going with Katniss on the supply run. “No, love, where are you going?” He asked rhetorically. He knew where y/n was planning on going based off her question and the plan they’d all formed. But, he was hoping by asking she’d reconsider.

“She needs help,” y/n whispered shyly.

Finnick smiled lovingly at y/n but shook his head. “I’ll go with,” he proposed, knowing y/n wasn’t going to relent on her helping Katniss.

“Finny,” y/n sighed. “You don’t have t-“.

“I know,” Finnick said. He picked his trident up off the ground and took her hand in his other. “Ready?” He asked.

Y/n’s eyes shot open as she heard Finnick screaming her name. She whipped her head back and forth in search of her boyfriend. She silently ran after him as he bolted into the gathering of trees. She froze when she heard her own voice screaming for Finnick’s help. Jabberjays. “It’s not real!” She yelled, resuming her running. Only, the Jabberjays playback of her voice was far louder and Finnick had run too far for her to reach him.

“He can’t see you, stop!” Johanna explained, motioning towards the clear barrier between the hourly sectors as she held y/n back.

Katniss was on her knees, pressed up against the invisible divider between her and the others as the Jabberjays mimicked her sister Prim’s voice. The District 12 victor had been fortunate enough to see the others through on the opposite side of the divide before she was overtaken by the screaming. So at least she knew it wasn’t real.

Finnick wasn’t that lucky. He’d left Johanna watching over y/n as she and Peeta slept. Meanwhile he was only a few hundred feet away, teaching Katniss how to form some knots for the next step in their plan. That’s when the Jabberjays attacked. He hadn’t even thought to look back to where he’d last seen y/n when he heard her voice crying for him to help her. Instead, he instinctively rushed towards the sound. As such, he’d ventured further into the Jabberjay sector than Katniss and didn’t have the chance to see the others were safe, to see y/n was actually safe. Sure Katniss tried to remind him that they were just Jabberjays. But, he knew Jabberjays copied things they’d heard. Meaning y/n could very well be hurt somewhere in the arena somehow right now, begging for him to come to her rescue.

Tears streamed down Finnick’s face as he knelt on the damp grass. His hands were shaking as they covered his ears, his heart racing out of control. This had to be fake. The screams coming from the Jabberjays were excruciating. If y/n were truly screaming at that volume instead of the Jabberjays increasing it for the purpose of his torture, she had to be in a near-death state. He’d never heard her this loud before. It had to be fake. He couldn’t live without her. It had to be fake. It had to be.

“I know, I know,” y/n cooed as she embraced Finnick. She had wrapped herself around his crumpled frame the second the invisible barrier between them had absolved. “I’m here, handsome, I’m here,” she promised, gasping as he clung onto her.

“You’re sure you’re okay?!” Finnick repeated frantically, leaning back to see y/n. His eyes analyzed her several-hour-old wound on her thigh despite her nodding her head. He pulled her back into his embrace, pressing kisses all over her face.

Y/n gasped as Finnick jumped in front of her, intentionally trapping her between him and the tree behind her so she couldn’t take the arrow that Katniss had pointed at them instead of him.

“Katniss, remember who the real enemy is,” Finnick spoke calmly. He slid his foot backwards to signal for y/n to stop trying to wordlessly squirm her way out from behind him. He wasn’t going to let her try and block the arrow him hitting him. If one of them had to go down like this, it was going to be him.

Finnick didn’t need to see y/n’s expression to know she was too timid to say anything, her fear silencing her. Nor did he need words to know she was angry that he was making this decision for the both of them. But he had to.

Finnick let out a sigh when he watched Katniss move her bow away from him and point it towards the artificial sky above them. He felt y/n move to his side, his hand finding her hip and tugging her closer while his gaze cautiously stayed on Katniss.

As the girl from District 12 released her bow, Finnick moved y/n back. He guided them both to the ground before the impact could knock them down. Finnick saw y/n’s worried stare and he stroked her cheek before he covered her with his body. “Stay down honey, we’re getting out of this together,” he murmured lovingly.

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Something to Feel, Something Real [Finnick Odair Smut]

Pairing: Finnick Odair x male!reader Song Inspo: Call Me By Your Name by Lil Nas X Word Count: 1,394 Summary: You've seen Finnick around, often through pitying eyes, but haven't spoken to him. The times you have seen, he's either with a client (flirting) or leaving them (shaking with shame, rage, and disgust). You decide to make him feel something real and mutually pleasurable. Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), emotional build-up, MxM, one-shot, begging, substance usage, cursing, narrator pov Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly) A/N: This is not attached to "I Promise", my other Finnick imagine. The second part will be here shortly. Just adding a little twist to the end. *smirks villainously* In the meantime, here's some gay smut to tickle your tentacles. Peep the easter egg tho ;)

You and Finnick have your first real conversation when he’s arriving back at the Tribute center one night after spending an upsetting few hours with one of Snow’s clients. He’s in a foul mood, anger bordering on despair and self-hatred, still feeling the ghosts of unwanted fingers on his body, when he steps into the elevator and finds you smoking a joint.

"Shit, shit!” you curse, hiding the joint up your sleeve and coughing, waving your hands in the air like you can disperse the smell. “Sorry, someone was smoking in here before,” you lie.

Finnick can’t help himself. He laughs. “Give me a hit and I won’t tell anyone.”

You share the joint in the elevator, not hitting any button to go up to either of your floors. The chatter comes easy with both of you, but it’s not long before you’re stepping over friendly small talk into a genuine conversation about the wild shit you’ve seen in the Capitol and in your case, at home, too. District 2 loves to rub elbows with the Capitol, something you despise. Your comparisons and imitations have Finnick barking laughter.

During one of the lulls in conversation, he takes in your face and form, basking in the fact that he’s responsible for the smile on your face right now. He’d like to get to know you better, and fuck it, maybe he’s a little horny right now, too.

“Come to my floor?” he asks, the joint between his fingers. He takes a slow drag, watching you.

You stare at his lips as he exhales. God, the high must be hitting because all you want to do is cover his lips with yours. Like, it’s the only thought rattling around in your peanut brain. His lips curl into a smile and--Oh, shit. He asked you a question.

“Sure,” you answer.

One expression Finnick identifies all too easily is lust. And he sees it plain on your face. “Then let’s go.”

Finnick leads you to the lounge on the fourth floor, well away from the bedrooms. The giant windows let in light from the Capitol’s nightlife.

“I miss the stars,” you say once you’re both settled next to each other on a loveseat. “It’s not like there are a ton of them back home with all the light pollution, but still. There are more than here.”

Finnick gazes at the dark sky. “You should come to District 4 sometime. You can see the entire Milky Way. And instead of listening to all those cars you listen to the ocean. And you can forget everything for a few moments.”

Despite the lounge being much, much larger than the elevator, this feels far more intimate. Finnick and you face each other, your eyes flicking to his lips. He’s the Capitol sex icon and has always acted like an absolute peacock on camera, but you’ve seen him trying so hard mentoring his own tributes and taking care of Mags. There’s a lot more depth to him than what the cameras show. And you like the bits he shows off camera far, far more. Those bits are coming out tonight; a funny, deeply caring, deeply hurt young man with a vast capacity for kindness.

When he came into the elevator, he looked positively miserable and so, so defeated. Like he had been stomped on and ground down. You wanted to make him smile, a real smile, but then you couldn’t stop at just one, and now here you are. You know about his and Snow’s “arrangement”. You also know you can treat him better than any of the “clients” do even when they’re trying, and you wonder if he’ll let you treat him like that.

Your intense stare has Finnick shifting, feeling a few degrees hotter than before.

“Can I kiss you?” you finally ask, voice low. If there’s one thing being a Career has taught you, it’s to grab at any opportunity you see. Finnick swallows. “Yes,” he croaks. “Please.”

You lean forward and capture his lips, one hand on the back of the couch and the other securely in your lap. You’re close and leaning into him, but not holding him. The restraint surprises him at first. But he’s grateful for it and he relaxes. He sinks into the kiss, his own hands venturing to fist in your shirt collar and hold you there. You let him lead, let him feel your arms and touch your face and chest, but never move your own hands from their position, just pour your all into your lips against his.

The lights flick on. You and Finnick snap apart like a rubber band snapping back into shape. It’s Mags. She looks between you both with wide eyes before a mischevious smile breaks across her face. “No, no, Mags,” Finnick protests.

She winks, grinning, and flicks the lights back off. She exits.

Finnick groans. “I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

You grin and wink. “Well, if you’re never going to hear the end of it, we may as well make it worth it, right?”

His seafoam eyes lock on yours, an eyebrow lifting. He smirks. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

Leaning forward, you whisper in his ear, “I’d like to suck you off.”

All thoughts leave his head and all blood flows straight to his groin. For once, he’s speechless. No one has ever offered this before. All the people he spends time with want his attention on them, want him to fawn over them, wants him to boost their egos with his attention. And if they did off, he’d wonder what they want in return. Exactly like he’s wondering right now. He should ask, but his brain is too focused on the thought of your lips around his dick. Does he really care what happens after as long as he gets what he wants, first?

At his silence you withdraw. “Only if you want me to, of course,” you add. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable.

“Yes,” he hastily replies. “Yes. I’d love you to suck me off.”

That affirmation is all you need. You kneel in front of him and slowly unzip his pants, revealing plain boxers beneath. Finnick watches you, his heart pounding. With agonizingly slow movements, you touch his length and guide it through the gap in his boxers. He grips the cushions of the loveseat as you lick up the underside of his member, from the base to the tip. Your tongue is deliciously wet. Finally, you take Finnick into your mouth and work him slow, slow, slow. One hand balls into a fist on his leg and the other slips in your hair. He moans, a low sound that barely reaches your ears.

You can’t believe no one has ever done this before. You’ve barely started, and he looks absolutely wrecked and so goddamned pretty. His head falls back against the loveseat and he lets out a shaky breath.

Fisting him, you take your mouth off to quip, “Have I made the Finnick Odair speechless?”

He huffs a laugh, meeting your gaze. “Just wait until I have you on your back and—oh.” His words end in a strangled moan as you suck his head. You ease him a little bit further into the rhythm before you deep-throat him. By then both hands tangle in your hair and he’s whimpering and trembling, muscles taut. “Fuck. Fuck.” It’s so warm, so hot, feels so, so good.

He comes shortly after, cock hot and stiff in your mouth, his entire body rigid. As he comes down from his high he melts into the couch, both his hands gently tugging at your head. “Get up,” he pants. You comply and stand, bracing your arms on either side of his head, and kiss him. There it is again, that restraint.

“Touch me,” he moans. “Please.” He might combust if you don’t.

You obey and cup his cheeks. His hands mimic yours, holding your face to his while you kiss. His stomach feels warm and body completely relaxed, for once completely in the moment, his brain pleasantly quiet.

He opens his eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You press your forehead to his, cheeks hot. God, there’s so much you want to do to him, with him, but not tonight. “You can go to bed and get a full night’s sleep,” you answer.

What? He knows he heard you right, but what? “That’s not what I meant,” he says hesitantly. You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

“I know.” You brush back a lock of his hair. “And as much as I’d like to fuck you or you fuck me and make out well into the morning, you taking care of yourself is what I want the most. Can you promise me you’ll do that?”

Finnick can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “I promise.” He feels almost bashful. How do you know what he needs? Beneath your soft gaze he feels vulnerable and open, and while it’s foreign, it’s not unwelcome.

You smile at him, a brilliant smile that lights up the night. “Thank you.”

You’re thanking him. You just gave him a blowjob and you’re thanking him. Who the fuck are you?

After exchanging a few more minutes of sweet nothings, you leave to head to your floor. Finnick stays on the loveseat a while longer, smiling, watching the twinkling lights of the Capitol. The content expression gradually falls from his face and he sinks into the reality that is his life. At least this has been a sliver of good in what is his constant parade of masking for the Capitol. Maybe he can have a few more of those slivers when you’re around. He’s certainly going to try to grab the chances when they present themselves.

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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[rei-ismyname]

X-Men #16 review

AKA Magneto takes dexies

Fuck me, this book has had 16 issues, though if you asked me for an elevator pitch I'd have to say 'problems keep happening, except in the snow.' This latest snow problem arc feels like it's picking up the pace, but it covers maybe 5 minutes of their life. It's exciting - fake X-Men, a fight with bad guys, and Magneto taking drugs - but you can only run on 90/10 setup/payoff for so long before it drags. If nothing else, hot Magneto is back and full of drugs! 💊🧲

'Nuh uh, it's MY treehouse.'

Last issue ended with Cassandra Nova whispering in a new mutant's ear and these jerkoffs showing to rumble. The Santo Marco six, 3K mutants we last saw fifteen issues ago. As I said then, it's great that the 3K plot is starting to move but so much has happened since then that I forgot why anyone cares. This issue spends a fair amount of time basically reintroducing them because I'd imagine most readers are like Temper - 'who?' That's taking a little too long to get back to them IMO - this isn't the X-Files where the breadcrumbs are a given. Anyway, they want to be the X-Men for some reason, so the two teams fight. IDK why Scott wouldn't offer them a job interview or something, he looks like a big mean jerk. Yeah, I said it!

Magik and Juggernaut the bash bros are all about it, amping up their previous blood knight act. Cain no shit makes a Jack and the Beanstalk reference but it doesn't really land. Scott tries to remind his violent kids that the Twin is rampaging but they don't hear. The Twin seems like their heart just isn't in it as Cassandra Nova eggs them on. Getting huge Chuck vibes from her lol.

It's a bit jarring for Scott to shut the fake X-Men down so totally then be like 'wait, the twin.' He knows Magik wants their heads and that she and Cain are like this now. He set the example by being standoffish, what did he think would happen? I think I'm still hoping we'll follow up on Scott's mental health issues, but I guess Logan cured him with stabbing and I'm looking for something that isn't there. Still, with two psychics on the team it's something that could have been addressed - even if it's 'I'm doing okay right now thanks.' Leaving any longer to follow up and it'll feel like... round two of a fight from fifteen issues ago. Significant, but wayyyy too long between beers.

Beast calling Mags a shit father is 👌👌👌

Cyke multitasks like a champ and mobilises the factory crew. Mags and Beast hinted at a prosthetic for the ailing elder mutant last issue, though he looks a lot fucking healthier right now. I've been very open about my extreme distaste for R-LDS, and that hasn't changed. Dexies. Dextroamphetamine-x, so mutant dexies - as a temporary solution is ridiculous and pretty funny. Beast just whipping up drugs is becoming a regular enough thing, but dexies, really? Mutant ADD medication? It makes R-LDS look silly-er. I'll come back to this in a separate post for now let's enjoy Magneto shooting up speed and see what it does.

Wooooo! Tight, tight, tight tight tight!

HAHA! My dude is amped up, levitating syringes and billowing his cape. Hook this man up with an IV. I hesitate to say 'Magneto is back' but it is nice to see the Master of Magnetism flex like that. Now go throw some vehicles around, old man. I know you want to.

Not sure what to make of Beast's facial expression there. We can cross 'uncomplicated joy' off the list, that's for sure. Maybe 'should I really be giving Magneto amphetamines? I was in the Defenders, man.' Yes, he should. Hook the whole squad up.

Maybe not Magik...

SPLASH PAGE! Scott orders Psylocke to take out the speedster first, but I think he's been hanging around Hank too much. 'Accelerated physiology' - Scott deserves that knockdown. The action is bombastic and kinetic with handy visual keys to show who what kind of power and how it interacts with our A team. That's a counterbalance to the sheer busyness of the scenes , though I'm not sure it's enough. The pop cartoon style clashes a little with the cinematic panels they're going for here, showing most of the 'what' in a vacuum.

As a whole I find it difficult to tell where each respective exchange is happening. Following the speedster tells a coherent linear narrative, at least - taking out Scott, struggling with Psylocke and handing off to The Vore, then getting blasted by Scott. I wonder where Piper, Xorn, and Quentin are?

Woof! If these clowns want to be X-Men they need better banter. Anyone shouting 'The Juice is loose' in battle deserves to get pounded, FR. Honestly, everyone looks like they're having fun, not like they're looking to kill each other. It's very flashy but I feel like the guy in the bottom left panel - '?' There's the feeling that this fight is not intended to have a conclusion, that it's a showcase for design and dynamics. It's possible to have both, I'm sure of it. Somebody get hurt!

Oh bloody hell the X-Men are getting in on it too, with the embarrassing one liners. I do like cosmic energy guy's design though. Is their leader dabbing? Cassandra Nova must be so embarrassed. I guess THE VORE didn't eat Psylocke's brain or whatever. The unserious vibes the fight carries makes sense considering they're trying to stall the X-Men, but it pulls me out the moment and it makes the X-Men look like chumps. Get a handle on your guys and lead, Scotty!

There we go. This guy - I'm going to call him Bighorns - accepts the chance to regroup when Scott calls it. They want to be X-Men, apparently. With that 'Here Comes Tomorrow' you might even say they want to be New X-Men. There's a set-up for an ideological discussion here - I wonder if they'll go for it. Valid points are being made, kinda. Only one team works for the genocide lady who treats people like lab rats, but the X-Men have mile-wide chinks in their armour to call out. I doubt it, but you never know.

While the action figures have been smashing into each other, The Twin has reached the town. Magneto is dexied up, controlling the Wild Sentinel he and Scott trashed before the series started. That's where we end - with the two teams talking but inherently opposed and Magneto the only thing in between Merle and destruction. Piper around somewhere, Quentin is presumably still knocked out, and Xorn is ... where did he go? Looking for Quentin still, I guess?

In the introduction I flagged the pacing as illusively slow, and looking at this issue as well as zooming out I think it sticks out more than ever. At the end of last issue the Twin was heading for the town, the two X-Men teams were having a tense face-off, while Xorn searched for Quentin off panel. At the end of the issue the X-Men have said hello, the Twin walked a few hundred meters, and Mags took some medication.

He amped up but hasn't actually done anything. Nobody has, really. A 12 mutant brawl happened but nobody's hurt and they're back to where they started. There's just a hint of payoff here, a teaspoonful - enough to taste the flavour but not very filling. Staying on the Magneto example - #15 showed him asking for medication, #16 he took it and did a pose, and #17 presumably he'll interact with The Twin. Or maybe not. The twin, on the other hand, took 3 issues to walk to town. She stopped and started a lot, but it was in service of the choice 'destroy town Y/N?' She keeps choosing yes, urged on by Cassandra Nova, but we know that Merle isn't getting destroyed. They're probably not going to kill a child either, and that's a source of tension at least.

I'm not sure if it will be any better in the trade without serious editing. The start and end of each issue bleed into each other, so it's going to feel downright repetitive. At least we're getting further away from Raid and Chuck Hunt with every step, I just wish they'd pick up the pace. The line work is tight as always, the inks pop - contrasting brightly off the snowy backdrop, each character model is distinct and dynamic - but the choreography and blocking was flat for me. Being able to tell where people are in relation to each other is crucial, and the fight looked like the shadow of fierce without the sincerity.

I'd recommend it for the Magneto content alone, but everything tastes great when you're starving. I'm sympathetic to the rigor of double shipping in a hostile creative environment, but it's been sixteen issues. There's been bursts of brilliance like the Lundquist and Scott scenes but too much padding and repetition. The best scenes shine brightly, so it's not a talent deficit. It'd be nice to have a few excellent issues consecutively, you know? I feel like I say that, or something like it, every review. Hmm, I don't want to be repetitive, let's check out how my peers in X-Men reviewing are handling it.

...

Most sites stopped reviewing this book halfway through Raid on Graymalkin - even AIPT, who review everything positively. Looks like I'm on my own there. Fuck it - adjectiveless X-Men is fun enough - I just know that the team can do better. Thanks for reading.

[mandrake-mistakes]

To Snare A Mockingjay

Gale's inner monologue when Peeta brings up "all those nights on the train." I saw some discussion about this (discussers tagged below) and wanted to give it a shot. DISCLAIMER I know this is pretty mean, if you think its too far for canon Gale that's fair. I'm just having a little fun with it. Also obviously Gale's opinions are not mine

@heartforeyes @liberalk1tsch @butterflyintochains

___________

My hackles are up the moment I spot him, with his guards to either side and a cold, dead look in his eyes. Predator eyes, I think. They’re locked on the back of catnips head. I notice her tense next to me as she swivels to follow my gaze. After years of hunting together, I can sense when she’s poised to run and when she’s about to strike. Right now, it could go either way. 

Peeta sits down. There’s some back and forth with Delly. Some bad joke with Finnick Odair. But I’m only watching Katniss. She’s been better lately, more focused, but what will she make of this patched together shell of a man? Maybe, he can find his way back to something resembling normal and she’ll be able to finally let him and all that hunger games madness go. When this war is done, I’ll be able to build something new, in a new world, and leave everything to do with twelve, and coal, and district fences behind. I want to bring her with me, but I can’t do that if she’s stuck in her past. 

“He did save your life, Peeta. More than once.,” says Delly. 

I remember that, watching Katniss on the screen lose her head over it. Sometimes she’s still that twelve-year-old I met in the woods with too much sentiment and not enough grit. There was no way he was going to survive those games, she had to have known that, that they couldn’t both win. She needed to be stronger about that. The first snare I showed her, she complained it was unfair to the rabbits. I told her it was more fair than starving to death and she came around. She always comes around eventually.

“For her,” Peeta says, jerking his head towards Katniss. “For the rebellion. Not for me. I don’t owe him anything.”

“Maybe not. But Mags is dead and you’re still here. That should count for something.” Katniss snaps. It’s a relief she’s angry and not just pitying him. Pity won’t get me anywhere. 

“Yeah, a lot of things should count for something that don’t seem to, Katniss. I’ve got some memories I can’t make sense of, and I don’t think the Capitol touched them,” he says, “A lot of nights on the train for instance.” 

Apparently, she comes around for anybody. If Peeta wasn’t already wounded beyond repair I’d knock his teeth out for that. I clench my jaw and pull my fists under the table to maintain some semblance of control. She lied to me; Katniss fucking lied to me. She told me everything with Peeta was an act but there was clearly more going on than even the cameras knew about. Desperate people do desperate things, but I always thought she was better than that. Cleaner, somehow, more careful. The thought makes my stomach churn. Next to me, a flush is creeping up Katniss’s neck and she looks away from Peeta, down at her tray of food. It’s as good as an admission of guilt. 

I’d like to be shocked, but I long suspected this is what he had over her. He gets in her head and the fire and fight I know she has in her gets muddled. At least now I know how and why. That old hatred coils around my chest, the one I always felt watching her kiss him on screen during the games. The betrayal of it, the way she acts like I don’t even exist, it burns white hot. 

“So, are you two officially a couple now, or are they still dragging out the star-crossed lover thing?” Peeta asks, pointing to me with a spoon. He’d best be careful I don’t shove the thing back down his throat. 

“Still dragging,” pipes up Johanna. 

Peeta was always hard to hate, which frustrated me. It would’ve been easier to just have it out with him and be done, but he was such a decent guy I had to point all the jealous rage at Katniss, for putting me in that position in the first place. But now, now I can really loathe him and it’s a relief. Who would’ve believed it. 

“I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it myself,” I say. 

“What’s that?” Asks Peeta. 

“You.” 

“You’ll have to be more specific,” he says, “what about me?” 

“That they’ve replaced you with the evil-mutt version of yourself,” says Joanna. 

Yup. That about sums it up. 

I’m not going to sit in the humiliation anymore and I want to get Katniss out of here, away from Peeta. I acted too slow last time but I won’t make that mistake again. This time it’s me who has the proximity, the access, and the upper hand. There won’t be any more trains.

“You done?” I ask her, ignoring Peeta entirely and finishing my milk. She doesn’t answer, just stands up. I walk her out of the room with a backwards glare at Peeta as Delly starts to lay into him for his “rude behavior.” 

I truly didn’t expect him to be angry at her quite like that, it’s such a jarring mirror to my own pain. Maybe, this can all work out for the best. If a lure doesn’t get your quarry where you want it to go, sometimes you can direct with a deterrent instead. If Katniss can take a few more steps away from Peeta, she’ll find herself right in my arms, and everything will snap into place just as it should. 

[manonamora-if]

May Check-In

Hi. It's been.... almost a year since I did one of those. And until Harcourt, I hadn't posted here since October. During that time, things... happened in my personal life. I'm not going to get into it* here, but it affected greatly my ability to create and interact with IF in general. I'm getting back on the tracks, slowly returning to my original routines and circles. *maybe through more cathartic writing? after more settling.

Let's get into the longer things:

Recap of last month's progress what I've been up to since July

The 2024 To-Do List

Plan for this month

Some general lines for the rest of 2025

TLDR on the important things because it's really long: Harcourt was my announcement of some return to normalcy. I'm in the process of moving. There's going to be an announcement later this month. It's good to be back. Here's to a healthier rest of the year!

What I've been up to since July?

Some posted here, some missed (I should make some separate posts). Instead of comparing posts, I'm just recap'ing it all.

The 100% Good Assets

I created a Harlowe guide for Saves and Settings, updated the huge SugarCube Guide to match the 2.37 release, generalized the Tweego Folder for Mac users and other Twine formats, expanded the ChoiceScript to SugarCube Guide, made a Harlowe template to resemble Chapbook, updated all the SugarCube templates to 2.37, ported Cloak of Darkness to Adventuron, started Chapbook templates (Save System out, Config.style still a WIP), and finally, made a Chapbook Reference Page for convenience*. *the Guide is already chef-kiss, but the Ref Page is easier CTRL+F'ing stuff

Releases

I participated in a secret jam from the Sacred Veins collective with Svipul (an excuse to create in Twine 1/SugarCane). The theme was Righteous. This is not a happy story.

And as a final hoera in 2024, Dénantir for the Partim500. It's a mini French parser made in Donjon.FI (which had been on my to-try-list for at least two years). Some more sadness and reminiscing.

As you can see, there was a mood...

Updates

Aside from the assets listed above, obviously, the major one: the final story update of The Trials and Tribulations of Edward Harcourt. Released 6 months later than announced, but out nonetheless. Granted, the game was 90% done last October, but I dragged my feet (when IRL wasn't in the way to begin with) to deal some major coding issues that messed a lot of things.

Neo-Interactives and other Events

After the major success Neo-Twiny Jam, where we raised more money than last time (help us repeat it?), there was the Single Choice Jam, Bring Out Your Ghosts, Anti-Productivity Jam, The Bare-Bones Jam, (from here, I was less involved) Educational Jam, ShuffleComp 2024, Smoochie Jam, and the recently ended Dialogue Jam. A lot of participation overall with pretty neat entries! After a very busy, but very exciting, first full calendar year of events, we've decided to scale it back a little*. In 2025, at least, only the month-long jams will be held. *I have a huge backlog of stuff to play now... and NTJ25 is coming soon...

In other events I've helped, there was the IFCOMP for which I did Socials and Moderation, and the SeedComp! that kinda fizzled out at the end (tbf being completely MIA didn't help).

And finally, the Interactive Fiction Showcase 2024 which had so many entries. Which reminds me, I didn't announce the 2025 Showcase yet, which I should do sooner rather than later.

I did play some games, and reviewed a bunch last winter, but that fell off as well earlier this year.

Awards and other cool things that happened

I interviewed Chandler Groover for @the-rosebush-mag, following his win at the 2024 IFComp. This was such an honour to sit down with him and talk about his journey through IF.

I PROMISE I AM WORKING ON THE GAME and machina caerulea was included in the 56 edition of Indiepocalypse! A double feature~ And included with some really cool other people too!

I PROMISE I AM WORKING ON THE GAME was in a 1st-place tie for Best Use of Interactivity at the IF Short Game Showcase.

Les lettres du Docteur Jeangille won Outstanding French Game of 2024 at the IFDB Awards!! And a bunch of nominations for most of my 2024 games (though none came as close). Really proud of this. Twice in a row too! Won't happen this year, because no French Comp for me.

And David Welbourn included Not Another Sad Meal in his monthly parser walkthrough (January 2025). It's kind of wild. I've been using his amazing walkthroughs when playing many old-school parsers. And now I'm in the list! That reminds me, I need to fix some things.

~ And I think that's it? I've missed some pretty eventful periods, so a lot of stuff fell through the cracks.

It does look like I've done a lot, even during my quiet times, but it's really been more in spurs. Short periods of extreme activity and long ones of nothing (half of the summer, the whole of November, most of December, most of January, and from February until mid-April). In other words, when I had some quiet time to actually do something and when shit really hit the fan. It's been hard to balance, but I think I'm regaining my footing. April's been somewhat of a blessing in disguise.

~

The 2024 To-Do List

... has not really been followed. I haven't fixed the bugs on any of my older projects, or finished any of my WIPs (well, Harcourt, but 6 months too late). Instead, the first half was filled with unplanned game releases. On the bright side, I've fulfilled my wish of testing out new programs, or getting better at them. Well, and with Harcourt now out, I guess one thing got crossed out.

On the other hand, I haven't reviewed/played as much as I had hoped*. Even updated my website is completely out of date. Also dropped the ball on all the social media stuff. Very lacklustre year. *esp. the Neo-Interactives entries. It was important to me that every entry got some comments, to ensure everyone knew people looked at their work.

So hum... yeah. ⭐for "participating", lol.

~

The PLANtm for May

Not so much of a plan, more of what to expect this month, which... won't be much. Because the thing is: I'm moving at the end of the month. So between packing, selling, cancelling stuff here, and unpacking, opening, and probably buying things there, my IRL To-Do is arm-length at this point. It's both super stressful and a huge relief. I picked such a good time to come back, lol.

But I hope to have time to do some things. If not in updates/engaging, at least in planning for the rest of the year.

Harcourt: while the story is finished, there are still some kinks in the code/interface that can be handled better. As mentioned in the the update post, it's currently an Open Beta. There are a couple of things I'd like to add in-game. Nothing major. I don't expect the polished version to be out this month, but I'd like to make some progress on it, at minimum.

Secret Project: this will have a proper announcement later this month, but I'm currently planning a summer project for myself. It's both related to IRL and IF. Some good stuff I hope.

Really Bad IF Jam: is back by popular demands. The whole month of May, you can let out some steam by making terrible stuff. If I manage some free time, I might wing something?

Website Update: because it's a long time coming. Half a dozen games are missing, so does a bunch of new info. And it could do with a new interface.

Reconnect with the community. As a whole. I want to catch up on a lot of stuff I missed, and return notes that have been sitting in my inbox for too long.

I think if I can update the website and manage to tick off enough from planning of the secret project, I'll be pretty pleased with myself.

~

Some general lines for the rest of 2025

Normally, this is where I whip out my yearly to-do list of things I want done but probably not even manage to make a dent into it. You know the list from the start of the year, when I do my retrospective. Which hasn't happened this year either. So there's no list.

But for now, my main goal is to get back into a good healthy rhythm, where I can balance IRL stuff, IF responsibilities, and my own projects, without burn out looming or me being unable to do the things I enjoy doing. I think I'll need to make peace with my own capabilities, and stick to proper limits.

In terms of limits, the first has to be participating in events. It's not sustainable for me to try and make a game for all the IF events/game jams that catch my eye - even if I really want to or find them inspiring, and even if I can combine them. Almost all my projects have been created for or ended up submitted in a competition or jam; with ~90% of those being done on a whim/last minute. And because nothing I put out is a perfect bug-free experience, that means re-adding more to my plate with each submission. Because I still like those events very much, I need to be more realist with what I can do, and back out when things are not attainable. Like I have so far this past year. I had full planned or some form of ideas for the SingleChoice, Anti-Productivity, Educational Jam, ShuffleComp, the French Comp, the SpringThing and the Text-Adventure Jam, which all passed without a peep from me; as well as projects I've pushed for a later time for the ParserComp, IntroComp, IFComp (can't since helping organising), and EctoComp from last year. It's both been a disappointment (because I can't work on those ideas), and a relief (less stress to meet a too-short deadline!). So, for now, I'll most likely stick to just @neo-twiny-jam (for a good cause), and the Partim500. In huge part because it's only 500 words max. But also because they are the most fun experience I recall having, consistently. For any other jam, I'll restrict myself to long length (>= 1 month dev) only if I have actual time and a concrete plan (not just a vague idea/vibe - even if I want to test a new program). As for competitions, no submissions until I've finished at least one more WIP - and the entry is actually polished and tested properly (maybe I'll get better reviews now lol). That should leave me with more time to fix older projects, and complete current (and secret) WIPs. Actually actively removing stuff from my desk. For actual realsies now.

In terms of limits pt.2, IF responsibilities. I've been a part of a bunch communities, at different levels of organising, and with different amount of required efforts. Since getting more involved in the community, I've given more than 100% of myself to everything I've said yes to. It was working great for me... until I realised how much piled up. It was already too much last year, and I knew it - I couldn't keep up with most things then. Which is why I said my goodbyes to the great @interact-if last summer, and left a bunch of other discords/spaces. As mentioned above, Neo-Interactives is scaling back as well in terms of events. I had the foresight of preparing a bunch of stuff in advance (this is why @neointeractives has had scheduled posts with reminders). It's been less hectic and stressful, since not having something looming and having to untangle every 2-3 weeks. Gotta give major props to @lapinlunaire-games and @cyberpunklesbian for all their work too (esp during my breaks), they've been real rocks! As for other events, I can be pretty laissez-faire with random unranked events (like the Showcase or Really Bad IF), like posting it and let it be. But comps (and anything with more than one clear rule) require a minimum of admin and promotion*. Time and energy I need to see if I can spend (especially if I delegate) and reevaluate. *seriously... it's more work than you think it is, because it's very concentrated on specific days. It's exhausting. Rewarding too! but exhausting. That would give me a a more balanced planning at least. More time for updating stuff (the reason why yall are following me) :)

A potential path for myself in the soon future (brought to me by moving) is maybe being able to start a Ko-Fi or Support author button on itch. There's a bunch of legal mumbo-jumbo attached to that, but it's definitely something more attainable than it was while being here. It's something I'll be checking out this summer, and if possible, there will be an announcement (maybe even a new dev name?). Anyway, that's at least for late-2025-me to worry about. Also will need to find a new job first...

In any case, a slower, calmer, healthier "normal" on the horizon. And a new website! 🤞

[veganpeachpie]

I just finished Sunrise on the Reaping, and I am rather surprised to find I was a little disappointed.

(spoilers ahead)

In no particular order, here are my problems with the book:

I honestly could not bring myself to care about Lenore Dove at all. Maybe it was just the lack of page time for her, but her and Haymitch's relationship felt really superficial and I found it hard to see why he feels she is the love of his life. It made sense as a teen fling, but I think it should have been deeper for me to feel the stakes of this world. Haymitch was constantly talking about her being the love of his life but never gave much substance for me to understand why they were good together. She also seems like Lucy Gray 2.0, which I was not a fan of. I get that they're both in the Covey and grew up in that same culture, but I wish she had more personality traits other than Musical Rebel Girl Who Loves Birds.

I also kind of hated the term "Newcomers," and I cringed a little every time they used that term for the group. It didn't really feel accurate to what they were (I'd say they were more underdogs than newcomers), and the term was way to peppy for the Hunger Games. I thought the other names they threw out were much more accurate to their position (Dark Horses would have been such a cool title), but "Newcomers" was very much forced down the throats of the readers.

CAMEOS. Now I'm in favor of a good cameo when done tastefully, but the first few chapters in particular were soaked with them in a way that felt like fan service. Haymitch is Katniss' dad's best friend! There's Katniss' mother! Lenore Dove is related to Lucy Gray! Plutarch, an important guy from an influential family, is on camera duty for District 12 for some reason? I suppose it made sense that Katniss' parents and Lucy Gray's relatives would be there, but the fact that Haymitch knew all of them and ran into everyone on reaping day just felt forced. I did like Mags and Wiress' appearances because they explained who mentored the tributes without victors from their districts and how Haymitch became connected with the rebellion in the first place, but the others were unnecessary and were distractions from the main plot.

President Snow was so sloppy and showed too much weakness. In the original trilogy, everything he did was calm, calculated, and secretive, but here he exposed so much weakness to other people. One scene in particular was in Plutarch's house, where Snow was suffering from poison and allowed Haymitch to see him in that state, as well as the fact that he asked Haymitch for the milk from the fridge. I understand an interpretation of this scene is showing Snow's power and how even those who hate Snow and the games wouldn't kill Snow in that moment of weakness, but it was still a sloppy-looking move on his part. I also hated how Lucy Gray's performance was shown to Haymitch at the end when he was in the apartment. Weren't the 10th games erased from memory? Why was he pulling that footage out to show to Haymitch of all people?

Why did the games feel so easy? In the original trilogy, Katniss was constantly rationing, hunting, and gathering, and I thought Haymitch would have a harder time in the arena because he was limited to the food in his backpack. But, particularly in the first part before Ampert's death, he was eating food constantly, seemingly without fear of running out? And then every time he was running low, a pack would be found or a parachute would show up with an abundance of supplies? He was never really starving or struggling like Katniss and Peeta did, and only mentioned hunger once, if I recall correctly. Everything fell into his lap without much effort, including the tools needed for the rebellion attempt, which I will get to next.

Haymitch appeared to have zero regard or concern for his family and Lenore Dove (love of his life and bestest most perfect person who ever lived, in case you forgot) throughout the entirety of the games. I guess perhaps he was banking on not winning, but he was behaving extremely recklessly for someone with family who could be punished for his actions regardless. It's not even as though he wasn't aware that that was something the Capitol did, as he had talked with Beetee and was fully aware that was the reason for Ampert's reaping.

[meli-writes]

Mechismo - No. 8 /// Mothball

(Read on AO3) /// (First) / (Previous)

/// CW: drug abuse, light gore, & suicide references. ///

You're sitting in what must be a bunker from... 3(?) wars ago? Seems like 3. It's too fucked up even for the locals to wanna re-use. What it makes for instead is a very conveinent place to curl up and bleed out, service pistol in the one hand that still functions.

Protocol says you should— well now seems like a better-than-normal time to ignore protocol. It always included dumb rules like don't fuck the other pilots and don't put contraband flavour in your ration fluid.

Whatever flavour 'passionfruit' was it was good.

What's a fruit, anyway? Technician said the word once. Stop touching each other you degenerate-fucking-fruits.

Whatever it is, it at least tastes better than the stashed combat stims you just squirted down your throat. Makes it so it doesn't feel so bad to bleed out, but the oncoming overdose also makes it look a lot like there's flashlights scattering a haze down from the surface.

Huh, you remember, bleeding out does leave a trail doesn't it.

There's a really big knife peeping around the corner, and it almost gets dropped with a yelp when you viscon with the eye peering through its reflection.

The eyes don't glow like you're used to. And, "hey," doesn't feel like the standard response either.

"Uhh, hey?" a voice says back.

There's another couple voices that come from even further behind it, and then it continues a bit more puffed-up, "Attention pilot! You are surrounded. Please surrender your weapon and prepare for capture."

The nerves are cute. You suppose this is a first for it too; take your pistol, drop its mag, flick the safety, unchamber the last round and—

Well, you guess you slide it across the floor.

"Pilot. Are you now disarmed now?" it asks.

"What," you reply, confused. "No?"

"But the pistol—"

Oh, right. It only said the pistol, But its eyes don't glow, so it probably doesn't have— "One second. I have like a one-shot in my—" BANG! "—shit okay, that's empty. There's two knives and—"

After a moment a retreated knife peers back out. It takes a few moments to interrupt your muttering, still relaxing from the one-shot not being an attack or maybe— "Aren't you pilots supposed to normally like—?"

"Yeah," you say succintly. Yep, that.

"Oh. And you're not gonna—?"

"Not without the pistol at least." That would've been the easiest option; perfect recall makes it an effortless, automatic task to feel a cold barrel on your temple. The thought of recreating that isn't a particularly attractive one. "And i'm not gutting myself, blegh."

"What about the um— the suicide thingy. Like the tooth?"

You swear your brow raise is audible, knocking a few loose concrete chips from crumbling support columns. "Myth," you explain. "Heard they tried it on one girl—" Pilot. Pilot. Pilot. Shut it, brain. "—but one hit to her angrav in testing and the unmuted shock made her rattle about enough to set it off. Utter fucking clownshow."

You like to imagine that she knew her handler was in the profile of where her mech fell; foam and blood-bile spilling out over a smile.

You look down at your ruined arm. The deliberately replaced one. It isn't damaged but a shot in your upper arm has oozed blood down into the joint until it was too jammed to operate.

"Hold on. My implant has a... it's got an aftermarket laser cutting tool in it. Y'know, in the arm for jacking—"

"Jacking—!?" the voice startles quietly.

"Jacking into the mech. Fuck's sake." You manage to pry open the forearm cover with a loose piece of mostly-rusted rebar. "Okay, shit. It's a real mess in here. One minute."

It would probably be useful to have another cutting tool to disable this one. You're not paying quite enough attention to even remember how you ask for it, the whole room has slowly started spinning, but—

"To cut off the cutting tool?" it says, a little baffled. This is getting weird. When were you supposed to bleed out? "I mean... can't we just cuff you now?"

"No," you say, as if it's incredibly obvious. It's fun to say it. To backtalk. Though that's a protocol-and-handler word. "I could— have off the hand."

That doesn't seem correct.

"Have cut the handcut."

The floor feels cold again.

The mildew looks a lot pinker than it did earlier.

"What?" it asks.

"Y'know... the hand."

"Okay... well, shit. No, you go and—" the voice mutters. You bet it was gonna ask something like what if you just didn't cut it. Does it think you're some protocol-following sucker? No, this is your game now. You're clearly winning too. "Alright fine, someone's getting the tool. You mind if i have a look now?"

"What. You wanna give me the handbook?" you snort. That's a good one. Maybe if it did you could rip out all the pages on protocol and not fucking the other girls and stuff them in your open wound like second-rate gauze. Or is it third-rate? Regular gauze is second. First-rate you think is some expanding chem-shit.

You never get first-rate. You don't even get passionfruit flavour.

You'd need someone else to splice it into the feed for you anyway; your arms, your head, it all feels a bit too wobbly and spread out over the spinning room. What am I even winning? Maybe it's a bit of control, to choose to bleed out—

Oh. Her hand is cold too.

She's cute.

Her eyes don't glow either.

Why don't they glow?

Everyone's eyes are supposed to glow.

"Fuck she's— no, fuck the tool, I need an OD syringe or something. I don't know. Where's the fucking medic?"

You think a smile would look good on her lips too. Nothing spilling out between them this time. Maybe she'll have one when you wake up. But that always takes a while. eEvery time the techs are different, and the handlers have more lines on their faces, and more greys in their hair. And then handlers are different too and they're soft again.

"Hey. Hey! Can you hear me!? Pilot?"

You blink and don't open your eyes. Too heavy. You ask her, "You know what a passionfruit is?"

You blink and the bunker isn't so cold. It's walls are suddenly a sterile green-grey. They don't spin as much. Who the fuck's the dude with the clipboard, you think, and move on. The thought slipping out easily, your lips don't even have to part to do it.

Where did she go? She was just—

You try to look around, and don't see her. On the side where you're missing an arm there's a bowl next you. You start to blink again, and dream of whatever the fuck was the weird purple ball in it.

---

(Masterpost) / (Next)

[mariademetal]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ competition itadori yuuji / fem!reader ©mariademetal 2024

cw ... yuuji calls reader babe, everyone is a little stupid, idk what else, lmk if i should add anything note ... this was actually sooooo much fun to write, i luv yuuji so much and this idea came to me like a vision from jesus himself, i hope u all enjoy too (❁´◡`❁) word count ... 1.1k

You've always liked Jennifer Lawrence.

You liked the Hunger Games growing up, but never bothered to read the books. When you turned a little older, you liked Silver Linings too. Maybe you didn't like her as much as some of your peers, maybe you never dressed up as Katniss for Halloween, but you certainly never hated her. She's pretty, she's a good actress, and although you wouldn't necessarily call yourself her fan, you can see why, hypothetically, someone might. You've always liked Jennifer Lawrence.

You've always liked Yuuji, too. He's always been a good friend to you, but now that your relationship with him is blossoming into something bigger, more important than friendship, you can't quite jump over the hurdle that is Jennifer Lawrence. Despite the fact that you have, as a matter of fact, always liked her, you feel nothing but mild discomfort and irritation as you make unrequited eye contact with the poster of her hung on Yuuji's wall.

What else are you meant to look at?

At first, it was easy enough to ignore her. Whenever you came to Yuuji's room you'd make a point to sit on his bed, back against the wall, safe from any unwanted eye contact with Jennifer's boobs. But the talking stage is weird like that— if Yuuji's already sitting on his bed, you certainly can't, and then you're forced back into a standstill, an ugly competition with a poster that cannot fight back.

So, the two of you start hanging out in your dorm. You would be lying if you said you hadn't considered getting some sweat mag poster of some ludicrously built American actor yourself, just to see Yuuji's reaction. You, thankfully, came to your senses and acknowledged that Yuuji would more likely ask to take it to hang on his own wall than ask you to take it down for the sake of his ego before you spent any money on your silly idea.

Unfortunately, when Nobara leaves her window open after a particularly humid day and finds that she's invited a mildew infestation into her dorm, she asks to shack up with you until her new room is set up, and thus you and Yuuji are forced back to his room.

Still, it was easy enough to ignore Jennifer. She was an unwelcome, near-overbearing presence in your relationship with Yuuji, but it wasn't like he mentioned her in your conversations, nor did he ever compare the two of you— it was just that stupid poster hanging above his bed and the knowledge that he has called her his type, whatever that really means. So, it was survivable.

And there are so many other things you adore about Yuuji, too— like how he gives you his jacket when he feels even a draft, or how he takes pictures of things he knows you'll think are cute or pretty, or how he lets you prop your legs over his thighs whenever you watch movies together. You like what you have with him— you don't like that fucking Jennifer Lawrence poster. Unfortunately for you, they seem like a package deal.

It was easy enough to ignore Jennifer— emphasis on was. You could ignore Jennifer as long as he never mentioned her to you. For a long time, he didn't— no one's ever called Yuuji a genius, but he's always had the good sense to avoid the topic of a certain blonde actress with you. He had a spotless track record, apart from the existence of the poster itself— he was doing so well that you started to think you really could live with Jennifer— then, he had the bright idea of asking you on a date to see her new movie.

The two of you were walking together when he asked— the sun was setting, he'd just bought you a drink from the vending machine, your shoulders were touching— then, he just had to ask that wretched question. You don't think you've recoiled from another person's touch so fast before in your life. You also don't think you'll ever forget the look on his face after you replied to his question with, "Are you fucking with me?"

He asked if that meant the answer was no. (Again, no one ever called Yuuji a genius.)

So, after that display, why are you here, in his room, making the same awkward eye contact with Jennifer Lawrence's cold, dead, photographed eyes that you've been avoiding so fervently these past couple of months? Because you're making your final stand against Jennifer. She's got to go if Yuuji wants your relationship to go anywhere. You refuse to look at her bikini any longer than you've already been forced to.

That said, you can't exactly make your final stand against Jennifer until Yuuji is back from... wherever he is, so you are, unfortunately, stuck looking at Jennifer Lawrence's bikini for even longer than you've already been forced to.

It's only when Yuuji does come back that you realize how weird of a position he's caught you in— just standing in the middle of his room, bag discarded on the floor next to you, staring at his damn poster like you're admiring a piece of art in a gallery.

He looks excited, at first, to see you, then excitement turns into confusion, probably at the fact that you're just... standing there, then concern. "What're you doin', babe?"

"We need to talk," is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, deathly serious.

Yuuji gulps. Literally gulps. "About what?"

"Jennifer."

You can see the relief painting his face when he realizes that you are not, as a matter of fact, breaking up with him. "What about Jennifer?"

"She needs to leave," You emphasize the last word in a way that makes your request sound less like a request and more like a plead. "I feel like the other woman."

"Okay, don't be dramatic—"

"Don't call me dramatic!"

"I'm sorry!"

Yuuji purses his lips and brings his hand to the back of his head, as if he's weighing to pros and cons to standing his ground and keeping the poster. Just when you think you've finally won, that the cons outweigh the pros, he says, "Aren't relationships about compromise?"

"Yuuji, I swear—"

"See the movie with me, and I'll take the poster down."

"Deal."

Maybe you should've thought about it longer. Maybe you should've weighed the pros and cons of this date, too— then, you see Yuuji sulking, watching from the corner of his room as you gleefully climb onto his bed to peel off the tape that attaches the poster to his wall, and it makes it all worth it.

You kiss him on the way out, and the goofy smile on his face tells you he feels the same way.

It'd better be a good movie.

[thisisourlovestory]

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 2.8k

Notes: Happy New Year! Hope you enjoy this one. My phone deleted half of it so I had to rewrite it but that worked in my favour and I think it’s better than it was

Chapter 3

The next morning I was awoken by knocking at my door. Assuming it to be Lysander I ignored it and took my sweet time getting ready, taking a long shower under burning water, brushing my teeth vigorously, loosely clipping back the front strands of my hair and slipping on a pale blue dress from the wardrobe in the wall before making my way to the dining area. I followed the smell of freshly cooked bacon and pancakes, my mouth watering as I sat down and took a few pancakes, stacking them up, cutting a slab of butter that melted as soon as I dropped it on top, drizzling sticky sweet syrup over them and layering bacon on top. I grabbed a fork and dug into my towering pillar of food, the salty bacon contrasting with the sugary syrup. I polished it off in no time at all and reached for the piles of jewel like fruits, stacked in tiny ceramic bowls in the centre of the table. I had just bit into a slice of watermelon, pink juice dripping down the corner of my mouth, when Mags walked in with Lysander who flaunted a garish purple and gold striped suit and he began to speak as loudly as ever as I quickly wiped my chin.

“Good morning!” My head hit the table.

“Goodness Y/N, did you not get enough sleep last night?” He asked, looking at me with slight concern.

“I'm fine thank you for asking,” I answered, “Just woke up a bit too early.” I rubbed my head, smiling sheepishly and his gaze softened.

“That simply won't do!” He exclaimed, “We need you to be on top form for when you’re in the arena.”

“Lysander.” I called out softly, interrupting what was sure to be a long tirade. “I… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for my outburst yesterday. I don't know what I was thinking. I suppose, well I suppose I was just a little overwhelmed by all this. I hope you can forgive me. “ I twisted a strand of my hair in my fingers and he took the bait immediately. I could almost see what he was thinking. Such a kind girl, she must be terrified, very sweet of her to apologise. His eyes gained a look of sympathy as he raised a hand to his heart and walked over to me.

“It's quite alright dear, no need for apologies. I completely understand you must be feeling absolutely terrified of all this. You did such a kind thing volunteering for Miss Cresta, so selfless, dear and I’m sure she appreciates it very much.” I nodded, going back to my food, and he clapped. “Now that's all sorted out, we need a plan for you.” He looked me up and down, assessing me as Mags grinned into her bowl at the look on my face. “I'm thinking we play the innocent card, the fact you were so young when you won will help with that a lot. You are one of the youngest in the games this year after all. We simply must also use the fact that you are a true performer and ballet is such a beautiful art form indeed so,” he turned to Mags, “I propose we paint her as an angel.”

I choked on a piece of watermelon, the apprehension on my face giving way to horror. Mags patted me gently on the back and I straightened in my seat, sending a grateful smile her way as Lysander continued, lost in his own world.

“Of course only your stylist can decide this but I’m fairly certain I can put in a word and if they didn't already have the same idea after watching the reaping then I'll eat my hat.” I eyed the purple monstrosity on his head and imagined it being stuffed into his mouth, wondering if maybe that would be the thing that would finally shut him up. I wanted to scream at him, tell him that I was no angel and he was a monster for finding some kind of pleasure in this, deciding what part I should play as I die. Instead I just smiled slightly and lowered my head to stop him from seeing the tears in my eyes. At that second Finnick walked in and Lysander's attention was immediately drawn to him. I sat silently as he practically interrogated him, asking how he was feeling, if he thought he could win. The answers were short, not letting anything interesting slip but giving enough to satisfy Lysander and fool him into thinking he was basically his new best friend. I zoned out part way through Lysanders rant about what the Gamemakers would throw at us this year- as if we hadn't all been thinking about it since they were announced. Suddenly, I was brought back to reality by the sound of my name.

“Y/N, Y/N.” I blinked and my gaze shifted to Lysander.

“Sorry.” I muttered

“Quite alright dear, you must be tired if you didn't get enough sleep. We're going to watch the games you were both in, for reference.” My mind didn't register the words and I simply nodded before I realised what he had said and my eyes widened in shock.

We watched Finnicks first, since he won before me. From the reaping all the way through to the crowning ceremony. He was confident in the interviews, dressed in the most impeccable suit and tie, clearly designed to show off his beauty, laughing at Caesar Flickerman's comments and responding with his own witty quips, not just a pretty face at all. Then utterly deadly in the arena. For the first few days he had lain low, not much excitement but enough to keep sponsors interested. Then he got the trident, the most expensive gift ever seen, and it was over. District 4 was fishing after all, and it seemed Finnick Odair was born to wield the trident. He captured tribute after tribute in a net and killed them all, offering no mercy. And finally the last cannon went off announcing him the winner. Fourteen years old and he had won, the youngest victor, the most handsome victor, the Capitol darling. Finnick Odair. If he was that good back then, I had no doubt he would be extraordinary now. He had it all as well, the looks which first made the Capitol love him, he was intelligent, and undoubtedly one of the best fighters that would be going into the arena. Mags and I sat there speechless as Lysander congratulated Finnick endlessly.

“And how you used that trident, extraordinary! I don't believe you'll struggle in these games now that you've had ten years to practise.” I could only think of how young he'd been, how he'd been forced to grow up so quickly after, how he'd won- but what was the cost?

Then my games were switched on; I saw myself going through it all over again. The walk up to the stage after my name was called, all eyes on me. The chariot ride where they had dressed me up as a mermaid, all shimmering fabrics and a golden crown. The interview, where Caesar asked me questions about my life back home and I answered quietly, barely audible, playing the sweet little girl as I danced for them momentarily. The arena, my frightened face as the boy from 10 died in front of me, running and hiding. Then a cut to as I made my first kills, I saw the light leave their eyes as the blood left their bodies. Another cut, to the chase and confrontation with Arion, the second the knife left my hand I closed my eyes and the thud as it hit him echoed in my ears.

They showed the crowning ceremony last, I stood calmly on the dais with my hands clasped in front of my body. I had been made to wear a white dress that fell to my knees and had a red bow tied around it. The same red adorned the pins in my hair, shaped like roses, and the single gem hanging from a silver chain around my neck. The significance was not lost on me, young as I was. I had killed three people in the arena so I wore three pieces of red. One for each of them, the crimson colour their blood on my hands. President Snow walked up slowly and placed the golden laurels on my head. He looked down at me, a small smile on his face as I gazed up at him, he whispered something that only I could hear. Words that left me pale and confused, words that could have been good but in the circumstances only sounded like the promise of a life of pain. His mouth moved on the screen and I read his lips.

“The Capitol will love you.” He stepped away and proclaimed me their victor. And it struck me how I looked so tiny compared to him and everyone around me, as the Capitol roared with applause and my big eyes stared out over them, disbelieving and uncertain before the tape ended leaving the compartment in silence.

I shoved my seat back, the legs screeching on the floor, and stood up quickly. Everyone turned to face me as I stayed still for a second.

“Y/N.” Lysander began but I cut him off.

“No, I just, I need to, I can't.” My brain was jumbled, old memories being dragged to the surface unwillingly. So I turned and I ran.

I sprinted along the train, pushing doors open as I ran through the compartments. Avoxes jumped out of my way as I barreled past them, looking at me in curiosity. I came to the end of the train and held my hands in front of me to push through the doors. I crashed through them and fell into the railing. I gripped onto the cold metal as if it was the only thing keeping me in reality, the wind rushed past me and my hair floated in front of me, strands whipping in the cold air. I could barely see, tears blurring my vision and hair covering my face. I took a shuddering breath, letting the cold air flood my lungs, and I broke. I cried and cried and cried. Letting out everything that I had kept bottled up for seven years. I had cried before, that day on the cliffs, that was for the games, for the fact that it was happening all over again for so many people across Panem. But this. This was for me. For every pain I had endured since I won, the evenings spent dancing and singing under lights focused solely on me, the fear of making a mistake stopping me from enjoying it fully, the nights spent alone, unable to sleep because of the nightmares, the days spent wandering around like a lost soul, wondering if it would ever be better than what it was.

So I cried for myself, in one selfish moment I allowed myself to only care about myself. Tears dripped down my face, droplets falling on the railing for what felt like forever. Eventually my throat grew raw and my eyes seemed to run out of tears to cry. I dropped my head forwards into my hands and my eyes glazed over with the memories I had suppressed.

I was no longer on the train headed to the Capitol. I was in the arena. Perched on an icy tree branch, pressed against the tree trunk to keep from slipping off. Hidden by the frozen leaves in the white fluffy clothing they had given us to wear. A tribute ran underneath my hiding spot, running away from something, two others followed chasing him. I immediately recognised them as career tributes, this was all just a game of cat and mouse to them. And they caught him. I shoved a piece of cloth in my mouth to stop myself from letting out any noise that would give myself away and clapped my hands over my ears to block out the noise of his screaming in pain and crying out for help from someone as they ripped into him, their laughter echoing in the otherwise silent forest. A warning that they were on the hunt and if you valued your life you would get out of there as soon as possible.

I had stayed in that tree for the first few days until I was eventually forced to move when the gamemakers released mutts into the arena. Great big slobbering beasts that lumbered along harmlessly until someone tried to kill one. Then all hell had broken loose as they chased tributes up trees and then hurled themselves unrelentingly at them, bringing them down and mauling them beyond recognition. They brought about the deaths of five tributes before they just disappeared, presumably called back out after doing their job.

I snapped out of my daze as I felt someone standing next to me. My gaze cleared as I pushed the memories back into a locked box in my mind. I didn’t need to look to know who it was, the mark on my wrist burning and on instinct I pulled my sleeve down and took a small step to the side to lessen the sting. It eased immediately from the small distance between us and faded to a dull throbbing. Finnick said nothing at my movement and we just looked out over the passing countryside, rolling green fields, trees that touched the sky and vast lakes stretching beyond the horizon. We stayed like that, peaceful, just taking it all in until he finally broke the silence.

“You were so young.”

I smiled bitterly, resting my chin on my open palm propped up on the railing.

“We all were but we had no choice. They just want to watch their games. And they don’t care if innocent children die so they can have them.” I laughed slightly. “Then they get the one that lives.” I shook my head, my fingers tightening on the rail, the cold metal biting into my skin. “They get to kill us then they get to keep us.” I turned around, leaning backwards onto the railing and looked up, watching the clouds move slowly away in the blue sea of the sky. Then the Capitol came into view, towering buildings taking up the skyline, marring it with grey,

“I'm going to go back in,” Finnick said, following my line of vision, “You should as well.” With that he stepped back into the train, not sparing a second glance as I watched him walk through a set of doors and out of sight. I relaxed as he left and stayed in my position, head tilted skywards, eyes closed until I felt tiny drops of water on my face. I opened my eyes to see rain falling, a light drizzle but enough to dampen my clothes and hair, I laughed slightly and walked inside, the warmth hitting me in a blast. I hadn't realised how cold I'd been before but the heat warmed me and my clothes quickly dried off. I looked over my shoulder as I walked through the doors that slid open, the rain pattering on the windows lightly, a last glimpse of normality.

I quickly made my way through the train, hearing Lysander screeching at unfortunate avoxes to find me as if I was missing and he had no idea where to find me. I stepped into the compartment to see him looking frazzled, he immediately caught sight of me standing unsurely at the edge of the room and gave a dramatic sigh of relief.

“Not to worry everyone she's here.” The train jolted to a stop. “We have arrived.” Lysander practically squealed and eyed me.” Dear, you should just fluff out your hair a bit, and try to look happy for the cameras.” I nod my head once and plaster a smile on my face. He nodded in approval.

We made our way to the doors. Finnick and I stood either side of Lysander and Mags was just behind us. I can see people through the windows already, screaming and shouting with excitement.

“Now everyone, remember this is the first time they will see you so make sure to leave a good impression. That means smile and wave, blow a few kisses if you have to.” Lysander told us, focusing his words mostly on me. A bell rang and he quickly turned around to me, perfecting everything he could see wrong, the tiniest hair out of place, my sleeves at different lengths and pushing my cheeks into a smile. Facing forward just in time as the doors slid open and we stepped out into the masses.

Taglist:

@nekee-lilac02 @hinata7346 @bambikitten @the-lonely-abyss @mxacegrey @m-maxie-ie @not-aya @camatchoum @maw1dk @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @somdreamy @thehairington86 @millzluvrs @val-writesstuff @erindiggory @reader-bookling123 @elisa20beth @maxinehufflepuffprincess @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @mystargirl-interlude @ponkaniee @missunicorn @purplelavin @user123453226780536 @littleanubis21

[jayke0]

CryBaby

Pairing: Cecil Dennis x g/n reader

Summary: kinktober day 18, Masturbation and Dacryphilia

Rating: 18+

Warnings/content: male masturbation, dacryphilia, Sub!Cecil and Dom!reader, praise, cock ring, mocking/degrading, "puppy" as a nickname, stripping, teasing, hair tugging, edging, crotch sniffing?? Idek, hookup type situation, lmk if there's anything else i should add :).

Word count: 1,296

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

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You hate how well Cecil has perfected his puppy dog eyes, because they always work on you. His big brown eyes soften and his eyebrows pull into an almost pained expression anytime he wants to get his way. He's even started adding a pout to his expression, one that just makes you want to grab his stupid blushing face and kiss him till you're both begging for air.

As he looks up at you now with that same expression, you find it hard to repeat the words you'd sneered just seconds earlier.

"Touch yourself." You finally say, though with a lot less conviction than before.

The man whines at his failed plan, palm pressing against his crotch seemingly in protest. "I ain't even done anything wrong though!"

Your lip curls a little at his brattiness. "I know you haven't," you lean down to him, face close to his, "but I wanna watch you fuck your hand, that alright with you?"

Cecil lets out a soft groan and then nods, giving up the bratiness just as quickly as he'd displayed it. He looks down at his crotch and starts undoing his tattered jeans, hands shaking a little with excitement and pulling out his cock for you to see in full glory.

You'd convinced him to put on that cock ring you'd purchased for him under the guise it'd make his orgasm feel better, but really you just wanted him to last more than 3 fucking minutes.

His tip weeps precum while the base of his cock twitches, making the whole length bob before he shakily wraps his hand around himself and spreads the precum messily over the shaft with a soft sigh.

You lick your lips almost instinctively while you watch him, eyes dragging over his body and observing the way he's already drawn in on himself just from some simple touches; maybe he likes being watched, or maybe he's just always like this when he jacks off, that wouldn't surprise you. 

"Good boy." The praise just comes from you automatically now, given positive reinforcement by the way his cock twitches and he moans. "Go on, carry on baby, lemme see you touch yourself like you do when you're alone."

"I–I can't, I need something to use, y'know? Like a porn mag or… you." His bottom lip sticks out.

That makes your tummy flutter. You give him a sheepish eye before placing yourself on the bed opposite him, your crotch directly in his eyeline from his position kneeling on the floor. Slowly, your hands reach down to the hem of your shirt and you pull it over your head, throwing it in his direction so it lands over his head.

The man scrambles to pull it from his face as his hand already starts moving on himself, long and slow strokes that remind you of the way he fucks you at first. "Yeah, i love that body…" His tongue hangs from his mouth, which is usually something you'd find a turn-off if it was anyone else, but admittedly it's endearing from the slightly odd man.

A smile spreads across your lips and you run your hands over your body and sides to tease him, lingering on some of the marks he'd left you with days ago. "And you love fucking marking it too." You scowl at him, though it's more playful than mean, just wanting to tease him for how excited he gets over you. Leisurely you bring your fingers further and further up till you reach your nipples to take them between your fingers and play with them, letting out soft moans and rocking your hips as you do when he touches you like this.

A pant comes from the other's lips as his eyes struggle to focus on your fingers teasing your pebbled nerves. 

"Can I not even touch them? This seems super unfair." He frowns and leans forward.

You place your foot on his thigh to push him back, making a pathetic whine explode from the frustrated man and his hand work faster on himself. 

"No, stay there, puppy." 

Another moan erupts from him, and usually that'd be enough to make him dismally cum, but as his hips buck wildly he finds himself chasing an orgasm that's just out of reach. "Fuck! It's this stupid ring, you put some kinda witchy magic on it."

"Nah, it's just basic biology, my love. Now, you gonna play nice or not?" You ask sternly.

He whines, cock throbbing again. "Yeah yeah, ok." 

Sitting back on his heels in defeat, he thrusts into his hand once again, though this time he feels more sensitive and it makes his eyes roll back briefly.

"Good boy." Your smile returns and you continue to undress yourself, this time lifting your hips to pull your jeans off in one smooth motion and opening your legs to him.

Cecil lurches forward eagerly despite your warnings, but before you can object he's burying his face between your thighs to take in your scent. It makes you clamp your legs shut around his head and a moan rumble in your chest; why is his neediness so attractive to you? It'd be kinda weird if it was anyone else, but when it's him it's almost expected.

You can hear him panting between your legs and you quickly open them again to let him breath, apologising briefly to which he shakes his head.

"Love being between your thighs, even if I can't fucking breathe, just feels so nice..." he whimpers out, hips now furiously fucking his fist and trying to meet some kind of end to the intense pleasure burning in his stomach. A wail reverberates through your skin and you notice him angrily press his face to your thigh, biting the skin softly. 

As much as you love that, you can't have him being a brat again.

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug his head back, a strangled sob bursting from his lips at the surprise, his shaking hand teasing his tip in an attempt to make himself cum.

"Don't be a brat. Maybe if you could last 2 fucking minutes you wouldn't have to wear that thing."

Another moan comes from his chest, and you notice him rubbing himself faster, despite the tears welling in his eyes.

You smirk; your precious crybaby loves a bit of degrading.

"You're lucky you know how to use that stupid mouth, otherwise I would've gotten rid of you a long time ago, slut." 

His jaw hangs open and his chest heaves with pants and whimpers, eyes squeezed shut and making pleasured tears roll down his face till he can taste the saltiness on his tongue.

"I love it when you cry, pretty boy, makes me wanna tease you over and over till you're just a mess on the floor—" you lean forward and lick a strip up his face to catch the tears.

Finally he's coming over his hand with loud moans and choked out noises, cum spilling from his tip like a fucking fountain as he fists every last drop he has out of himself, only whimpers and shakes left.

You release the grip you had in his hair and cup his face instead to kiss his nose, meeting his gaze with a big smile as he calms down from ultimately the best orgasm he's ever had.

"You good, love?" You check, pushing the curls sticking to his forehead out of the way so you can kiss it.

Cecil nods tiredly and presses his face into your touch. "Yeah, I'm good."

The smile stays on your lips as you stroke his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles.

"I hate this stupid thing… but… can I keep it?"

You laugh softly. "Yeah, of course Cecil." 

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Prompts by: @/flightlessangelwings

Tagging people: @cowboymarcs @sad1st1c-wh0re @poopoobuttsy @boredzillenial @mllover260 @simpforbritgents @saevenswelt @partssoldseparately @keira-kaz2y5 @theincredibleinkspitter @l-lune @red-hydra @queerponcho @summonthesoups @motleyfolk @steven-grants-world @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

(Lmk if you wanna be added or taken off the tag list and i will work my magic 👍)