#powerhouse arena

[shoyoist]

thinking about the blue lock boys buying you a necklace with their jersey number engraved on it :( and writing your initials on their clear but specifically their dominant foot cause they just feel closer to you that way :( like you’re helping guide him to the goal :(

content: gn reader. fluff !! — competitive and possessive dynamics. pro football player! characters (they all made it out of blue lock alive alright). + i added a little bonus section at the end, hehe<3

— . ｡˚ ♡ the whole world watches, while he shows you off as his own <3

BACHIRA, REO, YUKIMIYA, AIKU, KAISER.

a necklace with his jersey number dangling on it, like a charm. he gets it custom made for you, in sterling silver or 24-carat gold, depending on your tastes. but he doesn't let you know that he has it, waits for the perfect moment in which he can surprise you with it.

which happens to be right before his team lines up for a final match, on live TV at the big arena, with all lights, cameras and eyes pointing right at you both.

he's getting in line with the rest of his teammates — the commentators and cameras paying full attention to him, the star and powerhouse of the team, going “there he is. the deity of the field!” as he walks onto the field, smile already on his face when he looks up, for the world to swoon over.

he's handsome. you think, standing at the very front row, dressed in the pretty clothes that he'd got for you just last night, matching the colours of his team. he looks the best when he's on the field, fully confident in the fact that he's going to be going home with a new medal around his neck.

what you don't know is that you're about to get something around your neck too, before he wins his game.

“excuse me,” he says smoothly, to the coach and the few staff members that surround him, glancing knowingly at the cameras recording him (and looking into the eyes of all the fans that are watching him on live TV) before he saunters off, heading to the edge of the field where you're standing behind a display board.

it's clear that he's staring at you as he walks over — gaze softening as he meets your eyes, watching how your own eyes widen with surprise and a hint of shyness, as the surrounding audience erupts into whispers.

“sweetheart,” he grins at you, stopping on the other side of the perimeter board — and you blush when the audience gasps, blush when he gives them all another glance, before smirking down at you. “got something for you.”

he holds his hand out and shows you what he has hidden in his fist — a necklace with his jersey number on it, spelled out on a charm.

the crowd continues to get louder, and you can make out some people's cries; are they dating? god he was taken this whole time? and the commentators join in, declaring into the speakers that your boyfriend seems to be taking a minute to give a gift to a little someone special—

and you blush harder as you stand there, almost frozen as he gently puts the necklace around your neck, the metal chain and charm cold but somehow blooming warmth on your skin as it touches you.

“with that outfit, you're matching the whole team, hm?” he smiles at you, so overwhelmingly charming. “so you keep this necklace on for me. let's everyone know you're here for me. yeah?”

“y—yeah.” you try to look down, so fucking shy under his bright gaze and gorgeous smile, but he grabs your chin and lifts your face back up to give your lips a little kiss.

the whole stadium erupts into cheers and screams. he kissed you on live TV. your face feels hot, you think you're dizzy — but you manage to hear him faintly over the buzz in your head and the screaming of the crowd as he pats your cheek before jogging off back to join his team in line. “cheer for me, won't you? i'll win this game 'n take you out for dinner after.”

SHIDOU, KUNIGAMI, ISAGI, RAICHI, BAROU.

has your initials written on the side of his cleats, on his dominant foot. even better actually — he got you to write it for him. he wants it done with your pretty hands and in your pretty handwriting, that's so much better than his own.

thanks you and gives you a kiss on the side of your forehead, when you finish it and hand the shoe to him. you're both knelt together on the floor of your shared place, and the look in his eyes when he kisses you is so tender. “i'll score every goal with you in mind, a'right?”

and every time he's on the field, fire in his veins and the never ending lust and hunger for a full victory in his soul, he gives you a glance as you jump up and down in your special spot in the stands, cheering for him with all you've got — and that's when he zeroes in on the ball.

the look in his eyes is anything but tender then — hyper-focused, bright and vicious is how he watches the ball as it slips from the opposing player's dribble, and it's impossible for anyone, whether from the other team or his own, to make it to the ball before he does.

he lunges forward once he gains control of the ball, a sort of heat already spreading through his dominant leg as he advances towards the goal to shoot — and with your initials on his cleats and your pretty smile on his mind, he thinks he can break the limit.

he's never scored a goal from this distance before. with the game about to close, it's crucial that he doesn't take any risks and ensures that his shot scores a proper goal.

otherwise, his team might lose. failure was not an option.

but with your presence — both physical and emotional — fueling him, he takes the chance. he takes the chance, puts all the force he has in that sculpted, trained body of his, and he shoots.

he shoots and he scores.

the commentators and crowd go wild alike, screaming in joy over the secured win, because with five minutes left on the clock there's no way the other team can catch up any more — and your boyfriend ignores the cheers of his teammates, turning in place to face you.

“he scored! god, he's undefeatable!” the commentator's voice echoes through the stadium, and he thinks yeah, that's right. he cannot be defeated — not when you're there to guide him to the goal every single time.

he turns to you, and you wave your arms in the air, calling out his name and yelling out an i love you! — and with the TV overhead showing the scorer off we he stands on the field, you can't miss the way the corners of his mouth lift in a smile.

i love you, too. he mouths back to you, with every other person watching the game in the world to see it.

NAGI, CHIGIRI, RIN, OTOYA, SAE.

he kisses you after every game that he wins. and he makes sure he scores the final goal.

it's an elaborate contest that he has with himself, and the rest of the world has joined in on it. you sit and wait in your reserved seat in the stands, the smoothie he had ordered for you sitting empty in your hands as you watch your boyfriend weave past defender after defender — the audience and every other player all focusing more and more on him as time ticks by.

the match is currently at a draw — and the other team is fighting with everything they've got to guard him, trying to prevent him from breaking through and scoring that final goal.

but your boyfriend isn't so easily countered.

even when he's playing laid-back, he's a demon on the playing field. he's fast, agile and he doesn't take any chances. and now? with only a few minutes left before the penalty round, he's set to score the winning goal.

“will he break through? will he be able to make it this time?”

he almost spins around to scoff at the camera. of course he's going to make it. he always does. the other team nearly swarms him as he closes in on his shooting range, but what they aren't aware of is that he doesn't need to be in range to make his shot count.

his play style is all about breaking limits. which is what he does, when he shoots from nearly the other side of the arena and watched the ball curve smoothly yet maintaining an impossible speed, past the goalie's reach and into the net. the timer buzzes only seconds afterwards. “and he scores the final goal yet again!”

the crowd cheers, and while the commentators remark to eachother that they all know what's about to happen next, your boyfriend walks over to where you're still seated expectantly, hopping easily over the perimeter boards to get to you.

you get up then, and he curls a hand around your waist and pulls you in, pressing a kiss into your hair as the audience coos in response to the show all around you. (he'd kiss your lips, but he's sweaty right now and he's not sure you'd appreciate a mouthful of salt).

and he sighs, unresponsive when you chide him for being arrogant, and mutters into the shell of your ear, “mhm. let's go home, baby. 'm tired.”

[reaper2187]

Rhea ripley x wrestler female reader

The dim lights of the arena flickered ominously as the packed crowd buzzed with excitement. The heavy bass of the entrance music thumped through the air, and the energy was electric, ready to burst at any moment. It was one of those nights where everything seemed on edge, as though something massive was about to go down.

Inside the ring, Rhea Ripley stood tall, her usual fierce and menacing demeanor barely masking the exhaustion from a grueling match. She was holding her own against Liv Morgan and Finn Bálor, two of the newly formed “Judgment Day.” To her side, Damian Priest was struggling to fend off Dominik Mysterio and JD McDonagh, who had aligned with the new faction. The odds were stacked against them, but Rhea and Damian had faced worse before.

Still, this was different. The betrayal stung deeply, especially after all they had been through with the original Judgment Day. Rhea could feel the familiar burn of fury deep in her chest as she exchanged blows with Liv, her mind replaying the moments of betrayal over and over. Finn’s smirk as he joined forces with Liv, Dominik’s cold gaze, and Kalisto’s unexpected appearance — all of it drove her forward with a mix of rage and determination.

But they were tired. Damian was barely on his feet, holding his ribs as he blocked JD’s strikes. Rhea was slowing down, each punch and kick taking more out of her. And worst of all, they were outnumbered.

Rhea ducked under a clothesline from Liv and countered with a thunderous dropkick that sent Liv sprawling to the mat. She quickly turned her attention to Finn, who was grinning wickedly as he closed in on her. Finn Bálor was a cunning opponent, always two steps ahead, and Rhea knew she had to be careful.

Just as she readied herself to face him, she heard a deafening roar from the crowd. The arena's lights dimmed further, plunging everything into darkness except for a single spotlight that illuminated the entrance ramp. The titantron flickered to life, displaying an ominous skull logo shrouded in shadows, followed by the name "REAPER" in bold, blood-red letters.

The arena erupted in cheers and gasps of surprise. Rhea’s eyes widened slightly, a smirk tugging at her lips. The Reaper had arrived.

The pounding beat of a dark, foreboding theme music echoed through the arena, and the figure emerged from the darkness. Y/N, known as "Reaper," strode confidently onto the stage. Her presence commanded attention; she was a force of nature, a storm wrapped in human form. Clad in black from head to toe, she wore a sports bra that showcased her defined muscles, cargo pants, and combat boots with chains clinking ominously as she walked. A bandana wrapped around her arm, and her face bore the markings of a skull, accentuating her intimidating aura. She was a masculine powerhouse, and the crowd was on their feet, chanting her name.

Reaper didn’t waste any time. She sprinted down the ramp, her focus locked onto the chaos in the ring. Rhea, sensing the shift in momentum, felt a surge of energy. She could already tell that Y/N was about to turn the tide of this battle.

Liv Morgan, now on her feet, noticed Reaper’s approach and yelled a warning to Finn. But it was too late. Reaper slid under the ropes and charged at Finn with the ferocity of a wild animal. Her shoulder connected with his midsection, driving him into the corner. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of him, and before he could recover, Reaper unleashed a series of brutal punches to his abdomen, each one more devastating than the last.

Finn crumpled to the mat, gasping for air. Reaper didn’t give him a moment's respite. She grabbed him by the head and threw him into the center of the ring, where Rhea was waiting. Without missing a beat, Rhea hoisted Finn onto her shoulders and delivered a devastating Riptide that left him motionless on the canvas.

Across the ring, Damian was struggling to hold off Dominik and JD. Reaper quickly assessed the situation and decided to even the odds. She grabbed a stunned Liv Morgan by the arm and yanked her away from Rhea, tossing her into the ropes. Liv rebounded and was met with a vicious big boot from Reaper that sent her crashing to the mat.

Damian, now free of the extra pressure, managed to fend off Dominik with a well-placed kick to the midsection. JD tried to capitalize on the distraction, but Reaper was already on him. She grabbed JD by the throat, lifting him off the ground with ease, and then slammed him down with a chokeslam that shook the entire ring.

The crowd was going wild, and the commentary team was in shock. "Who the hell is this?!" one of them shouted. "Reaper just decimated the new Judgment Day! This is unbelievable!"

Rhea stood in the center of the ring, her breathing heavy but a smile of pure satisfaction on her face as she watched Y/N dismantle their enemies. This was what they needed. This was the kind of backup that would send a clear message to anyone who thought they could cross them.

As the dust settled, Finn, Liv, Dominik, and JD were all sprawled out on the mat, writhing in pain. Reaper stood tall, her chest heaving as she glared down at the carnage she had wrought. Rhea walked over to her, their eyes meeting with a shared understanding. They didn’t need words; they both knew what this alliance meant.

Damian finally made his way over to them, clutching his side but grinning through the pain. "Hell of an entrance," he managed to say, his voice rough but appreciative.

Reaper nodded, her gaze still fixed on the fallen foes around them. "They won’t know what hit them," she replied, her voice a low growl that sent shivers down Damian’s spine.

The three of them stood united in the ring, a formidable force that no one would dare challenge lightly. The crowd was still buzzing, and chants of "REAPER" echoed through the arena. This was the beginning of something new, something powerful. The Judgment Day had tried to break them, but they had only succeeded in making them stronger.

Later that night, back in the locker room, Rhea, Damian, and Reaper sat together, reviewing the footage of the match. Rhea had her feet up on a bench, a satisfied smirk on her face. Damian was nursing a few bruises but seemed in good spirits. Reaper, however, remained stoic, her expression unreadable as she watched the replays of her attacks on the screen.

"You really laid them out," Rhea said, glancing over at Y/N. "I think they’ll think twice before messing with us again."

Y/N shrugged, her focus still on the screen. "They were asking for it," she replied simply. "Betrayal has consequences."

Damian nodded in agreement. "We needed that. After everything they did, we needed to show them that we’re not going down without a fight. But now we need to keep the pressure on. We can’t let them regroup."

Rhea leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she considered their next move. "Agreed. We need to hit them where it hurts. Take out their leader, and the rest will crumble."

Y/N finally tore her gaze away from the screen, turning to face Rhea and Damian. "Finn’s the key," she said, her voice firm. "He’s the one holding them together. We take him out, and the rest of them will fall apart."

Rhea grinned, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll go after Finn and make sure he knows that betraying us was the worst mistake of his life."

Damian cracked his knuckles, a determined look on his face. "I’m ready whenever you are."

Y/N nodded in agreement. "Let’s make this personal. Let’s make them regret ever crossing us."

With their plan set, the three of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of what they were about to do settling over them. They knew that this was just the beginning, and the road ahead would be filled with challenges. But they were ready. Together, they were unstoppable.

Over the next few weeks, the tension between the two factions escalated. The new Judgment Day tried to regroup after the brutal beatdown they had suffered, but Rhea, Damian, and Reaper were relentless. They ambushed their enemies at every opportunity, targeting Finn specifically with a series of calculated attacks that left him battered and bruised.

The arena became a battleground, with each faction trying to outdo the other in a vicious cycle of revenge. But it was clear that Rhea, Damian, and Reaper had the upper hand. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and their shared thirst for vengeance made them a deadly combination.

Reaper’s presence in particular struck fear into their opponents. She was a force to be reckoned with, her brutal strength and unwavering focus making her a nightmare in the ring. The fans couldn’t get enough of her, and she quickly became one of the most talked-about wrestlers in the industry.

But despite the success, Y/N remained distant, her stoic demeanor rarely breaking. Rhea noticed it more and more as the weeks went on, sensing that there was something deeper driving Y/N. One night, after another successful ambush on Finn and his crew, Rhea decided to confront her.

They were back in the locker

room, the adrenaline still pumping from the night’s events. Damian had already left to get checked out by the medical team, leaving Rhea and Y/N alone. Rhea watched as Y/N methodically unwrapped the bandana from her arm, her movements slow and deliberate.

"You were brutal out there tonight," Rhea said, breaking the silence. "Not that I’m complaining, but… what’s driving you?"

Y/N paused for a moment, her hands stilling as she considered the question. "They hurt you," she finally said, her voice low but intense. "They betrayed you, and they need to pay for that."

Rhea raised an eyebrow, surprised by the depth of emotion in Y/N’s voice. "It’s more than that," she pressed. "I can see it in your eyes. This isn’t just about revenge for me and Damian. What’s going on?"

Y/N sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she sat down on the bench. For the first time since they had met, she looked vulnerable, her tough exterior cracking just enough to let Rhea see the pain beneath.

"I’ve been betrayed before," Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not in the ring, but in my personal life. People I thought I could trust turned on me, used me, and then left me for dead. I swore I’d never let that happen again. So when I saw what they did to you… it hit close to home."

Rhea’s expression softened, understanding dawning on her. She sat down next to Y/N, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I get it," she said gently. "And I appreciate you having our backs. But you don’t have to carry this burden alone. We’re a team now. We’re in this together."

Y/N looked over at Rhea, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and determination. "I know," she replied. "And that’s why I won’t let them win. Not this time."

Rhea smiled, giving Y/N’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We won’t let them win. Together, we’re unstoppable."

The final confrontation came at a major pay-per-view event, where the two factions were set to face off in a six-person tag team match. The tension was palpable as the two teams prepared for battle, the weight of everything that had transpired hanging heavy in the air.

The match was brutal, with both sides giving it their all. Finn, Liv, Dominik, JD, Rhea, Damian, and Y/N fought with a ferocity that left the audience on the edge of their seats. It was a war, plain and simple, with no love lost between the competitors.

But it was clear from the start that the new Judgment Day was outmatched. Rhea, Damian, and Y/N had spent weeks perfecting their strategy, and it paid off. They systematically dismantled their opponents, isolating them one by one and picking them apart with ruthless efficiency.

The climax of the match came when Y/N found herself face-to-face with Finn Bálor. The arena was electric, the crowd roaring in anticipation as the two stared each other down. Finn was battered and bruised, but his eyes burned with defiance. Y/N, on the other hand, was calm, her expression unreadable as she prepared to deliver the final blow.

Finn charged at her, but Y/N was ready. She sidestepped his attack and grabbed him by the waist, lifting him into the air with ease before slamming him down with a devastating powerbomb. The impact shook the ring, and the crowd erupted in cheers as Finn lay motionless on the mat.

Y/N didn’t stop there. She hoisted Finn up once more, this time locking him in a brutal submission hold that left him writhing in pain. Liv and Dominik tried to intervene, but Rhea and Damian were there to cut them off, delivering their own finishing moves that left them incapacitated.

With Finn at her mercy, Y/N tightened her grip, her eyes locked onto his as he struggled to breathe. "This is for everything you’ve done," she growled, her voice cold and unforgiving. "You made a mistake when you crossed us."

Finn’s struggles grew weaker, and the referee quickly signaled for the bell, declaring Y/N, Rhea, and Damian the winners. The crowd erupted in cheers, the arena filled with the deafening roar of victory.

Y/N finally released Finn, letting him slump to the mat as she stood tall, her chest heaving with exertion. Rhea and Damian joined her in the center of the ring, raising their arms in triumph as they soaked in the adulation of the crowd. They had done it. They had avenged the betrayal, and now, they stood victorious.

As they left the ring, Y/N couldn’t help but glance back at the fallen members of the new Judgment Day. A part of her felt a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing that they had gotten what they deserved. But another part of her, the part that had been hurt and betrayed so many times before, felt something else — a sense of closure.

This battle had been more than just a fight for dominance in the ring. It had been a way for Y/N to confront her own demons, to finally put the past behind her and move forward. And now, as she walked alongside Rhea and Damian, she knew that she wasn’t alone anymore. She had found a new family, a new purpose, and together, they were unstoppable.

In the weeks that followed, the trio continued to dominate the WWE, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. Y/N had found her place among them, not just as a fierce competitor but as a trusted ally and friend. The fans couldn’t get enough of the Reaper, and she quickly became one of the most popular wrestlers in the industry.

But despite all the success, Y/N remained humble, her focus always on the next challenge, the next battle to be won. She knew that the world of wrestling was unpredictable, that alliances could shift in an instant, and that the only way to stay on top was to keep fighting, keep pushing forward.

And that’s exactly what she did. With Rhea and Damian by her side, Y/N faced every challenge head-on, determined to carve out her own legacy in the WWE. The Reaper had arrived, and there was no stopping her now.

Together, they were a force to be reckoned with, and the WWE would never be the same again.

[ineedhaikyu]

Inspirational Drabble

Summary: The match between Inarizaki and Karasuno is about to start! The crowd was buzzing with excitement, ready to cheer their hearts out for their favorite team. As everyone prepared themselves, one person couldn't help but torment himself. Luckily, Asahi didn't have to drown in his self-deprecating thoughts as someone became a lifeline.

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: Spoilers from the manga, especially chapters 248 and 249! A lot of fluff. Inspired by the picture above!

Asahi tried his best to breathe as normal as he could. He had to stay calm, not just for his sake but for his team’s sake. All of their hard work paved their way all the way to Nationals.

Out of habit, Asahi traced the kanji of person (人) on his palm before swallowing it. It might look like a silly routine but it helped. Though for some reason, he wasn't as nervous as he usually was. They're playing against Inarizaki, one of the top favorites to win this whole thing.

Yet, here he was hoping to catch another glimpse of his opponents before the match officially started. Specifically, the girl that brought a storm of warm emotions inside his stomach. (L/N) (Y/N), Inarizaki's manager, the girl he met just yesterday but already made her way into his fast beating heart.

The eagerness to see her again began this morning when he woke up in the very shirt she gifted him. It wasn't just the fabric that kept him warm but the feelings he had for (Y/N) as well. It almost seemed to good to be true but once he replayed the conversations and read their texts from yesterday, Asahi could honestly believe that (Y/N) wasn't just his dream girl... She's the girl he wanted to be with.

But would she go for someone like him?

He hoped so and if not... Well, a guy could dream, right?

"On a different topic entirely," Suga began as everyone finished changing into their alternate uniforms. "I saw a girl carrying an Atsumu fan earlier. Is he an idol now?!"

"Actually, he pretty much is for high school volleyball. The Inarizaki team garners a different kind of popularity than Itachiyama." Coach Ukai explained. "They have a solid core of talent and a wide array of spectacular, crowd-pleaser plays. That makes them the ultimate contenders."

"We do see them getting interviewed on TV a lot too." Suga pointed out.

Asahi confirmed with a nod. "(Y/N) mentioned yesterday how they're always being interviewed by multiple reporters and journalists."

"Oh?" Suga smirked up at him. "Was this on your date yesterday?"

"N-No. We were just talking." He defended though he couldn't do anything to hide the stutter in his voice. "She even told me she once got interviewed."

"Woah, really? That's cool! I guess that's the advantage that comes with being a part of a high class powerhouse school. I mean, have you seen their cheering section? It's huge."

"And that means no one here... Not a single person in this whole crowd, thinks we have a chance."

To his and Suga's surprise, it was Daichi who voiced this sad fact. Asahi wondered if he was in an alternate dimension. Ever since last night, his friend has been wound up.

"Gah! Daichi, what's gotten into you?!" Suga shouted. "Pull it together, man!"

Asahi was just about to say something similar when he saw Daichi lips turn into a smile. His eyes gleamed with determination as he said, "Now I'm fired up!"

The two third-years sighed in relief, knowing they had nothing to worry about as their captain was back to normal.

"It's about time you snapped back to yourself, Daichi." Suga commented.

Asahi nodded in agreement. "Yeah. You've been awfully quiet since last night. Meek, even."

"H-Hey! I-I was focusing."

~

The moment Daichi opened the doors to the main arena everyone was blown away at the sheer intensity the crowd produced. The lights of the gym shined like mini suns above his head. The gleam of the laminated floor looked untouched, almost spotless. It was enticing, begging to be played on.

Then there was the crowd. Asahi can easily see their supporters standing behind their signature black banner, sporting their signature orange colors. It was a welcoming sight.

The warm reassuring feeling quickly left his body when he looked at Inarizaki's section. They had triple the amount of fans Karasuno had, not to mention they even had cheerleaders and a marching band. It almost made Shiratorizawa cheer section tiny in comparison.

Asahi clenched his fist tightly and took another deep breath to calm down his nerves. Though the Inarizaki's marching band wasn't helping his case at all.

Suddenly, the crowd cheered loudly and Asahi took this as a sign that their opponents have made their appearance. Which means-

(Y/N) walked next to Inarizaki's coach, looking unbothered by the amount of fans cheering for her team. The smile on her face was enough to calm his nerves from her intimidating teammates. Even from the other side of the court, his eyes met with her (E/C) ones. The connection was instant as they smiled at one another.

"Aran!!"

"Atsumu!!"

"Osamu!!"

"Okay." DU-DUM! "Let's go." Daichi's voice could barely be heard over the marching band's drums.

So he tried again. "I said, let's-" WAAAA!!

This time it was the cheerleaders' collective cheering.

Asahi watched as Daichi grew frustrated with the crowd's interference. So much so that the captain yelled from the top of his lungs, "LET'S!! GO!!"

"Yeah!!"

~

Official Warm-Ups

(Y/N) felt her heart lurch against her chest when she saw Asahi again. She felt a bit silly with how happy Karasuno's ace makes her, especially when they spoke to each other just a few minutes ago.

She shook those thoughts from her head. Now was not the time to daydream about Asahi.

'Focus! Your team needs you!' Thought her brain. 'Don’t get distracted!'

'But Asahi's so cute. He’s such a gentle giant.' Her heart argued. 'Omg, his biceps look amazing! Just imagine having those strong arms wrapped around you and having him lean down to kiss-'

'STOP! Now is NOT the time to think about that! At least, wait till AFTER the match is over.' Her brain tried to reason.

'Fine…' Her heart relented to her brain’s demand but it only took one more glance before crumbling once again. 'Those broad shoulders though… Asahi is literally hot guy status.'

“(Y/N)!”

“Yes, Coach?”

“It’s the twins' turn to warm-up and you know how superstitious they are. You know what to do, right?"

"Yes, sir."

She caught the ball with ease and made her way to where Atsumu and Osamu were waiting for her.

Ever since the Miya twins joined the club, they began a silly little routine of her tossing the ball for Atsumu to set to his brother. The first time was during the twins' first appearance playing for Inarizaki. Usually, the coach or assistant coach would do the tosses during warm-ups, but at the time they were occupied which led her to do the toss for them. Atsumu was perfect with his set and Osamu effortlessly spiked the ball. From then on, they demanded, Atsumu more than Osamu, for her to toss for them in future warm-ups, claiming she had the lucky touch.

(Y/N) smiled to herself at the memory. She didn't believe in luck but she went along with it. For two years, she tossed them the ball in each official warm-up and now that this was her last year with them... Well, they weren't going to change tradition now.

"You guys ready?" She asked them, tossing the volleyball up and down.

"Heck yeah!" Atsumu answered excitedly. He held up his hand for her to high-five. "No way are we going to lose."

(Y/N) laughed as her hand connected with his. She turned her attention on Osamu, the small pout on his lips was enough to know what was on his mind.

"The faster we win the match, the quicker we can go out to eat. I'll even treat you to dessert. How does that sound, 'Samu?"

With the promise of food, the twin straightened up and high-fived her. His eyes sparkled with joy. "Let's show these guys what Nationals is all about."

With both twins looking eager to start, (Y/N) stepped back and stood next to the net as the twins also went to their positions. Without meaning to, she looked over at Karasuno's players and internally smirked when all eyes were waiting to see the twins in action.

After counting to three, (Y/N) tossed the ball in a beautiful arch as it made its way to Atsumu's waiting hands. Not surprisingly, the ball was set perfectly for Osamu to spike strongly.

"Nice kill!" She told them, her chest swelling with pride.

"One more!" Osamu called out.

(Y/N) raised a brow and was about to ask why when she saw both twins sharing a look.

"Alright, last one!"

Tossing the ball one more time, (Y/N) watched as the twins jumped in unison and her smile grew when she witnessed Osamu displaying his setting skills for Atsumu to spike.

"Ha! Ha! Super body and soul switch time delayed spike!"

'If only they could find a better name for that move...'

Despite the move they just did wasn't a delayed spike, it still made the crowd go crazy, screaming several compliments.

After the twins waved to their fans, they made their way to her.

"How was that, (Y/N)-senpai?! It looked cool, didn't it?!" Atsumu bombarded, looking for her praise more than anything (as if the crowd's praises weren't enough for him).

"Amazing as always, Miyas!" She complimented them as she clapped both of their shoulders before making them lean down to her level. "What's your reason for doing that move?"

Atsumu looked smug while Osamu answered her. "We have to prove the other team what we're all about."

"Uh-huh..." (Y/N) raised a brow looking unconvinced with his answer. "Now give me the real reason."

The twins looked at each other and (Y/N) wondered if twin telepathy was real because a few seconds later Atsumu sighed before replying, "To intimidate that crush of yours. He kept starin' at you when you weren't lookin'. It's creepy."

Osamu lifted his head for a second before crouching back down. "He's still starin'."

"Oh my god, you guys. I appreciate you caring for me but focus on what's important, okay? Right now, in your eyes, Asahi is your opponent so just view him as that and nothing more."

And with that, (Y/N) gave the twins another pat on their shoulders before making her way to the bench. Unbeknownst to her, the twins didn't take her advice to heart. Instead, they focused on something else.

"Did ya notice how she's on a first name basis with that guy, 'Tsumu?"

The twin nodded as he placed his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowing on Karasuno's #3 from across the net. "They literally met yesterday, 'Samu! How did that samurai guy make an impression on our manager?!"

Osamu shrugged his shoulders because the answer was a mystery to him as well. "You're just jealous that (Y/N) likes him."

Atsumu whipped his head to glare at his brother. "AM NOT!"

"Are too."

"Am not!"

Osamu sighed, not wanting to continue this argument. "Whatever. We still have to beat them."

"Without question. If he can't beat us then he has no right to even talk to (Y/N)-senpai." Atsumu declared.

"Agreed."

The twins took one more look at Karasuno's ace, making a mental note to pay special attention on the guy… and crush him.

~

National Spring Volleyball Tournament, Round 2

Hyogo Prefecture Rep: Inarizaki High School (3rd Appearance Straight, 31 Appearances Overall)

Versus

Miyagi Prefecture Rep: Karasuno High School (1st Appearance in 5 Years, 9th Appearance Overall)

~

It was time. Both teams stood on either side of the court, every member held a sense of seriousness as they tried to make themselves as imposing as possible.

At the sound of the referee's whistle, every emotion seemed to jump to another level. Asahi's hands fidgeted anxiously. Call it paranoia but he felt like he was wearing a large target. It looked like everyone wearing a black Inarizaki uniform were glaring daggers at him. He hoped it was just his imagination.

Then there was (Y/N) by the sidelines. Even from afar, he could see the excitement in her eyes. She looked so angelic with that smile of hers. He felt a wave of relief when he recalled how much support she gave him the day before.

"I’m not saying you should just get over yourself because we all have experienced some level of negative emotion in our lives, right? And it’s not as easy as turning a page in a book. Trust me I know. So believe me when I say this, it’s okay to express those feelings. Maybe one day, you’ll find solace in someone."

Asahi felt his spirits lifted when he thought about (Y/N)'s words. Solace... She didn't know it but that was what she became to him. Her words gave her comfort and alleviated all the strangling roots of anxiety that surrounded him. He smiled to himself at the memory. It was enough to fall for her all over again.

After mentally counting to three, both members of the Karasuno and Inarizaki team bowed down to each other and yelled, "Here's to a good game!"

Asahi's feet moved automatically to where the coaches were standing. His heart was still beating like crazy. His nerves were still going crazy because in a few seconds they were about to play a high caliber team that were the people's favorite to win this whole thing.

That's when Takeda-sensei came to the rescue and provided the much needed words of wisdom. Asahi listened as his head coach spoke, "You know... Two months ago, during the qualifier finals, no one thought we could beat Shiratorizawa either." A bright smile accompanied as he continued, "What say we surprise everyone again!"

"YEAH!!" They shouted in unison with Hinata and Nishinoya jumping with joy.

It was time for the announcer's to present to the crowd the starting lineup. Asahi took a deep breath as he waited for his name to be announced. Not wanting to look any more nervous that he actually is (and to hide away his fidgety hands), Asahi crossed his arms and tried to look brave.

Physically, he looked intimidating. Mentally... Well, it went something like this:

'Daichi's right. Nobody's paying any attention to us. I don't have to be nervous. Nope. Nuh-uh. I'm not nervous at all. Nobody's looking at me. That means I effectively don't even exist!'

With a furrowed brow, Asahi quickly shook his head at the thought.

'Wait, no. Now that I think about it, that was going too far. Heck, it was pretty sad!'

And of course his friends noticed how quiet he became.

"Asahi. Get over here." Daichi called, his voice full of authority and masking the slight anxiety he had. He didn't need his ace player to go down the rabbit hole before the match even started.

Suga couldn't help but laugh as he said, "I don't have to be a mind reader to know there's something laughable on your mind right now."

Daichi narrowed his eyes at Asahi. "Whatever you're thinking, stop it! That's an order!"

It was scary how frightening Daichi can get.

"I-I wasn't thinking a-anything bad." He defended through stutters. "At least... Not anymore."

Before Daichi could reprimand his ace, Suga cuts in with a slap on his shoulder and said, "Hey, don't make it obvious but (Y/N)-san has her eyes on you."

All the thoughts from a moment ago disappeared instantly at the idea of his crush paying attention to him. It gave him a new sense of motivation to play the best that he could. Volleyball was something he was good at, like really good, and (Y/N) took notice of his skills from yesterday's match. If he could impress her even more then maybe... He has a chance.

"Let's win this match and then win some more!" Asahi declared as he made his way to his assigned position. His aura was slowly but surely glowing with confidence.

Daichi and Suga sighed in relief as their ace finally looked mentally ready to play.

"Tell me the truth, Suga, was (Y/N)-san actually looking at Asahi when he wasn't looking?" Daichi asked his vice-captain.

Suga grinned. "Come on, Daichi. Just like I don't have to be a mind reader with Asahi, I don't need to be a psychic with (Y/N)-san. Those two are perfect for each other. Just you wait, a confession is going to happen in the future. Mark my words."

Daichi could only sigh at his friend's words but he didn't say anything against Suga's prediction. Even he could see the effects the pretty Inarizaki manager has on his gentle giant of an ace. He wouldn't be surprised if they kept in touch after all of this is over.

~

Little did anyone know, this wasn't going to be the last day for Inarizaki's manager to be a part of their lives, especially in Asahi's.

~

Next: Chapter Four

[1onescu]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 - aubrey griffin

The excitement in the air was palpable as Y/N stepped onto the court, the bright lights of the Phoenix Mercury's home arena illuminating the space. The crowd's roar was deafening, a testament to the loyal fans who had followed her career from Iowa to her debut in the WNBA. Today was a big day, and she could feel the weight of expectation and hope on her shoulders.

As Y/N scanned the crowd, her eyes landed on a familiar face – Aubrey Griffin. Aubrey, her girlfriend and biggest supporter, was right there in the front row, her enthusiasm and love evident in the way she cheered and waved. Y/N's heart swelled with a mix of love and determination. Seeing Aubrey there, so vibrant and supportive, gave her the boost she needed. She could do this. She would do this.

The game began, and from the first whistle, Y/N played like she had never played before. Every pass was precise, every shot calculated and executed with perfection. She moved with a grace and power that left her opponents scrambling to keep up. With each successful play, she could hear Aubrey's voice, louder than the rest, cheering her on.

Aubrey was a whirlwind of energy in the stands, standing up, clapping, and shouting Y/N's name. Her support was unwavering, and it made Y/N feel invincible. With each play, she felt more confident, more unstoppable. The synergy with her teammates was perfect; they seemed to be in sync like never before.

Natasha Cloud, the team's powerhouse guard, was everywhere on the court, making incredible assists and ensuring their defense was solid. Brittney Griner, their dominant center, was a force in the paint, blocking shots and making critical rebounds. And Diana Taurasi, the legendary guard, orchestrated their offense with her usual flair and precision. Together, they were an unstoppable force, and Y/N was at the heart of it all, driving the team forward with her relentless energy and skill.

By the time the final buzzer sounded, the Phoenix Mercury had secured a decisive victory. The crowd erupted, and Y/N's teammates swarmed the court in celebration. During the team's post-game celebration, they lifted Y/N onto their shoulders, chanting her name. It was a euphoric moment, and Y/N looked out over the crowd, searching for Aubrey's face. She spotted her just in time to see her blow a kiss, and she caught it with a grin, her heart swelling with affection. She was still standing near the center, her chest heaving with exertion and pride. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins when she felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around her from behind.

Aubrey's embrace was warm and grounding. Y/N could feel the love and pride radiating from her as she whispered, "You were amazing out there."

The whole Mercury team noticed the intimate moment, and a chorus of playful "Ooooo" echoed across the court. Y/N could feel her face heat up, but she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. She turned in Aubrey's arms and hugged her tightly, burying her face in her shoulder.

"Look at Y/N and her girl!" Diana called out, and the teasing laughter that followed was good-natured and full of camaraderie.

Natasha nudged Brittney with a smirk. "Told you Y/N would bring her A-game with Aubrey here."

Brittney chuckled. "No doubt about it."

Aubrey and Y/N took a moment to pose for pictures, both with the team and with some of Y/N's former Iowa teammates who had come to support her. The sense of community and love was overwhelming, and Y/N felt like the luckiest person in the world.

They wandered to a quieter corner of the court, where they could talk without the noise of the crowd. Aubrey's eyes sparkled with pride as she held Y/N's hand. "I knew you could do it," she said softly. "You were incredible."

Y/N smiled, squeezing her hand. "I couldn't have done it without you here. You always know how to push me to be my best."

Aubrey laughed, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

It was a reunion of sorts, filled with laughter and reminiscing about their college days. They all marveled at how far they had come, and how much further they still had to go.

Eventually, the time came for Aubrey to leave. They stood together near the exit, holding hands and whispering promises of more time together soon. It was a sweet, tender moment, and Y/N found herself reluctant to let go.

"Go get 'em, superstar," Aubrey said softly, giving her one last kiss before pulling away. "I'll be cheering for you always."

Back in the locker room, the Mercury team continued their playful teasing, calling Aubrey "Y/N's girl" and making Y/N laugh with their antics.

Diana, ever the ringleader, smirked as she draped an arm around Y/N. "So, Y/N, when's the wedding?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Slow down, Diana. We just won a game."

Natasha joined in, grinning. "Yeah, but we all saw that look. You two are head over heels."

Brittney pretended to swoon dramatically. "Y/N's got herself a keeper."

Later that night, after the festivities had died down and the team was headed back to their respective homes, Y/N found herself scrolling through the photos from the game. There were shots of her in action, surrounded by teammates, and of course, plenty of her with Aubrey. Each picture was a reminder of how loved and supported she was, and it filled her with a sense of peace.

The next morning at practice, the teasing resumed. "How's your girl, Y/N?" Natasha called out, and Y/N couldn't help but laugh.

"She's amazing," Y/N replied, her smile wide and genuine.

Diana pretended to pout. "Aww, are we chopped liver now?"

Y/N shook her head, grinning. "Never. You all are the best."

The banter continued, light and full of love. Y/N knew that this was more than just a team; it was a family. And with her family by her side, both on and off the court, there was nothing she couldn't achieve.

As the season progressed, Y/N continued to shine. Every game, she played with the same fire and determination, always aware that Aubrey was cheering her on, whether from the stands or from afar. The Phoenix Mercury became known not just for their skill, but for their tight-knit bond and the way they supported each other, both on and off the court.

And through it all, Y/N and Aubrey's love remained a constant source of strength and joy. Their relationship was a beacon of hope and inspiration, a reminder that with love and support, anything was possible.

[theroyalsims]

BREAKING: ANYA AND GUS MAKE SIMBLEDON DEBUT

Our favourite soon to be Mr. and Mrs. were welcomed with loud cheers at Simbledon this afternoon!

Lovebird Anya and Gus enjoyed the Simbledon Women's Singles Finals in the best seats of the arena straight from the Royal Box.

(Above: This marks Gus' first official outing as a soon-to-be member of the Royal Family.)

The historic day at the courts marks the first official outing of the couple after their engagement was announced a couple of months ago.

Although, yes, it might seem like the two are just enjoying a day off and having a tennis date, the trip to the world's most prestigious tennis arena is actually "work" for the Crown Princess, who is attending the event as the Royal Patron of the Brindleton Tennis and Croquet Club (BTCC).

(Above: Anya and Gus received a very warm welcome upon their arrival.)

HRH and Gus were greeted by former Simbledon champ, Louisa Naayers - Hawthorne and her husband. Louisa famously had a 7-time back-to-back Simbledon win over three decades ago. She now sits as one of the directors of the BTCC.

Anya stunned in a bright blue knit dress, which she complemented with nude accessories including a clutch and low-heel slingbacks. Gus, meanwhile, looked dapper in a cream suit. He did, however, match his tie and his trousers to Anya's blue frock.

(Above: Gus rests his hand on Anya's back, as the couple head to their seats at the Royal Box.)

And while there wasn't any hand-holding - rumour has it that the Queen "advised" the two about proper decorum and protocol while out on official engagements - we did notice that Gus constantly kept a protective hand behind Anya's back. They were also seen engaging in lively banter during the event.

Gus, however, is somehow new to the glitzy world of Brindelton tennis, and it seems like he much rather prefers rugby and football. A source close that he's recently just picked up the game - thanks to Anya, of course:

"He's not exactly what I would call a 'tennis guy.' He isn't particularly fond of tennis. He doesn't, or maybe I should say 'didn't,' play. He's more into rugby and football. He's catching up these days though, particularly since Anya loves the sport. They've played a few times, and Anya's coaching him - he's in very good hands because she's actually wonderful at tennis."

(Above: The couple sat next to Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne at the Royal Box.)

Could his inexperience in the sport be a sore spot for the couple? The source says "no":

"Oh, no, not at all. He loves that he's seeing more of her world. He's happy to be a part of it. And of course, Anya is very excited to share things with Gus. If there's any competition in whatever sports they play, it's very friendly - these two have a shared wicked sense of humour."

(Above: Today's big win belongs to Glimmerbrook's Lucky Harries.)

As for today's big game, Glimmerbrook tennis pro Lucinda "Lucky" Harries won big! Living up to her name, the two-time champ once again proved that she's one of the best in the game! The multi-hyphenated powerhouse (she's has a law degree!) beat Komorebi's Wi-Yen Kobaya in a nail-biting 3-set thriller match.

(Above: Anya and Gus in their own little world! Despite being in an arena and surrounded by over ten thousand tennis fans, the lovebirds were spotted enjoying a lovely moment!)

The Crown Princess is expected to attend the closing ceremony to hand out the awards later this week. Here's hoping she lets Gus tag along again, because we just love seeing these two together!

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 10

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 6.5k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12 A/N: a lot of yall are gonna be mad at me, but let me cook real quick. Trust 🙏🏾

Past (xi) - You

[21 & 22] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

You tighten your coat around you, burrowing into the warmth as you walk. 

To the left of you, dairy cows moo distantly, some grazing the open land while others stay tucked away in their barns. To the right of you, you pass empty victor houses. Once upon a time, District Eleven used to produce an immense number of victors. Certainly not as many as One or Two, but a strong contender right next to Four. It makes sense. Compared to what the citizens here have to face day to day, the arena is a welcome change. And tributes from Eleven develop a skill set that’s meant for survival at a very young age—one step away from being careers in your own right.

Eleven has always been incredibly rebellious. But after the Uprising a few decades back, which the citizens refer to as the First Movement, Eleven lost any good standing with the Capitol. In its place came droves of Peacekeepers and more oppressive rules than there were people. With them came the inability to train children, malnourishment, and conformity. They make sure to teach all about it in school, making sure students know just how far their district fell. Once a powerhouse worthy of rubbing shoulders with the best of them stands one of the most ‘primitive’ and militarized districts in the nation.

The remaining houses are left without any upkeep and are abandoned to fall apart.

As a victor, you're afforded some leniency by the Peacekeepers, but not much. Just enough that they won't find it suspicious that you’re carrying a blanket-covered wicker basket. Regardless, you keep it close to your side, and it knocks into your calf with each step. 

Winter is the worst time in Eleven, though it doesn’t last long. It doesn’t snow often since it’s so far south, but the ice is just as bad—if not worse. Not many people can survive the subzero temperatures, let alone crops. So, though it seems impossible, what little rations they give the people are shortened even further. The only plus is that it isn’t harvest season—there are so many crops to collect that children are pulled out of school for weeks at a time to help.

You remember what it feels like to be hungry. To be forced into the orchards to harvest pears, apricots, and Mandarin oranges—some of the only crops that can weather the cold, small hands stiff and your stomach numb with pain as you endured the freezing winds. You had friends when you were younger, other children that worked alongside you. Very few of them survived through the winter.

They give victors more food and money than they have any right to. So once a month, you pack up food that you, Chaff, and Seeder have gathered and journey to the poorest part of the district. You don’t take it all at once. That’s far too risky. You spread out the trips over several days at different times so the Peacekeepers on the clock don’t notice a pattern.

It’s not an easy walk by any means. You reside in the wealthy part of Eleven, and you use wealthy in the loosest sense of the word. The mayor’s family, doctors, Peacekeepers, landowners, and victors. Your destination is almost on the complete opposite side of the district from the Victor Village. Far away so the rich don’t have to see the harsh reality that the citizens live in.

It’s never been explicitly said that you can’t give out food, but it’s certainly implied. You try not to think about what they’ll do to you if you’re caught.

You wave at the few people you pass and avert your eyes as you walk past the whipping post. There’s only one. The Peacekeepers line up anyone who’s committed an offense and thrash them one by one. Most of the time, the people are innocent. Everyone has to watch. No one can intervene. It’s stationed beside the deck they conduct the hangings on.

People avoid the area if they can.

You pass open farmland and empty cotton fields. The further you walk, the more run down the buildings become. Until the houses aren’t much more than shacks guarded only by the hulking trees surrounding them. You relax. The Peacekeepers don’t patrol here. They’re certainly supposed to, but even they can’t stomach the squalor. 

The kids spot you first—they always do. Little heads pop up from behind trees, shouting your arrival. 

“She’s here!”

You laugh as they surround you, jumping up and down and shooting rapid-fire questions your way. You know that more would greet you if they could, but they likely can’t move. Huddled up in their homes and crippled by hunger or the cold, but probably both. The commotion draws adults toward you. An older woman with graying curly hair and sunspots on dark brown skin steps out of the gaunt-looking crowd. Elm, she's the de facto leader here. 

A man, Maple, smiles and takes the basket from you and walks into one of the buildings in the far back to stash the food away. You pull more wrapped food out of the hidden pockets on the inside of your coat and hand it off.

You have a system in place. You’ve been doing these deliveries for a long time. You trust them to distribute the goods to those who need them the most. Everyone here looks out for each other. Even if the kids aren’t theirs, an adult won’t let them go hungry if they can help it. It truly takes a village. You would know. After all, you used to live here.

The Shacktowns mainly exist because there are too many people in the district, having reached overpopulation decades ago. Living here is preferable to having to pay for food, clothing, and a house that’s seen its fair share of price gouging. From what you’ve seen, the clothing in the Shacks is somehow worse than what Districts Ten or Twelve get to wear. It’s all ill-suited for the temperamental cold. So, in exchange for working in the fields and forests under horrible conditions, the people get free housing and food. Clearly, both benefits are incredibly lacking.

It’s all the illusion of choice, anyway. Only three percent of the population works outside of the fields, that’s including the Peacekeepers. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who doesn’t work on a farm, a grove, an orchard, or a plantation.

Elm pulls you into a hug once your hands are free, and you lean into her warm embrace. She’s been as old as the dirt on the ground for as long as you’ve known her, but it feels like she’s rapidly declined every time you see her. She’s well and truly sick, and she has been for a long time now. No one knows what it is or what effects it’ll have on her. Medicine isn’t readily available here. And you don’t think something that simple can help her anyway. Sadly, she isn’t the only one. You just hope this information doesn’t get out.

If anyone orbiting the elite circles found out just how many people were sick here, they wouldn’t send them to the Capitol to get help. They’d see it as a waste of resources. They’d let them suffer and die or have them put down if they’re feeling benevolent. Again, Eleven is heavily populated. The lives here have very little value outside their abilities to work. If they can’t do that, what purpose do they serve? 

What use is a horse with a broken leg?

She pulls away, hands on your shoulders as she looks you over. “You look good, healthy.”

“I can’t say the same for you.” You raise a brow at her hunched frame. She’s a tall woman with the endurance of a mule. She’s a decade younger than Mags, but she doesn’t look it. But, as you’ve learned after touring the districts, manual labor ages people. 

“And you,” you lean back as she wags her finger in your face, “inherited that mouth from your daddy. It’s gonna get you in trouble one day.”

"You’re getting worse.” You note, ignoring her attempt at diversion. The kids disperse, running back to the forest they were playing in. You know they won’t go far enough to reach the thirty-foot-tall fence, but you still worry. The gate is guarded to the teeth with trigger-happy Peacekeepers who won’t hesitate to shoot on sight.

“'M fine, honey. Don’t worry about me.” She waves off your concern, and you frown, stuffing your hands into your pocket when a breeze comes through.

“My offer still stands, Elm. There’s plenty of room in the house. Me and Mama would love to have you.” She practically raised your dad, and she even made the broom your parents jumped over at their wedding. Hell, when you were born, she was the first person to hold you after your parents. She’s family, and it kills you to leave her out here.

She shakes her head, and you know this argument is going to end the way it always does. “You know that’s not fair. They need me out here.” She pats your cheek and finishes with no room for argument. She’s stubborn, so going in circles about this will get you nowhere. You shift your jaw, agitated.

“And while we’re talkin', I think you should skip next month’s delivery,” your jaw drops. “Let me explain before you start assumin'. You know we appreciate everythin' you do for us, but you need to lay low for a while. You’re pushin' your luck comin' out here as often as you do, and if you get caught, you won’t be any help to anyone.” She makes a convincing argument and effectively cuts off your protest before you even start. 

You sigh. Seeder and your mom have been telling you the same thing.

“Please? Do it for an old woman’s peace of mind.” She pleads, squeezing your shoulders.

“We can’t afford to just stop coming out here entirely, but I guess it doesn’t always have to be me.” Chaff had offered to start delivering in your place, or to at least switch off who makes the trip each month.

You’re barely able to make ends meet for the people here, and this is only one Shacktown of hundreds.

“Just...start lookin' out for yourself more, alright?” She asks, and you agree with a scowl. You refuse to call it a pout, though Finnick definitely would.

You don’t stay for long. You need to get back before it starts getting dark out.

On your way back, you stop by the bakery like you always do. It’s a good halfway point between your two destinations—you’ll have something to show for your trip as well as an alibi, just in case you get stopped. 

You order two loaves of seeded rolls, another loaf of sourdough, and a blueberry muffin for your mom. Sage, the worker behind the counter, wraps the baked goods and pauses. “It’s dangerous. What you’re doin'.” He murmurs under his breath, so quiet that you wouldn’t have been able to hear him if you two weren’t the only ones here. He hands you your stuff, waving off the tip you attempt to give him. “But it’s good. I don’t think I’d be brave enough to take that kind of chance.” 

“It’s brave enough that you offer me food to give to them.” You say and mean it. What you do is only a secret to the people who aren't supposed to know. It's not just you, Seeder, and Chaff who contribute. Sometimes, people give you food and clothes to donate—among other things. Sage has spent many nights making extra bread and pastries just so there’ll be enough left over for you to deliver to the Shacktown.

Most jobs in Panem are passed down through families, such as Caesar Flickerman, who took his profession from his father, Julius Flickerman. And Julius inherited it from his father before him, all the way back to Lucky Flickerman. 

Old Mr. and Mrs. Pitsone never had any kids of their own, so the mayor allowed them to adopt one of the many orphans running around the fields to train in the art of baking. They picked Sage. 

He’s a meek boy despite his height, skittish and paranoid, but very kind. With light hair and even lighter skin that’s rare to see in Eleven, it’s no wonder he stood out amongst the other kids. He and his parents live above the bakery in a small home, though luxurious by Eleven’s standards. 

You used to be sweet on each other when you were much, much younger. A kiss on the cheek here and there as you worked side by side. Nothing special, but the most childish you were allowed to be. You were so envious when they took him out of the fields; you all were. He wasn’t one of you anymore, he got to work on the inside. Nobody wanted to be around him, so he was ostracized. You, angry and young, wished it was you. But now, you only wished it had happened sooner. You wished you had kept in touch.

He rings you up, and you gather it all in your basket before he stops you. 

“Oh! Wait here for a second.” He goes through a door behind him that you know leads to storage. You lean forward and hide a handful of coins on the little shelf under the front counter where you’re sure he won’t find them until it’s time to close. You hear rummaging and boxes moving before he comes out with a wrapped parcel tied with string. “I saved a few chocolate croissants for you. We usually run out of those in the mornin', but I know you like them.” He gives you a closed-mouth smile. Small, but real.

You try to picture a world where the two of you ended up together, running the bakery until you’re old and gray—maybe if you hadn’t been reaped. But you can’t imagine a universe where you aren’t in love with Finnick Odair. 

“Thank you, Sage.” The bell above the door jingles as you walk out.

“Be careful!” He calls from behind you.

Walking back is always hard, having to leave them all behind to suffer while you’re allowed to go back to your stupidly big house. With its giant pillars and long, stretching brick walkway framed by old willow trees that curve into each other and make an arched tunnel. And it’s in the middle of this tunnel that you see Peacekeepers guarding either side of your front door.

Your heart stops and then starts again at a runner’s pace.

Did they…find out? You were so careful, how did they—

One of them spots you lingering a few feet away and waves you closer. You walk forward, closing the distance. And then you take hesitant steps up the old stairs, tensing up in preparation for rough hands dragging you to the whipping posts. Instead, one just opens the front door for you. That’s worse. That means your punishment is on the inside. You’d rather take your chances with the whips. 

They shut the door behind you but don’t follow you. You place the basket of goods on a nearby hallway table and walk into the living room to see your mom sitting on the couch by herself, flanked by three guards, safe.

“There you are, baby.” She tries to smile at you, a play at normality, but it creaks and shakes like a house in a tornado. “We have a very special guest. He’s waitin' for you in your study.” She nods to the double doors further down the hall with even more Peacekeepers. You know who’s on the other side before the doors even open, and you really would have picked the whipping post over this.

Coriolanus Snow sits in your office—inside your home, almost seven hours from the Capitol. Snow traveling that distance? That's nothing to scoff at. 

He sits with his back to you and turns when the doors shut behind you. You feel like you’re a guest in your own home.

Seeing him sitting behind your big mahogany desk is akin to seeing a fox in a chicken coop. It’s dangerous. Foreboding. It has you looking for blood-soaked feathers. Nothing good can come from it. And for him to be so comfortable in the spot where you write your letters to Finnick makes your skin crawl. It’s wrong. He shouldn’t be here, in the one place that's truly yours.

“President Snow.” You say in greeting. You wrack your brain for any mentions of him coming to visit you and come up empty. Maybe there was a letter you missed, but you doubt it.  

It’s dusk. The setting sun shines through the windows behind him, bathing him in golden lighting that would have made anyone else look angelic. 

“You’re back,” he props his elbows up on your desk, steepling his fingers together. “Your mother said you were off to the bakery. You were gone for an awfully long time. Is it far?” Nothing on Snow’s face gives away his true intentions. If he knows about your little escapade, he’s doing a very good job of hiding it.

“Yes. It’s almost a day's walk,” You reply truthfully. When he does nothing more than hum in return, you’re quick to fill the silence. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

“Oh, it’s no fault of your own, my dear. I’m sure if you knew I was coming, you’d have postponed your little trip, yes?” You nod like a bobblehead, and he leans back, most likely confident that he has your full attention. Again, you can’t tell if he knows about the donations. If he does, he clearly doesn’t care enough to mention it. Surely, he didn’t come all this way just to sleep with you. But what else could he be here for?  

“Your mother was a fantastic host in your absence.” He lifts his teacup in mock cheers to you and you clasp your hands together behind your back, nails digging into thin skin.

“I’ll… I'll be sure to pass along the message.” You smile, pressing your nails deeper into your skin. Had they been any sharper, you would’ve drawn blood. It’s quiet as you silently observe each other. The only sound in the room is the tick of the grandfather clock and a few birds outside the window, happily ignorant of the cyclone forming inside.

He finally breaks and speaks, though break probably isn’t the right word for it. Rather, he allows you to breathe by saying something, “Do you know why I’m here?”

Under the weight of his unrelenting stare, you eventually shake your head no and it feels like admitting defeat. Like you’re not smart enough to catch on to his train of thought and you both know it.

“Of course you don’t.” He tsks, and you lower your gaze, ears growing warm. He stands and takes poised, measured steps to where your feet are rooted to the floor. He towers over you, literally and figuratively. 

“I am here,” he circles you like a vulture, “to remind you of your standing. Hear me when I say this, as there will be no room for misconceptions. You are incredibly privileged.”

You think you do a very good job of refraining from gawking at him like he’s grown a second head, even though that’s definitely the reaction he deserves. What privilege could he possibly be talking about? You, who grew up in the poorest part of the most oppressed district. You, who’s been whored out for the safety of the people you love since you were sixteen. You, who’s lucky to see the man you love more than once a month. 

You’re privileged?

"Now, I've allowed you a certain amount of freedom that not many are rewarded. Namely, your relationship with Mr. Odair," he nods to your desk where your letters from Finnick are hidden. Perhaps not as hidden as you thought. "I’m sure you know communication between the districts is forbidden. You get away with it because I allow it. Because you are obedient, because you don't ask questions when given a task, because you have a value that many like to indulge in." Snow rubs his gloved thumb against your bottom lip. You know better than to flinch away. 

"But you are not irreplaceable." He drops his hand and turns towards the room. Your lungs are cool with the breath you’re finally able to take. You should be used to his presence, and you usually are, but only when you can prepare yourself. He’s completely blindsided you. 

You nod clumsily. “I know.” Really, you do. You knew Snow knew about you and Finnick, but not to what extent. You also wondered how long it would take until the both of you got pushback. You just weren’t expecting it to happen like this.

He toys with the few picture frames you have set up on your shelf. He glances over the picture of your parents on their wedding day and a framed photo you took of Finnick in the Capitol, beaming a big grin at the person behind the camera—you. Instead, he goes for the magazine you have propped up. The first cover you and Finnick were on together. Life in the Spotlight as Told by Panem's Hottest Victors.

“Do you? It appears to me you believe yourself invincible. I assure you, you are not.” He turns to you, magazine in hand, and taps Finnick’s face on the cover. You bite your tongue so hard you taste blood. “And neither are the people you care about.”

Your throat is dry, tongue fitting uncomfortably in your mouth. You swallow and it goes down rough.

“I don’t think that at all, President Snow. I apologize if my actions came across that way. If there’s anything I can do to remedy that…?” You trail off rather pathetically.

He chuckles and cracks the first smile you’ve seen since he’s been here, and it’s almost worse than his scowl. "Always so eager to please. This is not a reprimand, just a reminder. You toe the line, but as long as you do not cross it, we shouldn’t have any issues." The heels of his sensible shoes click against the wooden floor as he comes to stand before you again. "So long as you keep up your streak of good behavior, you’ll be permitted to carry on the way you have.”

“Yes, sir. I…I understand.”  

He hums and goes to walk past but stops. "I know you do, good girl that you are."

Your fingers twitch.

"Ah, I almost forgot," he pulls an envelope from a pocket on his waistcoat. You know who it's from by the color alone, the color of sand. "You have mail." He smiles again, sharp and cruel in its kindness. It's still sealed, held between his middle and pointer finger, but you're certain he knows what the letter says already. You take it hesitantly along with the magazine.

He walks out without any farewell. The doors shut behind you. You hear shuffling and steps, but you only untense once you hear the front door open and shut. You wait there for what has to be at least thirty minutes before you even think about opening the letter.

My Star,

At the time that I’m writing this letter, it’s been two months since I’ve last seen you. I think this is the longest we’ve been apart in the past seven years. Only two months and it’s felt like a century. It’s been agonizing. It makes me wonder how I was able to survive without you for sixteen years.

I got the picture you sent me. I worry I’ll wear it thin with how often I touch it. In the absence of having you near me, I trace the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the slant of your eyes. I carry you everywhere I go.

My hands should be in yours, fingers laced together. Instead, I use them to write to you now.

I hope I can see you soon. Dreaming of you can only tide me over for so long. 

-With all the love in the world and beyond,

Finnick O.

You lean back and slide down the door. You groan, knocking your head against the wood. You never thought Snow would go as far as to threaten Finnick’s life. Especially with all the popularity he’s cultivated. It doesn’t make any sense.

You lift the letter to your face, tracing his signature. You glance at the magazine. You were both so young here, couldn’t have been more than sixteen and seventeen. Your youth is encapsulated forever on a teen gossip magazine.

You rest your forehead against him, the glossy cover cool on your skin. Your body is still trying to disperse the rush of adrenaline Snow brought with him.

“You and me.” You sigh. You’re going to need all the strength you can get. For him though, it’s all worth it.

Past (xi) - Finnick

[21 & 22] - DISTRICT FOUR

Ocean water burns his eyes as he swims to shore, his muscles strain and burn as he pushes against the current. The hot sand sticks to his wet feet as he walks up the beach and he waves to a few surfers who call out to him. It’s getting colder, and everyone wants to get in the water while they still can.

Finnick has always believed that good things come to those who wait. He prides himself on being a pretty patient man, but—and there’s always a but—patience is as good as dust when it comes to you.

It’s been four months, going on five, since he’s last seen you.

He’s been seeing you less and less over the last two years, and at this point, he’d be lucky to catch a whiff of your perfume. He doesn’t get it. It’s not like he’s lost any standing in the Capitol, and based on your letters, you’re still in high demand. 

Besides, it’s not like either of you can request to come to the Capitol at the same time.

He drags himself up the stairs to the Victor Village, wood creaking under his weight. When he gets to the top, he turns left instead of right—actually heading back to his beach house for once instead of Mags’s. After taking a shower, he plans on going into town with Annie. She hadn’t asked him to and she’s been doing pretty well, becoming more lucid. Yet, there’s no telling what’ll trigger her—whether it be some kind of commotion that sounds too much like a canon or someone’s outfit that too closely resembles what she wore in the arena. He’d rather be safe than sorry.

Plus, he’s expecting a very important letter any day now.

When he finally gets to the sand road in front of the village, he hears the horn of a ship in the distance. He glances behind him and spots the biggest fishing boat in the district. The Cod Be Ever in Your Favor. He scoffs. That thing’s been around longer than he has, and it’s a rite of passage for everyone to go out to sea on her at least once. 

His father was a deckhand and he adored the job like it was his lover. He was rarely ever home—something Finnick was very grateful for. He never inherited that passion for the high seas and he had to learn the hard way that he’s much more adept in the water than above it. He’s crossing his fingers that the old relic capsizes one day. He’s not hoping anyone gets hurt or anything, but he will be celebrating the day that hunk of junk gets turned into scrap metal.

“On your right!” Finnick jumps to the left as a man on a bike zips past him.

Cars aren't driven down here. It’s too close to the ocean, and the cars manufactured in Six aren’t built to handle the terrain. But they’re substituted by the electrical bikes fashioned specifically for the coastal towns of Four.

Palm trees sway in the stiff wind before a line of three-story buildings. He has no immediate neighbors; the beach houses on either side of his lay empty and desolate. Tributes from Four aren’t that rare compared to lower districts—the latest victor being Annie. But, with being a wealthier district, comes access to more substances. Morphling overdoses are the leading cause of death for victors in districts one through six. Followed closely by alcohol poisoning and, well, the Capitol itself. Just in the past five years, the population dropped from seven to three.

He remembers them. 

Emilia Killroy was found washed up and bloated on the shore. Rían Hugh was struck by a car further into the city after stumbling into the street. He was so drunk he wouldn’t have felt it. 

Lottie MacHale and her son, Lukas. Lukas left the games mentally and physically disfigured. His game was a disaster that led to the untimely death of the previous Gamemaker and the implementation of Seneca Crane. A winter tundra that froze two-thirds of the tributes. The frostbite took the entirety of Lukas’s left leg and all the fingers on his right hand. He was found by his mother with a needle in his arm sans a pulse. Truly, it was a wonder he lasted as long as he did. 

It didn't take long for Lottie to follow him. Drowned in her vomit after drowning in her liquor, but everyone always said she died of a broken heart. 

He remembers them all. 

He slams the door shut behind him, eager to take a shower. His swim trunks are laden with water, getting dragged down his hips from the weight. Saltwater drips between his wet feet on the hardwood floor and weighs down his hair. He slicks it back so he can see where he’s going as he walks past the living room. 

He pauses, taking a few steps back to see…President Snow sitting on his couch? Finnick leans to the side to glance down the hallway, and—yep, Peacekeepers are milling around his back door. He bets as soon as he came in a few sprang out from wherever they were hiding to guard the front door behind him.

“President Snow. This is a surprise.” And far from a pleasant one. Finnick smiles, mask slipping into place, but Snow has unbalanced him. “What’s this all about?” It can’t be anything good. He can’t say he’s ever heard of Snow making a house call.

“I apologize for barging in on you like this, Mr. Odair, but this is an urgent matter.” He crosses his ankle over his knee, and Finnick hedges into the room. Cautiously, feeling like a wary animal walking into a trap.

Briefly, he’s reminded of something you told him. You had mentioned off-handedly that you’ve eaten frogs in Eleven. He couldn’t wrap his mind around how you’d get the frog into the hot water while it was alive and you said you have to trick it. You put the frog in the water while it’s still cool, and then slowly raise the heat without it noticing. Eventually, the water is boiling and the frog is trapped. 

“And what matter is that?”

Snow stares at him thoughtfully for a moment, and in Finnick’s experience, that’s never good. He hums before speaking, and Finnick imagines steam rising around him as Snow cranks the heat up. “Are you aware of what purpose keeping the districts isolated from each other serves?”

“No, Sir, I don’t.” He lies, but he’s sure Snow will give him his own twisted, convoluted reason. Finnick is well aware that Snow enforces this rule because it keeps the citizens ignorant. Ensuring they only really know about their district means there can be no real unionizing. 

“Panem as a nation runs on a very delicate balance of hope. Too little, and the people become despondent. Too much and the people begin to think—the people begin to rebel. For the citizens to see two victors from drastically different districts have such an intimate relationship complicates things.”

“...You think we’ll spark a rebellion? Just by being together?”

Snow releases a raspy breath that might have been a laugh once upon a time and the water is getting hotter. “I think it will lead to people envisioning a future where such things are allowed. I know you will cause a rebellion. You see,” he sighs, “the civilians are as subdued as they will ever be. But this will have them questioning their circumstances. It will take them out of the ‘us vs. them’ mentality they have against each other. It will make them wonder just how much they have in common and that leads to them seeing each other as people. It doesn’t help that you are both such influential figures. They will rebel, from One to Twelve, and they will all share the same fate as Thirteen.” 

“Is this…because she’s from Eleven?” He knows, thanks to you, that the people of Eleven are particularly defiant in the face of the Capitol’s oppressive ruling and always have been. Understandably so, considering no one feels it more severely than they do. He holds back a scoff. To think he thought Four was rebellious. At most, Four has the privilege of throwing temper tantrums, knowing they’ll face no real repercussions. Eleven, on the other hand, riots knowing they’ll be punished grievously.

Snow, again, takes a moment to watch him. “Her being from that particular district does make a rebellion far more likely, yes.” He pulls a forest-green envelope from a pocket inside his blazer. The exact letter he’s been waiting for. He doesn’t acknowledge it, so neither does Finnick.

“Of course, you can continue as you have, and I’ll take it upon myself to handle it. However, I doubt you’ll like the solution I have come up with. She's one of my most popular female victors. And I can admit, I have grown rather fond of her." Snow chuckles, and Finnick feels sick. He looks down at the envelope clutched in Snow's hand and pictures your arm in its place. He doesn't want to think about what happened behind closed doors to make Snow grow so fond of you. "It would be hard to replace her," Snow nods along to himself, "but not impossible." The room is quiet for a moment before Finnick asks, "What are you saying?" After working so closely with Snow for so long, you learn his language of non-speaking. You hear the silent threats in between the carefully crafted rebuttals. You feel the weight of his deliberate silence. So, Finnick knows exactly what Snow's saying. Snow knows this, too, which is why he says, "Don't act daft, Mr. Odair. It doesn't suit you." He's twenty-two years old—a grown man—but suddenly, he’s fourteen again—sitting in that chair, backed against a wall as Snow forces him to sign his soul away. He’s still that scared kid. He’s never outgrown him because he never got the chance to grow up—not if Snow had any say in the matter.

“As I said, this can only end in pain. It’s up to you to decide who will end up bloody. The lives of thousands over the life of one. Surely, you understand that.” He doesn’t. Finnick doesn’t understand it at all. It doesn’t matter what the other option is, he’s picking you every time without fail. He can’t imagine doing otherwise. He doesn’t want to.

“Unless you can think of something else, I don’t see any other way for us to proceed past this.” Snow moves his hand in a sweeping motion, the closest thing to a shrug that he’ll do. Finnick doesn’t understand why he came to him. He clearly favors you, so why threaten your life?

“Why me? Why are you making me choose? Wh-why,” he looks down to the floor, to the space between his feet, “Why not her?” If there was a choice on who would survive between you and him, he wants it to be you. Is that selfish? To wish you were the one given the choice instead of him. It feels unimaginable to live in a world without you, so is that cruel to expect you to do the same? 

To love is to be human. To be human is to be flawed. And there’s no one more flawed than Finnick Odair.

“You’ve been around longer.” He raises his eyebrows in another almost shrug as if it’s all so simple. “It only seems fair.”

Fair.

Fair.

When did he start caring about what’s fair? He didn’t even think that word was in Snow’s vocabulary, and, honestly, it still might not be because he isn’t using it right. There is nothing fair about this situation.

Snow uncrosses his legs and leans forward, a glint in his ghastly eyes. He looks worse every time Finnick sees him, and he wishes he could get any satisfaction from it, but he just feels as sick as Snow looks.

“It doesn’t,” Finnick shakes his head, “It doesn’t have to come to that. I’ll…I’ll handle it. I–I’ll end it.” The words are out of his mouth before he can even comprehend them, mouth moving faster than his brain, and by the time it catches up, it’s too late to snatch the words out of the air. They float between them, and they are terrifying.

Snow nods at the idea and…and...

It’s over. It’s all over. It was over as soon as Finnick sat down across from him, maybe even before that. 

“See that you do. I trust you’ll take care of this issue without my stepping in.” As Snow stands, he holds the envelope up to his nose and takes a long, obnoxious sniff. "Hmm, it even smells like her." His nauseating smile turns Finnick’s stomach. “Spritz of perfume? A nice touch.” His steps are unhurried, and he takes his time approaching Finnick’s tense form.

“And Finnick?” He pulls away before Finnick can take it from him, playing with him even now. “Go easy on the poor girl. I imagine she’ll be quite torn up over this.”

The water is boiling.

The water is boiling, and it’s too late to get out.

Finnick says nothing, but Snow isn’t expecting him to. He hands him the letter and walks to the door without a backward glance.

Two Peacekeepers follow him out, the door shutting behind them softly, and that nags at him. How dare they ruin his life and leave like—like this was just a social call? As if this isn’t crumbling his foundations, the same foundations that support the home he’s built with you.

Snow handed him a box of matches and told him to burn that home to the ground.

He looks at the envelope, wet with his fingerprints, and Finnick…

Finnick rushes to the bathroom to vomit.

-

A/N: why'd y'all let me cook 😕😕😕 come yell at me in my inbox!!! damn y'all were Peeta and Katniss b4 Peeta and Katniss 🤭🤭 and sage is such a peeta variant, all these Peeta variants falling in love with you uh, an actual lil author's note moment: when watching Catching Fire, I noticed the people in District Eleven dress like black people did in the 1950s and 60s while incorporating elements from the Antebellum South. Since most of the people that live there are black and indigenous and Eleven is the most oppressed district, it makes sense. It’s interesting what the clothing the people in different districts wear says about the culture there and what kind of culture Suzanne Collins based that district on. The Shacktowns are the District Eleven equivalent to the Seam in District Twelve, but even Katniss was surprised by how badly the people lived. She basically said it made twelve look like a paradise in comparison. When I mention the rich elites in Eleven, imagine them being around the same financial standing as Katniss was before she was reaped. So…not much.

[mosticonicbirdcallbracket]

MOST ICONIC BIRD CALL BRACKET: ROUND ONE: GREAT BLUE HERON vs. AMERICAN WOODCOCK

IN THE BLUE CORNER, pond owners beware, the great blue heron has entered the arena!

as this majestic wrestler strides down the ramp, you can really feel the power and grace emanating from every step it takes. check out that graceful neck and that razor-sharp beak - all the better to spear both fish and its opponents with. this heron is a versatile hunter, able adapt its fishing methods on the fly, which is going to make it a fearsome opponent. and let's look at that call - a deep and harsh "hwek" that surely sends fear into the hearts of anyone who tries to mess with it.

IN THE RED CORNER, we have the cock of the walk, the american woodcock!

this delightful powerhouse has earned itself a number of colloquial names from fans across north america, including timberdoodle, bogsucker, hokumpoke, and labrador twister. it's no wonder why this opponent has captured the hearts of so many fans. its call is a distinctive "peent" that has been the subject of several viral videos. does the american woodcock have what it takes to win the championship?

[itsrheasgirl]

hello could write something like the reader and Dominik fight for the love of Rhea, in the end the reader stays with Rhea

THE GIRL IS MINE - PT 1

RHEA RIPLEY X FEM!READER

FT DOMINIK MYSTERIO

WORD COUNT: 2799

TAG LIST: @rebecca-quin @girlofpink

SUMMARY: EVER SINCE JOINING THE JUDGEMENT DAY THINGS HAD BEEN TENSE BETWEEN YOU AND DOMINIK. THE TWO OF YOU HAD BEEN FRIENDS FOR YEARS AND HE DIDN’T WANT TO MAKE YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE BUT WHEN RHEA STARTED TO PAY A LITTLE MORE ATTENTION TO YOU OVER HIM, THE REALITY SET IN AND THE TENSION BECAME TOO MUCH. WITH FRIENDSHIPS ON THE LINE, WHO WILL COME OUT VICTORIOUS?

- - - - - - - - - - -

You hadn’t taken your eyes off Rhea as she owned the ring against Liv Morgan, each slam and each throw sending vibrations up your spine as you thrived over just how unstoppable the Australian powerhouse truly was.

To you— she was breathtaking, not one flaw plagued her.

But you weren’t the only one to see her in such lights. You could see the same glimmer in Dominik’s eyes as he watched her just as closely as you did.

You didn’t want to cross boundaries. Put a toe out of line. But lately you’d started to feel closer to Rhea than you had before joining The Judgement Day. Ever since Dominik suggested you be the fifth member to their little family, you had spent your days pining after the dark haired temptress. She was definitely your type, but you knew you could never be hers. The way she always looked at Dominik proved that.

You didn’t realize you had been staring so hard until the loud ring of victory rang in your ears and the sound of Samantha’s voice echoed through your soul.

AND HERE’S YOUR WINNER.. RHEA RIPLEY!

You didn’t question your actions as you slide across the apron and under the bottom rope, your petite frame sprinting across the expanse of the ring to joyously throw yourself into Rhea’s awaiting arms.

Your toned legs clamped around her waist as your forearms clung to her torso, raising your fist up into the air you didn’t even hesitate as you chastely pressed your plump lips briefly against her temple.

Liv hadn’t stood a chance against the women’s world champion, but Rhea had still battled with a few nerves before entering the ring. You’d promised her it would all work out and to no surprise you were right.

As your fellow stablemates entered the ring, your glistening gaze caught that of Dominik’s— he looked distraught as he took in your current position, his features lowering slightly in upset as he shifted to stand at Finn’s side.

You remained clung to Rhea like a baby koala as the ref took her free palm in his hand, raising it sky high to solidify her win over the tiny blonde as the roaring cheers of the crowd flooded the arena.

You expected Rhea to lower you back to the ground as the referee returned the championship belt to her, but to your surprise she kept one muscular arm wrapped tightly around your hips as she yanked the belt back to hold it high above her head.

Casting your crystal gaze over at Dominik as he stood at Finn’s side, you felt your heart sink slightly. You’d noticed more and more lately that you being around Rhea seemed to bother him. You hated seeing him this way— snubbed like a small child losing its favorite toy, but Rhea had been waiting for you. She’d welcomed your embrace, so why wouldn’t you take advantage of it?

Slowly unwinding your legs from around Rhea’s waist, you drop your feet down to the ring and release the fellow female from your grasp.

You really didn’t really want to make things worst for you and Dominik when it came to the public eye, things had been tense between the two of you for weeks now and being around him in Rhea’s presence was becoming a little unbearable.

You could see the confused look on Rhea’s features as you stepped away from her and allowed Damian to take the space between you, her lips parting as she went to mouth a singular word to you. Why?

- - - - - - - - -

“Hey.”

Rhea’s voice was crystal clear as she grasped at your wrist, gently pulling you into a small hidden alcove as the boys continued on ahead of you unaware. Her sapphire hues locked on your features as you slowly looked up to meet her gaze, the same perplexed expression she’d had in the ring masking across her face as she kept her hold around your wrist.

“Not now, Rhea”

You uttered, trying to pull yourself free from her grasp and attempting with no success to get back out into the hall.

“Yes, now.”

She stated with a firm tone.

“What is going on with you?”

What were you supposed to say? That sharing any kind of interaction with her— no matter what it was, was causing Dominik distress and you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him even though being around her made you happier than you’d even been?

Swallowing back a nervous ball of saliva that pooled on your tongue, you chewed on the inside of your cheek. No matter how hard you thought you couldn’t think of a thing to say.

A small twitch shot down your spine as you felt the soft pads of Rhea’s fingertips dance under your chin, her gentle leverage tilting your jaw upward so you looked upon her features once more. Her eyes glistened— even in the darkness of the alcove, captivating you just like they always did.

“Y/N, talk to me.”

You’d zoned out thinking so hard, unaware that Dominik was making his way back in search of you and Rhea. The back stage area was so loud you didn’t hear his footsteps as he got closer, nor did you hear him calling out Rhea’s name until it was too late.

Rhea’s finger remained curled under your chin as Dominik turned the corner, her other palm still grasping onto your wrist as her shimmering gaze met that of his own.

It was like instinct, your entire frame shifting back to distance yourself from Rhea as quickly as you could. Your own gaze refusing to meet theirs as Rhea and Dominik remained in a staring match.

“You okay, Mami?”

Dominik asked. His gaze flitting between you and Rhea as his muscular forearms crossed over his chest. What was his problem? Why wouldn’t she be okay, and if she wasn’t what was he accusing you of?

“She’s fine.”

You snap as you shove past Dominik and back out into the hallway, not even bothering to look back as Rhea calls out your name. You needed to get away from them— both of them. You couldn’t be around Rhea without Dominik somehow finding his way into the situation and you were getting sick and tired of having to fight for her attention.

You weren’t sure if they were following you or if they’d taken a lovers moment to be together alone, but you refused to turn back. It hurt you to see them together and yet it hurt you more to be away from her, but you couldn’t figure out what was the best thing to do.

This was your career, The Judgement Day was your family and yet every second you were together it was eating you up inside. All you wanted was what Dominik and Rhea had— a relationship, but you couldn’t have her. She already belonged to someone else.

- - - - - - - - - -

You’d been sat alone at the hotel bar for what felt like hours, nursing you second rum and coke like it was the last drink you’d ever have. Swirling the last few ice cubes round and round the glass, you exhaled a long sigh. You knew you should be sleeping, you’re flight was in eight hours but you could allow yourself the peace to rest.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Rhea. About how she’d held you back in the ring. About the smile that had graced her lips when you’d kissed her skin. Why had she reacted in such a way with you after the match? What did it matter how you were feeling? Your feelings weren’t her priority.

Bringing the almost empty glass to your lips, you knocked back its contents before plopping the vessel back down on the bar top. You’d heard the approaching footsteps but chosen to ignore them, putting all your focus into the empty glass before you.

“So you want to tell me what I did, or..?”

You recognized the voice, but chose to keep your back facing away. You didn’t want to talk, especially not to him. After all he was part of the problem.

Dominik huffed as he stared at your back, not bothering to check your reflection in the bar back mirror as he spoke once more out of turn.

“Come on, don’t be a bitch.”

He didn’t mean it out of aggression, but with your current state of mind you took it otherwise. Pushing up off your bar stool you turned on heavy heels to face the taller male head on.

“Don’t be a bitch! Are you serious?”

You snapped. The tone in your voice full of menace. You had chosen to keep your back to him in attempts to avoid any kind of confrontation, but clearly Dominik had other plans. If he wanted to be defensive, you could be defensive.

“What do you want Dom?”

You were surprised Dominik was alone, he was more often than not attached to Rhea at the hip. Following her constantly, always laughing and joking. She never got time to be alone when it came to him and it bothered you.

“Have you seen Rhea?”

He didn’t know where she was? Now that was new.

“How should I know where your girlfriend is?”

Dominik’s features shift slightly. He didn’t expect you to be so standoffish and yet you were speaking to him like you’d had a falling out. He knew nothing of how you felt. Of how him being with Rhea tore at your heart like knives. Why would he, because he saw non of it. Or at least that’s what you thought. In your mind all Dominik cared about was Rhea. All he ever saw was Rhea. And nothing challenged that. She was his and that’s the way it was going to stay.

Leaning your elbows back onto the bar top, you arched a brow out of annoyance. You didn’t want it to be personal, but your feeling for Rhea were getting to the point where you didn’t know how much longer you could hide them and the only thing that stood in your way was Dominik.

“She’s not actually my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Yeah well you sure as hell act like she is.”

You snap.

“Following her around like a puppy dog, making sure her attention is always on you.”

The relationship Dominik and Rhea have is scripted and you knew that, but you saw the way he looked at her. The way even the slightest thing she did made him smile and you knew— he loved her.

You knew because you felt the same.

Dominik had only ever looked at one other girl in his life the way he looked at Rhea and you knew all too well that it was love.

“What is going on with you?”

Dominik questioned, his thick brow raising skyward as he simply watched you. Judged you.

“Why are you acting so jealous?”

You didn’t understand why he was acting so clueless and making you out to be the bad guy, he knew why you were acting in such a way he just refused to admit it. You may be jealous about him giving Rhea attention, but he was jealous too.

“Jealous!”

You push off the bar top and stand toe to toe with Dominik, he was much taller than you but that didn’t stop you from meeting his gaze with a menacing glare. If he wanted to call you out, then you’d call him out. All truths on the table.

“You think I’m jealous. You’re one to talk.”

Dominik scoffed at your words, his broad shoulders flexing as he towered over you.

“And what would I have to be jealous over?”

An eat shit smirk claimed your lips as you didn’t faulted one inch in your footing, keeping your petite frame as close to Dominik’s as you could. What did he have to be jealous of? Oh you’d let him know.

“I’ve seen how childish you get when Rhea even looks at me. We can’t even breathe the same air without you butting yourself into our conversation and it’s pathetic! You’re a grown man Dom Dom—”

Your tone dripped with mockery as you uttered Rhea’s little pet name for him, knowing it would trigger his defenses because only Rhea got to call him that.

“You need to stop acting like the nerdy high school kid who thinks he has a chance with the head cheerleader.”

You could see the burning behind his eyes as each word you spoke poked at a fire inside of him, twisting a hot poker into his side as you degraded his stature within your group.

“You’re no quarterback, Dom Dom. Maybe it’s time to let someone else try and steal her heart.”

Dominik’s demeanor had shifted, his cocky attitude morphing into that of anger. You didn’t expect him to react, he wasn’t one for yelling at women but something about the topic of conversation triggered him.

“You think you stand a chance with her? She’s nice to you because I asked her to be, she doesn’t care about you. It’s all an act.”

Dominik’s words twisted in you heart, causing your breath to catch in your throat as you kept a burning gaze locked on his features. It wasn’t an act, you could tell it wasn’t. Those few choice moments you got with Rhea— just the two of you, you could see she felt something. The way she acted around you wasn’t a game to her, the sadness you’d see on her face when you walked away because as per usual Dominik had made an appearance.

Pressing your lips into a firm line, you tried your best to fight back an outburst. You didn’t want to make a scene, yes it was late— but the bar wasn’t empty.

“You’re a liar.”

You uttered softly.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

Dominik scoffed once more, leaning forward, causing you to stumble back against the bar top. Both his palms slamming down against the solid oak as he bounced his brows, his lips curving into a malicious grin.

“It’s all a game to her. She’s playing you.”

You didn’t want to believe a word Dominik was saying. Rhea wasn’t playing you. Today in the ring she’d been so disappointed when you’d climbed out of her arms. When the match was over she’d pulled you aside to make sure things were okay, to see what was going on with you. Those weren’t actions of someone who didn’t care for another. Those weren’t the actions of someone playing games with someone else’s heart.

With his arms pinning you in place, you glare up at Dominik through thick lashes. Would he stoop as low as to lie in order to keep Rhea for himself?

You wanted to scream at him. To call him out in his lies, but you couldn’t be sure of any of it. What if he was telling the truth? It would have been so easy for The Judgement Day to lie to you, they acted everyday of their lives when it came to their work. Maybe that’s all you were. A lie at work.

“Isn’t that what she’s doing with you? Pretending to be something she isn’t. You don’t stand a chance with her outside of the ring, Dom. And you know it. So instead of acting like a man and stepping aside for someone who actually stands a chance, you’d rather bully me into thinking she’s not interested in me.”

You hadn’t been paying any attention to the few people scattered around the hotel bar, nor had you been keeping track of the surrounding. All you’d been focused on was Dominik, blissfully unaware of a shimmering set of sapphire hues watching you both from the corner of the lobby.

Rhea’s plush lips pressed into a firm line as she watched the way Dominik was treating you. Locking you against the bar as he spun lie after lie about how she was just doing as he suggested. Showing you attention because he had requested she do so.

“You think she’s actually into you? Damn Y/N you’re stupider than I thought.”

Your fists balled at your sides as he continued to throw jabs your way, his words like a tone of bricks crushing you.

“This is low Dominik, even for you. And here I was thinking you’d got over it.”

Dominik’s posture faltered slightly as his gaze fixated on you, your palms darting out to shove at his chest, causing him to stumble back as you kept the distance closed.

You didn’t have to stay here and listen to him belittle you, his attitude to your words giving you the perfect out.

Placing both your palms against his chest, you reached up on your tiptoe and pressed your lips to his ear.

“You’re not the only person who could love me Dominik, move on and let me go.”

[diiwata]

the tbosas tributes as x-men/mutants

my x-men brainrot makes me wanna merge my two fixations. very little people will get this, but i still put my heart and soul into this post, and i do not care TM.

do not take the x-men's actual relationships into account! just because two x-men are dating or siblings, doesn't mean that's what i interpret for the tbosas characters unless it's explicitly stated in the description!

context: the x-men are a superhero group formed by marvel, comprised of a special group of humans known as mutants. they have the x-gene, which grants them powers either at birth or during a stressful situation as the individual experiences puberty. they are a marginalized group (other superheroes don't undergo the regulations and criticism that they do) and began as a metaphor for discrimination in the 60s!

lucy gray as jean gray (power: telepathy and telekinesis)

i know it seems like i chose them because of their similar names, but hear me out! lucy gray has such a strong and almost telepathic hold on both panem and coriolanus snow, but they're also soft and loyal to the people they love. the last scene in dark phoenix (2019), where a "comet" flew over the sky and was implied to be jean, reminded me of lucy gray's mysterious ending.

marcus as magneto (power: magnetism manipulation)

the comparison that started it all. partners on the opposite sides of the war. (sejanus moving to the capitol / charles wanting to coexist with humans) is seen as a huge betrayal to (mutantkind / district kind) according to (magneto / marcus). magneto uses the helmet to block out charles' telepathy and undying love. marcus actively avoids talking to sejanus.

jessup as colossus (power: organic steel form)

both are large powerhouses that seem like physical threats at first glance (colossus is literally made up of steel), but actually have heart of gold. jessup has such big brother vibes and never brought harm to anyone with the only exception being lucy gray because of his rabies. he'd use his powers for good, and like colossus in deadpool, would have a no-kill policy <3

reaper as wolverine (power: retractable metal claws and regenerative healing)

two menacing characters with hardened exteriors and a "trust no-one" attitude. they also, apparently, are both istp. their softer side is reserved for the people they are loyal to. they're passionate about their fight and aren't afraid to die for their causes. i also don't want reaper to die TM so he gets regenerative healing to heal from the snakes/poisoned water. amen.

dill as shadowcat (power: intangibility)

book!dill seems to have the same teenage girlism that kitty pryde always radiates in the animated shows, especially in x-men: evolution. they're both sassy in a fun way, always ready to snap back at someone who isn't acting right... ahem, ahem... coriolanus snow. even while sick, she puts people in place. ill dill forever.

coral as mystique (power: shapeshifting)

both these characters are associated with the color blue, have red hair, like girls (mags as destiny? lol), and take initiative. coral rounded up a pack and went to town in the arena! mystique always stood on business no matter who she's up against. they both have this fierceness to them, have solid strategies, and know how to be a leader in their own way.

mizzen as mirage (creating illusions of opponent's fears)

the "m" in mizzen and mirage stands for "menace". in the "new mutants" and tbosas movie, both characters were unassuming and not seen as too much of a threat. people are quickly proven wrong. mirage proved herself to be an extremely powerful mutant in the facility while mizzen stood on business. they didn't play.

lamina as rogue (power: memory and power absorption through touch)

rogue is a gentle soul who laments about not being able to have physical contact with people. lamina... well, she was known for crying a lot. both are unassuming, yet resilient and fierce. lamina's natural empathy would also work really well with the power to absorb memories and skill sets. she'd use this power responsibly.

treech as nightcrawler (power: teleportation)

this power would've been so useful while he was running around the arena and stealing from others. people in the fandom mark him as some kind of performer thanks to his juggling, which is exactly what kurt was in the circus. I don't believe they're similar in terms of personality unless you look towards the x-men movie version of kurt, I just think they're swell.

brandy as magik (power: time travel via teleportation and sorcery)

based mostly on the "new mutants" movie, both characters are aggressive and aren't afraid to cause a little trouble with an authoritative figure. brandy with her mentor and the peacekeepers. illyana with dr. reyes... but she also beefed with the other mutants in the facility. lmao, she was always mad.

tanner as gambit (power: kinetic energy charging)

both are from the south with a bit of a menacing streak, and tanner deserved a gambit-adjacent southern accent. he seems like a guy that would love to deal cards that exploded upon contact with their opps. gambit also seems like to dance over the body of an opp (still love you, tan the man).

wovey as blink (power: portal creation)

based on our interpretations of blink in "the gifted", i can see her being similar to wovey. blink had been using her powers to hide and steal to survive, whereas wovey had always used the hiding technique in both the book and the movie. they're both softies inside and out! wovey with pretty pink portals agenda 2k24.

bobbin as havok (power: cosmic energy absorption and redirection/blasts)

in the xcu and tbosas, both characters are baa: blonde and angry. bobbin could've channeled his pent up anger into a bunch of energy blasts emitting from his chest. these characters like to cause trouble, but are so protective of their loved ones. also... imagine the chase scene in the arena, except bobbin had powers. it's entertaining, no?

character assignment speed-run! (since we don't get much of their personality in either the book or the movie, so now it's based on my vibes)

teslee as psylocke (power: telepathy and telekinetic constructs)

the ability to construct weapons out of nothing but pure, telepathic power? get my menacing nerd on the field! she would've loved being able to have weapons at her disposal, with the snap of a finger or a flick of a wrist.

circ as forge (power: intuitive intellect/limited technopathy)

our other techno-genius! forge has the ability to create anything intuitively by listening to the mechanical energy of the parts he puts together, which I think would've fired circ up and only increase his passion for technology by a tenfold!

velvereen as husk (power: transitional omni-morph)

husk has the power to shed her skin and form a new layer made out of any solid material. it made me think of velvet cloth, which made me think of velvereen... to me, she's stubborn and persistent like elizabeth!

facet as emma frost (power: telepathy and organic diamond form)

a boy named after the sides of a gem being assigned the mutant that turns her skin into an indestructible gem. poetic. not much to say about personality, but i like the idea of powerful!facet.

sol as sunspot (power: solar radiation absorption)

her movie version seemed determined and headstrong as she and hy pursued lucy gray and jessup, which matches sunspot's big personality and confidence. also... sol. sun. i'll see myself out.

hy as cannonball (power: thermo-chemical field propulsion)

I've always thought of his character as someone like sam in "the new mutants": reserved, nervous, and loyal. i also like the idea of hy being able to propel himself like a human cannonball... <3

ginnee as jubilee (power: "firework" energy blasts)

get it? because she got blasted in the arena... anyway, i imagine her to be similar in personality to jubilee. rambunctious, spunky, fun, a teensy bit stubborn, and always willing to prove herself by going on missions.

otto as cyclops (power: optic/eye blasts)

i imagine him to be a bit more reserved, assertive, and protective. he also got blasted... i feel terrible for assigning blast powers to the d6 homies, but I feel like they deserve this. good karma, if you will. if they get blasted, they deserve to have a... blast, too...

sabyn as quicksilver (power: super speed)

i genuinely do not give a flying fart if he was retconned as not a mutant, sabyn is him. she was so close to running away from the peacekeepers had it not been for that river TM... rip sabyn, you would've loved track and field.

sheaf as domino (power: probability manipulation/heightened luck)

luck is exactly what sheaf needed to survive those injuries sustained from the bombing. to me, she exudes this coolness, certainty just like domino in the deadpool 2 movie, with a dash of independence.

panlo as deadpool (power: regenerative healing and 4th wall interaction)

this power would've been the redemption arc panlo deserved after sustaining those injuries. he also looks like the perfect 4th wall breaker. just look at him. while not much of a jokester like deadpool, I can definitely tell he's a softie at heart like him!

might make this into a fic... 🤺

[heart4reigns]

HOME, roman reigns.

warnings: curse words, pet names, cigarettes, violence, degradation, blood

tags: CLICHE DOUBLE LIFE!AU, i'm a sucker for enemies to lovers you guys should know that by now, streetfight!AU

summary: it’s all fun and games until you find comfort in your enemy

"LISTEN to me." finn gathered his faction. you were tying your boots when he called you. "ay, (y/n). come here." damian called you. "yeah, yeah. wait a bit, i'm tying my shoes." you replied as you walked up to them. "this feud is important to us, especially to you," finn paused for a second to point on you. "you're the key of this feud." you nodded, mentally taking a note to not fuck up tonight. "together?" "let's fuck them up!"

after the small pep talk, everyone went to their positions. finn, being the leader, pulled you aside. "don't fuck this up, (y/n). i know you have personal beef with one of them, but don't fuck this up." he repeated. “i won’t, brother.” you were an obedient member of the family. “you’re like a dog, always loyal to us.” finn patted your back.

you were picked up by the judgement day months ago. they saw potential in you and adopted you to their gang. often times, you were used as their bait to rile up the enemy. you took every single bump there was with a sense of pride that you belonged to one of the powerhouses of street-fighting. tonight, you were facing your family’s biggest problem; the bloodline. they were another established powerhouse in the world of street-fighting.

being the clueless person you were, your family fed you lies–indoctrinating you to believe that they were the bad guys and you were the good guys. when in reality, it was the other way around. people started to circle over you as the fight was about to start. you scanned the arena but you didn’t see him. dominik was going first against solo, the youngest member. you paid attention to every single move he made but before dominik could throw a punch, he was smacked by none other than roman reigns.

there he was, gaining all the attention from the crowd. you made eye-contact with him, slowly feeling the intimidation get into you. but you held your head higher, showing no fear. roman smirked as he cracked his knuckles, ready to jump in whenever he wanted. the man licked his lips, still making eye-contact with you. rhea pushed you to the circle, pulling back dom from the scene and roman quickly jumped in. he was your assigned opponent from the start. sure, he was bigger than you but you were always faster than him. the crowd cheered as you avoided his punch, ducking behind him and kicking his nape, only to cause him to fall face first.

“don’t play dirty on me now, babygirl.” he barked, licking the blood on the corner of his lips. needless to say he took the bait, feeling excited to fight you. he didn't want to ruin your pretty face, he just wanted to mess around. roman reigns, the tribal chief, was holding back his attacks on you. as soon as you fell on the ground, he was ready to pin you–only to have damian pulling you back in the crowd. "really priest? you fucking asshole, i was having fun." roman glared at him. "well, you can have fun with me." without wasting anytime, roman pushed jimmy into the scene, replacing him.

the night ended in a draw as dominik was limping from his injury caused by jey. rhea carried him back to the car, finn and damian parted ways, leaving you alone in the arena. the crowd praised you for your work and you couldn't help but to feel proud of yourself. "(y/n), you did amazing. i can't fucking wait for your rematch, i think it's time for you to shine." you smiled at them. "thanks." you excused yourself to find your motorcycle, only to have someone waiting for you.

"what do you want, roman?" he smirked at you. "just waiting for you to go home safely, baby." the man replied. "i'm not your baby and i'll never be." roman looked down on you, still having a smug expression plastered on his face. "once you realize that your 'family' is only using you for bait, you're always welcome to the bloodline, babygirl." that was the last sentence he said before walking away. there was no way that your family was using you, you thought.

the first time you met him, you couldn't deny the attraction you had on him. roman was tall, handsome, and he was exactly your type. but as soon as your family told you to stay away from him, the attraction died down. hate him or love him, roman reigns was one attractive son of a bitch. on the other hand, when he first met you–he felt pity rising inside him (which was new). the judgement day didn't have good track records for picking up members. it was a matter of time that they show their true colors. and he just wanted you out of the picture before that could happen.

other than your street-fighting career, you were just a regular joe. working in a coffee shop somewhere downtown, far from the fight arena. "welcome to hunter's, how may i take your order?" today, you got your first shift near the neighborhood, instead of your usual spot in the gas station. when you arrived, your boss asked you where you got your bruises from, only for you to lie–saying you fell from your motorcycle. he shook his head, not wanting to intervene in your personal business.

the duality of your life was sometimes overwhelming to you. by night, you were getting your ass beat. by day, you were serving hot chocolate for an elderly couple. you were stocking up the beans in the backrooms when you heard your friend's voice. "(y/n), can you take over for a bit? i need to throw the trash." "okay!" you replied to your coworker, seth. the bell on top of the door rang, meaning a customer entered the shop. "welcome to hunter's, how may i take-" you looked up and saw him.

"well, babygirl. what are the odds?" you froze for a second, still taking in the sight of roman standing in front of you without his gear. he was wearing a black tracksuit with his hair tied up. even with your boots, he still towered over you. "why are you here? did you stalk me?" roman furrowed his brows. "no? baby, i'm not a fucking creep. i literally live next door." you didn't know what to do. before you could answer him, seth came back. "yo, what's good man? the usual?" roman looked at you with a smirk. "new trainee here? damn, she can't do her job right." he joked.

you were left flustered under his gaze. "(y/n), this is roman. he's a regular here. roman, this is (y/n). she just moved to this spot, the gas station one is closing down anytime soon. we can't afford to lose our best brewer." roman extended his hand. "roman." "(y/n)." you really wished that someone was beating you up right now.

to say the least, his flirting didn't stop. he was indeed a regular in this spot. as time went by, you didn't really care about having him sitting in front you, with a book in his hands. the conversation he initiated went one-way some days, you were too flustered to respond. of course, your family didn't know about this entire situation or you could get kicked out for engaging with the enemy.

from his perspective, he grew comfortable with your presence. even if you didn't really talk to him. those small interactions made his day. whether it was you writing some stupid shit on his cup like 'fuck you, we'll win soon' or a 'roman reigns stop flirting with me challenge', it really gave him a different perspective. you weren't just a street-fighter, you lived a double life and so did he.

"one iced americano for mr. stop flirting with me!" you yelled, even though you had no customers. "well that would be me and the answer is no." he winked at you, trying to get under your skin. he couldn't help but to notice that your cheeks were red. "you don't have to hide your blush, baby. i know you like me." "SETH, ROMAN IS ANNOYING ME AGAIN!" you tolerated his behavior as time went by. "ROMAN, BACK OFF BEOFRE I KICK YOUR STUPID FACE."

your shift ended earlier than expected, the cafe was empty. "hey, (y/n). roman left his book, when you clock out, do you think you can give it to him? i have his address." you groaned at seth's request. "why don't you give it to him? since he's like your best buddy or so." seth chuckled. "i can't silly, i'm closing up the shop. he'd probably be asleep by the time i finished." if only he knew, you thought. "fine, but you're buying lunch tomorrow."

he really did live next door. you dropped the book in front of his porch, not wanting to intervene or interact with him. but as soon as you hopped on your motorcycle, his front door opened. "thanks baby, i'll see you tonight for our rematch. wear something pretty for me." you flipped him off, driving to the arena. fuck roman reigns and his stupid fucking pretty face, you thought.

the judgement day was getting ready for the fight. dominik gave you the iconic purple bandana that you always wore on your left arm. "tonight will be the final match against the bloodline. make sure we win or someone's gonna pay for it and i don't want any of you fucking up this fight. we almost lost because of dominik last time, but damian saved our asses. (y/n), don't try to pull any funny shit tonight." once again, you nodded. "together?" "let's fuck them up!"

everyone circled around you and you were up first. to your luck, once again, you were up against roman. you saw his brown eyes filled with excitement. "we meet again, babygirl. you really can't get enough of me, huh?" you quickly threw a punch on the right side of his neck, causing him to stumble on his legs. "feisty today, i love it." he pulled your waist, bringing you up to his level. "you're not going anywhere now." finn jumped on his back, causing him to let you go. "jesus, balor. you made me drop her, fuck you." roman pinned him to the ground, earning a concerned look from the other members. the crowd cheered loudly as finn couldn't move.

dominik looked at you and nodded. he threw you up and your elbow landed on roman's back. before you could get up, you were dragged by solo, earning some time for roman to continue pinning finn down. the fight was messy. roman was pinning down finn, dominik was getting his ass beaten by solo, rhea was fighting the twins with damian–leaving you alone. you decided to take action on your own. you were going to kick roman's back but he flipped finn over, causing you to kick your leader's back. finn yelled in agony and roman took it as a chance to throw him on the ground. the 'referee' counted down and the bloodline just won the match. you fell on your knees, scared of what was going to happen next. "oh god." you muttered, fear in your eyes.

"you stupid bitch!" rhea yelled, kicking you in the stomach. "we fucking lost because of you." she continued. your body was thrown to the brick-wall by her. "useless bitch." she clenched her fist, throwing a punch on your jaw. dominik pulled you by the hair. "aw, she really is useless without us." he sarcastically said. "you're nothing to us now, (y/n)." finn added. rhea couldn't stop kicking you, to the point that you could feel bruises forming on your body. she picked you up and threw you once again causing you to cough up blood. "never show your face in front of us, (y/n)." damian gripped your shirt before throwing you down again.

you were left alone in the alleyway. blood covered your face, your entire body broken and bruised. no one was there to help you. your family betrayed you and you had nowhere to turn. you kept blaming yourself for your own downfall. maybe i deserved this, you thought. standing up on your own feet was challenging for you, you had to lean on the brick wall behind you.

it took you hours to gain consciousness again, you realized that the moon was shining brightly. your entire body was practically falling apart. you sighed, holding your abdomen. you really had no where to go. everyone you loved turned on you. you could call seth, but he didn't know about your situation. it was probably the kick that made you couldn't think straight. "help..." you muttered under your breath as you tried to stand up.

there was only one person you had in mind. the cold air brushed on your bruised skin–you were practically gasping for air. black spots started to appear again in your vision. you couldn't even lift your arm to knock on the door. you leaned your head on the door, banging it non-stop until you felt the headache consuming you even more. footsteps filled your eardrums and the door was opened.

"baby, who did this to you?" was all that came out from his mouth. the sight of you being all bloody and bruised broke his heart. roman immediately carried you inside. "r- roman." you stuttered. "shhhh. don't speak." he whispered, laying you down on his bed. "oh god, baby." blood covered his fresh white sheets, but he didn't mind. "stay here, i'm calling jey to stitch you up." before you could respond, your eyelids closed on their own once again.

the tribal chief was in fact, furious. “stitched her up, uce. should go to the hospital when she wakes up.” roman nodded. “thanks uce, i think you need to get out before she finds you here.” the right hand man packed his stuff and went out. “you care about her, don’t you?” jey asked, before leaving. “i do. if they mess with her, they’re messing with me.”

the lightbulb stared immensely into your eyes as you felt someone sitting down on the chair next to you. “(y/n).” he greeted you. “who did this to you?” roman repeated the question from last night, begging for answers. you were still in shock after the incident. “baby, if you don’t answer me… i’ll never kn-“ “it was my own family.” that didn’t surprise him, he knew all along. roman knew that they were never going to treat you like one of them. you were an outsider after all, bad luck was on your side when you were adopted to your little family.

roman clenched his fist in anger. “i’ll fucking ruin them.” he muttered under his breath. “i deserve it. we lost because of my recklessness.” the tone of your voice made his heart ache. you didn’t deserve this at all. roman took your bruised hand and brushed it softly. “you don’t deserve this at all, i took part in this baby. i'm sorry.” the man said. “i don’t know where else to go.” the two of you made eye-contact. “you’re safe now. you’re home.”

morning came by and the tribal chief gathered his cousins. "call a street-fight with the judgement day tonight." roman announced. "but uce, they're fighting imperium tonight. we can't just jump in and attack them-" "gear up, we're taking them down tonight." roman was out for blood. his cousins had never seen him like this before. he didn't care about vengeance or anything, but this time–it was different. he grew attached to you.

you were still fast asleep. he brushed his hand on your stitched-up forehead. "i'll make them pay, baby." maybe it was the glimpse of hope in your eyes when you first made eye-contact that made him head over heels for his opponent. you made the roman reigns weak. he'd go through hell for you and he meant that. "i'll be back."

as soon as they arrived, the tribal chief practically sprinted out of his car, running as fast as he could to the people circling around imperium and the judgement day. jimmy, jey, and solo couldn't keep up with his speed. roman spotted finn and immediately lunged on him. the crowd went silent as imperium took a step back. "you fucking coward." roman didn't hold back this time. the scene was bloody and no one dared to intervene. "fuck you for putting (y/n) in fucking misery." finn protected his head with his forearm, only to have roman kicking the side of his head. "i'll put you through hell, motherfucker." roman grinned as he cracked his knuckles.

his house was silent. you got up from bed with a confused look. roman wasn't home when you woke up. you called seth telling him that you got in a motorcycle incident. you also didn't know what you did to be treated nicely by roman. he took care of you, his cousin stitched you up, and you really felt like you were home. the judgement day never did this to you, only calling you weak every time you were injured. your thoughts were cut-off by the sound of the front door being opened.

"baby." he greeted you, throwing a bloodied purple bandana on the floor. "you have nothing to worry about now. you're safe. they got my message." you opened your mouth to say something, but you ran with all your power to him and gave him a hug. "i owe you one, roman." you whispered. "you don't owe me anything, princess. no one can touch you. no one except for me."

a/n: GOT CARRIED AWAY... I WROTE THIS IN CLASS SO IT'S KINDA WILD and quite satisfied w how it turned out to be!!! like usual, i’m taking requests but they might be published a bit late!! feedbacks are highly appreciated <3 hope u enjoyed it!

[moethewriter]

Hello I don’t know if you’re still taking requests but can I request a Johanna Mason x reader where reader won the games a year after Johanna and during the 73rd Hunger Games. When they are forced to go back and mentor, reader has a breakdown watching her friends die and Johanna goes and comforts her.

Of course I can anon! Please enjoy! TITLE: Together? Together WORD COUNT: 1.2k PAIRING: Johanna Mason x Reader WARNINGS: Brief descriptions of a panic attack, violence and abuse and general hunger games things TAGS: GN! District 9 Reader! A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and to those who don't I hope you're enjoying your day! I loved writing this and would love more Johanna requests because I adore her as a character, and as always please let me know if I need to add any warnings or tags and constructive critisicms is always allowed! Not beta read as per usual! -

You didn’t ask to be a mentor, in fact you rather dreaded it. You had only been a Victor for a year, and you were no longer mentally capable of helping anyone. You were healing, had been healing from the horrors that you had gone through. How were you supposed to mentor and gain sponsors for Clive and Reeva? How were you supposed to tell them everything was going to be fine when you knew they weren’t going to be. Clive was barely thirteen and Reeva only sixteen, and they felt so much younger than your age of nineteen.

Being a Victor wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, sure you got more food for your District and it came with a cushy little home in The Victors Village. But you knew, had always known that District 9 was not a powerhouse, your District had hardly won in all these years, though far better off than 11 or 12, you knew you were most likely sending your friends, kids you had watched grown up to their deaths.

“Better get back in there.” A voice spoke from behind you. “Your tributes need you, you know?”

“Johanna.” You nodded, throwing the cigarette over the railing of the building. You had picked up smoking after your games. It wasn’t the healthiest habit, and cigarettes could be hard to come by but you needed something to numb the ache in your chest.

“Come on Y/N.” Johanna rolled her eyes. “You can’t let them see how fucked up you are right now. Focus on those kids and hope for the best outcome.” She moved to stand beside you, her shoulders gently brushing yours.

Johanna had always come with tough love. She had won the year before you, had tricked everyone and made sure she came out of that arena alive. You respected her in so many ways for that. You had met her during your tour, and she had been aloof but kind to you in the ways she could be. She and Finnick Odair had become great friends to you, but Johanna came with a gruffness that not many could handle. She carried a deep seeded anger and sadness with her, that was the first thing you had noticed. You had always been good at reading people that way.

You knew why she was the way she was, of course you did. She had told you one night when you all had gotten drunk off your asses in The Capitol. It was hard to hear, and realizing that could’ve been your family if you hadn’t submitted to Snow’s whims made your stomach churn. It was horrible, and you knew Johanna blamed herself even if she didn’t say another word about it.

“I wasn’t cut out for this, Johanna.” You sigh, leaning against the railing. “I don’t understand why they even made me a mentor. I’m clearly not mentally capable of any of this. I was only there a year ago.” You wiped a hand down your face, hoping to shed some of the exhaustion you felt.

“Snow did the same to me, same to Finnick.” Johanna told you, not meeting your eyes and focusing on the buildings in the distance. “He wants us to remember what we saw, and know we're sending people to their deaths so he can keep control. They weren’t going to let me back this year since I destroyed property here last year but they needed another mentor.” She snorted. 

“We should get back in there.” You cracked a gentle smile at her words.

You knew she was doing her best to make you feel better. She always tried, to little success most times, but trying was all you could ask of her. It was more than enough.

-

The cannon boomed so loudly and you could feel the hot tears leaking down your face. They were gone, they were fucking gone. You hadn’t done your job and now two promising people from your district are dead. You could feel the air leave your lungs and you couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t fucking see, you were fucking trapped in this room and everything felt like it was caving in. You were dry heaving by the time you felt yourself being pulled away from the other mentors and citizens. You wanted to fight but you couldn't. You were so tired of fighting.

“Hey, look at me Y/N.”

Johanna?

“Look at me.” You could feel two hands gently cup your face as you sobbed. “It’s not okay, none of this is fucking okay. Alright? But you gotta stay with me.” 

You had never heard Johanna be this gentle with anyone. She was still Johanna, as she always was. But there was something about her right now, something almost loving and far more sincere then she had ever been.

“You’re going to be okay. We will be okay because were fucking fighters Y/N. This world could burn around us, and we will be okay. You and I were two sides of the same coin, you understand me? We’re going to get through this, we always do.” She was stroking your cheek, a gesture you never thought you would receive from her. “I got you. I got you Y/N and I am not letting you go. Ever. I am always going to be here. Can I hold you?” Johanna questioned.

You nodded as she gathered you into her arms, rocking you as if you were a child. You would be embarrassed if you weren’t so distraught. You had never presented strong, you weren’t strong but to do this in front of everyone? Snow would surely punish you in unspeakable ways … But Johanna was here, she was here and she had you. That was far better than anything else right now. 

“It’s not right.” You whispered after a long silence. “It’s not right that they do this to us, that they kill us for entertainment and expect us to stand there and smile. I’m so done Johanna, I am so done with everything.” You sniffled, leaning into her.

“I know.” She whispered into your hair. “I know.”

“I want a better life for us, I want us to not live in fear that our children or friends could die at any moment. I want us to not be under Snow’s thumb. I want us to live a happy life together but none of that seems possible.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, as she stroked your hair.

The air hitting all around felt so cold compared to the comfort and warmth of Johanna’s arms. Like small icicles piercing through the shield she had created. 

“And we will have a better life.” Johanna told you. “We’re going to have a better life and we’re going to be so fucking happy and carefree and if Snow ever tries anything I’ll shove an axe hilt so far up his ass that it’s not going to come out.” She told you, leaning down to kiss your head. 

You snorted at the mental image.

“Now let’s get back in there and show these Capitol fuckheads what we're made of.” She said, holding you a little tighter.

“Together?” You whispered.

“Together.” She confirmed.

[thesupreme316]

Stay With Me (Ricky Starks x Fem!Reader):

Word Count: 951

Summary: After being betrayed by his tag team partner, Powerhouse Hobbs, a devastated Ricky Starks finds comfort and strength in the embrace of someone who cherishes him.

Supreme Speaks: Hey yall, shoutout to @rollinsbabe2017 for this idea. I've been missing Ricky alot so this lil drabble or something really does help out. Anyways, hope you are doing well and please remember that you are loved and appreciated and I'm happy you're here.

Warnings: THE GIF AINT MINE I REPEAT THE GIF AINT MINE

Ricky Starks stood in the center of the ring, the cheers of the crowd ringing in his ears. Although he just lost the FTW Championship to his dear friend hook, the adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, and the crowd was still behind him. As he thanked the arena for their support, he turned to see his tag team partner, Powerhouse Hobbs, climbing into the ring. Ricky smiled, expecting Hobbs to join in the celebration. He expected to be given a handshake, maybe even a hug, and his best friend telling him that he did a great job.

But something was off. 

The look in Hobbs' eyes was cold, distant. Before Ricky could react, Hobbs lunged forward, delivering a devastating clothesline that sent Ricky crashing to the mat. The crowd's cheers turned to gasps of shock as Hobbs continued his assault, stomping on Ricky with merciless force. The betrayal was swift and brutal. But to Ricky, it felt like a lifetime. 

After all, he spent years working, training, laughing, and bonding with Hobbs. So while the arena heard Ricky hit the mat various times, he could just hear his heart and mind breaking. Ricky tried to shield himself, but the pain was overwhelming. He felt a sharp kick to his ribs, and then another. Finally, security rushed in to pull Hobbs away, but the damage was done. Ricky lay on the mat, gasping for breath, his body aching from the unexpected attack.

You, watched from backstage, unable to move out of fear and shock. You stood jaw to the floor, wondering where it all went wrong. Being one of Ricky’s closest friends (and having a slight crush on him), you can easily see how distraught he is when the doctors guide him backstage.

Taz joined you as you awaited Ricky to appear in front of you. He whispered to himself, but so you can hear, “I had no idea.”

You didn’t blame him, you couldn’t. Taz was just like you-a surprised bystander.

Ricky came from the curtains and immediately sat down. He slumped on a bench, holding an ice pack to his bruised ribs. His eyes are filled with hurt and confusion. You can see the disbelief etched on his face, the betrayal still fresh in his mind. Taz patted his shoulder in support, and walked off, probably to find Hobbs and give him a piece of his mind.

"Ricky," you say softly, sitting down next to him and gently brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "I'm so sorry this happened. I know how much Hobbs meant to you as a partner and friend.” 

Ricky keeps his head down, he allowed his hand to drop from his ribs, letting the ice pack hit the ground, "Why? Why would he do this?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. "Sometimes people change, Ricky. Their motivations shift, and they make choices that hurt others. But that doesn't reflect on you. You did everything right. You were a great partner and a true friend."

Ricky takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "It just hurts, you know? I trusted him."

"I know," you reply gently, leaning in closer. "It's going to take time to heal from this, both physically and emotionally. But remember, you're not alone. You have so many people who care about you and believe in you. Lean on them, and take this one step at a time."

He nods slowly, the pain in his eyes slowly being replaced by a steely determination. "You're right. I can't let this break me. I'll come back stronger."

You smile, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Ricky, you're one of the best, and I’m not saying this because you are one of my best friends. But you really are talented, and this setback won't change that. Keep your head up, and show the world what you're made of. This is just another bump in the road for you to become the face of the company. It might hurt now, and maybe even later, but you’re gonna look back and feel good that even this couldn’t hold you back.”

Ricky manages a small smile, the first one since he been in the ring. "Thanks, Y/N. I needed that and I appreciate you, as if you didn’t already know.”

"Anytime, pretty boy,” you say, your voice soft and filled with affection. You really couldn’t help it, you adore Ricky. And you would do anything to make him smile. Very gently, you started to pull his arm towards the hall, “Now, let's get you patched up. I’ll make Tony give you as much time as you need off. Hobbs is gonna regret it, you’re gonna show him-“  Ricky stopped you from continuing your rant by pulling you back to him. His big brown eyes shined up at you, as they kept circling your face. 

With his voice barely above a whisper, “Stay with me a little longer?"

You nod, your heart swelling with emotion. "Of course," you say, sitting back down and wrapping your arms around him. He leans into your embrace, finding comfort in your warmth. He placed the ice pack on his ribs as you rubbed his knee, allowing everything else around you to just disappear. 

In that moment, surrounded by the chaos of the wrestling world, you both find a sense of peace. The road to emotional recovery and triumph won't be easy, but with your support, Ricky will be ready to face whatever comes next. 

And maybe, just maybe...

this unexpected turn of events will bring you closer together than ever before.

Taglist: @hookerforhook@hooks-martin@sheinthatfandom@triscillal@wwenhlimagines @kat04ie@batzy-watzy @cassie0sstuff @toriluvsnickwayne @rez-luvs-hook

[likealittleheartbeat]

One of my most reblogged posts says, “ ATLA asks whether you can actually be friends across these lines if society refuses to be equitable. Friendships and romance depend not on conflict to deepen them but an active peacefulness.” I think a lot of people relate to the post’s critique of the kyriarchy (all those damn interwoven -isms!) and the ways it limits the formation of relationships. It describes how violence shortens lifespans, squashes nuance, and forces people together into exploitative rather than mutual dynamics. It’s easy to read my post as condemning the possibility of real connection across lines of oppression. I think that’s what I believed when I wrote it even. I’ve always had a certain gifted grace when I reread my writing, however, to discover that I’ve left a window of opportunity open. In this case, the window is within a few words in those sentences: “ATLA asks whether you can,” and that word, “active.”

The show doesn’t merely ask, but it answers its questions with that concept of active peacefulness. Wtf does that mean, tho??? Our boi Aang is so notably avoidant as to be a stereotype of his culture within universe. If it were up to him alone at the start of the show, peace would be a completely passive state. But if that were the case, he’d still be in the big ol’ ice cube. It’s Katara and Sokka’s dynamic and conflicted communalism that frees the avatar unto the world again. Katara demonstrates how disagreement and rage need have nadda to do with assault or abandonment. They can be the features of closeness and trust within a healthy growing relationship, peaceful even as they exact major shifts in the world. Sokka’s misogyny isn’t anything to imitate, but its the first instance we see in the series of a relationship strong enough to accept critique, discourse, and change. Just in this first episode, Sokka illustrates receptivity, Katara models productive and honest emotion, and, soon enough, Aang is introduced to spur on the expansion of these healthy communal practices beyond imposed borders, with all of them learning and growing in relation to one another.

This has profound implications for what comes in the finale regarding Azula and Ozai. These two powerhouses depended on order to stabilize their relationships rather than the bitchy discursiveness that constitutes real friendships or the meaningful arguments and compromises that make for a healthy romance. Importantly, neither gets the comeuppance they’d prefer: domination. Instead, they’re forced into relational dynamics. Azula is frozen alongside Katara, while Ozai’s energy is melded with Aang’s. If they are bested, it’s not in the arena of power; it’s in mutuality. They’re forced to be closer to the people they’ve oppressed and abused, held together rather than apart, and they come out of that encounter cowed but uninjured, the way a friend’s censure pains a soul so much worse than an enemy’s assault that cripples or kills. And the show’s not idealistic about the consequences of these symbolic gestures. It imprisons the antagonists, who are still not friends or even allies--only horrific equals who have a long way to go before any kind of trust is possible.

One person knows that long road, though. Zuko. His relationship to the gaang, and most of all Aang, reveals best that friendships across the constructed lines of oppression are possible and, in fact, a model for the most transformative relational dynamics. I’ve gotta block quote Ramzi Fawaz’s shit on friendship in Queer Forms, cuz it’s game-changing in concepts of friendship, and subsequently, why we feel so delightfully charged by Zuko’s ‘redemption,’ as its been called. 

Friendships of the kind I am describing, then, ones that carry the spirit of inventiveness and experimentation described by [Audre] Lorde and [Michel] Foucault, are exceptionally capable of handling conflict, because a genuine equality between the parties (that is nothing like sameness but has to do with two people equally valuing one another) means that both are actively engaged in the construction of the bond. This is why friendship can never function as the application of a rule (you must care for me in this predetermined way as a condition of our speaking) but rather takes shape in the doing of it, as the mutual creation, and continual renegotiation, of shared criteria for dialogue (we will speak, again and again, in order to figure out what conditions best enable our mutual growth). This model of sociality leaves far less space for victims and perpetrators, accusers and accused, because of a sense of mutual involvement, a complicity of the best kind not unlike Lorde’s conception of ‘the erotic’ as a force that animates a shared creation or ‘invention’ of new social forms between two people. It is also a description of the kind of interaction that incites people to change, to relase destructive or oppressive logics like homophobia, sexism, transphobia, and racism, not under ideological duress, shame, or demand, but in the surprising encounter with others who shift the ground beneath one’s feet.

We can see these kind of steadfast and contentious dynamics with lots of pairings as they develop on the show : Toph and Katara, Suki and Sokka, Aang and Teo, Katara and Aang, Mai and Zuko. These relationships go beyond simple alliance. While the empire’s violence might force these people together or apart, its their own abilities to face their differences, stick it out, and build something mutually beneficial (rather than the easier option of antagonistic) that connotes these relationships, even as it forces them to vacate the ideologies they held at the beginning of each episode in order to create more expansive visions of understanding. Zuko’s arc, of course, is the clearest answer atla offers: he goes from a villanous relationship, to a stance of confusion, toward a final state of loyalty and dedicated friendship. 

Relationships are possible within the sphere of violence and across the hierarchical lines the violence has implemented and enforces. Those people in positions of power, upheld by the violence and neglect of others, are actually equals (in the existential sense) to the most marginalized individual, and are therefore capable of all those tenets of humanity--embarrassment, sensitivity, loneliness, evil, empathy, etc. It’s only that the domain of oppressive conflict makes the tensions, betrayals, and metamorphoses that are a necessary part of the best kinds of friendships terrifying because those experiences feel so similar to abuse. In abuse, though, only one person is forced to change. In a reciprocal relationship, everyone is surprised to find they’re not entirely offended that someone else finds them imperfect--and somehow that’s endearing and engenders changes that neither person necessarily even demands. This is active peace: joking, judging, hugging, arguing, confessing, bitching, breaking rules, trusting, dancing, loving within a deeply imperfect world with deeply imperfect people for whom you, nevertheless, still want the best and who seem to want the best for you (which is why you wanted the world to change for the better in the first place).

[sydsaint]

Summary: The reader is Tyler's on-screen GF. Until one night Tyler goes off and admits that he's tired of pretending.

Dynamite is set to start soon when you finally pull up to the arena for the night. You grab your bag and hurry to the security gate as fast as you can. When you arrive you find Tyler waiting for you next to the gate.

"Tyler? What are you doing out here?" You come to a stop in front of him.

"Waiting for you," Tyler replies as he looks up from his phone. "You texted me that you were going to be late so I figured that I'd meet you out here." He explains.

You crack a small smile and nod. "Awe, you didn't have to wait up for me, Ty." You assure him. "What are we even doing tonight?"

"I've got a match against Ethan Page tonight," Tyler explains. "But before that, we've got that segment where Page is supposed to talk a bunch of shit about you. You know, to give me an excuse to be pissed off I guess." He shrugs.

"Right." You laugh. "To defend my honor."

Tyler laughs with you and the two of you head into the arena. "Exactly." He agrees with you.

Around two months ago Tony Khan paired you up with Tyler to be his on-screen girlfriend to bolster the mixed tag league in AEW. At first, you weren't super into the idea of having to parade around as the infamous HOOK's helpless girlfriend. But with Tyler's help, the two of you have become the powerhouse couple of the division. Even if you aren't a real couple.

You get to the locker rooms backstage and slip into the one that you and Tyler share. The two of you aren't there for long when Taz swings by to talk to Tyler.

"Well if it isn't AEW's favorite couple." Taz teases you and Tyler when he comes through the door.

"Dad." Tyler groans.

You giggle as you lace up your boots and smile at Taz. "Hey, Taz." You greet him.

"Hey, Y/N." Taz smiles right back at you. "See, that's how you greet someone, Tyler." He turns to his son. "You should be taking pointers from your girlfriend, son." He chuckles.

Tyler rolls his eyes casually and walks Taz over to the corner so they can chat. You finish up getting ready to head out just as Tyler and Taz finish up their conversation and Taz heads out.

"So..." You walk over to Tyler by the door. "What did he want?" You ask him.

"Nothing important." Tyler shrugs. "Come on, we should head out." He grabs the door for you.

You nod and the two of you head down to the tunnel for Tyler's match. Backstage, a couple of cameramen are setting up to record the backstage segment when you arrive. You spot Ethan hanging out with Isiah Cassidy on the other side of the room and walk over to them.

"Hey, Ethan." You greet Page. "So, what kinda sleazy insults are you working up for this promo?" You ask him casually.

"Hey, Y/N." Ethan turns away from Isiah to greet you. "You know? I haven't really decided yet. But I'm sure they'll be good." He jokes.

You giggle and pat his arm casually. "Make it look good." You wink playfully and walk back over to Tyler.

"What was all that about?" Tyler asks you when you get back over to him.

"Hmm? What? Ethan?" You glance back at Page. "We were just joking around is all." You shrug. "Why? What's up?"

You watch Tyler's jaw clench ever so slightly as he stares across the room at Ethan and Isiah. "Isiah Cassidy has been eye-fucking you since we walked into the room." He informs you in an annoyed tone.

"He has?" You turn around and look at Isiah. "Oh, hmm." You catch him staring just like Tyler said. "Well, I'm sure that it's nothing."

Tyler grunts but lets it go when the camera crew gives the signal that they are ready and Tony Schiavoni enters the fray.

You record the segment with Tyler and Ethan, but you can't help but notice that Tyler seems a bit more angry than usual. If that's even possible when he's playing HOOK for the camera. Once the segment is recorded you walk off with Tyler and confront him.

"Tyler, are you alright?" You ask him. "You seem kind of on edge tonight." You inform him of your concern.

"I'm alright, Y/N." Tyler softens his expression with a nod. "Come on, let's head out to the ring." He gestures for you to step in front of him since you usually come out first during Tyler's and your entrance.

You and Tyler do your usual couples entrance then head down to the ring together. You give Tyler a kiss on the cheek when you get to the ring then take your place in his corner on the floor. Isiah and Ethan come out next and get the match started.

'What the hell?' You think to yourself during the match when it seems like Tyler is getting angrier and angrier. And his anger doesn't seem to be directed at Ethan like it should. But rather, it seems like Tyler is only seconds away from pummeling Isiah Cassidy for some unknown reason.

"Tyler?!" You rush around the corner when suddenly Tyler is rushing Isiah and tackling him to the floor.

The bell rings declaring Ethan the winner of the match by default and the referee rushes to get Tyler off of Isiah. You come around the corner as well and grab Tyler's arm to yank him off of Isiah.

"Keep her name out of your fucking mouth!" Tyler shouts as you pull him off of Isiah and drag him up the ramp.

You silently drag Tyler up the ramp and backstage despite his obvious desire to beat on Isiah some more. Once you're backstage you shove him back and confront him for his erratic behavior.

"What the fuck, Tyler!" You confront your partner. "What the hell was all that for?" You ask him.

Tyler starts to come down from his adrenaline high and takes a second to look at you. You stand firmly in place and wait for an explanation. But what you don't expect is instead of explaining himself, Tyler steps forward and cups your face out of the blue before kissing you harshly.

"I'm sorry." Tyler apologizes before he lets you go. "But I wasn't going to stand by and let Isiah talk about you like that." He explains.

"Like what?" You reply confused. "I haven't heard Isiah say anything about me today. Just Ethan. And we both know that was just for the camera."

Tyler lets out a small sigh and absentmindedly grabs your hand. "Remember when my dad came by earlier to talk to me?" He asks you. "He came by because he overheard Isiah saying some nasty shit about you to some of his buddies earlier today. Then when we were in the ring he kept taunting me about it whenever I got close to him." He explains.

"Oh my gosh! Are you serious?" You let out a small gasp. "Why in the hell would Isiah do that?" You ask yourself.

"I don't know." Tyler shrugs. "But he sure as hell ain't going to be doing it again." He adds.

"I can see that." You giggle. "You know you sure are protective for a fake boyfriend." You joke.

Tyler rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head. "Naw, you're my real girlfriend now. I'm tired of pretending." He informs you. "Plus it's obvious that you're into me for real."

"Oh is it now?" You laugh. "Last time I checked, you kissed me first, playboy." You remind him.

"Irrelevant." Tyler grins. "Besides. You wanted me to kiss you. I could tell." He insists.

[morgana-ren]

What would gortash and Durge be like in bed?? I always like to imagine a on the path to redemption Durge, who is perhaps slightly more submissive now than they were. Allowing Gortash to absolutely be the rough dominating tyrant he is. No touching, no whimpering, no begging no nothing without his permission. Sit there in some tacky gold chains and warm his cock. If he ever so much as feels that cunt of yours twitch he's denying you for the rest of the night.

Be a good girl, get on your knees under his desk and Open that mouth. let him rest his cock on your tongue while he does some paperwork. Ah ah, no noise, no swallowing, he needs to concentrate.

I think before the mindflayer parasite there whole dynamic was alot more blood and teeth, both fighting for control, but now he gets to have them how ever he wants with all the control. Finds their attempt at being good a little pathetic but their memory loss makes them oh so vulnerable and gives him the perfect opportunity to sink those manipulative claws deep.

They wouldn't drop to their knees for him then, but they will now. He'll make sure of it.

Oh, before the parasite? It would have been a show.

Two powerhouses; the deserved chosen and avatars of Gods-- Rival Gods. Sex is power, and it is a struggle-- it is a fucking fight at the best of times, and the bedroom was an arena between two titans vying for complete and total dominance. Neither would kneel or bend for the other. They would take and claw and battle for the right-- and it's always a stalemate that ends with blood on the bedsheets and one swearing vengeance for underhanded trickery to their cackling counterpart.

Banites do not kneel before Bhaalists; Bhaalists do not bend for Banites. Both command an unyielding air of dominance. Around and around and around it goes. You only get what you can make them give you, and boy, is it convoluted when two mortal bodies want nothing but to sink fang, claw, and cock into each other but the Gods looming behind them demand acquiescence.

Oh, it was great fun for Gortash. There's something simply charming about having a bedfellow comprised of stone and steel and iron will that would not bow before his command. A never-ending game where the prize is always just out of reach-- just beyond the slip of his fingers. He found his consolation prize on the occasions he was able to force her on hand and knee and swaddle himself deep in the confines of her tight, wet body, the furious fires of her rage only serving to warm him with every merciless cant of his hips.

--Yet, there is something so overwhelmingly blissful about the victory of finally cradling her newfound vulnerability in the palm of his metal-laden fingers.

Fire and fury and death incarnate though she may be, she is as a lost little lamb on exile from her flock. Her shepherd has abandoned her, and so she wanders back listlessly to the last place she felt known-- straight into his grasp.

She is a weapon, honed to a fine edge, and there will be matters to attend to later, but for now, he intends to savor his victory.

She remembers little of herself, and knows even less, but he is more than happy to fill in the blanks of her memory-- rewritten to his whims, of course. Poor dear, so lost and alone, it must have been terrible. Those urges that claw and shred at your insides, being shorn of your sanity little by little as it skelters lost behind you, blown about by tumultuous winds of your profane blood.

He will keep her safe and secure, his hand to Bane-- but she must do as he says. Doesn't she trust him? Isn't he the only one she trusts? The only constant she remembers even as her memory was cruelly lobotomized and hollowed away? Surely there is some part of her that knows she can trust him. Is that not why she found him again?

She may not remember, but her body certainly does. She no longer fights the cries caught in her throat, nor does she stiffen the exquisite arch of her back. She takes him without guilt-- without fear of reprisal-- and it is something marvelous to behold.

She is unchiseled marble; an eager, emphatic little thing he shall turn into his own personal work of art through tender hand and discipline. Her mind is a blank book and he shall fill in the pages as he sees fit. As he has cared for her, she too shall care for him to his precise needs. He will make sure of that.

There is something utterly intoxicating about taming a pure predator. She will take him into her mouth but she wouldn't dare bite down to gnash at his flesh. She will not snarl or snap as he wraps a hand around her exposed throat and squeezes. She will not retaliate with claw when he strikes her and warns her to watch her tongue. She only nods, raw need and desire exposed like a tender nerve now that her scales have been shed away.

The golden collar is a gift. A reward for being such a good girl. After all, she always was, wasn't she? She has picked up excellently right where they left off, and she is so proud as he clasps it around her neck. Never mind the chain, my love, it is there to ensure you are safe; that you do not stray too far from where he might protect you.

She takes to her lessons like an obedient pup, and she doesn't seem to notice as the chain becomes shorter and shorter still.

He could not have imagined the resplendence of the sight of her eagerly on her knees, looking up at him with doe eyes and a wet, slack lip, and surely Bane must be pleased as he feels glory lapped upon him as a wave washes over sand. Bhaal's only beloved daughter turned into a concubine of Bane. He uses her in every blasphemous way that his mind can conceive of-- and he is a man of remarkable mental capability.

He has become adept at penning a missive as he cradles her in his lap, and she remains hushed with a perfect, practiced silence as she rides him slow and deep. He cannot have distractions, after all, and if she slips and becomes a little too emphatic, he corrects the behavior swiftly. He is so terribly proud of her ability to take him well into the hollow of her throat, suckling and laving through his throbs. He is expressionless and cold and she has learned to tell from body language alone when to slow her wicked tongue and when to drive herself to gagging.

He had always craved to have her in unconventional ways-- ways she would not entertain when she was of sound mind, how degrading-- and when he now demands she bend for him and beg him to take her there, she does. Her squeals and cries through bitten lip are wondrous, but the way she begins to steadily grind back against him, coaxing his fingers to fist in her hair or encircle her throat, begging him harder and deeper and to make a mess of her is his crowning glory. He practically ruts her ass into dust, driving her into the mattress in his unrelenting lustful haze until the noise surely reaches Waterdeep.

This proud creature brought to ruin just to serve him.

His, his, only his. Any way he needs her, any way he wants her.

There are still bits and pieces of her inside her rattled mind. Dusty remnants of a malevolent, domineering life once lived. The way her tongue swipes across her teeth to lick the crimson from ivory after he 'corrects' her. The flash of fire in her eyes when he commands her about, ripping her back by the hair until she cries in ecstasy from his treatment. The snarl of indignance as he tugs at her chain, demanding she crawl on hand and knee to placate him--

--and he would have it no other way.

A prize easily won is no true prize, and the beloved blood of Bhaal is his pride and joy. She is a lioness, and he would not see her forget it. He taunts and teases her to snapping only to put her back in her place at his feet once more. He stokes those fires deliberately, only to suffocate them with his presence to remind her that she breathes for him and him alone.

His perfect pleasure vessel-- and perhaps more. It's so terribly hard to think as she whines and croons beneath him, demanding more and more of him as he withholds deliberately. His spoiled, bratty little cockdrunk darling has forgone her throne of blood to sit her exalted behind somewhere far more convenient and pleasurable to him.

Still, she must be kept in line. She takes far too easily to demanding. A hissed word, a few bruises and a bit of blood leaves her glassy-eyed and pliable once more. Open legs, open mouth, open heart.

Oh, her daddy would be so utterly humiliated if he could see the things the Banite makes her scream for. Sometimes, Gortash hopes he can.

[rubberizer92]

🌟 Welcome to the epic world of Latex Legends League Season 4, where dreams are forged into reality and legends are born! 💫 Join us on a thrilling odyssey as 21 human contenders and 15 AI characters embark on a quest for the prestigious title of Latex Legend.

Now, let's set our sights on Björn, representing Sweden! 🇸🇪 This Nordic powerhouse stuns us with his strikingly tight rubber suit, reminiscent of the glorious era of Vikings in Scandinavia. ⚔️✨

Draped in a formidable ensemble that exudes strength and resilience, Björn emanates an aura of raw power and determination. His bold fashion statement pays homage to the fearless warriors of old, channeling their indomitable spirit into the modern arena.

As Björn commands the stage, he beckons us to join him on a journey of valor and honor. With each commanding pose, he invites us to embrace the warrior within and embark on a quest for greatness.

Join us in celebrating Björn's journey as he blazes a trail of courage and glory in Latex Legends League Season 4. Let's rally behind this Viking hunk and revel in the majesty of his unwavering spirit! 🎉🛡️