#that is not normal that should not be expected and is so disrespectful to the mangaka and editing team

[shot-by-cupid]

Hmmnbmmmmmm. I have some things to say

[inaflashimagine]

it's kinda crazy that people feel the need to leak every single chapter of a series

[pupkashi]

the last person you expect to patch you up is gojo satoru, so why are you knocking on his door?

a/n: hi friends! i hope you enjoy this :] im not sure if i like it very much but I’ll let u guys pick it apart and decide if i should be run off the app or not :P please let me know what u guys think !!

wordcount: 1,376

masterlist

you’re hesitant to knock on the door you’re facing, one arm squeezing your middle and the other holding you up against the wall. you’re sure you looked like we’re about to die, but still you could help but feel like death was a better option than knocking on gojo satoru’s door at 2 in the morning.

the stinging in your side leaves you no choice, lifting your hand and knocking three times. every passing second seems eternal and you almost want to just walk away and head to campus, hoping you make it until morning.

the door swings open, satoru looks at you with wide eyes and messy hair. he looks so normal, you think, taking in his appearance of sweatpants and a t shirt he must’ve thrown on seconds before.

“what the fuck happened to you?” he breathes out, not hesitating to pick you up, carrying you to his restroom and flicking the light on. if you were any more lucid you might’ve caught the genuine concern in his voice and the pounding heart in his chest.

“think the higher ups hate me” you manage to chuckle out, sucking in a sharp breathe when you try to sit up on your own.

satoru is quick to help you up, large hands gently handling you. his brows are furrowed as he looks at the state you’re in.

“why didn’t you call up shoko or go to campus or- literally anything else?!” he scold you, his voice is a higher pitch than you’re used to, he’s running his hands through his hair, tugging slightly before sighing deeply and calming himself down.

“didn’t wanna bother ‘em” you say, voice small. gojo knows in his mind you of all people could never be a bother, especially when shoko absolutely loves you.

“can i take this off?” he asks softly, tugging at your uniform top. you nod weakly, letting him work the fabric off you gently, sucking his teeth when he sees the gash on your side.

“that bad huh?” you laugh, there’s a beat of silence that you find unbearable. your eyes are heavy and the only way you can muster staying awake is by talking, words leaving your mouth without even thinking, “not gonna tell me ‘I’ve had worse’ or ‘this is nothing’ ?”

satoru only brings himself to snicker, “you’re about to pass out and you still wanna bicker with me.”

“to be fair it’s always you starting shit” you chuckle, hissing when he starts cleaning your wound. satoru mumbles a small ‘sorry’ before continuing.

you weren’t completely wrong, satoru always loved seeing you riled up. he loved watching the way the fire ignited behind your eyes when you shot something back at satoru, he loved watching your nose scrunch up when he said something stupid, he loved how you’d fight back smiles when he disrespected some asshole higher up.

“yeah, yeah, you're always saying that” he smiles, finishing up whatever he could on your side before moving to the cuts on your face.

you were still as he gently dabbed the wipes on your face, the slight stinging feeling was the last thing on your mind. the smell of his body wash was muddling your thoughts, the way his fingertips brushed against your skin gave you goosebumps.

“who sent you on the mission?” his voice was no longer playful and light. there was an edge to his voice as he spoke, and you couldn’t stop the chills that ran down your spine.

the only thing you could muster was a small shrug of your shoulders.

“it was the higher ups from last time, wasn’t it? the one you stood up to?” his voice is threatening and low, blue eyes boring into you as you tried to avoid eye contact.

“y/n, look at me” the stern tone left no room for protest, looking at him and gulping. you nodded your head, whispering a small ‘yeah.’ satoru mumbled something you couldn’t hear, his jaw clenched and hands shaking slightly.

“I’m going to kill them” he spat, taking a step back before look at you again, the sight filling him with even more rage.

“didn’t you say that wouldn’t change anything?” you stated, sitting up as best you could, trying your best to hide the pain you felt from the sudden movement.

satoru ignored your words, already making a move to head out of the bathroom door, but your voice stopped him.

“don’t- i don’t wanna be alone” you whispered, eyes watering a bit as the reality of the situation hit you all at once. “i just- nevermind” you laughed dryly, hissing as you pushed yourself off the countertop and stood.

satoru was immediately at your side holding you up, “what are you-” your words cut him off before he could finish.

“I’m gonna go home, don’t wanna bother you more than i have” you smiled, eyes still a bit teary. you’re brain doesn’t process what’s happening fast enough, only realizing what’s happening a couple seconds later when satoru’s arms are wrapped around your body.

“you aren’t going anywhere” he mumbles against the top of your head, squeezing you gently.

the warmth of his body is enough to comfort you, muscles relaxing and letting your tears spill against his chest.

“why?” you whisper, the question causing satoru to tense up against you. “why do you care so much?”

his thoughts stop for a second, the only thing on his mind is you. the way you’re looking at him in a way you never have before, with an emotion he can’t place. he can only think of one thing.

“isn’t it obvious?” he replies, voice soft, his cheeks heating up and ears burning. he’s trying to hide the slight tremble of his hands as he caressed your cheek softly, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“only obvious thing about you is your ego” you smile, laughing a bit between sniffles as satoru gasps at you.

“and you say i start things?” he giggles, picking you up softly before leading you to his bedroom. the two of you in a comfortable silence as he looks through his drawers, handing you one of his shirts and shorts for you to change into.

“you can drop me off at home-” you begin but satoru is quick to speak over you.

“I’ll sleep on the couch, there’s some toothbrushes in the top drawer under the sink,” he says, continuing to list off any other items you’d need and where to find them.

it’s ten minutes later and you’re laying in the large bed, staring at the ceiling when you find the energy to walk into the hallway, peeking around the corner and into the living room.

satoru smiled at you, the bright tv lights illuminating his figure, “cant sleep?” he asks. you nod your head, slowly making your way towards him. “c’mere” he says softly, gently moving you when you sit on the couch, letting you cuddle into his side until you were comfortable.

between the exhaustion and the comfort of satoru’s fingers running along your arm you were sound asleep in a matter of minutes (10, satoru was counting). he placed a feathery kiss to the top of you head, shifting to pick you up, carrying you to his bed and tucking you in, slipping besides you before facing the opposite direction.

you stirred a bit, mumbling something and causing satoru to turn, “y/n?” he whispered. you seemed to gravitate towards him, one of your arms finding him and tugging his shirt, making him come closer to you. still asleep, you nuzzled yourself against him, sighing softly before stilling again.

satoru draped his arm around you, keeping you close before letting his eyes shut. for tonight, he won’t think about the thing he’ll say and do to the higher ups who sent you on that mission as punishment.

instead he’ll hold you close, keeping you safe and making sure you’re well enough to argue on any and every thing possible. he’ll make you breakfast tomorrow and ask if you feel the same for him. he’ll rush you to shoko so he can kiss you with as much passion and fervor as he’s imagined since the time you almost beat him in an argument.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @luna0713hunter @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags

[undreaming-fanfiction]

In honor of Easter...

Eddie Munson can't sleep. Maybe it was the almost expired can of spaghetti that he had for dinner, maybe it's the new campaign he's itching to plan, maybe it's being back in the Hawkins High with yet another fight for graduation he's bound to lose because his literature teacher was yet another victim of Danny Munson's petty crimes, and what better revenge than to repeatedly fail his son that Danny lost to social services ten years ago?

Or maybe it's the weird rustling under his window.

Now Eddie, he's a survivor. He runs, yes, but that's because there's nothing to protect. His honor? Oh please.

But if there's someone trying to break into the only real home he's ever known? That's different.

He grabs an empty beer bottle that he's been intending to throw out for a week or so and heroically - and stupidly - jumps out of his window. He expects to maybe land into a bush. Do a superhero landing or something.

What he doesn't expect is a pained wheeze and "what the fuck?!" yelled by his landing zone.

Eddie scrambles back to his feet and raises the bottle. Perhaps he should have broken it first to make it more threatening? He swings it against the trailer wall and it shatters almost completely, leaving with a small ring of glass in hand.

The figure he landed on curses again and tries to scramble back on their feet.

Eddie raises the pitiful remains of the bottle. "Uh. Stop you...you scoundrel!" he threatens, except it doesn't sound like a threat, more like a plea. "Or I'll stab you with this..." he looks at the glass ring again, "...with this."

He hopes the intruder will flee. More likely, he's going to be jumped, punched and killed. But what Eddie absolutely does not expect is the town's pretty boy, Steve Harrington, dusting his knees and glaring at Eddie with hands on hips like a pissed off soccer mom. "Jesus Christ, Munson, are you trying to wake up the whole park?" he hisses.

Eddie suddenly feels very stupid. He lets go of the broken bottle and it lands in the dirt with a quiet clink. "Harrington? Uh...dude, I mean no disrespect and all, but why are you under my window?"

Steve's look could kill. "It's Easter tomorrow, what do you think I'm doing? Hiding eggs." He points to the basket full of eggs nearby.

It makes sense. Except it doesn't. Eddie pokes the eggs and they don't explode, so at least that's good. "Why on earth would you, Steve "the Hair" Harrington, be hiding eggs in a trailer park? Don't you have like, a fancy neighborhood to do this in? With Belgian chocolate eggs and champaigne for the bored moms and stuff like that?"

Steve sighs and runs fingers through his hair. Eddie notices with a pang of guilt that it's flattened where his foot landed. That's also a good moment to realize that he's only in his boxers and a t-shirt and barefoot.

But Steve doesn't seem to notice. He just vaguely gestures around. "Those neighborhoods have committees and stuff like that. And it's normal there. Look, I don't think local kids have a lot of good stuff going on. I know one of them, and she deserves to have one day like a normal kid, no worries, no thinking if her mom can afford it. So I'm preparing an egg hunt here. Or I was, before someone half-naked dropped on top of me and shattered a bottle over a pretty good hiding spot I found."

"Shit! Sorry!" Eddie immediately starts picking up the shards, or at least tries to in the dark. At least until a large hand grabs his own.

"Christ, Munson! Stop!" Steve hisses. "Do you want to cut yourself? I will just move the egg somewhere else and pick up the glass before it starts in the morning. And for fuck's sake, stop moving! Do you want to step on a shard?"

That finally calms Eddie down. He sighs and hangs his head down. "You know, Harrington, one might think you're a good dude. If one wasn't careful."

Steve nudges his side. "One should be careful. Now come on, I will give you a boost." When Eddie stares at him, he adds: "to your window. You want to go back to sleep, no?"

Eddie clears his throat. "Actually, I was thinking I'd love to grab my sneakers and help you, I know a lot of good hiding spots. Is that cool?"

Harrington thinks for a moment, then he nods. "Yep, cool. Now, do you need a lift?"

Back in the familiar clutter of his bedroom, Eddie thinks it was a fever dream, a hallucination from a food poisoning, the final revenge of the spaghetti can.

But then he hears Harrington whisper after him: "Don't you dare come out without those sneakers, Munson! No bare feet are getting near shattered glass on my watch!"

And Eddie just snickers, leans out of the window and whispers back: "For you, big boy? I'll even wear pants!"

[lizzieisright]

I’m so not normal about how you write alpha!abby I need more😩

Palestine: what can you do

Thank you for your req, I've missed writing alpha!abby it was so fun!(although this one is sappy)

Fri(end)s

alpha!abby x omega!reader

Tags: dead dove: do not eat. a/b/o universe (female alphas have dicks), modern AU, hurt/comfort, "alphas and omegas can be friends!!" delusion, they really stretch the definition of friendship. No full smut but they get horny.

Inspired by "Friends" by V.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

People say there's no such thing as a friendship between an alpha and an omega. You disagree. 

People just need to embrace the inherent lust that comes with being friends with your opposite and you can be great friends. Instead of fearing to make everything awkward when you both smell your attraction, you should acknowledge it and laugh about it. Be each other's ego boosters. It's not that hard. 

For example, you and Abby - you've been friends for years. It did start with Abby hitting on you, but she backed off immediately when you explained that you're not interested. Anyway, Abby stayed and asked to be your friend, and you agreed - Abby was cool and smart. It later became a running joke between the two of you where Abby'd jokingly hit on you just to get on your nerves or make you smile. 

That's pretty much how you overcame the awkward barrier: you started being honest with each other about everything. You formed a bond so intimate between the two of you that people often mistook you for a couple. You didn't mind. It wouldn't happen anyway, since Abby was a player. 

You had no idea how many omegas Abby's fucked in her lifetime, but you rarely saw the same omega twice. Abby kinda had a reputation around campus. She was aware of it, but what could she do? It wasn’t her fault her dick was good. And listen, Abby wasn’t an asshole, no one could catch her disrespecting omegas or talking who and how and when she fucked. People just knew. Well, it was hard not to know when her partners reeked of her after, but the point stood - Abby was a lady, not a prick when it came to privacy.

She fucked omegas that no one would believe to even have such dirty thoughts/time to fuck around/ability to feel sexual attraction or whatever reason insecure incel alphas kept telling themselves - and Abby always stayed discrete if omegas asked her too. Because that was how you got pussy, you fucking morons, not by insulting and being entitled. 

So Abby didn’t care that she had a reputation - she only cared if her partners felt safe and enjoyed themselves, and as long as it stayed this way, Abby was happy. 

And you knew all of this, because you were her best friend. She told you all of it during one night when you were drinking wine and you asked her about how she felt about her reputation. 

Then Abby asked about your deal, and you honestly told her that you didn't know: you loved the touch and flirting but you felt like you didn't have space for relationships. That you haven't met anyone yet who'd make you want to make an effort - of course Abby joked about her being the one and you laughed. 

“Well, if I ever need help, I'll come to you.” You winked and Abby laughed as well. 

It was easy between the two of you to what some would say, an alarming point where the boundaries of friendship became blurry. 

It wasn't a rare occurrence when you'd be at a party, pleasantly drunk, and then after what felt like an hour of dancing, you'd find Abby, sitting somewhere and sipping her whiskey, looking unapologetically hot in her muscle tee and jeans, and you'd get onto her lap, hugging her neck while she'd support your weight by grabbing your thigh. Her scent would get stronger and you'd smile into her shoulder, teasing her. Sometimes, of course, you'd find Abby with another omega already, her hands exploring and grabbing her partner, and you'd grin and go do something else. You always expect yourself to be upset, but strangely, you never are - Abby is your friend and you're happy she is getting some. 

Tonight is a little different. You're sleepy and horny and overall, want to feel someone's warmth and touch. So you find Abby and straddle her. She doesn't even lift a brow, just holds you by your waist and keeps you safe. Abby smells your arousal and chuckles, but you stick your tongue out.

“I fucking hate being an omega.” You say and start playing with Abby's hair while she is caressing your back. It's soft and cosy despite you being all horny. It's not flirty, it's not subtle: you two just love being close, and Abby radiates her presence, making everyone look away in fear of challenging her. Abby locks her arms behind your back and you arch into her.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Wanna fuck so bad.”

Abby laughs and looks at you with her red eyes: she can't control it when she is drunk and has you on her lap. Abby smells your scent and smirks, her canines growing longer, her presence getting stronger, scaring other alphas away.

“Well, you know I'm always available for you.” You smack her on her shoulder and Abby laughs. 

“Don't fucking tease me, bitch.” 

“We can make out if it'd make you feel better.” Abby shrugs. You think for a second.

“Yeah. Let's make out. I bet you're a good kisser.”

“Five stars reviews, baby.”

You laugh, but Abby is already cupping your cheek and guiding you down to her level so she can kiss you. You go pliant when her warm lips touch yours: Abby is a good kisser. She is slow and gentle, but you feel the power and control behind her movements. She is holding you with one arm on your waist while she is grabbing your neck with the other one, her thumb stroking your jaw. 

It doesn't feel like you two are toeing on some kind of line you're not allowed to cross: it feels natural and normal, like you've done it a million times before. Maybe you feel this way because Abby is confident and knows what she is doing, but she also doesn't push you further. You're just lazily making out, her warm tongue is on top of yours, exploring your mouth. It feels good.

You feel Abby getting harder under you and you grind against her crotch just to be a little shit, and she stops kissing you. 

“And I'm a tease?”

“I love seeing you suffer.” You grin and Abby kisses you again, holding your hips down so you won't be able to grind anymore.

It's affirming, it's an ego boost: you love seeing Abby, hot and amazing alpha, being so weak around you. Abby loves knowing she is the only one who you allow to touch you - loves smelling how horny she can get you. So you keep making out and talking for the rest of the night, existing in your own little bubble. It’s beautiful. 

After, Abby takes you home and you cuddle in her bed before you fall asleep, Abby's strong arm pulling you close, her hair making a cloud of her scent around you, keeping you safe and protected. 

In the morning you wake up with her hard cock pressing into your thigh and you sigh - you want to sleep more, not being humped by a sleeping alpha. Abby shifts and grinds against you in her sleep, and your cunt throbs: you've never been so close to an alpha who is aroused. New experience, but this is Abby, and you want to fucking sleep.

You just shake her shoulder and she grunts, unhappy. 

“Come on, Anderson, you have a morning wood.” You tell her, still sleepy. Abby shifts and turns on her back, taking you with her so your head is on her chest and if you could've been bothered and opened your eyes, you'd have seen the outline of her cock under the covers. 

But you go back to sleep. 

So this is how your friendship is: you're so close there's almost no boundaries between you. You're not afraid to smell horny around Abby and you feel good about yourself when you smell her being horny about you. You're never upset about her hookups and she doesn't growl at every alpha who looks your way. It's perfect.

The smell of love comes early into your friendship, and you both tease each other about it, “can't believe you love me it's so embarrassing”. Abby is your closest friend and you love her, and you two are proof of an alpha and an omega capable of being friends. 

You're comfortable with each other to the point where you complain about your cycles and how fucking horny and unsatisfied you both are during this time: usually it's you who complains because Abby fucks through her ruts. You always tease her about smelling like her lucky omega, but Abby just smirks, still rut high. She looks deliciously dangerous after her rut and the smell of attraction grows stronger between the two of you. Usually Abby’d invite you for a bottle of wine after her rut ends and your drunk makeouts would get more passionate too, since Abby wouldn't hesitate to grab and knead your ass, making you grind on her cock. This is the only time when you let awkwardness fill the room: Abby doesn't control herself and you have to stop her before it goes too far. 

(This is the only time when your heart flutters and your hopes rise. This is the only time that threatens to ruin your perfect friendship. 

You know if you sleep with Abby, you'll never be friends again. You'll get territorial about her, and Abby doesn't need it - it's a question of incompatibility between the two of you. 

So you stop her.) 

But the universe doesn't like anything that is perfect - it's against her nature. The balance is in imbalance, and it tries to restore itself. 

For the last few months your heats have been getting worse - you’re stressed, you can’t sleep and you feel like shit. Your mood swings start to get worse as well - if before you’d just get a little sad and then fall down into the horny fog of a heat, now your mood stays longer in the sad space. It’s tiring.

And this heat hits you very hard. You're not horny, you're in pain and sad and it's hard to maintain your mind. You wish you were just horny - you could just bury your nose in Abby's hoodie that she always lends you before your heat and you'd keep fucking yourself until the heat wave would pass. 

You do bury your nose in Abby's hoodie, but it makes you cry even more. You feel so alone and so useless, like no one truly needs you and you'll never find your happiness, like you're bound to die alone. It's terrifying and makes you sob, and you can't be bothered to be horny because what's the point of it if you will be alone all your life? 

Abby:

u ok?

You scramble to your phone and cry harder: Abby cares. Abby knows about your last struggles with your heats and she checks on you.  You're not alone. 

So you call her.

“Doll, I'm not doing phone sex-” Abby says jokingly, but then she hears you sob loudly. “What happened?” Abby's voice shakes. “Where are you? Fuck, talk to me-”

You take a big breath before Abby'd worry herself into an early grave. 

“I'm fine. I'm home.” You sniff. “I just- It's so bad, Abby.”

“Are you hurt?” Abby is still worried. 

“No. It's a mood swing.” You cry again, feeling so broken. “I feel so fucking alone. And you texted me and I- sorry, fuck.” You wipe your tears and hug her hoodie, pressing the phone closer to your ear. You feel ridiculous - you know it’s your hormones talking.

“Hey, I'm here.” Abby says, trying to soothe you, but you cry harder.

“What if I end up alone? What if I never meet my person? I spend all those fucking heats alone and it's so hard, and I can't think of doing it for the rest of my life all by myself.” You fall into another fit of sobs. Abby is silent for a moment.

“I'm coming over.” Abby says, dead serious, and you suddenly sober up. 

“I'm in heat, Abby, you can't come over!” You sit on your bed, worried.

“I don't fucking care! You're hurting and you're alone, I can't let this happen.” You hear Abby rustle around. “Can you do something for me while I'm on my way?”

“I can try.” You say without any hope.

“Go drink some water and take a shower. And send me some pics so I know you did it, okay?”

“I'm so not sending nudes, Abby.” You chuckle without any bite. Abby huffs. 

“Go drink your water.” Abby ends the call and you stare at your phone for a second. 

You try to keep yourself together - you send Abby pictures of an empty glass and a hem of a towel when you're done, but it takes five minutes before your mood swings again. You shake and try to breathe through another spiral into hell, but it's so fucking hard. You get to the point where you start rocking back and forth like an anxious child, trying to self-soothe. You feel like you're in some kind of trance until you hear your doorbell. 

You fly to the door before your dam would break: you open the door to Abby who's panting loudly - she probably ran up the stairs. 

It takes a second for both of you to comprehend the situation before Abby throws everything on the floor and scoops you in her arms, and you break, sobbing into her chest and clinging to her shoulders. Abby's scent soothes you, protectiveness radiating from her while she holds you tight and kisses your head. 

“I'm here.” She murmurs and you cling to her harder. “I'm not going anywhere. I'll keep you safe.”

It takes five minutes of breathing Abby's scent for your hormones to calm down. You sniff before moving away, but Abby doesn't let you, still holding you. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You say honestly and Abby lets you go. 

Her eyes are red and she tries not to breathe too much, and you feel ashamed - she got here to comfort you but you stink of heat. Of course Abby reacts to it, she can’t help it, and now she will be stuck between taking care of you and taking care of you. It’s unfair to her. 

“I will take scent blockers.” You turn to go to the kitchen, but Abby stops you, gently holding your bicep. 

“No. It's not the heat. It's the hurt.” You wince: you know it's hard for alphas to smell hurt on omegas. “And I have pretty good self-control.” 

You chuckle and let Abby take her shoes off. She is in joggers and her favourite hoodie, looking cosy and comfortable. You want to cuddle her, and this is exactly what Abby does. She makes you drink another glass of water, feeds you a banana and takes you to your bed. 

Abby stops when she sees her hoodie on your bed like she didn't expect you to actually use it. (Like she totally doesn't use your hoodie when she is too sad to find a rut buddy). But Abby doesn't say anything and just tugs you to the bed, enveloping you in her arms and her scent. It's warm and beautiful and you bury your nose in her skin. 

You don't talk. Abby caresses you and kisses you head from time to time while you get upset again. 

“I fucking hate being an omega.” You sniff. Abby presses you closer, her scent gets stronger, reacting to your distress. “There's something wrong with me, I swear.”

“You're perfect.” Abby murmurs and you blink your tears away. 

“It's so hard, Abby. It's unbearable. With every heat I get more worn out and upset.” You cry quietly. “I will go on suppressants, I don't want to suffer like this anymore.”

Abby swallows. Suppressants are no joke, they ruin people’s health - that’s why they’re taken in emergencies. For everything else there’s scent blockers that don’t disturb cycles and don’t put people in danger. 

“We will figure it out. We will get you back into normal horny heats and you’ll complain about it to me, I promise.” 

It soothes you and you fall asleep, your scent slowly changing to your usual love scent, the one that Abby loves the most. 

Abby knows that sometimes omegas go through their cycle with a lot more pain than normal, but seeing you, the fucking light of her life, suffer like this is torture. She’d honestly prefer to hold herself back from fucking you because you’re in heat, and not wipe your tears while you tell her how scared you’re of ending up alone. 

Abby watches your calm face and caresses your cheek. If you only knew.

“I’ll always be here.” Abby murmurs, knowing you won’t hear her. “I’m yours.” She kisses your forehead.

When Abby moves away she is met with your wide eyes. 

Her heart stops. You’re silent, lost for words, but something starts happening: your scent gets stronger and Abby can see golden sparks as your eyes start to change colour. 

“Fuck.” You sigh. Your chest gets tighter and your cunt starts pulsing with need. “Ab-”

Abby kisses you roughly, pressing your head into the pillow and she shoves her tongue into your mouth, her hands gripping your waist, and now you’re lost in her scent and touch, arching and whimpering into her mouth. It feels amazing, you’re soaking your pants while you cling to Abby and relax under her, submitting to your alpha.  You’ve never felt so good during your heat and you want more. You buck your hips into Abby and she grinds her cock on your pussy, making you shudder and moan. The kiss gets messier, there’s a lot of spit on your chins, but you don’t care - you want Abby closer, you want her in you, stretching you on her cock, knotting you. 

“Abby-” You moan into her mouth and Abby growls. “Fuck me, please.” 

Abby growls louder and licks your neck, her canines brushing against your skin and you whine, desperate. But then Abby stops kissing you neck, stops moving and her grip on you eases. 

“Fuck.” Abby sighs into your neck. She smells how worked up and desperate you are, and she has to fight herself to not fuck you right now. “You’ll regret it. I’m not going to hurt you like this.” Abby rasps and your heart breaks. 

You feel rejected and the smell of hurt fills Abby’s nose. She looks at you and her heart breaks from seeing you cry, knowing she did this. You can’t just reject an omega during their heat - it messes them up and then they won’t be able to keep you in their lives after, too hurt and ashamed. 

“I want to, doll.” Abby tries to console you. “I really fucking want to, but I need you to be sober before we do anything. Look at me.” You obey and Abby kisses your tears. “I promise you, if you agree to this when this wave subsides, I’ll do whatever you need me to. For now we can keep kissing.”

It makes you feel better and you nod, tugging Abby down to kiss her again. You still are very horny and Abby has to pin your hips so you won’t grind against her, but you want to cum and you keep squirming under her while Abby tries to slow down the pace of your kiss. She is so gentle and careful, and eventually you melt and relax, the heat wave going away. It takes a solid twenty minutes of kissing and Abby holding you down before your head gets clearer. You break the kiss and sigh, relieved you’ve finally got a break. Abby looks like she has everything under control and she totally didn’t have to fight you and herself so you wouldn’t make a mistake. Her scent though tells you how much she has to restrain herself - it’s thick and heavy, aggressive, domineering. Abby didn’t lie when she said she wants to fuck you as much you want her to fuck you, and it makes you hormone-crazy heart feel better.

 “You weren’t lying when you said you have amazing self-control.” You murmur and brush Abby’s hair out of her face. Abby chuckles. 

“Are you feeling better?”

“I’m not all sex crazy right now, if this is what you are asking.”  You keep caressing Abby’s hair. She blinks a few times, but the red doesn’t leave her eyes. “Thank you for handling this so well.”

Abby smiles and kisses your cheek. The question hangs in the air.

“I’m-” You take a deep breath full of Abby’s pheromones and it messes with your head, but you try to find the right words. You don’t want Abby to feel rejected too. “I’m not ready to spend my heat with a partner.” I won’t be able to let you go if we do this. 

Abby does smell of regret, but she smiles at you. 

“Of course. But call me if you get upset again. I don’t want you to be alone.”

You nod and walk Abby out, kissing her goodbye. You lock the door after her and sigh, knowing what is ahead. 

You spend three days fucking yourself to a memory of Abby saying I’m yours. 

Only after you’ve recovered and got back to yourself you’re hit with a realisation that Abby actually told you she is yours. You try to find a way to justify her words, to connect it with your friendship and how close you two are, but even your levels of almost no boundaries can’t create a good excuse.

You were not meant to hear her. She thought you were asleep. It was her secret. 

So Abby didn’t say it to make you feel better or trick you heat-brain into calming down - her scent and touch already did it. There was no reason for her to say it unless she fucking meant it. You don’t know what to do. You never thought Abby’d be interested in something like an actual relationship with you.

Your perfect friendship was built on two opposing facts: Abby is a player, and you’re fine being alone until you meet your person. And now you’re not fine being alone because deep down you know she is your person, and Abby said she is yours without wanting you to know. 

You feel like you’re going crazy. You’re terrified of any awkwardness that will inevitably come with this whole ordeal. You know you won’t be able to hide your uncomfortable, shaking discovery from Abby - she is your best friend after all, she will know something is up with you. 

You manage to act normal for a week without Abby getting suspicious - you two are still flirty, but now when Abby touches you, you feel like she sets you on fire with how your cheeks burn. Now there’s a hidden meaning behind her touch - the one you were not supposed to know.

The song on the radio makes you break. 

Abby is driving you two to the Korean restaurant she found and wanted to show you, and you two sit in comfortable silence - Abby is focused on the road and you stare out of the window, taking the view of this part of the city, when this song comes on the radio.

You're in my head / I had plans for the weekend / But wound up with you instead / Back here again  / Got me deep in my feelings / When I should be in your bed 

Your cheeks burn. It is a weekend and Abby spends time with you, taking you, her best friend, to the restaurant. Does she want to be in your bed?

You and I go back to like '09, it's like forever / And you were there my lonely nights, yeah / Keeping me together / So wouldn't it make sense if I was yours? / And you could call me your baby / But we say we're just, say we're just-

You breath hitches. This song is stripping you of any kind of pretence. Your smell changes and Abby looks at you for a second.

Friends, just for now / Yeah, but friends don't say words that / Make friends feel like more than just / Friends, just for now / Now, I'm over pretending / So let's put the "end" in friends

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just remembered something.” Abby hums and doesn’t ask you further.

Friends are not supposed to get too close / And feel emotions that / We're feeling now, now, now / We ain't slowing down, down, down / But once we cross the line / There's no denying you and / I can never turn around, 'round, 'round / Know we'll never be the same 

You take a shaking breath when you think back to your heat, begging Abby to fuck you. Yes, you will never be the same. But you have a choice to make.

“This song is about us.” You chuckle nervously. 

“Really? Sorry, I didn’t pay attention.” Abby laughs, but starts to pay attention now, while you wait for the traffic light to turn green.

You and I go back to like '09, it's like forever / And you were there my lonely nights, yeah / Keeping me together / So wouldn't it make sense if I was yours? / And you could call me your baby / But we say we're just, say we're just-

Friends, just for now / Yeah, but friends don't say words that / Make friends feel like more than just / Friends, just for now / Now, I'm over pretending / So let's put the "end" in friends

Abby clears her throat. She doesn’t joke or flirt - she understands. 

“Yeah. It is about us.”

Abby doesn’t say anything more, but her scent gets a little spicy - she is nervous as well. You also don’t say anything - she is driving, after all. Not the time for this conversation. It’s the first time in your friendship when there’s so much thick, nervous tension between you. 

Abby parks the car and you just sit for a moment, feeling like you need to talk about it right now. Abby clears her throat again.

“So do you want to put the "end" in friends?” Abby asks quietly, not knowing why did you bring it up - do you want to stop being friends or do you want to be something more?

You chuckle, endeared by Abby’s nervousness - she is always confident and calm, you’ve never seen her like this. 

“You told me you’re mine.” You start, fidgeting with your fingers. You’re scared to cross this line and change everything, but you want to. “It made me happy. And very fucking confused, because- You know what I mean.” You cringe - you’re not going to include Abby’s sex life in your confession. “Were you serious about it?”

Abby lost any filter right after she heard “it made me happy”, so she just bursts, spilling all her feelings for you.

“I’m in love with you. I wanna marry you and have a fucking picket fence and a dog and two and a half children with you.” Abby says while her scent becomes ten times stronger with love. “You’re the one for me.”

You blink your happy tears away and look at Abby’s face, full of love and devotion. 

“Maybe we should start with a date?”

Abby smiles and takes your face into her hands, kissing you with so much love you can swim in it.

“A date sounds good.”

[furiousgoldfish]

One of the issues you run into when you're not allowed to express anger as a child, is that you're no longer able to get angry. When you're in a situation that should evoke rage, you instead feel fear, anxiety, panic, or grief, emotional hurt and helplessness. You end up operating a body that cannot feel or express anger. The only times you do feel angry is when you're directing it at yourself, it comes as a form of self hatred, and desire to cause pain and injury to yourself. Because this is the only way you would have been allowed to be angry, only way it was safe, to direct it at yourself, same as everyone else is doing constantly, teaching you that it's normal and expected.

Growing up like this means that all of the anger from your childhood keeps getting stored into your body instead of externalized, and you still cannot get angry when the situation demands it. Instead, when you're being disrespected and injustice is served in your face, you can either feel helpless and lost, or the frustration you feel irritates you so much you cannot stand it. Your body is not used to feeling anger and doesn't know how to process it. Instead it feels like you're going to explode, restless, endlessly irritated and at a complete loss on how to handle it. Because you never learned how to handle anger, except to take it out on yourself, and you might be driven to just keep doing that, forever.

Taking a stand for yourself and confronting whoever deserved your anger might still feel terrifying and all of the insane things that happened to you as a result of childhood anger might get triggered. You might feel too frightened to confront them because you can imagine all sorts of ways it could come back to hurt you - this person could try to get you fired, for example. They might smear campaign you and get you evicted, they could threaten you with something or blackmail you, they could destroy something of yours, spread rumors, hold a grudge and do thousand times worse to you. Those are thoughts evoked by memories of childhood, where abusive parents threatened and did any or all of these things, including torture, in order to keep you from expressing anger.

However this person is hurting you right now, unprovoked, and getting no resistance. From that, they're learning that they can keep doing it, with zero consequences, because you've already been broken and cannot fight back. That is a dangerous situation to be in too, even if it is impossible to predict whether this person is insane like your parents and will try to get revenge for any bit of resistance for their abuse.

I had situations where I would be pushed over the edge and allowed my anger to come out at someone - and people would sometimes complain about it, but they would usually back off, and I would regain my peace of mind because I created a consequence for disturbing it. Anger, however, doesn't feel good. My body is not used to it so it makes me incredibly tense, stressed, frustrated and upset, and it doesn't go away for several days, even weeks sometimes. Because scratching the surface of it evokes the repressed childhood anger which is almost unbearable with how giant it is.

Human body can learn to process anger, it can feel better, more powerful and more in control because of it. It can protect you without inflicting damage to others. It doesn't make you anything like your abusers, who let their anger out at someone who wasn't their equal, had no way to fight back, and did not deserve any of it. Your anger creates boundaries that keep you safe, it doesn't exist to torture others for existing.

It's easy to fall back into the place where you don't want to be angry, and try to be accommodating and allowing of injustice, just so you don't have to feel frustrated and afraid. I often fall back on it too, just wanting to live and have peace. But life around other people often doesn't allow it, and sometimes anger is necessary to send a message of what boundaries will not be crossed without a consequence. Anger is not a bad feeling, it is an act of self love. It comes out to let you know that you've been treated unfairly and it's there because it's telling you that you matter. That treating you unfairly is something to get mad about.

[coupleoffanfics]

teehee I have a small thought (batfam related, yk that one where y/n gets killed)

imagine if y/n was brought back by the pit, but instead of being a "shell" in that hc u made, she becomes completely stoic, like just blurts out what she was feeling back when she was neglected with the most blank expression ever, I imagine it being more focused on bruce and Damian since yk..bruce was the shittiest parent ever, and Damian with his sparky ass insults.

You…God, damnit Anon. You summoned me and I suddenly have the motivation to write after reading your two requests.

I don't know if you wanted a one-shot or HC. So I just went with a HC because it's much easier to push out. Though if you want me to make a one-shot feel free to ask. I'll take 7 years to write it. Though at the end I did sort of a one-shot.

Damian should have known something was wrong when y/n didn't start thrashing around and attacking anything that moved after crawling out of the pit. She just stared at her hands, clenching them into firsts and then unclenching them slowly.

Maybe Damian was too relieved to see y/n breathing and moving to really care. Maybe he thought that she was just in shock. Coming back to life isn't always expected and it can take a real toll on someone.

Not to mention that y/n was, compared to her brothers, far weaker. Not just physically, but mentally as well. So it's not surprising that she was so docile, right? It's only a matter of time before that effect wears off and she'll be normal. Or something close to normal.

Okay, maybe deep down Damian knew that there was a chance that he wasn't getting y/n back. Everyone knew that there was no getting her back, but he was willing to take the risk. He came this far and it didn't take long for Bruce to pick up on what his youngest was doing.

Damian has his big sister back and he's not going to let her go again. It's only a matter of hours before Bruce comes breaking down the door to drag them back to Gotham. So Damian took the time to clean up y/n.

She was still in her funeral clothes for goodness sake. She reeked of death, but that didn't stop the boy from hugging her tightly.

While getting cleaned up, she doesn't say a thing. Or even make a lot of noise. It was almost like she was still dead.

By the time Bruce gets there, he's not surprised by Damian's actions. He thought of doing the same thing, but he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. He couldn't disrespect her life by bringing her back. How could he dare think of that when she looked so at peace when she died.

He remembers how her body was tense before it became horrifyingly relaxed. There was a fear of death in those [eye color] eyes, he knows because he saw it. But it was so quick and fleeting that he could have missed it if he wasn't so close.

In a twisted way he wished y/n had clung on to him just like she did when she was a wide eyed little girl and cried. Cry that she didn't want to die. Cry that it was too early to leave now. Cry that she didn't want to leave them.

But all she did was give a crooked smile and mumble to herself as blood dribbled down her chin. She spoke incoherent things to herself. A name or two slipped from her cold lips, but they weren't ones of her family. From what he gathered it was just a close friend and her significant other's name. She died thinking of those who cared and loved her back. Not of the family that she couldn't stand to be around.

Even when her own adopted father held her dying from close, they were far from her line of thought.

So seeing y/n alive was gut reaching for Bruce. There was no pain, anger, sadness, or joy on her face. She was just there. Staring at him with an uncomfortable indifference.

Damian was ready to start a fight with Bruce. Not a physical one, but he would cross that line if he needed to. He was ready to defend himself in what he thought was best for y/n. Yet Bruce lets out a quiet sigh and tells that it's time to come home. How anticlimactic.

The plane ride back to Gotham is long and quiet. It also felt cramped by how close Damian was to y/n and unwilling to give her too much space.

By the time they made it back to the manor, everyone was caught up to date. The development is surprising to some while others not so much.

Everyone is in the bat cave. Gathered around to see y/n back from the dead. The silence is deafening as they wait for something. Just something from her, but she walked past them all. Out of the cave and to where her room was. Nothing was out of place in her room, though it was mostly empty after she had moved out a few years ago. She laid on her bed and slept as if nothing was amiss.

That's where the family infighting starts. Question of was this the right thing. What are going to do now? Why the hell did you think this was a good idea? There's going to be a lot of hash words being shared, but at the end of the day what was done was done and they had y/n back. They weren't going to mess up the second time.

Did they really get a second chance because it didn't feel like it. A week would pass and y/n has yet to come out of her room. She's alive and breathing because the trays of food left outside her door are always empty.

The camera's installed while she slept showed that she was doing nothing. All she did was lay in bed. She'd get up to use her private bathroom, but other than that there wasn't much. She was rotting away alone in her room.

This rang familiar bells in Alfred, Bruce, and Tim's head. y/n wasn't prone to long depressive episodes, so this could be something similar. The lack of socializing and excessive oversleeping was typically a big red sign for them to do something. In the past they would not force, but push her into doing social things or at least being out of her room.

They could approach this situation the same way, but they'd have to be extra careful. This was a unique and tricky situation to be in. It was also odd if not worrying that she hasn't succumbed to lazarus fever.

They could try to bribe y/n out of her room with activities that have to do with her old hobbies.

"Alfred is baking today, he said might need some help."

"I just stole the keys to the batmobile, you wanna take it for a ride?"

"Hey, do you want to…um, play a video game with me. I remember we used to play Hellflight Deadcraze a lot. They came out with the 3rd game. I just bought it today, so...Yeah."

Though the likelihood of that working is low. If they're really desperate to interact with her, they might as well just bust down her door.

At some point all the poking and prodding is going to irritate y/n. Whoever popped her bubble is going to be on the receiving end of pent up emotions.

I don't believe y/n would ever intentionally say how much the family's treatment harmed her. Again it would bubble up and fester for a while before she explodes. The thing about y/n is that she has an inferiority complex. In her life she aimed to please and help.

She understands that Gotham is dangerous. A lot of people need help and she couldn't bring herself to pull them away from their job. To her it would be like pulling a fireman away from a fire to chat as people burned alive. Even if the fire was out the fireman would be tired and need to rest, so she couldn't just pull them wherever she wanted to go. She shouldn't pester them.

In y/n's eyes, she was never worthy of being a hero because she wasn't good enough. She was never worthy of being with the family because she wasn't helping enough. She should do this to prove her worth. She's not worthless because she can do this for you and this as well!

She embodies inferiority and self-loathing. Someone that feels insignificant and has the strong urge to do more. She has- or had in this situation, hope. Hope that she'll be worthy of love. Love, affection, praise is what drives her and will seek it out if she's desperate. If she does ask or seek it out she'll be feeling guilty since she didn't really do anything to get it. In her mind she was being greedy and she couldn't help herself.

Bonus

"Just stop. Leave me alone." Her voice was almost pleading as she gripped the wrapped gift box. The gift was a symbol of peace, almost a treaty. That's all it was supposed to be, but she acts as if she had been spat in the eye.

Seeing that Bruce wasn't listening to her, she dug her nails into the gift. Almost tearing into the [favorite color] wrapped paper. He stood before her like an unmoving entity. The longer he stood by the more she wanted to snap into herself. She didn't want to slowly curl into a ball. She wanted to snap herself together with a violent and almost sickening crack. This just wasn't fair.

Clenching her jaw, her voice became much colder. It wasn't as cold as the middle of winter, yet it still had a chill to it.

"I thought you'd get it that I didn't want this. I shut you out, but you- all of you just keep buzzing. None of you are getting the hint. You just keep coming back louder than before. Why can't you let me be alone? Why can't you act overworked and tired? Why can't you just leave things the way they were?"

Bruce was conflicted upon hearing her say that and would try to claim that everything is going to come around. Everything always comes around in the end and this wouldn't be any different. They are going to get through this as a family.

y/n's frown would deepen and her eyes would furrow at his attempt at comfort. She looks as if she just ate something that was expired, leaving her mouth with nothing but a nasty sour taste.

"Because we're family." She whispered to herself before almost grimacing at the words. Her voice became sharp and cold as a blade, "I don't understand why you'd suggest that I was still a part of the family. I don't think I've been family for a good while now."

She clicked her tongue as she dropped the gift box while looking Bruce in the eyes. "Come on, you can't say you cared about me after I stopped being useful. When did you realize that I wasn't anything special? Was it when I kept crying about punching villains or when I was too slow to teach."

Seeing the conflicted look in his blue eyes confused her. Why would the truth conflict someone unless it was pity. Even after all this she's just a pitiful little crybaby to him. One good hit and she's out wailing on the floor for someone to kiss her boo-boo away.

Somehow this hurt her. Her pounding heart felt like it was twisting on itself. She wanted to cry and laugh at how she thought things couldn't get any worse. Then somehow it did. The universe, the world, the Wayne had proved her wrong yet again. It was as funny as it was sad.

She could have broken down there, but she needed to hear it. She had to hear the truth, so she kept twisting her heart with her own hands. It didn't matter how much it hurt.

"Or maybe you were in denial? You had wasted a lot of time and resources on a dud. Then Damian threw cold water on you and left you shivering, right? I'm just leeching off of you and the others. Then…Then you choose them over me. I was an afterthought, or is that being too generous? Did I ever circulate in your mind before this?"

Her voice was becoming shrill and gruff like she was on the verge of tears. "When did you realize that I was dead weight, Batman? Did I make Bruce Wayne look more caring to the people when I talk about how much I love my family? Did my life serve any use or was I always just a speck of dirt on your shoes?"

Those words were far from the truth, yet with how she spoke Bruce knew that she believed in all that she was saying. Each and every word was true to her. Honestly he didn't know what to say. This was all too much. Having to hear your own child degrade themselves with such honesty was heartbreaking.

Taking his silence as a sort of confirmation, y/n ordered him to leave and of course he did. He'd fix this somehow. He just needed time. They needed time.

I cut off the ending because I didn't want to write too much. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it. I haven't proofread this, Google Doc says there aren't any errors (probably a lie), and it's 3 in the morning. Goodnight.

[knightsickness]

saltburn thoughts full spoilers

felix pretending that he doesn’t realise the house is remarkable during the tour, part of the showing off is how casual it is - telling elsbeth to be normal about ollie even as felix also definitely does not treat him like an equal

my poor pitiable friend i get to dress and tote around and show the good life and he’ll be so so pathetically grateful it reminds me how great i am how great my life is. this is not conscious on felix’s part felix doesn’t really think

generous and magnanimous, most sympathetic lens taken advantage of but also amusing himself with a charity case. let me reconnect you with your addict mother ollie that’s a scene i should be there for

his and farleigh’s relationship started as this, and soured when farleigh stopped being happy with table scraps, or being a pity-pet - prouder than ollie, less willing to debase himself

felix has had other toys like this, symbiotic playing between him and venetia - he brings them home, doesn’t tell them not to fuck her, and she immediately tries to (paraphrasing but ‘venetia’s been draping herself everywhere hoping you’ll stumble on her’) knowing that he will entirely break off the friendship in disgust at how disrespectful it was to fuck his sister. this in the context of the strange sexualsocial play where felix his sister and his cousin all hang out naked in a field enough it’s an expectation for guests it seems reasonable ollie thought there were fewer sexual boundaries

nobody pays attention to venetia, her addiction and eating disorder are treated as mildly embarrassing but her parents won’t talk to her about it bc it would mean acknowledging there was a problem (seen in later can’t accept felix’s death trying to wake him up and get him warm even though farleigh and venetia clearly already see he’s dead, or not telling the police about farleigh having cocaine) and her hypersexuality and instigating are an arm of that

felix and ollie inherently unequal relationship, king and his favourite - unlike pamela, who appears interesting but fails to captivate them, ollie dedicates an immense amount of effort to keeping felix’s attention, to staying amusing and necessary

bathtub scene both prostrating himself to felix part of the eating him theme and a sexual violation echoed at his grave

party costumes - felix is an angel clearly supposed to evoke luhrman’s juliet (complete with death by poison) both his innocence and his imminent death. otherworldly almost dionysian figure he isn’t a touchable human guy he’s a god everyone appeases because he’s perfect. interesting that they don’t really show his body he’s just wings everybody else’s anguish is centred. not a move to demystify him they could have shown his corpse they could have shown him next to the vomit they don’t we never properly see the body

farleigh is bottom but removes the head to taunt ollie. foolish guy turned into an ass dealing with powers he doesn’t understand possible foreshadowing him as the guy ollie frames for giving felix coke (mule pun?)

sidebar love the scene where ollie tries to manipulate him and misunderstands his motivations farleigh’s such a bitter interesting guy and he was right about everything MY final girl

framed as in the wrong bc he’s contrasted to perfect felix, arguing w him, but is in the right - felix calls him more spoiled than they are, and he is spoiled, but gilded cage nowhere else to go and his parents don’t get anything felix is not reliable. he’s right to point out felix likes ollie more because he’s a less complicated easier to pity pet he’s right that ollie is fake and he’s right that the family don’t see the servants as people besides their charming butler (both clearly beneath them a kind of loyal dog and a class marker they enjoy having. complain he’s creepy but like can you imagine being wealthy enough to not only inherit a butler but to not like having a butler to find him annoying) and is hyperaware outside of the main family unit everyone else staying at saltburn is closer to servant status paid and fed to jester

ollie’s antlers clearly supposed to position him as the devil to felix’s angel but slightly obfuscated by also making him a deer - part of his pathological lying layers of deception, or idea of the pop-wendigo as cannibal as part of his i’m a vampire/you ate him up and licked the fucking plate relationship w the family

teddybear on felix’s coffin both superficially heartwrenching and on any second thought completely hollow - as if he was a little boy, and in a way he was, but it’s a strange gesture as if his parents were burying a much younger child. they don’t know he was poisoned they think he died of an overdose mixing cocaine and alcohol while hooking up with a girl

ollie fucking felix’s grave-dirt as an explicit parallel to ollie scraping on the ground to lick his cum out of a drain - the most touchable felix has ever been is as a body, in the ground, where ollie can cum into the dirt on top of him and it will be there forever. death as an equaliser final end to their king-favourite power differential

didn’t hate the ending but do think he should have only killed felix i think every subsequent death lessened the vicious hatelove obsession of felix’s death which removed the gloss from the house and makes all its ridiculous out of touch evil dreamworld inhabitants small and desperate their golden boy eldest is gone. tragic ridiculousness of putting the name felix river catton on a headstone

ideal ending to me still a subversion of farleigh’s cruel ‘this is the best thing to ever happen to you and when it’s over you’ll think about it forever but this is our life we’ll stay here we LIVE in saltburn’ (he’s more part of the family than anyone else but he’s still exilable - even he knows it isn’t really a we situation) in which ollie does leave and he leaves them all miserable in saltburn forever living with felix all over the walls a hundred portraits of him all clinging onto that last summer. he can forget but they live in saltburn

[delfiore]

—MONTAUK.

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

synopsis: you remember how it used to be whilst dealing with how it is now.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: alexia baby come home the kids miss you 🥲 this was the clairo - bags fic i promised months ago but now the premise feels completely different and i've changed the title also lol. a lot happens to one's state of mind in 3 months.

After.

Under normal circumstances—as much as normal was nowadays—the silence in the apartment would feel like a blanket of comfort. It meant you were having a rest from your hectic days training and playing matches, it meant you could finally relax with the love of your life; it meant peace.

Now, the silence was deadly. It was sucking up the life in every room in this apartment, and it was draining the life out of you too.

The door clicked, and you shifted in your spot on the couch, quickly shutting off your phone on which you had bullet points typed out in the Notes app—bullet points of things you wanted—needed—to say, to lessen this inevitable pain. You cracked a smile when you heard tiny feet pattering on the floor, just as the little Pomeranian came to greet you with loving licks.

Nala was oblivious to the cracks that had been forming in her home, that have been left unamended for too long with the thinking that they would go away with time. You dreaded thinking of the day when the little pup came home from a walk and you weren’t there anymore. Would she miss you? How long until she starts to forget you?

“I got us dinner.”

“Cool,” you said, breathing in deeply. “You wanna eat now, or . . . ?”

“Sure.”

You helped her unpack the food without another word, the only sound heard was the clanking of plates as you pulled them out of the cupboard and set them on the kitchen island.

Alexia didn’t say anything either, just gingerly put the food on the plates. You felt her stiffen slightly as you walked towards her and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder.

She offered you a small smile—a forced smile—and brought the food to the table.

You cursed yourself and wished you hadn’t done it.

Before.

“And that concludes the tour of our facilities. Any questions?”

“No, I’m good.” You were way too excited to think about anything else other than the Barcelona crest on your chest.

“Great. Then, how about we go meet your future teammates? Some of them should be in the weight room.”

Patri greeted you initially, first in Spanish, then in English once she realized you weren’t catching on. Jana and Salma followed suit with friendly handshakes and quick hugs. It left the captain to be the last. And there she was; la Reina herself.

You were surprised to find that she was rubbing her hands together, waiting for her turn, almost like she was nervous. As you came to know her, you understood that she was in fact nervous when meeting new people, a polar opposite to the confident leader she was on the pitch.

But you saw the way her hazel eyes fixed on you, and as you approached her, a lingering smile played on her lips. Your heart suddenly leaped in your chest, and your cheeks felt embarrassingly warm, which you hoped she didn’t see.

You had admired her from afar, looking up to her as a role model in the game, but now that you were seeing her up close, something stirred inside you. There was something so endearing about Alexia’s shyness where you had expected assertiveness. It made her feel more down-to-earth, more like your teammate rather than a mythical figure up on a pedestal. One look at her and you understood why people had talked so highly of her—how could they not?

Extending a hand towards her, you had made your greeting, but she pulled you in for a firm and generous hug.

And that’s how they started—the butterflies, the attraction, the yearning—and they never went away.

After.

You decided that you were going to do it after dinner. Doing it during dinner is just tacky and downright disrespectful. You’d hate to be crying into your takeout after telling your girlfriend you wanted to break up.

When you snapped out of your train of thought, you realized that it was way too quiet. Alexia was eating on the other side of the table, scrolling through her phone as she did.

“Did you see Claudia’s banger of a free kick today?” You asked, smiling slightly.

Alexia looked up briefly from her phone. “Si. Really good.”

A curt answer. You nodded, and silence ensued again.

You didn’t talk to Alexia much these days. You used to be able to talk to her about anything, even in the beginning when the both of you were still testing the waters to see where you stood. When did it become like this?

Before.

Practice was going swimmingly. You found yourself catching on quickly with the rest of your teammates. Alexia has made it her mission as captain to make you feel welcome. “Anything you need, ask me,” she would say in English. You wanted to, but every time you thought about talking to her, your hands would sweat and you needed to practice what you were going to say to her. You weren’t scared that she wasn’t going to understand you, but because you knew you’d make a fool out of yourself tripping over your words.

“Hey, Alexia,” you said after practice, “I don’t know the city that well, and—well—since you do, would you be willing to show me around?”

“Si, claro.” She answered and looked around the field. “Maybe I can ask some of the girls to come with? They might know things to do that I don’t.”

Later she would explain to you that she panicked and that she knew she would be weird about it, thinking it was a date when it really was just a little outing between teammates. You wished she had treated it like a date, though, and was slightly disappointed when she mentioned bringing your teammates. Still, you had a great time watching Mapi banter with Lucy and Mariona while Alexia played the role of the disappointing mom trying to restrain her children.

You were grinning thinking back on the day when you came home. Her bashful smile after she offered to drive you home was so unlike anything you had pictured in your head before coming to Barcelona. You loved her calm nature, something that made her such a reliable captain, but also an endearing human being.

After.

You stayed seated by the dinner table and you watched her load the dishes in the washer. The scene was void of music that she would sway her hips to or a hearty conversation about a random fact she learned from one of your teammates. Now it was just robotic, lifeless movements, and your heart squeezed at the thought of what it used to be.

The end is near.

Somewhere, somehow, you gathered the courage to speak up. “Wanna watch a movie?”

And to your surprise, she turned around and said, “Sure.”

For a second, you let yourself hope that there was still something salvageable from this ruin. Then you realized that you had been here many times before, and everything accumulated and led you here to this moment.

Before.

“Really?! You’ve never seen Mean Girls?”

Alexia shook her head and chuckled. “I didn’t watch a lot of movies, Y/N. Growing up, all I had time for was football.”

“Yeah, but . . . I mean, it’s Mean Girls. That’s just a crime,” you clicked your tongue. “We’ll have to catch you up on all the classics.”

The discussion had been prompted by the imminent movie night at one of your teammates’ places. The movie of choice was Mamma Mia!, and you had been most excited to rewatch it. You and Alexia arrived together after an outing in town, and since you did so late, you both were in charge of stocking up the snacks.

“And by that, I hope you mean . . . you and me,” Alexia stuttered, leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for you to fill your bowl with popcorn.

Your lips curved up. “Yes, I mean me and you. Just me and you.”

Your captain grinned too, like a devious little kid. “Good. Just making sure.”

“¿Qué diablos está tardando tanto? (What the hell is taking so long?)” Patri called from the living room. “¡Más te vale no estar besándote en mi cocina! (You better not be making out in my kitchen!)”

You let out a surprised laugh, as Alexia cursed under her breath, wishing silently that the girls in the living room would just shut up and stop snickering. Once the bowls in your hands were filled to the brim, you turned to her with a knowing look.

“I wouldn’t have minded, you know.”

“Mind what?”

“If we were making out,” you said before leaving Alexia in the kitchen to soak in your words.

She found a seat next to you after taking a minute to calm her racing heart so that you wouldn’t notice how crazy you drove her. She felt like a teenage girl having a silly crush, but there was nothing silly about the way you looked at her. And when you put your head on her shoulder midway through the movie, she knew she was gone. Patri saw it too across the couch apparently, and her knowing grin made Alexia want to bury herself inside a hole. While she wasn’t particularly into romcoms, she was already looking forward to watching Mean Girls with you, her fleeting heart hammering in its cage at the thought of getting you alone again.

After.

The silence was deafening. You didn’t dare to look over to Alexia to gauge her reaction. The screen continued to play the movie, blissfully unaware of an earthquake that had suddenly roared to life in the space on the couch between you and Alexia.

You swallowed. She hasn’t spoken for hours.

Then, she turned to you and said, “Okay.”

Okay.

You drew a sharp breath and nodded with finality. “Okay.”

The movie was still playing, though. It was one of your favorites, but it made you cry every time you watched it because you were so touched by the story and its main characters. It was about a man—grief-stricken with the loss of his relationship—who decides to get his memories of his girlfriend wiped, but during the process, he relives everything he shared with her and slowly rues his decision. You used to enjoy it because their story was fictional, but now it all felt like one big joke, like you were one of the characters in the movie, inching towards a certain endgame that you couldn’t escape.

You wondered if there were a different script written out for you and Alexia.

“Let’s finish the movie though, yeah?” She said, finally looking over to you.

You hadn’t expected that look on her face when you looked back at her—it was something almost like desperation.

Like it meant something to her.

You nodded. It was the least you could do after dumping her. What kindness, after the neglect she had shown you, what kindness.

Before.

Alexia was shaking when she brought the two glasses of wine out to her living room, where you sat. Nala, the ever-excited little puppy that she was, followed her like a personal little cloud.

“I heard it was going to be a sad movie, so wine it is.” She said, handing you your glasses.

“It’s a cult classic, trust me. It’s one of my favorite movies ever.”

“Well, I liked Mean Girls, so I trust you.” The truth was, she would have watched any movie with you, as long as it was with you.

You were right, it was quite sad. When she looked over midway through the movie, she could see a glossy streak running down your face. You laughed it off and wiped your tears away, embarrassed that you had cried in front of her, but Alexia thought you were the prettiest.

With feather-light touches, she reached over and brushed the tip of her fingers over your cheekbone. She knew there was no going back if she went ahead with this. She wondered if there was a script written out for you and her already, and she was just following it on its path.

Her lips brushed against yours softly, and only once she felt that you started to kiss her back was she brave enough to put her hand around your waist and pull you closer.

You were grinning so wide when she pulled away, that she thought it might have been a prank and you were somehow in on it. But you put your arms around her neck and pecked her lips again.

Whatever script it was, Alexia was sure it would be one of fairy tale endings and happily ever after, because that is what you believe when you’re in love.

a/n: the movie is eternal sunshine of the spotless mind btw. made me ugly cry.

[lasirenatarot]

What makes your Future Spouse get jealous and how they express their jealousy?

Pick a picture:

1-2

3-4

Pile 1:

(Cards: 6 chalices; judgement; 4swords; 2swords; 5 of air; 7 of earth; 8 of air; the emperor)

- Honestly, this pile’s Future spouse seems like a very confident person, very sure of themselves, there are not much things that can make them jealous or question their own worth. Because of that, normally they would not even be considered as a person who gets jealous at all. They like giving you your freedom, they don’t seem like an obsessive person, they do have their set of standards when it comes to relationships and loyalty tho.

However, they do have their moments like all of us and you should not be fooled by their detached demeanor or purposely try to make them jealous, because what can happen is that they may simply leave and never come back.

Situations in which they may feel jealousy is if they see you have a deeper emotional connection with someone else, also when you’re blindly defending someone, it can make them think something like « why does my partner defend that person if they really feel nothing for them? » and that would make them suspicious of you..

They may get slightly annoyed if you constantly post pictures of yourself with a person that has a visible crush on you or is maybe too touchy with you (Or someone posts pics with you..), but this is not entirely jealousy, annoyance is the correct word here.

How do they express their jealousy?

- They seem like a mature and confident person so they definitely won’t be throwing tantrums or being childish. This is mostly due to their pride and ego.

They will check every piece of information before they even ask you sth.. they may even go through your phone to check if there is anything they should actually worry about when it comes to you and a certain person they are suspicious of. I feel like they may be the type of person to give you an ultimatum if you’ve crossed some of their boundaries,but regardless of everything I just wrote (which may seem pretty toxic) I don’t think they will be unreasonable when they get jealous.

If someone is getting a bit too « close » to you, they will expect you to draw a line and make it known you’re in a relationship. If your future spouse feels their standards are not met and feels disrespected they may even leave you. They seem pretty cut throat when it comes to loyalty. They won’t loose time arguing with you or asking you multiple times to do something they want you to do, they may have a big ego so they wouldn’t want to feel like a beggar.

Briefly, if they feel jealous, they may check your phone and all the information available and then talk to you once or twice, if something you do is really bothering them, and expect you to keep your distance from people who are interested in you.

Pile 2

(Cards: knight of wands; ace of chalices; queen of wands; the high priestess; 10 of water;the world;the empress;7 of air;the fool)

- Right off the bat, I feel like you would be the more confident, outgoing and successful one of the pair, not your future spouse. Or at least this may be true for a certain period of time during your relationship. You may be more fiery, what I am getting for you is absolutely the embodiment of the « naturally popular girl » when we were in highschool, stereotypically they would be the « nerd » and they may feel intimidated and a bit insecure around you. Your confidence may be the main reason for their jealousy. Since you may be a person who easily attracts people’s attention, your future spouse may feel like you can have pretty much everyone and that they’re easily replacable, whether or not this is actually true..

Do not get me wrong tho, you do not need to dim your light in order for them to be less insecure- this is their own problem to solve. What you can do in this situation, is to give them compliments which can uplift them and try not to give them reasons to be jealous, reassure them that they are the one for you, this may be important to them even if they don’t admit this openly.

How they express their jealousy?

- How they would show you they are jealous is a tricky question to answer honestly. They may not show you or tell you at all, you may need to figure this out on your own. They may start asking you random questions, as well as being almost « too nice » with you and fulfilling all your desires even the ones that may be at their expense, the important thing here is to not walk all over them since they may have a people pleasing tendency when it comes to you, so they can make sure they are so perfect that you wouldn’t leave them. They may become more clingy than usual.

As we all know, perfection is an illusion and it does not exist, so this perfect partner image they try to portray for you may be tiring for them to maintain.

If you notice some of their behaviors I just mentioned, talk to them and be honest with them.

Pile 3

(Cards: tower; 3of pentacles; 8wands; death; 3 of fire; the chariot; the tower; knight of earth; the hanged man)

- You will definitely know if your partner gets jealous, they wouldn’t hide it at all, they may have fire sign energy and easily get angry if someone touches what they deem as « theirs » (you). They may find you to be really physically attractive and that may make them want to keep you to themselves and be a little posessive.

They may get jealous if someone approaches you in front of them or when someone disrespects the fact that you are in a relationship with them and makes moves on you anyways..

Another thing which can make them jealous is if someone who they find to be similar to them (when it comes to qualities and what they can offer, not looks) shows interest in you in front of them.

How they express their jealousy?

- They may be pretty dramatic to be honest. This may be a drastic change from their normal behavior, normally they may be a really calm person, but if they feel someone is a threat to your relationship they may get very defensive and may even start an argument with the person who expresses interest in you in front of them.

In moments like this they get a little « primal » and don’t think things through, they may get more aggressive because when they see a threat they feel hopeless, like there is nothing else to do rather than confront the other person directly, they feel like they have to get rid of the « threat » immediately.

If they do actually have a tendency to cause scenes due to their jealousy, try talking it out with them and making them sure you would make the boundaries known if someone else approaches you.

Pile 4

(Cards: knave of air; queen of air; the magician; the priestess; the sun; 5 of water; 10 of pentacles; 10 of wands; knave of wands; knave of pentacles; 7 of swords)

- In situations where they feel jealous they may feel really hurt, even if they do not show it, it may remind them of past experiences and kind of « open an old wound » they tought they have gotten over.

Just like in one of the previous piles, they may view you as very beautiful and confident and sometimes they may feel as if they are not worthy of being with a person like you. They may be less experienced than you which can also make them paranoid you would leave them for someone more experienced.

How they express their jealousy?

- When they feel jealousy they really feel it. This can make them look a bit closed off and they may get really quiet all of a sudden, that’s how you would know that something is affecting them.

I don’t think this person will cause scenes or throw tantrums when they feel jealous at all. They are much more rational and mature. They may get some time away from you to clear their toughts and only after that they may adress the situation which made them feel jealous with you. Whenever they feel jealous, they may distract themselves with their hobbies, go out with their friends, go clubbing in order not to overthink every bit of what is bothering them. They may also get pro-active with you, give you gifts, pay more attention to you than normal, be more romantic with you..

My only advice to this pile is to be fully honest with them and try not to keep secrets from them, as this may intensify it if they do have trust issues due to their past.

thank you for reading! Hope it resonated, comment if it did.💞 Don’t forget to follow for more.

- La Sirena💋.

Decks used: ‘$£xual magic’ oracle deck by Lo Scarabeo; ‘Manara’ €rotic tarot deck by Milo Manara/ Lo Scarabeo;

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

„why are radical feminists always talking about male violence? women can be violent too“

listen. violence will always exist because it is not (just) a gendered issue. even in a non-patriarchal society, there will be violence, because its sadly human nature to some degree. we as a society should strive to reduce violence. for that, we need to figure out why people become violent and how to prevent it, and how to protect potential victims, and how to intervene and stop violence that is already taking place.

in a patriarchal society, male violence is incentivised, fostered, legitimised, and even protected. female violence is not.

violence is essential for most conceptions of masculinity; the ability and will to enact violence to restore your or your familys honour, for example. that is not expected of women. the military is a male institution, meant to defend and protect; reflecting mens supposed role in the patriarchy to defend and protect (with violence if needed). women are the creators of life, meant to be nurturing, passive. being aggressive is unfeminine - its masculine. men who are not aggressive/violent enough are actually chastised by other men and sometimes even women (for example being called pussy, gay, which is demeaning in a patriarchal context). a man hitting his woman is considered right and normal still in a lot of milieus and cultures, and has been for the longest time. a man enacting violence is living up to his manliness, other men respect him for it most of the time, especially if its against women or even other men. gang violence is another good example of this: men not bound to law will resort to violence.

the patriarchy needs male violence: the constant threat of male violence keeps women in our meant role as submissive and small, and other men in a constant need to prove themselves, keeping the cycle of violence going. so women need men to protect us, from other men. and we accept and excuse mistreatment and disrespect by men.

and then there is sexual violence which men are already more predisposed to enact because they have a penis, and a penis can reach orgasm by penetration whether that be forceful or not. and then the patriarchy enforces this through phallocentrism, through a culture of treating the penis as a weapon, as superior, as a tool that can dirty and undignify others. as a means of enacting violence. this is not the case for vaginas, they are reduced to just „holes“. penetration and how its treated is a key element of the patriarchy. homophobia stems from this too: penetrating someone is treated as an act of domination, and its supposed to be men dominating women this way, which means men being penetrated are „lesser“ men or even considered feminine.

this is why we need separatist options. single sex spaces, especially when girls and women are in an intimate or vulnerable position there. to protect. this is why we talk about male violence, to uncover the roots, how it is ignored, downplayed, and even encouraged and justified, which leads to violence. female violence is sometimes not taken seriously because it is not meant to exist, it is against feminine gender roles and how women are supposed to act in the patriarchy. which means if gender was abolished - which radical feminists are striving for - this issue would be solved with it.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Please please please please please I actually beg, I need a fluff where Sukuna is cuddling with you, his head on your chest while he tells you about… I don’t know, how this is because he doesn’t love you and you’re only good for being a pillow, knowing that is not the case. (Also HIII I ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR CONTENT!!! Thank you very much for reading this and I hope you have a lovely day, whether you choose to respond or not :D 💞💞💞💞💞💞)

I DROPPED EVERYTHING TO WRITE THIS ITS TOO FUCKIN CUTE AH-

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Starring: A battle weary Sukuna

You were never really sure what to do with your nights when Ryomen was away. Normally, you would spend the twilight hours in his room, in his arms, and in his sheets, curled into his side afterwards and falling asleep to the sounds of his heartbeat slowing down. But, that was out of the question tonight, just as it had been for the last week. He was off conquering something somewhere- you honestly didn’t really care. You just wanted your man- your lord back. Luckily, he was due back tomorrow evening. 

Without having many other options, you found yourself curled up on your bed with a book from the palace library. Not a bad way to spend an evening per say, just a lonely one. Ryomen was never a huge fan of cuddling unless it was after he was inside of you- and even then he was more on the take it or leave it side of things. But, his presence was still always appreciated, and on cold nights like these you desperately wanted him home to warm your bed.

You wondered what the fuck was in your tea when you saw him standing in your door way, convinced you were hallucinating. “My lord?” You asked, taking in his battle weary from. “You’re home?”

“Clearly.” He grumbled, death shambling over to your bed and collapsing on it. Admittedly, you were a little put off by it- the metallic smell of blood still clinging to his skin, as if he left the battlefield and went straight to your arms. You didn’t have a lot of time to realize how true that statement was before his arms were wrapped around you, pulling you as close to him as he possibly could and resting his head at the crown of your breast. It almost scared you just how needy he was being. 

“You’re home early…” You pointed out, only for him to roll all four of his eyes at you.

“Refer to my previous statement.”

“I’m asking why my lord.” His jaw ticked at your words. He’d killed nobles for less,what made you think you could take that tone with him? He should cut your disrespectful tongue out for even considering to question him. 

“We were able to slaughter their forces faster than we expected. None of them were higher than grade two.” He explained, closing his eyes to try and relax.

“Oh, that’s great! Another successful battle.” You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. You swore you heard him purr.

“Yeah.” No. No it absolutely was not. Yeah, none of those foot soldiers were higher than a grade two, but that didn’t matter when there was so fucking many of them. A hoard of roaches could kill a snake given the right numbers, and Sukunas entire force was out numbered, for every one soldier he had that asshole had over a hundred grunts. 

It got bleak. Bleak to the point where Sukuna had to really consider the fact he might not be going home. That he might die at the hands of fucking novices of all things. That he might not ever be able to hold you again, to kiss you, to see you. And he didn’t even say a proper goodbye before leaving. For the first time in Ryomen Sukuna’s existence, he was terrified. It wasn’t the first time he had been at deaths door, he was actually a frequent visitor. But this was the first time he made the trip when he had something to live for.

So he pushed through. Unleashed a fourth domain expansion even after the second one took everything he had left out of him, fought harder than he had before, and even felt a black flash. At some point, the enemies stopped flooding in, and it was just him and was was left of his army in the war zone. Yeah, he won, but he would never consider that a successful battle. 

You didn’t need to know that though. All you needed to know was he was home. He watched you read your book, content for what felt like the first time ever as you played absentmindedly with his hair. Moments like these were the ones he dreaded losing the most. Soft moments, where he could actually let his guard down and be at peace, even if it was only for a few seconds. He sighed softly, closing his eyes and snuggling closer to you.

“I missed you too, my lord.” You smiled gently at him. His eyes snapped open. You just had to speak, didn’t you?

“I didn’t miss you.” He scoffed in disgust, but still couldn’t find it in him to move, “Know your place whore.” The “whore” was so half-hearted it was laughable. Normally he was able to put some venom in it, but he was feeling particularly de-fanged right now. 

“Oh of course. That’s why you're clinging to me like this, because you absolutely did not miss me, right? You don’t love me at all.” You teased him.

“I do not.” He snapped, lifting his head up to properly look you in your eyes so you knew you were on thin fucking ice. “You think this is because I love you? Do you think the sky is red too? You’re comfortable wench, that’s all this is. You’re no more valuable to me than a pillow, or a chair. Love is an entirely human emotion, don’t project it onto me.” He lashed out, before dropping his head back on your chest with a limp thud. “You’ll to well to watch your tongue slut, before I cut it out.” He grumbled, managing to find some venom there this time. 

“I’m sorry my lord.” You sighed, returning to your book. A soft, self satisfied smirk did find its way to your lips when you felt him put your hand back in his hair, prompting you to continue playing there. 

“Mmm.” He grumbled. Truth be told, Love was a human emotion. Most curses would never feel anything even adjacent to it in their lifetime. But no matter how much he tried to deny it, Sukuna was human once. Mortal blood once flowed though his veins, and a human heart still pounded in his chest. A human heart you held in soft hands, gently protecting without even knowing. You’d never know how hard he fought just to be by your side tonight, not if he could help it.

You turned off the bedside lamp, settling into bed with him. He gently kissed your forehead, a soft action that was forced to go unnoticed, least he have to make good on any of his threats. Or worse, admit he was a fool in love. 

[justcressida]

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- DEAR VİLLAİNESS

"I coped with living in that damn house for so long, then got accepted to a prestigious college, and I had gotten my own home. Even if it was cramped and dirty, I could be completely at rest in it. I had finally escaped those bastards. So why?! It's not even Normal Mode. At this rate, this is no better than before…!"

Record Of Ragnarok X Penelope Eckhart!Reader

POSEİDON

Even among all these gods, Poseidon's hatred and arrogance for humans was evident.

Yet the only reason for his interest in this human woman was her incredible will to live.

Never before had he seen a mortal act so frankly, so boldly towards a God.

It caught his attention. The woman was beautiful, more beautiful than a Goddess could ever be. She was daring. It was easy to get lost in his catlike squinting eyes and be caught in the cold but firm aura of the mortal.

"Your daring and indiscretion have limits, mortal. What do you think you are? What do you trust to utter such bold words to a god?"

The woman squinted her eyes, shining with anger. "Why should there be a limit to my audacity? What have you got to set boundaries with me? First you create a lineage and then you send them disasters and hardships. Then when you get bored, 'Let's destroy humanity!' Are you making a joke that isn't funny to yourself? Why should I obey? Why should I be good? Whose wrong is right based on? How can one expect creation to be pure when there is evil in the heart of God?"

A deep silence reigned throughout the arena, while all the immortals who had been mocking her until a few seconds ago, in silence and tension, turned their eyes to the Tyrant of the Seas and then to this noble woman.

He couldn't help but was impressed. Although what he really needed to do was slit her throat with his trident and punish her disrespect, a wild instinct whispered that he shouldn't punish her in this way. Punish in a different way.

The Tyrant of the Seas' lips curved slightly as the tense wait continued. "Will you stand by what you say, mortal? If you kneel right now and apologize and beg, I won't punish you." Although his tone was calm, his gaze made everyone shudder.

"Y/N! Apologize!" As Reynold screamed, Derrick grabbed his arms and pulled him back. As the beautiful woman's eyes turned towards that direction, her eyes narrowed like a cat.

"It's not worth it, Reynold." Derrick's cold words echoed throughout the arena. The woman smiled sarcastically, after all she got used to it. It didn't hurt anymore.

"I'd rather die." Their eyes met. It was like the gaze of the sky and the ocean.

"You asked for it, mortal."

Thus began your life in prison. It was more of a fait accompli than a mistreatment.

Every day you were dressed like a doll and did whatever Poseidon wanted.

You could have dinner with him if he wanted.

If he wanted, you would go to the meeting of the Gods with him.

Everything was his order, if he didn't want it, you couldn't even breathe.

You'd still rather get beaten.

Yet all you gave in regards to your feelings was your hatred of the open ocean.

"Don't make me angry and come here mortal."

"I don't want."

"I didn't ask if you wanted it. Come with me, if you're afraid I'll keep it."

"No way. I won't." Poseidon looked at the beautiful mortal as the woman shrugged stubbornly.

"It's pointless mortal that you hate the ocean so much." He didn't want to ask directly why.

She looked thoughtfully into the water as she shrugged.

"Tell me the reason for this hatred of the ocean, mortal."

"Water plays with you, water imprisons you, water makes you crazy, and the insane cannot live in society. The water overflows."

Poseidon wanted to deny it, but mortal was right. That's how he summed up his thousands of years of life.

"Let's go inside, mortal. Don't be cold."

The Tyrant of the Seas sighs as he walks ashore.

Perhaps he could leave the mortal a little to himself.

Of course he wasn't forgiven.

For now, at least, he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back.

"You are so ugly."

"You're being disrespectful again, mortal.

"But are you ugly?"

"Shut up and get in, damn mortal."

[kachowder]

hihi!! can you say more about cameron?

Cameron (Yandere Therepaist) Facts and Info

Tw: Mild Yandere themes, Nsfw mentions

In terms of what type of yandere Cameron is, he’s actually a fairly manageable one.

You have to keep in mind, that before you came into the picture he was a normal dude.

I mean a wealthy normal dude but yknow still normal. Went on dates. Experienced break ups. Though after college he focused more on his career than anything.

As a romantic partner, he’s actually quite the romantic. Maybe a bit more, marital, in his behavior, likely referring to you both as if you’ve been wed already, but other than that he’s really not that bad

He’s very willing to help around house, and will gladly assume the role of either being the breadwinner or the househusband.

Money isn’t really a problem for Cameron, the problem is that he can’t help himself but to spend it all on you.

Expect a lot of gifts. Constantly. On random occasions. It doesn’t even have to be a holiday

Realistically you could probably give him a compliment one day and within a few hours he’ll be a blushing mess handing you a new present wrapped with a pretty bow. (He’s good with his hands)

While Cameron is willing to clean the house and take care of any of your needs, I will admit he’s not the best cook.

If he offers to make something for you, I’d recommend takeout instead.

Now if we have a look at his more, not so great qualities, it’d be important to mention his jealousy problem.

He’s good at hiding it in public don’t get me wrong! He’s pretty well behaved when it comes to someone flirting with you in front of him

A charming smile, a hand on your hip, a kiss on your cheek, simple stuff like that to get the other person to take a hint.

If all else fails he may call the cops and report them to authorities as a dangerous criminal. Whyd they confess to a bunch of crimes they didn’t even commit? Who knows.

Despite how he acts in public though, at home it’s a considerably different story.

He’s not an angry guy, but everyone has their limits.

And sometimes he needs to blow off some steam after having those limits tested.

If he’s feeling more neglected and needy, then expect a night full of worship and adoration.

He’s on his knees all night for you. Consider yourself pillow royalty for the night. Just make sure you have your attention on him the whole time.

And if you’re feeling particularly sweet, you can have fun reducing him to tears as well! He’ll definitely let you take the reigns.

He wants you to remember how wonderful of a partner he is. How obedient he can be. How good he can make you feel, and how no one else will make you feel this way.

If he’s feeling particularly ignored or disrespected though, you’ll be on the receiving end of some deliciously exhausting hours.

He won’t hurt you, no not in a million years.

But he might take you so many times that either your brain turns to mush or are reduced to tears.

All while he keeps whispering how much he loves you in your ear

How much you need him. How he should be the only one allowed to touch you like this.

But on nights where you’ve merely been gone for a long time, just expect to come home to a wonderful partner, dressed in the most revealing of clothes, and ready to service you however you want.

A/N: tysm for the support anon <3

[snipersfucker]

Hello :)

I saw that you were taking Mirage request and I wanted to ask if you can do Mirage x a fem reader were Mirage has a crush on the reader and has the habit of holding her like she is a cat and also maybe a confession? :D *the picture is a example XD*

this is so cute oh my

Mirage was a good friend.

Ever since Noah introduced him to you, he's been nothing but kind. Always finding time to talk to you and see you, even though he had his Autobot duties, always making sure you were either laughing or smiling, never allowing you to feel down when you were around him.

It's always been like that. And the idea that these little, innocent touches of his metal skin on yours, his optics that stayed on your face just a bit longer than anybody else's, the sweet, teasing nicknames he'd use when talking to you, would be anything other than Mirage being a good, caring friend has never really crossed your mind.

A robot fancying a human? That sounded absolutely insane.

But not to him. Oh, not once has he thought of his feelings towards you as not possible, strange, inappropriate. He'd rather describe anyone not being completely head-over-heels for you as such. It was just so easy for him to fall for you, it came naturally.

At the same time, as much as he'd love to just be around you all the time, hold you like the most precious treasure that you were, and call you his, he'd rather fight Scourge again than risk ruining your friendship because you didn't reciprocate his crush. And as self-confident as he might sound, he was quite unsure of whether you felt the same or was just being friendly.

So he didn't tell you anything. He stayed silent, bottling everything up, just trying to enjoy his moments with you, occasionally allowing himself to do something more, to get a bit closer to you than he normally would. Something that'd be more intimate than just sitting next to you, something that'd let him actually feel you.

And, God, he felt bad. He did feel bad for his touches not being completely innocent, even though he couldn't even imagine disrespecting you by crossing any of your boundaries. He just needed something more.

So there he was, standing in front of you, his servos on his hips as he looked down at you with his signature smirk.

"You seen these muscles?" he asked nonchalantly as if he wasn't going to flex his strength just now, lazily motioning to his upper half with a digit, "I could lift seven trucks with one hand," he added, his tone not changing its colour.

He might've been exaggerating but it was for comedic purposes only so he could do that.

When you asked him how many pounds he'd be able to lift, you weren't exactly expecting an honest answer. Mirage both liked to act all tough and strong, but you also knew that he's never really checked how much weight he could actually pick up. So the conversation just turned into a playful banter as per usual.

"I weight eight trucks," you said with a straight face. These words left your mouth not because you were trying to sound like an insecure attention-seeker, but because you wanted to tease him. And it was best done by doubting his abilities and deflating his huge ego. "Don't think you can handle that."

It was childish and you were well aware of it but you enjoyed it too much to stop. It's always been like that and you hoped it'd never be any different.

"Oh, you should see the things I've handled..." he trailed off, the look on his face indicating that the stuff he was referring to was at least impressive. He knew you weren't serious, and you were aware of his actual strength.

His tone was funny. As if he was trying to appear at least a bit humble but failing tremendously. With his chin higher, optical ridges slightly raised, a confident smile on his face plate, he looked like a typical show-off, almost typical Mirage.

The sight made you snicker quietly under your nose.

You didn't know the direction the conversation was going in but he did. He knew what he wanted to do and he knew it was one of the rare occasions in which he was be able to allow himself to do something more, just like he'd craved for a long time.

His reaction to your small laugh was immediate. Even though you weren't making fun of him, he could pretend that it offended him. That you provoked him to prove you otherwise, that he could, in fact, lift you up with ease. So he lowered himself just enough for his servos to meet your body, wrapped them gently around your waist and picked you up. Just like a person holding a cat.

Now that your eyes were on the level of his optics, although not close enough for your warm breath to hit his face plate, you could see his confident smirk in its full glory.

"Show-off," you muttered under your breath with a small smile, even though you knew he could hear you, his audio receptors picking up on most sounds in a very big radius.

She's so soft. She's so soft...

"Oh, yeah," he scoffed, shaking his head in amusement, not letting you see how much he wanted to just keep you between his servos forever. "It's okay, dude, you can just say that you wanted me to hold you, I won't judge," he added, his tone light, casual, projecting. He shrugged with nonchalance on his face as if it was actually the truth and he wouldn't be mad at you if you wanted him to touch you like that.

Projecting.

And he called you dude. He called you dude because sweetheart felt too intimate at the moment, too heartfelt, as if he was scared that the position you two were in and that nickname rolling off his glossa towards your ears would make you realise he likes you. And he didn't want that.

"I feel like a damn cat, M..." you muttered again, placing your hands on his in a poor attempt to push them away for your body. But your smile betrayed you.

His spark almost exploded when he felt your warm hands on his metal ones.

"I'll let you sell me if you meow right now."

He had to say something, otherwise you'd notice the hearts in his optics that appeared when he was staring at you.

His words made you giggle and shake your head in amusement. "I'd sell you without you even realising it," you decided to respond with something more sassy, a smirk and a raised eyebrow only adding to the whole effect.

"You'd get rid of that pretty face?" He tilted his helm slightly, attempting to sound offended and hurt by your statement.

You shook your head in amusement again, letting out a soft sigh.

Mirage gasped dramatically, his face again showing pretend hurt. "You don't think I'm pretty?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.

He loved every second of it.

You looked up at him, turning your lips into a thin line, as if you didn't have enough courage to tell him that you, in fact, didn't find him pretty, even though you did.

"You..." he gasped again, and if he wasn't holding you in his hands, he would put his servo on his spark just to add another dramatic effect. Then, a brilliant idea crossed his mind, "Air jail."

He turned his head to the side as much as he could to still be able to see you in his peripheral vision, straightening his arms fully so that you were as far from him as possible but still touching him.

"Mirage," you said his names as a warning. He knew you wanted him to place you on the floor again but air jail was definitely a real thing in his world.

"You deserve it," he said, his tone mean but not actually sounding like he meant it.

She's so cute. So cute...

"Mirage," you repeated his name sternly, although still playfully enough for him to know that you wanted this to continue, and his spark sped up.

"Tell me I'm pretty."

He sounded like a little toddler throwing a fit which nearly made you giggle but you decided to play along.

"...No."

So warm, so warm...

He scoffed at the word. Dramatically. Just to let you know you didn't actually hurt his feelings.

"You asked for it," he said nonchalantly, fake offence still lingering somewhere in his tone.

He felt smart. So smart for making something up just so he could hold you for a little longer, hoping you wouldn't mind if he did it playfully some time in the future again.

A few moments passed. The only thing he could focus on was your skin against his. The silence normally wouldn't bother him much but this time he felt as if you could practically hear his thoughts about yourself.

"Okay, Jesus. You're pretty," you muttered, rolling your eyes. The slight curl of your lips betrayed you again.

He was not expecting you to actually say that. His helm turned in your direction way faster than he wanted. He thanked Primus his optics didn't get as wide as they probably would've if he hadn't stopped them in time.

He knew you said it only because you wanted him to put you down on the ground. But the warmth that spread all over his metal body felt nicer than it probably should.

"Somebody's gotta crush on me..." he cooed teasingly just to cover up his own sudden nervousness.

You rolled your eyes again with a smirk.

"Floor, M."

Her voice is so soft...

He obliged. Of course he obliged, you told him exactly what he wanted to hear, you looked so pretty in his hands, you felt so warm...

You were standing on the ground again, hands on your hips as you looked up at his satisfied face plate. Cocky as always.

...And so that little thing that he came up with on spot became a part of your daily playful banters. You'd say something he didn't like, you'd end up in air jail.

You didn't mind, really, and found it rather amusing than any other thing. And this time was no different.

A few weeks after the invention of air jail, he did it again for the tenth time.

"You know I'm not putting you down till you say it, man."

Again, any other pet name sounded too intimate and it has not changed since the first time he had you in this position.

You were aware what you had to do, but it didn't stop you from being a disobeying little shit, denying him the things he wanted to hear from you.

"Airazor wouldn't date you."

He knew she wouldn't, he knew he didn't even want her to, but it was another excuse for him to hold you in his hands.

"Wrong."

"Ask her."

"I can't hear you."

"Ask her if she'd date your annoying ass."

He gasped, shaking his helm in disapproval as he looked at you with fake disappointment.

"Damn..." he pretended to feel hurt by your words, a sad expression on his face plate.

You frowned, at first with confusion at his sudden change of demeanor, and then with worry. You were worried that you actually said too much, that you said something wrong.

And noticing the look on your face, Mirage's immediately lightened up, showing him that he was joking as per usual.

"I hate you," you said as soon as you noticed he wasn't actually affected my your words.

"Nah. You love me," he said nonchalantly, shrugging, acting as if it was actually true.

"Nope." You shook your head. "I'm afraid it's one-sided,' you added with fake pity, acting like it was him who loved you without you reciprocating it.

And even though you were absolutely joking, he panicked.

Could you possibly know about his feelings? Has he been too obvious? What was it? Was he supposed to play along? Or was it the right time to tell you that he fell for you so hard he couldn't bear the thought of not being around you for more than a minute?

"I love you," he blurted out and cussed himself out in his mind for doing it in such a... disappointing way.

It wasn't him. He knew it wasn't him. Old Mirage would have never confessed his feeling like that. He would have never even feel anything so strong towards another being, the idea of confessing it too distant that it would never even cross his mind.

You changed him.

It felt strange. It felt strange to say these three words to you, he stopped feeling like himself for a few moments.

Strange but at the same time... good. He could sense the relief washing over his body as the confession left his mouth but the weight of the fear of rejection was still suffocating.

He wanted to repeat it. The three words threatened to roll off his glossa again but he swallowed them, noticing the way you reacted to them the first time.

"M..." you trailed off, too stunned to say anything else.

He wished your voice was less soft. Less careful.

"Yep," he said awkwardly, putting you down on the floor immediately. He nodded to himself. "Shouldn't have said that."

He was close to cussing himself out in front of you but he wanted to both do it in his helm and then later when you'd be gone.

Gone from his life forever...

"Nope, I actually meant it," he corrected himself, not really knowing what to say, feeling extremely out of place, acting more awkwardly than ever. "Friend."

He called you a friend just to save himself but he was fully aware it might've been too late for that.

"I love you as a friend, dude," he added again, making a finger-gun with one of his servos and pointing it at you.

It was getting worse and worse with every passing second.

He looked at you, standing without any movements, searching for any positive reaction on your face.

"Mirage..."

You used his name which meant you were most likely about to tell him that you were sorry, and that you didn't feel the same, and that you didn't want to have him in your—

"I love you."

His spark stopped.

He kept staring at you but then finally managed to get the courage to ask, just to make sure, "As a friend?" His voice was sceptical, as if he was expecting a negative answer. Which he obviously was.

You took a deep breath in and gave him a soft look.

"Not as a friend, got it," he interpreted your non-verbal response, nodding to himself a couple of times, breaking eye contact to look at the garage wall in front of him to collect himself. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, "Well, unfortunately I love you as a friend, so..." he trailed off with an unserious look on his face plate, his funny self finally making a comeback.

You scoffed, crossing your arms on your chest and shaking your head in both disbelief and amusent.

The audacity this man had...

"Alright, fine," he groaned, pretending not to like what was about to leave his mouth, "I love you as maybe just a bit more than a friend."

"Mirage..." you warned him for the third time today.

"I love you as a lot more than a friend," he corrected himself, not wanting to push it too much.

The eye contact was back.

"You're makin' me wanna giggle right now," he said randomly, as if it was a normal thing to say after confessing his undying love to a woman.

You snorted.

"The giggles are getting stronger. I can't hold 'em back," he said in a slightly warning tone, the seriousness in it making your smile grown bigger.

You both stared at each other just for mere second before you both erupted with laughter.

He did giggle.

"I love you, man," he repeated when you both calmed down after a few moments, "And I will stop calling you man. Someday. Promise," he added when he realised he didn't use sweetheart this time either.

"Yeah, of course." You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement as you both looked into each other's eyes with warmth. "I love you, too."

And he smiled, finally feeling at home.

A/N: i used an insecure attention seeker instead of a pick-me even though i hate both but i couldn't really describe it differently lmao also, emotions give me an ick so it may be a bit cringey but we roll. and it's so bad (im just saying that so yall could give me compliments) cuz i haven't written anything in a while..... and the ending made me nearly throw up.....

[ilguna]

Could I get a soulmate AU Johanna mason x victor reader enemies to lovers? like they spend the entire time hating each other just to find out when they’re in district 13 that they’re each other’s soulmates? even after they find out reader is still reluctant with not wanting to talk to Johanna but Johanna kinda trying to make an effort cause she’s seeing her differently now thank u & congratulations on 3k follows

☼ falling leaves (Johanna Mason) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, johanna's mean and self-centered, mild name calling.

wc; 4.7k

notes; enjoy all angst, no happy ending.

--

When it comes to being delusional, Johanna Mason takes the cake. 

There has not been one conversation you’ve unwillingly had with her where you didn’t think that she’s crazy. The way she holds herself and blatantly disrespects the people around her as if she has some sense of superiority is absolutely mindblowing. It’s like she has yet to realize that all of you are in the same shitty boat, regardless of how you may or may not have won your Games.

If you had to guess, you’d say it has something to do with the popularity and how you handled it. It wasn’t outrageous or anything, at least you don’t think so. It was a normal reaction. You did what any other sane tribute would do in an outlying district that found themselves with every pair of eyes in the Capitol—you wholly and completely embraced the people. 

Every move you made was catered to them, that way if you were in need in the arena, you’d be able to get exactly what you wanted. This would come with consequences later on, but you didn’t know that, and you don’t really care now, either. As long as you got the advantage and a sliver of a chance of making it out alive, you didn’t care.

And with you feeding into the fire with your cooperation, you easily ended up being the most popular tribute, surpassing the Careers. That was far from your goal, you flew a little bit too close to the sun, which got you this massive target on your back. 

Still, you persevered. You let the Careers hate you, minded your own business, gaining sponsors by the minute. When you received a score of seven, they took a step back. In your interview with Caesar, you drew them back in by talking about how glamorous the Capitol is. If there was one thing you learned, it was that they were a sucker for compliments. Whatever made them feel better.

Well, it worked. All of it. You won the Hunger Games two and a half weeks in. The hardest part was shaking the Careers long enough to split them up and frame a betrayal, which never should have worked. They turned on each other, forgetting about your existence, until there was one left. He was too injured to win, anyway. You picked him off, and your announcement came five minutes later.

You continued to sing praises in the Capitol’s direction up until your Victory Tour, where you were finally able to stop when you got home to District Eleven. You were no longer important enough to focus on, allowing you to settle into victor life. And every time someone asked you if you really thought the Capitol was so great, through a bright smile you’d tell them no.

You met Johanna the following year, and from the very second she laid eyes on you, you knew that the two of you were not going to get along. Her face was twisted, eyes narrowed in your direction. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and she was standing with Finnick Odair.

You remember thinking to yourself, this is not victor solidarity. How could they judge you for a strategy that worked? It wasn’t at all what you were expecting from a pair of people that had suffered the way you had. Especially when they were the talk of the Capitol, themselves. 

You came to the realization that you had survived the Hunger Games, but you’d never stop living with the scrutiny of your win for the rest of your life. No matter where you’d go or who you’d talk to, everyone would have an opinion. They’d either think it was smart or a blatant cheap shot.

They would never stop to think that they had come into the Capitol with a different list of things they were willing to do. If they wanted to leave with dignity, if they were fine seeming shallow, if they would settle for nothing less than tough, if they wanted to be a nobody.

For Johanna, you quickly figured out that she wasn’t going to let them help her. She wanted to figure it out on her own, and she did. She downplayed herself to make it seem like she wasn’t a threat. By crying through the reaping and the Tribute Parade, she ensured the idea that she was soft.

When it came to training, she purposely failed at everything she touched to make her seem weak. After scoring a three, all the remaining potential sponsors flew out the window, furthering her agenda. No one would think twice about her, not even the tributes. They wouldn’t have a need to hunt her down in the arena, because she was helpless.

She couldn’t have planned it any better. She hid and waited for a bulk of the tributes to be dead before she decided it was time to show off who she really was. And that was smart and brutal. With there being so little people left, she was able to take out the remaining tributes in less than a week, and was promptly crowned victor.

Her cowardly act was dropped in the interviews that followed. You remember seeing them in passing, noting how she was barely able to hide her distaste for the Capitol. At the time, you thought about how if you were in her shoes, you wouldn’t be as openly hateful.

And as if it were a test, you were reaped the next summer.

It’s just an odd experience to be shunned so heavily by her and Finnick. You expected it more from the Career mentors, but Cashmere, Gloss and Enobaria were so welcoming. They didn’t care where you were from, just the fact that you managed to get their level of popularity coming from nothing.

You suppose that didn’t help your case. Still, that shouldn’t have mattered, anyway. You all won in your own respectable ways. You used the sponsors until they were dry, Johanna pretended to be a damsel, and Finnick won young by trapping tributes in his net and stabbing them with his trident.

She’s been caught on your actions ever since. Despite the fact that you’re merely a year younger than her, or that you’re not the same person you were for the Games, she can’t see past the fact that you threw yourself into the Capitol’s arms. In fact, she called you childish for it.

When you heard that through the grapevine, you knew that any hope of friendship between you two was gone. You wanted to give her time to realize that you’re not a terrible person, but if she was going to start to go down that path, you weren’t going to entertain her. She could be who she wanted to be, you’d just have a pole to keep her at a distance.

It worked for a couple of years, and then it washed down the drain when the Quarter Quell came around. Chaff told you that if you wanted to go back into the arena, you’d have to be willing to help. If not, Seeder would go in instead. As much as you would’ve liked to stay home, you knew that you couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Seeder would be a better leader in District Eleven, and you’d be more helpful in the arena.

When you learned that you’d have to work alongside Johanna and Finnick, you began to regret it. Johanna’s entitled, all she does is run her mouth. She likes to push buttons—yours especially, because she knows that you’re trying to be better than her. It was a tragedy when you accidentally found her in the jungle, because you’d rather deal with Finnick. At least his comments are passive-aggressive.

Besides Johanna’s attempts to piss you off, the arena was surprisingly easy to get through. You ignored her, only speaking to Finnick when it was necessary. You’re sure it was glaringly obvious to Katniss and Peeta that you and Johanna hated each other, but that didn’t get in the way.

And while not everyone made it out of the arena, you did. A nasty period of survivor’s guilt followed, because it wasn’t easy knowing that the ones who got taken by the Capitol were being tortured. It should’ve been you with them, because you’d left Johanna early to make it back to the lightning tree before midnight.

She has not let you live that down. It’s all she talks about—how you abandoned her and Peeta to save your own life. She’s called you every bad name that she can think of to anyone who will listen. Her favorite one being selfish. That one comes out of her mouth so often that it sounds foreign to you now. 

It’s funny, because Finnick nearly did the same thing. He initially left the tree to find you, Katniss and Johanna because the wire snapped. And when he realized he wasn’t going to find any of you in time, he started to go back to the tree after he heard Katniss shouting for Peeta. By the time you got there, Katniss had already shot the arrow at the dome, and they were all paralyzed on the floor.

No matter how many times you bring this up to her, on the occasions you feel like arguing, she tells you that it’s different. Finnick was doing his job by going to save the Mockingjay. And that he was to guard the tree with Beetee, anyway. It made sense for him to go back to it.

You know you dig your grave a little further each time you throw Finnick under the bus, but you refuse to be held to a higher standard. It’s hypocrisy, because he’s her best friend, and she’s wearing rose tinted glasses when it comes to him. Sometimes you contemplate how much trouble you’d get in for wringing her neck, and then you wonder if you’ll earn an ounce of respect from her for doing it.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.” A voice says.

You jump, pulling the top of the jumpsuit to your chest as you turn to see who it is that’s intruding. It’s Finnick, of course. He’s standing in the doorway of your assigned room, which you occupy alone. They had tried to make him your roommate, because from the surface it looked like you got along. 

It didn’t work out for multiple reasons. The main one being that he had so many breakdowns from his girlfriend being in the Capitol that he repeatedly got sent back to the hospital to be monitored. They kept his name on the plate next to the door with yours for a few weeks, but ultimately took it down when it was apparent that he wasn’t going to be stable enough to be on his own. 

And now that Annie is here in District Thirteen, he lives in a room with her.

“So is knocking not a custom in District Four?” You ask, face twisted. “Or are you a creep?”

Finnick’s eyebrows shoot up, and then he lets out a laugh. “I did knock, I thought you heard me.”

“Clearly not.” You snap, pulling your arms through the top of the jumpsuit. You button the front, looking over him. “And my tattoos are none of your concern.”

He ignores what you’ve said. “Did you get them in the Capitol?”

You press your lips together. “Where else would I have gotten them?”

He makes a face. “I don’t know, District Eleven?”

“We have more Peacekeepers than any of the districts combined, and you think we have tattoo parlors?” You ask. “And one of them is my soulmate mark, so it doesn’t count.” 

“Doesn’t mean you don’t know how to have fun.”

You glare. “What do you want?”

He takes in a breath. “You’re needed in Command.”

You sigh, motioning for Finnick to lead the way. He happily turns around in the doorway, heading out. You shut the door behind you, following him to the elevator. 

“Which tattoo is your soulmate mark?” Finnick asks.

“None of your business.” You tell him, trying to shut him down.

“Mine is this one.” He rolls up the sleeve on his right arm, getting it above his bicep to show you a pair of koi fish. “Annie has the same one.”

“I figured.” You mutter.

“Is it the one on your back left shoulder?” 

It is, he probably got a good view of it while you were trying to get dressed. You’re not sure how he came to the conclusion it’s that one in particular, because you have a group of tattoos on your back. It was advised for you to keep your front half clean for pictures. No one would want a picture of your back.

You went with it, even though you would’ve liked to be able to see them. You convinced yourself to wait a few years before you decide to do what you want. You thought by the time the next generation of victors came out, you’d be out of the spotlight and no one would care then.

“Why does it matter?” You counter.

“I’ve never seen a soulmate tattoo that big before.” Finnick shrugs, “Usually they’re smaller.”

“Yours isn’t that small.”

“I said usually.” Finnick looks at you.

When you make it to Command, you step inside to find it as cold and dark as it normally is. There’s a group of people standing on the far side of the room, the closer you get, the better you’re able to see who it is. The most notable faces are President Coin, Plutarch Heavensbee, and Haymitch Abernathy. 

Plutarch gives you a wide smile when you stop at the table. “Here she is now.”

“There’s no telling how Peeta would react to her.” Haymitch shakes his head. “If you want him to do this, he would have to do it alone.”

“Nonsense.” Plutarch waves him off. “Tell me, (Y/n), you used to bake, right?”

Your face scrunches. “How do you know that?”

“Your Victory Tour.” He says. “You said you made cakes and pies.”

You look from him to the table, because you honestly don’t remember mentioning that during your Victory Tour. “At home, yes.”

“And for weddings and parties.” He insists.

You stare at him in bewilderment. “I guess.”

Plutarch nods, looking at Coin. “I told you that she’d fit the description.”

“What do you need cakes and pies for?” You ask, looking at Haymitch for help.

“Finnick and Annie are getting married.” He tells you. “They would like Peeta to make the cake for the wedding.”

“So why do you need me?” 

“To help.” Plutarch says, as if it’s obvious. “Peeta won’t be able to make a cake that large on his own. And the staff in the kitchen aren’t prepared to tackle this task.”

“And I am?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Peeta will be in charge.” Coin clarifies. “You’ll help.”

You turn to look at Finnick, who’s approached the table, standing between you and Plutarch. You stare at him for a long moment, thinking of all the times he was an ass to you. How you swallowed it because you wanted to be the bigger person. Yet, he’s older than you so he should know better. And he never once stepped in to stop Johanna.

You decide to cash in on your good behavior. “No.”

When you look back at Coin, she’s got a hard expression on her face, encouraging you to challenge her further. Plutarch gawks for a second. “Well, we were hoping—”

“No, I’m not doing this for them.” You shake your head. “I have nothing against Annie, but Finnick is a different story.” You motion in a circle with your hand. “He does not deserve my help.”

Finnick makes a noise of disbelief. “Why?”

“Because we’re not friends.” You deadpan. “You made that explicitly clear during my first year of mentoring—you and Johanna. And while she was smearing my name, you didn’t once think to stop her.”

Haymitch sighs, eyes on Plutarch. “I tried to explain this to you.”

“That’s petty victor drama.” Plutarch tries to brush it off. “This is for a greater purpose, we want to film a propo to show the Capitol that we’re still celebrating.”

This bothers you too, but not nearly as much as making a cake for Finnick. “If Finnick wants me to help, he’ll apologize and ask me, himself.” You look at him, “Otherwise, Peeta can make the cake on his own.”

All eyes shift to Finnick expectantly. You watch as his skin begins to turn a gentle shade of red, embarrassed. “(Y/n), I’m sorry that I didn’t help you. Will you please make a cake for Annie and I?”

A part of you wishes you could make him beg a little bit more, but for now, this is good enough. “Sure, Finnick. It would be my honor.”

—

“Peeta, I knew you baked, but I didn’t think that you were this good.” You tell him, chewing on a piece of cake that he let you try.

“Thanks.” He lets out a laugh, using the back of his hand to move a stray hair out of his face.

“You said your parents were bakers?” You ask. “How did you manage that?”

“Yes, we all were. My parents ran it, my brothers and I worked. It wasn’t easy. The only reason why people could afford it was because we had to lower our prices.” He reaches for the blue dye at the end of the counter. “It was easier to run after I won.”

“I can imagine.” You nod. “I could finally buy the ingredients I wanted, instead of working with what I had.”

Peeta drops some of the food coloring into the icing. When he decides it’s enough, he stirs the color in, and you watch as it turns from white to a dark blue. Once it’s not getting any more potent, he backs away, reaching for the towel to dust the flour off his hands before reaching to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

“It’s so hot in here.” He shakes his head. “And stuffy. At the bakery, we’d open the windows to keep it from becoming a sauna.”

“There are no windows here.” You laugh. “It’s just a cement box. It’s a good thing I convinced Plutarch to give us tank tops. Could you imagine trying to work in those jumpsuits?”

He practically rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t be.”

“I don’t think you were given much of a choice.” 

“Yeah, and neither were you.” He moves to the sink to wash his hands before returning to icing the cake. 

He’s finally gotten to the final tier. It’s taken him almost two hours to do the top half with how intricate the design is. It’s a good thing that he’s talented in that aspect, all you can do is make the cake base taste good on its own. 

You yawn, chin resting on your palm while you watch him create more waves. Your eyes flicker to the guards standing in the corner, who are here just in case Peeta has another one of his moments. He’s not himself yet, there are still times where he slips and freaks out. You’re sure you had them on the edge of their seat when you mentioned the family’s bakery.

“You can go, (Y/n).” Peeta tells you, backing off to fix the pipe in his hand. “I’m probably going to be here for a while longer to make the finishing touches.”

“Are you sure? I’m fine staying to keep you company.” You offer.

“No, it’s fine. I like the quiet.” He waves you off. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” You smile. “Will you be there tomorrow night for the wedding?”

“Most likely not, but feel free to visit me in the cell.”

You hold back your laugh, walking away. “I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Peeta.”

“Goodnight.” He murmurs.

You push the door to leave the kitchen, shutting it gently behind you. A small hallway leads you directly into the dining area, where there’s dozens of picnic tables set up to eat at during the day. At this time of night, they should all be empty, but there’s one person here, sitting at the table closest to the walkway.

Johanna.

You plan to ignore her and head straight for your room a few floors up, when she clears her throat. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You tell her, not bothering to stop. She gets to her feet.

You can hear her shoes against the floor, and then you feel a hard poke into the back of your left shoulder. “This is a problem.”

Your jaw sets as you turn quickly, grabbing her wrist. “Do not touch me.”

“When Finnick told me you had those leaves on the back of your shoulder, I didn’t believe him.” She says, face twisted. “Now that I’ve seen them, it’s different.”

You throw her arm back at her. “It’s none of your business, like I told him.”

“It is my business.” She tells you. “Considering it’s your soulmate mark.”

“Why? So you can spread rumors about that, too?” You shoot back. “I’m bulletproof, Johanna. Your words ricochet. All you’re doing is making an ass of yourself.”

“I have the same mark, idiot.” She snaps.

The insults you have sizzling on your tongue begin to die. “What?”

“The falling leaves? I have the same mark on my ribs.” She unbuttons her jumpsuit, pulling it wide open to show you the pale skin inside. By the dim light provided in the dining room, you’re able to see that she’s telling the truth.

Your face contorts. “You have to be kidding.”

“I’m obviously not.” She fixes the jumpsuit.

“That’s unfortunate.” You spit. You were hoping that you’d have someone that you could stand to be around.

“I don’t mind.” She admits.

“Well, I do.” You tell her, she locks eyes with you. “I wanted someone I actually liked and could get along with, not some egocentric asshole.”

“Egocentric.” She echoes.

“Yes, because you’re apparently better than I am, don’t you remember that? I’m inferior, you said so yourself.” You tilt your head. “I also remember you calling me pompous, and conceited, and hedonistic, and vain. And of course, your personal favorite, selfish. All words that mean the same thing, not that you’d know that.”

You throw your hands out. “Just because I had a different strategy on how to win the Hunger Games. This is actually so fucking ridiculous that it’s not funny anymore.”

Johanna stares at you, not knowing what to say.

“I mind.” You emphasize, “Now leave me alone.”

–

The next few days are a new level of torture that you’re not quite used to. It seems that word travels fast in this bunker, because you’ve heard everyone’s opinion about the matter on your hands. As if what they think will make a difference or change your mind.

The good thing is that you’re used to this treatment to a certain extent. It’s what happened while you were mentoring. Which would be amusing, if you’re not tired of being treated this way. You’re right back to being scrutinized, this time for a new scenario.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, you were informed earlier this afternoon that you’d have to participate in the wedding ceremony. Plutarch said he wasn’t going to pull you aside for an interview or demand you make a toast. He just wants you to be here, so that when they do catch you on camera, there’s a sense of camaraderie. Even if it’s clear on your face that you’d rather be elsewhere.

After working on that cake with Peeta for several days, you formed a friendship with him. You were hoping that they’d let him out so that you could talk to him throughout the wedding. They can’t risk it, not with Katniss in attendance. One wrong move and it could trigger him into another attack.

You’ve settled for blending in somewhere in the middle of the crowd. You’re keeping close to the front so you seem interested in the traditional dancing, but far away enough to the point you’ll be easily looked over. And you’re keeping your distance from Johanna, who’s still by the chairs on the other side of the room, because she hasn’t let the soulmate thing go. 

She wants to fix what she broke, not caring that you’re uninterested. Maybe if she knew how to treat people with dignity, it wouldn’t have gone this far. Instead, she chose to make assumptions about you and ran with it. While telling the people around her that her beliefs are true.

You can’t stand her.

When the crowd comes to a lull, they decide to bring out the cake, the only thing you were still here for. You wanted to see the reactions of the people around you, that way you’d be able to report it back to Peeta later on. While you might not have done much besides building the foundation, he did a fantastic job of making sure that not a single detail was missed on that cake. He deserves every ounce of praise.

There’s gasps, low murmurs. They don’t announce who made and decorated the cake, only that it had taken the two of you days to complete it on time. Once Finnick and Annie have cut out their slice, you quietly slip out of the room, wanting to go back to your bed, tired after the long day.

You don’t even make it a step before the door is opening behind you. You glance over your shoulder to see who it is, and see that it’s one of the many random people that were selected to participate.

“You’re a loyalist, aren’t you?” He asks, tone threatening.

“Excuse me?” You ask, slowing down.

“That’s why you kiss-ass when it comes to the Capitol.” He’s walking in your direction. “Always defendin’ them.”

District Twelve. The people of Thirteen don’t cut corners with words, a lot of the people of Katniss and Peeta’s district do, whether they realize it or not.

“I don’t defend the Capitol.”

“Your interviews said otherwise.” 

“Those were done years ago.” Your face twists. “I was a teenager when I was being asked those questions.”

“That doesn’t change anythin’. My skin crawls just knowin’ you’re sleepin’ on the same floor as me.”

“Then sleep on a different floor.” You tell him through gritted teeth. “You have a problem with something that isn’t even real. If I was a loyalist, would I have helped the rebels get Katniss out of the arena?”

“You left them behind.”

You roll your eyes, unable to help it. You were hoping you’d be through with this, but it seems as if Johanna’s words will continue to follow you. And now, they’re going to get you into some questionable situations. They aren’t dangerous for you, though. It is for him, coming up to you like this. You’ll flatten him on the concrete.

You take a step toward him, planning to teach him some manners when the door opens behind him, stopping you. Johanna’s face is screwed tight. “Leave her alone.”

The man scoffs. “I’d be doin’ us a favor, gettin’ rid of her.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” She snaps, striding forward to grab him, yanking him back. “If you so much as lay a finger on her, I’ll break every bone in your body.”

The tone of voice keeps him from pressing her further, raising his hands in defeat. He gives you a look before twisting out of her grasp, going back to join the party. 

You eye Johanna for a second, “I don’t need your help.”

“I know.” She heads for the door. “Doesn’t mean I won’t step in.”

You catch the look she sends your way before leaving the hallway. If this is what she plans to do in order to make you forgive her, she’ll be doing it for the rest of her life, because it’s practically meaningless to you.

Still, you suppose that you can give her some credit for trying.

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!