#HURTS SO GOOD

[keitoz]

「What have you done to me…?

So this is Hell…」

[running-with-kn1ves]

PUNISHMENT: A Reward

A/N: Decided to name our ‘PUNISHMENT’ fic boy Malachi, lemme know if this is a win or a fat L my scrumptious pogchamps. ALSO happy valentines day! (Posting this early let me be)

CW: Toxic relationship, possessive/obsessive behavior, suggestive themes, mentioning future seggsual acts/fantasies

Synopsis: Out on a group date for Valentine's Day with your possessive, jealousy-ridden boyfriend is never a good idea, especially when he finds the special surprise you’re wearing for him.

“Hrmm… seems like they have a lot of Valentine's themed stuff on the menu.” 

“Well it IS the season! No other reason for it being so packed in here...” One of your friends across the table perked up, slightly annoyed at the stuffy atmosphere.

She was right, every table was filled, every booth full of chattering couples or first blind dates, even double or thruple dates just like the one you were on. 

You were lucky your friend's boyfriend had managed to snag this place a week in advance, else you might be thigh to thigh with everyone else in a tinier booth. Ha, as if YOUR boyfriend would allow that; you'd probably be on the edge of the shared booth seat, nearly falling off just to save you from being ‘too close’ to anyone else, even your own friends. 

“Annoying… I don't get why going out on Valentine's Day is so important, what happened to dates in the privacy of your own home.” Said the devil you were thinking of, that comment nudging to how he was far more in favor of spending a “romantic” evening home alone with you instead of being here with your two friends and their spouses. 

“Awe, is puppy dog Malachi upset he has to share? We planned this weeks in advance, so suck it up, we have a right to see OUR friend tonight.” That same friend hissed. 

Your other friend nodded. He would’ve added on, if it weren’t for the death stare your boyfriend was currently drilling into everyone else across the table. You hadn’t been out in a group setting like this in… who knows how long.

“Oh, really? Don’t fucking--”

“C’mon you guys,” You grabbed onto Malachi’s thigh, a tight squeeze making him stop in his angry tracks to look down.”I’m here right now, shouldn’t we be catching up, not fighting? I missed you, missed this.” 

Your sincerity seemed to ease them up, a flash of contrition on your female friend’s face. She hated your boyfriend, clearly, wearing a scowl when she turned back to Mr. moody himself. He rested his face on his palm, looking at the other couples every now and again, always keeping a short glance at you out of the corner of his eye to make sure you weren’t having too much fun. 

One of the spouses --you had forgotten the name of by now after the evening’s short introductions-- had begun talking, complaining about coworkers or customers, one or the other. 

Wow, has it been so long that your friends have completely different lives now, new people that they spend their time with that you weren’t even told about? Well, its not like you’ve exactly been open to receiving that kind of news, or able to be, with so little time to make phonecalls lately, your phone always seeming to disappear, phone numbers no longer existing in your contacts… it was truly a miracle you managed to have this outing, and Malachi thought so too. 

“I swear if she prods at me again,” Your jealous guard dog of a boyfriend started, hand clenching the red, heart-embroidered table cloth.

“Take it easy, okay? I know you don’t want to be here but-- just do it a little longer, for me. Thats what we agreed, right?”

You took his hand in yours, bringing up his clenched fist to your lips. You thanked the skies that physical affection always seemed to drown out his fiery temper. You wondered how much longer that’d last. 

“Fine. But I can’t stand looking at them anymore, come ‘ere.” Malachi patted his thigh, hands moving to your hips to help bring you to your new seat. 

“Seriously? We’re in a.. A nice restaurant, with my friends--”

He gave you a knowing look, one that said ‘if you don’t listen, i’ll drag your ass back to the car without the pleasure of friendly goodbyes.’ 

You didn’t know if you could handle the embarrassing shit he put you through anymore. It tested the strength of your will and the integrity of your soul at this point. 

You did as he demanded, slowly making your way to sit on the edge of his lap. Most of those around you didn’t seem to notice, an occasional glance looking to see what you were doing, but ultimately going back to the lively story of one of the nameless significant others. You tried to hover above him, afraid to fully commit to sitting down on top of him, but a small ‘what are you doing’ and forced downward push of your hips made your butt make soft contact with his lap. 

“That’s right… that’s better.” He cleared his throat, putting one arm around your waist and the other on your knee. You directly blocked his view, your boyfriend not moving to see the rest of the group, instead leaning against you like a perfectly shaped body pillow. 

“Can’t you atleast act normal? Don’t you have any shame around other people,” You whispered, knowing that one of your friends was reading the uncomfortable expression on your face and was in turn, giving a similar expression of discomfort. 

“Hey, you know how bad I can be, this isn’t even the worst of it. You want me to really embarrass you?” 

A waiter  broke the quiet spat you were having with him, asking if you’d like another drink. He didn’t acknowledge the man behind you, either out of not seeing him or to purposefully avoid the dark eyes digging into his soul behind your shoulder. 

You croaked out a polite “yes please,” looking for your friend’s fellow responses. They all answered in kind, the waiter scurrying away to another busy set of tables. 

Malachi scoffed, coiling around you tighter. 

“D’you see that? I knew we shouldn’t have come out here, in front of prying eyes… bet he’s hit on every other pretty thing he’s seen walk in here, so don’t get any ideas.” 

 You almost turned around to gawk at your boyfriend, such an insensitive and insecure string of words wounding you. 

“I would never..” 

You almost let him ruin the rest of your evening, the dreadful pit of wanting to go home entering your tired mind. But you promised yourself you’d try to make an effort in repairing your friendships, attempting to memorialize your friend’s smiles and laughs, trying to come up with the names of their spouses you had just heard a half hour ago. If you wouldn’t see them again for a while, atleast you could have this. 

And with the two-second memory your boyfriend often displayed,(except for when it came to your “betrayals”) he was enamored with something new. 

“Oh, what do we have here…” Malachi tip-toed down the elastic waistband of your pants, looking at the lacey red lingerie underneath. It wasn’t hard to spot, not when it was a drastic change from your usual tame undergarments. Well, tame for him, he had seen them all at this point. 

You wouldn’t have noticed his prodding peculiarity if it weren’t for that worrying heightened pitch in his voice, one that always started trouble. Fingers nipping your tummy and around your wrist weren’t unusual, you had become accustomed to it from how he pawed at you at home, never seeming satisfied, but this, wasn’t the usual lack of personal space.

“Hey! You weren’t supposed to see that.” You slapped his hand away, having which already gotten a full touch of the goods you were hiding. 

“What is that supposed to mean--” Malachi started, and you knew he was about to expect the worst. You shut him up as fast as you could. 

“It’s supposed to be for tonight, idiot!” You whispered with a harsh tone, starting to get fed up with his childish reactions, which always seemed to jump to conclusions. “...Did you forget that it’s Valentine’s day or what?”

You barely let the words escape from between your teeth, not wanting to admit the silent internet escapade you went on to find something that wouldn’t tear your ass in half or be so tight you’d be left with more marks from it than him. But even so, after the sneaking around in trying to catch the package before he could and clearing out your emails as soon as possible, he still managed to see it before you had planned. 

Now, you wondered if it was worth it, with the lace itching your chest and the other giving you a wedgie. 

“awe.. no way, for me? All for me?” Malachi was promptly sweet on you, much different than the heel-biting mood he was in a short few minutes ago. 

You leaned back to get close to his ear, shifting your eyes anxiously. You really didn’t want your friends to know about the violently ravenous side of your boyfriend that wouldn’t stop him from making a scene about it here and now, which you anxiously tried to prepare for in case of the worst. “It’s for when we get back home…so lets just enjoy our time here, just sit still with me for a little longer.” You tried your usual ‘gentle parenting’ method, holding the heavy knuckles around your waist, to soothe him into letting you spend just a little bit longer with your friends.

Malachi kicked his feet, exasperating at this newfound interest and the ways he could torture you with it, could make you beg him for its secrecy. Oh how he could envision having you at his mercy, so cute and sexy but ultimately deserving punishment for going behind his back about something so temptatious, something another man could see and take if he weren’t there.  

“But now, baby I don’t know if I can wait.” He grinned, raking his teeth over his bottom lip so much it looked like it hurt. You felt him shift underneath you, leaning up to grind against your backside. “Man, you really should’ve hid it better, ‘cause now its all I can think about..”

You rolled your eyes, feeling his heavy exhale against your cheek. Your friends were too immersed in their own conversations with their loved ones to notice anything else, legs strewn over one another and fingers interlocked as they felt the cheap haze of their Sweetheart Cocktail’s and Rosé’s of Love. You would’ve much preferred to be tipsy along with them by now, but the truth is you were too nervous with the possessive man beside you to truly let loose anywhere other than alone. On top of that, the scolding you’d get from him for being so relaxed was not worth the extra headache. 

And yet, the wanton expression he held for you, the hands that fiddled to get deep and play with his surprise, made you feel so wanted. More wanted than your friends had  made you feel this evening. They just looked at you with concerned frowns and confused cocks of their heads as they questioned to why you were still with this crazed maniac. 

“What I would do to bend you over in front of these idiots, make you do more than say my name while wearing these adorable lacey little--” 

“Don’t tell me you’re already thinking of heading out.” Your female friend piped up, looking at the credit card Malachi put on top of the split receipt that has been sitting lonesome for a good while. 

He almost broke, annoyed at the sudden interruption. 

“Afraid so,” Your anticipating boyfriend gleamed, not even her sour attitude dampening the rising excitement in his perverted mind and tightening pants. “We have some other plans to attend to.”

“What could be more important than friends?” She asked, looking at you to advocate against your controlling spouse. 

You felt a greedy palm reach up your shirt, falling back down to paw for the thin garment below your waistline. 

“If we don’t go now.. I don’t know how much longer I can wait. Can’t promise that I won’t  rip these fucking shorts off you here to see what all is underneath.” He whispered against you through gritted teeth, barely able to stop from kissing you raw. 

“We’ll stay… just until the waiter comes back for his tip.” You choked out, not letting on about the roll of Malachi’s hips that pressed you up against the table. 

[jjoneechan]

Sapnap would do anything for George. He’d fly over 9 hours to a whole other country despite his fear of flights. He lets George win arguments and laughs at his jokes. He lets him boast about his height, age and maturity. He lets George make fun of his insecurities. He’d let himself be held and kissed and even though it makes his brain fog up and his heart stutter in his chest, he knows George doesn’t feel the same. He’ll be whatever George needed, just so he wouldn’t feel sad anymore. Even if the heart on his sleeve bleeds too deep, shows too much how he cares. He’d squash his feelings down because that’s not what George needs right now. He needs a distraction. And when George begs Sapnap to make him forget how alone and trapped he feels, to kiss him so much he’ll forget he’s leaving again, even though Sapnap knows having this one night would kill him… he’d do anything for George.

George: It’s not fair.

Sapnap: I know.

G: I hate it here. I want to go home. With you

S: I know, George

G: I feel so trapped. So alone

S: I’m here now, I’m not leaving

G: But you will, and I’ll be left again

S: George…

G: I wish you had never come here

S: … i know

[xzcopycat]

Loyal till death do us part

[kasarawolf]

"You are my only color in a world of agonizing gray."

Is this my new favorite drawing? Yes. Yes, it is.

Is it from a series of depressing chapters from the story? Yes. Yes it is. :,) Paaaiiinnn ugghh.

In the original comic plan, the whole story was to be colored in black and white, based on Kota's view of the world. (It was one of the ways to show his depression and how he saw the world) The only splashes of color were with other character's eyes, but even that would slowly become dull and void of color as the story goes on. But then over time, color would start to seep back into Kota's world....but mostly with one individual.

The End :))

[ghostxrose]

Shasta Rose's Masterlist

Completed Fics & Oneshots ~

❥ One Life After Another, Forevermore | Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

❥ Dance With a Demon | Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

❥ Nicotine | Aizawa Shota x Reader

❥ Worship Me Like I Worship You | Bakugo Katsuki & Reader

❥ Love's the Death of Peace of Mind | Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

❥ Earth Shattering | Bakugo Katsuki & Reader, Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

❥ Time Stood Still | Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Works In Progress ~

❥ Of Monsters and Men | Bakugo Katsuki x OC

❥ The Greatest | Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

❥ Taking Over Me | Aizawa Shota x Reader

Divider Credits ~ @firefly-graphics @tsunami-of-tears @cafekitsune @saradika

[myimaginaryradio]

Hurts So Good - John Mellencamp

Good morning and happy Monday.

So yesterday we were leaving the mall after stopping at Auntie Anne's for a soda and a cup of pretzels. Walking up the stairs, I missed a step and the step went between my foot and my sandal and face forward I fell. My soda spilled and it spilled into my pretzels. I landed on my elbow and hurt my big toe. Well hours later it my toe was still bleeding and required stitches. So here I am, forced to stay home, too injured to work. Am I in pain? Yeah, the stitches are on the bottom of toe, walking is a bitch. But this is the true meaning of Hurts So Good.

Be Safe Be Kind And Be Awesome

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[deathsbestgirl]

i know scully looks so pretty on her date in the jersey devil but i can't stand to watch it sometimes because her smile is so fake, she's nearly bored to tears and she can't talk about anything !!! mulder apologizes for interrupting her evening and to her it was the most welcome interruption. like she should be annoyed with him but she's relieved. they're becoming best friends and she wants to spend time with him and solve cases and see crazy things with him. scully is so much more herself with mulder than anyone else.

[somanyshipsstuff]

Ruby & James | hurts so good

[elshells]

You ever rediscover an album you listened to at a pivotal moment in your life 5-6 years ago and haven't thought of since, but hearing it now hits you so hard that it rips a hole in your soul.

[brewsterispunkk]

prologue

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader ; this is a reader insert, but reader is described as having curly/frizzy hair. this is a part of the story.

WC: 1.8k

summary: the beginning.

warnings: classism, minor reader description, people making fun of textured hair (taken from my own experience lolz)

a/n: i have no clue why I’m starting ANOTHER series but this has been in my head for forever. I had to put it out there. as always: pls give me feedback, and also listen to the playlist!

series masterlist

PROLOGUE:

1973

The day you became friends with Jonathan Byers, you had braids in your hair and a frown etched on your seven-year-old face. And you were royally pissed.

You weren’t new to Hawkins, though you’d wished you were. Somehow, you thought that would’ve made your whole situation easier. 

But no. Your family had lived in Hawkins for generations. Your grandfather had worked at the old power plant before your father had, and though it was a blue collar job, it was enough to afford a decent-sized home in the suburbs for your small family. In 1973, at least. But then the lay-offs had happened, and your white picket-fence was traded for a shiny new trailer at the trailer park. 

You were only seven; you didn’t, couldn’t, know all that moving from the suburbs to the trailer park entailed. Still, somehow you knew it wasn’t good. That there was something shameful about giving up your three-bedroom for a small, rickety building with a tin roof. 

You’d pouted as you’d driven up to your new home. 

Your two best friends had told you so after school the day before. Carol Perkins had sneered in your face and told you she couldn’t be friends with you anymore because you were moving to where the ‘poor people lived.’ Your other best friend, May Green, had only stared at the ground. You’d come home crying that day.

“Honey, c’mon.” Your mother tutted, turning back in the front seat of your family’s station wagon. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Look, they even have a swingset!” Your father added, as he put the car in park.

“I like the old swingset.”

Your mother sighed. 

“You’ll get to decorate your own room this time, aren’t you excited about that?”

“I liked my old room!” 

Your father sighed, setting his hands on the wheel.

“Well,” he said. “This is home now, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Uh huh, okay,” he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. Your mother followed. He opened your car door, leaning on the top of it. “Because this was sudden, I’m gonna let the attitude slide, just this once, got it, young lady?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, suppressing an eye-roll. 

“Got it?”

You nodded. 

“Oh, give her a break,” your mom called, a cardboard box already in hand. 

Your father moved to the trunk, grabbing a box of his own. 

Across the park, a few trailers down, a group of kids played on the rickety, aging playground next to the swingset your father had pointed out. It was a group of boys—three of them, by the looks of it. Two of them, one a boy with dark wild curls and another with short blond hair chased each other in a game of tag. You recognized them from school: Eddie Munson and Greg Davies. The third, a slight boy with mousy dark-blond hair, stared at you pensively. You didn’t recognize him.

Your eyes held his as you exited the car.

“Go on, honey.” your mom called over her shoulder. “Make some friends.”

You sighed, raising a hand in a wave at the small boy on the playground. He raised his back, a smile spreading on his face. 

That’s when you knew: you were a goner. 

- - -

1974

Jonathan sighed as the two of you walked back from the bus stop. 

“He didn’t mean it, you know.”

“He did!” You gripped the straps on your backpack in a vice grip, glaring at your best friend. “They all did!”

“But–”

“And it’s not like Eddie has any room to talk! His hair is even frizzier than mine! Mine only looks more frizzy because it’s longer.”

You threw your bag on the ground and slumped onto one of the swings. Jonathan set his own bag down gently beside yours before quietly sitting on the swing next to you.

At eight-years-old, the two of you were almost done with third grade, and thank god for it; kids were mean. Today was a prime example. 

It was the first warm spring day of the season; The grass was green and dewy, the trees sprouted buds in the Indiana sun, and the air was humid from the weeks of April rains in the past weeks. 

Your mother had done your hair that morning like always, taking care that all the right products were applied to make it…manageable. But, by recess, after a game of soccer, whatever she had done had proven useless. 

You’d been out of breath from scoring a goal when you’d heard it. 

“Woah, look at that frizz!” 

Your heart plummeted and you turned behind you to see Tommy Hagan standing, hands on his hips. Behind him were his friends—all of them mean—snickering. You stood about a head taller than them, having hit your growth spurt before all the boys in your grade, even Jonathan. 

You instinctively reached up to touch your hair, finding that it had, in fact, grown since you’d been outside.

“Woof!” Someone called from somewhere else on the field. 

You felt your chest plummet, eyes searching for Jonathan instinctively. You panicked even more when you couldn’t find him. This year, all of the third and fourth graders had recess together, which made it nearly impossible to find him in the sea of people.

“Hey, frizzy!” One of Tommy’s friends with big hair called. 

Tommy threw his head back and laughed. 

“Frizzy!” he repeated. “Yeah, move it, frizzy! Our team has the ball!”

Everyone had repeated it for the rest of the day. Your final straw, though, had come when Eddie called you frizzy on the bus ride home. You saw red. 

“It was mean,” Jonathan offered, small hand grabbing yours. 

You sniffed, eyes filling with tears.

They were right, your hair was frizzy. It wasn’t straight or sleek and smooth like the other girls in your class. It was so big and coarse and hard to brush. You hated it.

 You blinked the tears away and straightened your shoulders, peeking at Jonathan out of the corner of your eye. 

“You’re right, you know,” he said. “Eddie’s hair is frizzier than yours.”

You snorted, throwing your head back laughing. Jonathan’s light laugh joined yours as they echoed through the trailer park. 

- - - 

1979

The years moved on and on, and eventually, so did the Byers. 

Not for good—in fact, they’d only moved a short bike ride away from the trailer park. Still, to a fourteen-year-old you, it felt like an ocean away. 

Once Lonnie and Joyce split, Lonnie got the trailer and Joyce was able to buy an actual house in the neighborhood next door. Lonnie moved to Indianapolis barely a month after the divorce papers were signed, and a new family had moved in after that. 

You still saw Jonathan almost every day—he was your best friend, after all—but you still missed him on the bus rides to school. 

You’d started at Hawkins High in August, and it had been smooth sailing since then. Well, all except for one small detail: the overwhelming crush on your best friend. 

Over the summer, Jonathan had had a growth spurt: he’d grown six inches, and gotten broader too. His once boyish voice had deepened, and he’d let his hair grow. The small, insignificant, feelings you’d had for him all these years were no longer as manageable. In fact, they were no longer manageable at all. 

It was more than just his looks, though. 

Jonathan was gentle. You had never met anyone as kind as him. He was funny and smart and more than that, he had always been there for you. Through thick and thin.

You were in love with him, you were sure of it.

You walked through the halls in search of him, silently praying the hairspray you’d used on your hair earlier this morning remained intact. 

As the years had passed, you’d gotten…minutely better at taming your hair. After the incident in third grade, you’d never worn it completely curly again. You didn’t think you could handle the humiliation. You’d used relaxers, straighteners, and curlers, you’d braided it, tied it back, pulled it half up—anything to keep it tame. 

The nickname had stuck all through middle school. Tommy Hagan hadn’t let you live it down all through grades six, seven, and eight. By now, though, as a freshman, you’d managed to mostly make the school forget your old moniker. 

Frizzy. 

You felt nerves flutter in your stomach as you saw him. 

Today was the day you were finally going to do it: you were going to ask him to be your date to the Snow Ball. 

He had his head in his locker, bent over his camera, fiddling with the lens. In recent years, while you’d gotten more involved with student council, Jonathan had taken up photography. 

You tapped his shoulder when you approached, causing him to jump. 

“Agh!” He startled, nearly dropping his camera. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” you laughed. “Don’t drop that thing.”

“You asshole!” He laughed with you, shoving your shoulder lightly. He shut his locker. 

“Oh, I wanted to ask you–”

“Oh my god, guess what–”

The two of you stopped, laughing to yourselves. 

“What is it?” he raised his brows at you. “What did you want to ask?”

“You first,” you said.

“Okay,” he said. “But be prepared. I nearly shit my pants.”

You snorted, beginning your short walk to homeroom with him by your side. 

“You are not going to believe this,” he said, voice teeming with excitement. 

“Just tell me already!”

“Christine Mendoza asked me to the Snow Ball!” He turned to face you. “Me!”

“That’s…” you stopped walking, clearing your throat. “That’s…great. Isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn’t think anyone was going to ask me.”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, shaking your head. You began walking again, widening your strides to catch up with him.

“Anyway, what did you wanna ask me?” He asked, following you into homeroom and taking his usual seat next to you. 

“Huh?” you asked. 

“The question? You said you wanted to ask me something.”

“Oh,” you blanched. “I don’t remember.”

“Hm, okay.”

That’s the thing they don’t tell you about unrequited love: there is nothing romantic about it. It’s not tears on love letters or wistful sighs or a thorny rose. It’s suffering in silence and pushing down all you want to say until you feel it’ll burst from your chest. 

You learned for the first time to push it down that day–to hold it back. All the emotions you felt rising up your chest, clawing at your throat to get out, you pushed back. You knew if you said anything now, it would ruin everything. 

You smiled sadly to yourself. 

You were always a suffer in silence type anyway.

[dark-ethereal-visions]

Hell yes!

[pixie-of-south]

Every time I hear Hurts so good I can think is female drarry having an affiar

Past midnight, Harry indulged in reruns of her favorite show when the doorbell disrupted the peace. She sensed who it was, and though she knew she shouldn't answer, it didn'tstop her. She composed herself and opened the door to a pair of sharp silver eyes that sent her heart racing.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" she questioned, attempting to maintain a cool demeanor.

Malfoy scoffed, "You and I both know why I'm here." True, it wasn't the first time such an encounter happened, but it was the first since Malfoy's engagement the week before. Harry had resolved not to entangle herself in Malfoy's affairs. "Cut the act, Malfoy. Go back home to your fiancée," she said tiredly, attempting to close the door.

However, Malfoy had other plans. She halted the door's closure, pushing her against the wall with a sudden force that caught her off guard. Her lips crashed onto hers, a desperate move that left Harry initially resisting, weakly attempting to push her away before eventually succumbing to the intensity of the moment. Between the kisses, Malfoy whispered, "It's complicated. I need you, but it's so complicated." Those words, a bittersweet confession, echoed in the hushed space between them, casting a spell on Harry's already weakened heart. The hurt was undeniable, yet the way Malfoy uttered, "I need you," carried a strange allure—an allure that felt undeniably good.

There in her doorway, bathed in the soft glow of her TV, she beholds Malfoy. Cheeks flushed from a lack of air, lips well-kissed, and hair mussed by Harry's touch. In that moment, she was the most beautiful sight Harry had ever seen, and the searing pain intensifies, knowing that all they can ever be is torn. Harry found herself grappling with conflicting emotions. She couldn't understand why she tries to deny the undeniable pull between them, repeatedly telling herself it would be the last time, swearing it would never happen again. Each proclamation of finality only seemed to intensify her desire for Malfoy.

What is she supposed to do when it hurts so good? Should she take it or should she break it off?

[tennessoui]

I love getting notifications for when you upload or update something, truly the highlight of my day. As I received it I first thought “omg did she update something? Omg a new fic?OMG HUNGRRGAMES AU?????” Best day ever

Im glad you like getting notifications from my ao3 and thanks so much for subscribing for those - it must feel a little bit like Russian roulette like which wip is she updating now ? what do you mean there’s a new fic instead? what do you mean it’s another wip???

😂😂 but I’m so happy to have the hunger games au up and posted and I can’t wait to do the next chapter (the reaping) just have to finally make a decision and commit to using ocs or named Star Wars characters for the girl tribute and then the other tributes as well 🤔 or in other words how closely I’m going to stick to the material I’ve already written in the hunger games au tag