#and she would never act like her life was bad because she knows she could have been killed as a baby or sent to the mines or the hive city

[ekingston]

also on ao3.

“Would you stop fondling my boobs?” Lena hisses, watching as a man nearly wanders into traffic staring at what looks like Lena Luthor, elbow-deep in her own cleavage. He swerves, promptly face-planting into a lamp post when he sees Supergirl herself slap Lena’s hand away. “We’re in public,” Lena reminds her.

“Ouch,” Kara yelps. “Gentle!”

“Sorry,” Lena says. But she only feels a little bad, because at least Kara is now cradling her arm instead of getting Lena arrested for indecent exposure.

Kara is still squirming when Lena checks them in, the receptionist beaming at her in a way Lena has never been beamed at before. Dr. Sattler’s ready for them. Kara gives Lena a last, panicked look, and then she takes the therapist’s offered hand and introduces herself.

“Lena Luthor,” Kara tells Dr. Sattler with a lopsided grin. “Good to meet you.”

“And Supergirl,” Dr. Sattler says, turning to Lena, her gaze briefly flitting down at the S on Lena’s chest. “How wonderful you managed to finally come in.”

Kara flops down onto the couch with a grateful sigh, the skirt of her dress gapping immodestly as she kicks off Lena’s heels. Lena nudges her legs to close them, annoyed. The injustice of Kara getting to act as if she wants to be here. As if she hasn’t been avoiding this visit for months.

(Do we really need to do this? Kara had asked Lena just this morning. Kara’s gaze had been a cross-eyed, sparkling green as Lena applied her eyeliner with a trembling, freckled hand.

Lena had growled in response, knowing even the barest bit of unintentional pressure could blind her for life. We’re not going to cancel just because we’re wearing each other’s bodies, Kara. Hold still.

I bet you’d look good with an eyepatch, Kara had breathed, after which Lena had given up on the endeavor altogether.)

“Your work must keep you busy,” the therapist says magnanimously.

Lena huffs out a laugh. “You can say that again.” And when the Dr. looks at her, curious, “Being a superhero and all that. Always off saving the world!”

“That goes for both of us,” Kara points out. “You—I—don’t even make it to bed, most nights.” And then, softer, “Even when you tell me you’ll wait up.”

“I wish I wouldn’t.” Lena turns to the therapist and explains, “I eat when I’m bored. She comes home to a bed full of crumbs. Who wants to have sex when the sheets are littered with bits of Captain Crunch?”

Dr. Sattler opens her mouth to answer, but Kara doesn’t give her the chance. “Maybe I could make an effort not to be such a neat freak,” she pouts.

Lena’s eyes flash. “Maybe I could make an effort to wash my hands after I use the bathroom,” she snaps back.

Kara sits up. “You do!” she shouts. “You’re just quick about it!”

Lena sighs. “The laws of nature don’t work that way, darling.”

Kara makes a face Lena vows never to make again if she ever gets her body back. “I leave my hair in the shower.”

Lena snorts. “I wash it down the drain. That’s worse.”

“But you fix it!” Kara looks at her with Lena's own wide, pleading eyes. “That’s how—how you show love. By fixing things.”

“Wrong,” Lena flings back. “I break them, so I can feel needed.”

Kara blinks at her, looking hurt.

“That’s.” Dr. Sattler pauses for a moment. “Some very impressive self-reflection,” she decides.

Lena smiles at her, glad they’re getting somewhere.

Kara looks from the therapist to Lena, her blood red lips—easier than eyeliner—pinching together with uncanny chagrin. “I faked my own kidnapping to get out of her family’s Thanksgiving,” she accuses darkly.

Lena sniffs. “I have a codependent relationship with my sister.”

Kara gasps. Dr. Sattler’s eyes widen. Lena arches an eyebrow with considerable effort.

“Oh yeah?” Kara sputters. “Well,” she flails, her nostrils flaring. “You—" she takes a deep breath. "I have mommy issues.”

Oh, fuck no. That's too far. “You do not,” Lena squawks.

"No?" Kara cocks her jaw in a way that makes Lena feel, for the first time, a little sorry for the men she’s similarly stared down. “Let’s find out,” Kara says with the smallest of smirks, and then she retrieves, horribly, from Lena’s purse, Lena’s phone.

“You wouldn’t,” Lena whispers, her heart stopping.

Kara jumps up with surprising agility, dancing out of Lena’s reach. “This’ll just take a second,” she promises Dr. Sattler. “Hello? Mother?”

Lena scrambles over to the other end of the couch, practically throwing herself across the room in an effort to get to Kara.

“No reason,” Kara croons into the phone, grinning as she maneuvers herself away from Lena’s grasp. An elaborately painted and unfortunately placed vase isn’t so lucky. “Just calling to say hey,” Kara says. “It’s been a while, huh?”

Lena really should have taken Kara up on her offer to help Lena master her power of flight. “Don’t make me hurt you,” she yells.

“It is!” Kara sing-songs. “Still going strong, yup. Which is why I called! We were wondering—”

“Don’t you dare,” Lena hisses, clawing for Kara’s shoulder and exploding a couch cushion instead.

“—how would you feel about coming to our wedding?”

Lena freezes, flecks of stuffing falling around them like snow.

“Excellent!” Kara chirps. “We'll see you there.”

Dr. Sattler clears her throat. “I don’t think you two have anything to worry about,” she says. “Your communication style is—unique, but obviously effective.”

Kara beams at her as they're leaving, wearing a deeply pleased expression Lena didn’t even think her face was capable of making. “You really should start wearing more comfortable bras,” she says, rolling her shoulders. “Also maybe take up yoga.”

Lena hums. “You’ve never had any complaints before.”

Kara stops and stares at her, aghast. "Is that what I look like when I'm coming on to you?"

Lena grins at her. "Why do you think I'm marrying you?"

Kara giggles.

- - -

This was written for the multi fandom (and original!) flash fiction challenge, using the prompts ‘established relationship’, ‘at a therapist’s office’, ‘body swap’ and ‘an eyepatch’. You should give it a whirl!

[vspin]

Eva is my least traumatized OC so far...

Which is something given she is my first 40k oc and 40k is well 40k....but I guess the game events are what traumatize her in a way (Looking at you Commorragh)

[hidden-by-a-trench-coat]

Collecting my angsty thoughts about Tarquin from Lost In Your Eyes and his guilt about everything and putting them here because I NEED to talk about them

SUUUUPER long post after the read more just so you know (oh, and mentions of death, guilt, hallucinations, and angst and all that fun stuff - so keep that in mind before you continue)

Anyway, I love Lost In Your Eyes and have so many thoughts, so here they are transcribed from the discussion on the Discord (practically just me talking to myself but hey. Also, wow, hi, I realize if you're on the Discord you might have no idea who I am because this is the one social I have that's not the same username so I can hide from my IRL friends just in case - anyway, I'm Shadow. Continue forth with this knowledge my friends):

I wrote about it a bit in my fix-it fic, but I love considering how guilty Tarquin must feel about losing his entire crew. That’s 53 people he lost. People he cared about and knew by name - and I imagine him to have cared about every single one of them. Imagining how it would slowly break his spirits over time watching them pass one by one and not being able to do anything about it. And yet he has to ignore his emotions because he has the remaining crew members to care about and to keep alive - he can’t fail them, too (though he soon proves to himself that he very much can over and over and over again, no matter how hard he tries. He can’t understand why he can’t just keep them alive)

By the time there’s only 3 of them, he’s barely keeping himself together. The dread he feels as the number ticks down to 2 remaining isn’t comparable to anything in the world (Imagine him by that crew member's side, desperately trying to hold himself together and stop himself from crying as he silently begs for him to stay with them. Because they're so close to land. And after it doesn't work - because of course it doesn't - he sits there on the floor holding the hand of his second to last remaining crew member, which is already becoming colder by the second - and cries) - they’d been so close to getting even 3 of them to safety, and yet he couldn’t even do that.

And then the last one dies (and to make it worse, he dies right after an act of pure betrayal, taking down his beloved Amanda in the process, which could not have been easy for him to process. They'd been traveling together for 3 years, he probably trusted him the most, and then he does that? Without explanation? It must have hurt so bad) and it’s just him and he hates it. He doesn’t think he deserved to survive as opposed to everyone else. He could have taken someone’s place. He was the captain, he should have put his crew first.

He has nightmares for the rest of his life about every member of his crew at least once. He remembers all of their faces so vividly. They’re begging for help, for him to do something. To save them. And he never can. He's just forced to watch.

It doesn’t help that the same thing happened to Amanda. He finally gets to her and yet, she dies, too. He couldn’t save his crew and he couldn’t save Amanda - the one person in the world that he should be able to save, even if he couldn’t save everyone else. He feels like everyone he grows to care about will befall the terrible fate of death and there’s nothing he can do about it. He blames himself endlessly for her death, wondering if he could have saved her (and the rest of his crew) if he’d just done something differently. He regrets ever even leaving when he could have just stayed with Amanda and nothing would have gone this way

And I feel like he'd be terrified to make any future friendships or connections because he thinks that he's going to end up getting them killed in one way or another - and so he ends up isolating himself. Maybe he deliberately spends another 3 or more years at sea on his own. Maybe it's a way for him to feel like he's making up for their deaths or asking for forgiveness or whatever but it just makes him feel worse in the end

Oh and I imagine he hates sailing now, too but he does it anyway because he feels like he has to. Because if he stops he has to find something else to do and he doesn't know what else he could do (though he's starting to doubt he can even sail, either). Any joy he used to feel from having the wind in his face and the smell of the ocean is gone. Maybe the smell of salt makes him feel sick now

Thinking about Tarquin watching the waves for those 3 other years he goes back out on his own wondering why they haven't consumed him yet. Why they decide to spare him even after everything he's done and how he doesn't deserve their mercy. How he would almost rather the waves be harsh and unforgiving. Maybe the challenge would distract him. Maybe it would make it easier to pretend that surviving the tough storms would be like his crew was forgiving him, even a little bit

(I had a whole thing in my fic about how he feels like he doesn't deserve to sail anymore and that Amanda would be so much better at it because she managed to do his 3 year journey in so much less time. And on her own - and yet he could barely even get 3 people across the ocean alive even after his years of experience. I think if she did somehow survive and they needed to return, he would have stepped down from his position as captain and made her do all of the sailing of the ship feeling as though he wasn't worthy of the position and that she was just so much better at it)

Imagining Tarquin during his time alone at sea hallucinating members of his crew or Amanda - especially Amanda. How much it would hurt him to realize that they were fake. Maybe at some point he's so disoriented for one reason or another he mistakes the hallucination as real and breaks when he realizes it's not. The amount of hope he would feel - however futile or impossible - thinking that someone of his crew managed to survive despite everything. And then it disappears and suddenly he's so terribly alone again

Imagining him in front of the hallucination of Amanda begging for forgiveness. Maybe the hallucination accepts (Amanda would) but maybe it’s more Tarquin’s perception of how he thinks she’d react and so she doesn’t accept and he understands why she wouldn’t. Maybe he even thinks he deserves it. Maybe it even convinces him that Amanda hates him now. Whatever happens I think it would break his spirits even more

Meanwhile, Amanda watching from the afterlife with sadness watching Tarquin’s mental state decline over time and being unable to do anything about it

Actually, imagining her actually being on the boat with him as a ghost. She can’t do anything to support him physically, of course, but she’s trying her best to protect him, hoping that somehow he can sense her there - maybe that’s why his boat is so safe despite everything

Maybe Tarquin actually sees her ghost one time but he doesn’t believe it’s real - because it can’t be - but he talks to her anyways because that’s what he’s done every other time he’s seen her. And she tries so hard to be there for him, trying to comfort him. He can’t feel her touch, but he imagines it anyways. And for the briefest of moments it’s like she’s there again. For that brief moment - nothing more than a second - everything is okay again. And then it’s not. Because she’s not really there.

He can’t hear her desperate attempts to try and get him to just take care of himself

An in a different universe, imagining Tarquin eventually deciding to head home after the events of the play. He realizes he needs to tell all of the families of his crew about how their family members are dead. They probably knew the risks but he still feels terrible thinking about telling them (even if they don’t know his entire crew died). But he feels obligated to tell them, because that was their family member.

Thinking about him realizing he’ll need to tell Amanda’s mother that she’s dead. He knows he can’t wait to do that because that’s her mother. So one of the first things he does when he gets back is goes to Amanda’s house (what was Amanda’s house, he supposes) and knocks on the door. She is not excited to see him and probably asks about Amanda, but he asks to be let in so they can talk because he can’t do this outside and it feels more respectful if they’re both sitting. He’s not very good at hiding his grief - he almost certainly hasn’t been sleeping well - and so she lets him in.

And then he has to tell her. He probably has to force the words out because he doesn’t want to say them. Maybe he’s still in denial, but either way saying them aloud hurts him even more. Amanda’s mother is almost certainly angry at him (because of course she is. She always had this negative impression of him in the first place and this just proves all of her worries - how Amanda should have never been with Tarquin in the first place. Hell, maybe Tarquin even agrees with her now. Because if he hadn’t fallen in love with her, then maybe she would have still been alive. And even if they weren’t together, at least Amanda would have been happy and alive doing something different and with someone else), and he certainly doesn’t make himself sound much better, after all, he’s been blaming himself for her death this entire time. And so he sits there and just takes it as she yells at him, and he probably thinks he deserves it.

That was a lot, but I just have so many thoughts and I need to put them somewhere - thank you so much for reading my crazy collection of thoughts, I hope it didn't hurt too much

[peacockrulz]

Sorry for the lack of posts, have some more headcanons!!

[bosesmikas]

Donna: makes a mean remark about Eric’s shirt

Eric: *retaliates*

Donna: WHaT iS ErIC’s PrOblem?!?!

[puppmeo]

And the cycle begins anew . As it does every week

[producedbysohyun]

Protective

Squid game x reader hcs

Summary: How the squid games characters would be protective over you

Includes: Thanos, In-ho, Gi-hun, Dae-ho, Myung-gi, Hyun-ju (squid game au)

Warnings: mentions of death, might be a little repetitive because I just feel like they would act similar.

Masterlist

a/n: Mb this is pretty short but I haven’t posted in awhile so I wanted to post something (I might add to this as time goes on) !! Please enjoy !!

Thanos:

Let’s just say that if anyone lays a finger on you, they are dead 🤗

You literally don’t have to worry about dying when you are with him

Always has his arm around your shoulder or waist so everyone knows to not try anything with you

During the night he holds onto you so tightly you feel like you could suffocate

He just really doesn’t want anything to happen to you 😔

If you really don’t want to play the games he will cave and vote X

You mean way more to him than money

No matter how bad his debt is

*cough* 1 billion *cough*

In-ho:

Idk how you would get in the game in the first place cause he definitely wouldn’t let you but

Ya you are not dying

Has full control of the game and will do everything he can to make sure you don’t die

Even if it means playing unfairly

Tells the guards to not kill you even if you didn’t pass the game

Definitely tells the guards to give you extra food so you have energy 😭

You’re basically just gonna be playing the games on easy mode

Gi-hun:

Bro has nothing to lose besides you so he’s gonna do everything he possible can to keep you alive

Doesn’t let you go anywhere alone

Beats himself up about not trying harder to end the games because if he did then neither of you would be in this situation right now

Never sleeps because he knows that fights happen at night and he wants to make sure you’re safe

Would immediately put himself in danger if it meant you would be ok

Makes sure you pass the games before even worrying about himself

Dae-ho:

Does not take his eyes or hands off of you

Is not afraid to defend you either verbally or physically

Even tho he is freaked out about the games as well he doesn’t let it get to him and tells himself he has to be brave for you

Always puts your safety above his

Ends up getting no sleep at night because he’s so scared something is gonna happen to you

Always insists on giving you his food even tho he is hungry

In his mind, you matter more.

Myung-gi:

Wanted to keep playing the games but when he figured out you were there he voted for X as he wanted anything but for you to be dead or hurt

Will literally kill anyone who bad mouths you (that one scene when he killed Thanos because he said something about Jun-hee 🤭 rip Thanos 😞)

Doesn’t let you leave his sight for a second

During the special game where the lights went out and everyone was killing each other he just kept you behind him the entire time

Boy was ready to risk his life for you 😭

If you get separated during a game he will probably scold you out of worry before realizing that he’s literally yelling at you for something you couldn’t control

You better believe he won’t let you get separated from him again

Hyun-ju:

Girl would do absolutely anything to keep you alive

Holds your hand 24/7

You guys are NOT getting separated

Doesn’t care about herself

As long as you’re alive she’s ok

Would absolutely crash out if anything happened to you

If you wanted to join the revolt with them she would tell you no instantly

Because if you ended up dying and it was her fault she would never forgive herself

Can’t sleep because she wants to watch over you pt.2 😢

a/n: I hope you guys liked this!! I know I say that requests are closed rn but I will take requests for hcs !! Not for a singular character but if it’s for multiple characters I will gladly write it !!

[beloveds-embrace]

Thinking about designationless reader...

Imagine how alone she must've been for all her life. It started since she was young, her parents pushing her to the corner of the home, away from the family, and naturally, her siblings would follow their parents' lead, pointedly ignoring her, and finding any excuse available to be out of her presence. She wouldn't understand them anyway, she can't tell the difference between noises nor could she even recognize scents. It just wouldn't work.

Reader thinks that maybe she could find someone, anyone in school, but kids are like sharks, except instead of smelling blood, they smell the lack of all scents on her. Most kids have a combination of their own and their family members' scents. Reader has nothing, so everyone continues the pattern, but now with more stares and jeers and hushed giggles. Reader knows that bullying is bad, but anything would be better than simply not existing to anyone. That's what the others say, at least, that she's nothing, nobody. Never to her face, though, just in the whispers shared between friends.

She eventually tries to find others like her through the wonders of the internet. There's maybe a handful more scattered in her country, but none are her age, and all have their own families who care about them. Was it just her who wasn't deserving of love, of connection? Reader reaches out to them, and they talk a little, but before long, through no one's fault, it falls through. She was bad at talking anyway, even if she doesn't have to worry about scents or sounds that aren't there, she never knew much about context or connotation. She never had the opportunity to learn about the intricacies in communication. Reader is back alone.

The military eventually scouts her, and it's the first time anyone has ever really looked at her. Sure, they look at her like a valuable tool, but a tool is better than nothing. Reader obviously joins, desperate for crumbs. She climbs the ranks, gets the job done. She is good at her job, so people respect her. She learns how to talk professionally, emails, texts, and so one, but no one talks to her on leave. No one invites her to the pub after a good mission. No one even talks to her in the mess. But people do talk to her when they have to, and that's enough. Maybe she even gets a callsign. Doe. After Jane Doe, the placeholder name for unknown individuals, and insult if anything.

Now there's the 141. They invite her to things. They talk to her. They touch her. Reader exists for them. She isn't just an unknown person stuck in the background and invisible to everyone else, and Reader doesn't know what to do. Her speech is awkward and overly professional, even in personal settings. How is she supposed to be friends with someone, multiple someones? How is she supposed to move? To act? To express? She doesn't know, but she really wants to learn. At least now she has good teachers.

ANON YOU GENIUSSSS okay but this? Perfect. AHHHH I ADORE THIS IDEA!! Esp the jane doe callsign omg yes

You weren’t used to being seen.

Growing up, you learned quickly how to make yourself small- how to exist quietly, without taking up space, without asking for too much. Because the few times you had asked- asked for a hug, asked to be let into the nest, asked why you felt so different- the answers had all been the same.

No.

Not now.

Not you.

It wasn’t that your parents didn’t love you. You were sure they did, in their own way. But love was hard to feel when your mother flinched at your touch like you were something disgusting, when your father sighed like he was tired every time you entered the room as if you were taking up space he was saving for his other children. When your siblings built their nests without you, curling into piles of warmth and safety while you sat outside the door, knees pulled to your chest and hands balled into fists to keep them from knocking, a cold ache burrowing itself in your chest.

You stopped knocking eventually.

You stopped trying.

You used to wonder if you’d done something wrong- if maybe you could fix yourself and everything would go back to normal. But it wasn’t something you could fix. It was just… you.

Scentless.

Designationless.

Invisible.

School had been worse, perhaps the worst. At least your family had pretended not to notice how different you were. The other kids didn’t bother pretending. They stared openly, whispered behind your back, laughed when you walked by. You’d caught bits and pieces of what they said- weird, wrong, broken, as if they hoped by having you hear their words, they’d convince you to leave at last.

You’d started keeping your head down after that, slipping through the halls like a shadow. No one talked to you unless they had to, and even then they either did it with a mocking, jeering tone that echoes in your nightmares or with a meek tone; as if your lack of everything is contagious. No one sat next to you at lunch, either. When partners were assigned, you always ended up working alone per your teachers’ instructions.

It was easier that way.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

By the time you joined the military, you’d gotten good at being alone. You didn’t need friends. Didn’t need packmates. You had work, and work didn’t care if you were quiet or awkward or too stiff to laugh at the right jokes. Work didn’t care if you flinched when people got too close or froze when someone raised their voice. Work demanded to be done, and you had nothing and no one to stop you from that.

But the military also has the same teens who used to bully you so consistently. Rookies all to ready and happy to lord over you. It’s how you get your despised callsign, Doe. Jane Doe. A cruel mockery, comedy wherein you are the joke that has the world laughing.

Still, you wear it. It’s still an acknowledgment and that will always be better than never being seen. You flit from team to team, unit to unit, always an observer from afar, watching everyone around you speak a language you can’t.

But the 141 was different, when you eventually end up working for them.

They cared.

They cared in ways you weren’t ready for.

Soap was relentless, dragging you into conversations even when you barely knew what to say. He filled the silences like it didn’t bother him, kept talking for the both of you, lounging against you unbothered, until you started talking back. Gaz was gentlest, steadier. He never pushed, just lingered close enough to remind you he was there, waiting, whenever you were ready. Quiet, silent acceptance you’d never been given before, and you were yet far too afraid to so easily cling to it.

And the Alphas- Price and Ghost- were worse.

Price had a way of looking at you that made your chest ache, like he saw you, really saw you, and didn’t mind what he found. Scentless, with no designation and all. Ghost was quieter, sharper, but his eyes tracked you everywhere, presence wrapping around you like he was staking a claim you didn’t understand, like he was teying to etch every part of you behind his eyelids.

You didn’t know what to do with it.

They didn’t give you space. They sat next to you at meals, tugged you along when they went out for drinks, called you over during breaks like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it felt natural- until it didn’t, because sometimes you still felt like an outsider.

Like you didn’t belong.

You tried to hide it, but they saw through you. They always did, and they never shied away.

When you started avoiding the mess hall, it was Gaz who caught you, shoving a plate of food into your hands and dragging you to sit with him like it wasn’t a big deal. When you hung back during missions, letting the others fall into their pack dynamics without you, Soap was the one who looped an arm around your shoulders and pulled.

And when you flinched, once, at the sharp sound of someone’s voice echoing down the hall- when you tensed so hard it made your fingers tremble- it was Price who closed the distance, standing in front of you like a wall and letting Ghost linger at your back. Neither of them said a word.

They didn’t have to.

You weren’t used to being protected. You weren’t used to belonging.

But they made it hard not to.

[wcters]

𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡𝗔𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗡 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 2k+

summary: your relationship with lando through the teenage years

warnings: pda, established relationship, mostly fluff, some angst | i know lando moved to glastonbury later in his life but 🤫 i also wrote this in 2 hours instead of doing because i got excited and had an idea

     You and Lando had first met when you were teenagers. Him being a lanky teenage boy with puffy cheeks and curly hair, and you being a young girl with frizzy hair and a youthful look in your eyes. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when you first started dating, it’s like you both were on the same wavelength.

You still remember the day you met him ━━ how could you not? You two went to the same school so you knew who each other was, and you had heard of him from people around the town talking about his karting career. Your parents were family friends with the Norris’s, and they never failed to talk about how proud they were of their children.

It was the start of school after the 2013 summer break. You had quite a small friend group in school so when you had classes with no one you were friends with, you tended to be quiet and focus on your school work. That resulted in you being forced to sit next to the rowdy kids. Why? You didn’t know. It’s not like it changed them, and it just bothered you. It was one of those times, and it was Lando who was put next to you. Him and his friend group tended to be the disruptive bunch. They weren’t bad people or bad at school, just got a little too loud at times and forgot to pay attention.

You were sat in the middle row of your math class. The seat next to you was empty at the start of class, but at the end it wasn’t. Lando and his friends got a little too loud and he was “punished” by being put next to you so he couldn’t talk with his friends. You looked at him when he made his way over, but that was it. He was cute ━━ you could admit it. And it didn’t hurt that someone cute was being put next to you, but you shook your feelings off and forced yourself to focus. At them end of class when you were grabbing your things, a hand poked your shoulder. You turned around and came face-to-face with the Norris boy. He looked a little nervous, fidgety and a small smile on his face. You tilted your head. “Hey ━━ I uh ━━ didn’t have enough time to finish some of the notes. Do you mind if I borrow some of yours?”

You were a little surprised, you didn’t think he cared that much about school. Most kids wouldn’t bother getting down a little bit you missed ━━ not even you ━━ but he did. You smiled and nodded. “Sure,” you told him as you grabbed the paper out of your binder and gave it to him, “just return it once you’re done?” He nodded. The next day in class, he walked over to you and gave the paper pack, and you figured he would go back to his friends because the seat want permanent, but he didn’t. He put his bag on the ground and sat in the seat next to you. He did that, every day, for the rest of the year.

You two got to know each other well. You learned more about his competitive karting career and his family, while you told him about your family and friends. Nothing ever happened between you two, you were just friends. You had a crush on him, but you convinced yourself it was your mind tricking you because it was your first friend that was a boy. He thought the same, but he didn’t not believe his, he just didn’t act on it.

It was summer break, a year after you met him, when you realized you did like him. You were chatting with your grandma at her house as you were helping her sting stuff around the house. She had asked about your school semesters and how it was. You rambled on and on, not realizing that you mostly takes about Lando. It wasn’t until you were putting one of the last boxes down for her that it finally hit. “You must really like that boy, no?” You looked at her weird. “All you did was talk about him. You must like him.” It was when she said that that you had a moment of realization. After you finished helping her you went home to your mom and talked to her, confused on how to deal with this newfound information. She just laughed and gave you a hug, telling you that almost every teenage girl goes through this with someone in their life. That made you feel a bit better.

Your friendship turned into something more a couple weeks after that. The Norris family had invited your family to come watch one of Lando’s races at Buckmore Park. Your parents agreed as they wanted to catch up . . . You agreed because you wanted to see Lando. He did well, coming 5th place. You could tell he wasn’t happy about, but you were. You and your family met up with him at the end of the race. He wasn’t looking too happy, but when he saw you his face lit up. When you congratulated him he blushed. Your families talked for a bit ━━ mostly about how summer break was going ━━ and you were about to leave when Lando called out your name.

Your family continued to leave, saying they would meet up with you at the car with your mom winking at you. You blushed. At first there was some awkward silence, and then he asked “would you like to go on a date?” You were a bit shocked, not expecting it, and you were nervous. What did people do on dates anyway? You know adults went out to eat and drink but you were fifteen! You completely forgot that you had to answer his question, and he started sputtering out words saying that you didn’t have to, and he was sorry before you interrupted him with a “yes.” It was his turn to look surprise.

You went on a date the next week, both of you unknowingly doing the same thing and panicking to your parents beforehand. It went fine, a bit awkward ━━ obviously ━━ but you thought it was cute. You went out for icecream and walked around Bristol. Halfway through the date he slipped his hand into yours, and you accepted it, but didn’t dare to look him in the eye.

After that, you two were inseparable. You two were always together, and practically lived at each others houses. Sometimes ━━ for weeks on end ━━ your parents never saw you a lot because you were always at Lando’s house. His parents always updated yours on how you were, and they trusted you. During an interview for Drive to Survive, your parents swore during those times they only saw you in the morning and night, the rest of the time you were with Lando. This would switch between you staying at his and him staying at yours.

Though Lando wouldn’t admit it when he was a teenager, he would do anything for you. If you asked him to jump off a bridge, he wouldn’t even ask why, he’s just do it. There are so many pictures on your phone and Polaroids of him in “embarrassing” situations ━━ like one where he had a face mask on and his nails painted. You keep that one in the back of your phone case. He would let you braid his hair, practice makeup on him, help him with his skincare, and so many other things. This would always be in the secrecy of your room and when your families weren’t there because he dreaded the day his family saw him like that.

He had no idea that you had shown his sisters and parents almost every single one. They promised to keep it quiet, and they did. You also know they won’t tell him that they have some of those pictures on their phones. It’s a secret between you and them, a need to know thing.

Whenever you had sleepovers at his house, you would stay with his sisters because you weren’t allowed to be with him ━━ for good reason ━━ and because you loved his sisters. As you got older, you bonded more with them, helping them out with boy problems and girl problems, because everyone had those girls in high school who made your life a living hell. You broke down crying when you found out they were moving to Glastonbury. How would you survive without not being able to hug your boyfriend? How would you cope without the gossip sessions with his sisters? The talks about your life over helping Cisca with dinner and talking politics with Adam? Laughing at embarrassing moments of Lando with his brother?

Before that, you had put off getting your license. You walked or took buses to most places, and it saved you money. When you found out they were moving though, you made it your life’s mission it get your license and a car. You were on moving day, helping the family with setting things up and cleaning up the place. You still remember the dinner you had that night. It wasn’t fancy, just Chinese takeout on a table in the half put together living room, but it was one of the moments where you truly felt like family. It wasn’t that you hadn’t before, but it was the private ness of the situation that really hit your heart. You begged to stay over, not caring that it was a school night, but you couldn’t. You hugged everyone goodbye with teary eyes, kissing Lando, and promising to be back soon.

And you were. When you had that car, you spent an unbelievable amount of money on gas. You drove to his house almost every weekend. Sometimes he would come over to your house, but it was mostly you going over there out of convenience. If Lando wanted to go to yours, he’d probably have to pile all of his siblings in the car, while you didn’t have to do that. Besides driving to Glastonbury, your car was also used as a pick me up. Whenever something happened with his sisters, you’d be there in a heartbeat, telling them to get in ━━ telling Lando he can’t come with him grumbling something under his breath ━━ and you’d go and grab food. Whatever they needed, you were there ready to do it? Boy problems? Junk food and a sad playlist. School problems? Listening to them vent and giving them advice. Period problems? That depended on that they wanted. You even remember one time on March break Flo had an experience with a boy and you took her to a rage room . . . It was so fun, and you definitely did it again with Cisca.

While you were there for all the important events in Lando’s life, he was the same. He was there when your grandma died, and you swore he was one of the few things that kept you together. He was there when you graduated high school and got accepted into your dream school.

Your relationship stayed the same throughout his whole career, you to where you both were now, living in Monaco. You still acted like teenagers, jokingly fighting over little things and teasing each other. Your love baver wavered, it stayed the same for each other, maybe even became stronger. There were periods in your relationship like when he first started in Formula One and you moved to college that it was tricky, but you go through it. You always would.

As you sat on the sofa in your home and twirled the ring on your finger, you remembered the whole of your relationship and the future of it. You were broken out of your trance by a kiss on your head. You hummed, not turning to look at him. “She’s gone to bed. She’s been changed and given her bottle. You smiled and looked up at him, “thank you.” He kissed you on your lips, “of course. You ready to go to bed, Mrs. Norris?” You chuckled and got up, walking around to the couch to meet him in his arms.

“Always, Mr. Norris, always.”

[dyingswanpavlova]

Treasure

Pairing: Hwang In-ho/The Frontman × Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Smut, Age Gap (Reader is 25, In-ho is 54), Usage of Daddy, Mentions of Emotional Abuse in the Past, Low Self-Esteem, Sex as a Business Deal, Edging, Spanking, Overstimulation, Face Slapping, Oral Sex (Both receiving), Gagging, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Minors do not interact!

Author's note: It's mostly bad experiences and smut. Anyone who knows me, knows I can't do wholesome...But, you guys, I'm trying!

It has been quite a while since his wife died and he hasn't gotten over it. But now he found someone who brings out a softer side of him...or makes him feel anything at all. Even if it's just the fact that he doesn't have to dine and sleep alone.

The day of her death was always the worst.

Of course he was always cold. One might even muster up the courage to call it cruel.

He was a complicated man in any sense of the word. While he was as cunning as he was handsome, he was also cool and composed. He didn’t ever lose that tight composure, until he allowed himself to. There were only few situations that allowed him to let loose and unleash the beast that lived within him.

It was rather obvious that there was more to him. The way he carried himself made it seem like he was no more than the stoic business man, but sometimes, sometimes you caught a soft glimpse of whatever was underneath. The way his eyes shone in a certain light.

 His brother was enough.

His wife, of course.

 But you were clever. And your sense of self-preservation forbade you to pry. All you had to do was do your job. And what was your job?

You found yourself applying a drop of perfume to your neck and your wrists, staring at your form in the mirror. The black lace covered most of your intimate parts, but it was just enough to leave him yearning for more. He liked that especially – when he had to use his imagination.

But sometimes, on rare occasions like that night, he needed more. He needed a little, naughty dream, to distract him from the turmoil that raged within him.

He was never cruel to you. He was just cold.

It wasn’t like you minded. So far, you had heard all kinds of things from a few friends of yours. Men could be vile creatures, who performed the most heinous crimes, whenever they felt like it. You were sure you could call yourself lucky, when it came to that.

He was older, that was out of question. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not for you anyway.

You couldn’t tell when that started or what the exact reason was.

Your father had been a fairly good man. He never abused you and never hurt you out of the ordinary. The occasional session of spanking was something that stopped once you got older. Of course a child that steps out of line will get punished. It’s not that dramatic and you were sure, you took no damage after that.

He had been a kind man. Good-hearted. He loved you, your sister and your mother very much.

Until he got drunk.

Of course, he loved you then as well. And he never hit you then, either. Not you.

Your mother, sure. The poor, sweet woman she was. Her broken spirit cracked through the light in which her soul was covered, because she was strong like that. Gentle, but strong.

He wasn’t gentle when he drank. No, all you had to do was say the wrong thing at the wrong time and suddenly he’d explode. The way he yelled out of nowhere was the worst thing. The way he gritted his teeth like a wild animal.

You had flinched more than once during the course of your life, simply because he got so angry.

But after a while, he always calmed down, didn’t he? He came down from his demonic horror trip and suddenly, he was good again.

Of course he was proud. Too proud for anyone’s good. His pride often kept him from apologizing. In most cases, he’d just try and act like nothing changed, like nothing happened, like he didn’t just made the walls crumble with his anger.

But sometimes, when he went really overboard, he managed to swallow his pride and then he would apologize. A hug, a kiss, and everything was back to normal.

You forgave him. Why wouldn’t you? He was your father. He loved you.

But daddy issues? No. He was there, after all. He didn’t abuse you. Didn’t hit you.

You had no issues. Why would you?

Right?

You finished applying the perfume and decided to put on some lip balm. It held the faintest hint of rose-color. He didn’t like too much make-up. He didn’t like anything that felt like you were playing dress-up. The silk on your body, it only made sense if it highlighted your character in a way. Not change it.

The gloss on your lips, the blush on your cheeks. No eyeshadow allowed, unless it were natural colors. Mascara was alright, but no fake lashes.

Blush was okay, contour was not.

Lace was okay, leather was not.

J’adore was okay, Chanel Number 5 was not.

You released a slow breath and took a moment longer to check your appearance.

You were pretty, you knew that. Probably not in the way that made you get voted prom queen. More in the way that made weird men ogle you.

That was a talent of yours you had figured out at some point. Your eyes were expressive. And people loved to eye-fuck you.

Sometimes, you’d indulge. It depended on the man and the situation. It depended on the way his eyes on you made you feel.

Not any man would do. Some were perverts, some were disgusting, some desperate. You didn’t look back, when a man walked beside his oblivious wife and looked at you like he was ready to devour you. You also didn’t look back, when a man stared at you with wide eyes and licked his lip in a way that was too lecherous at once.

A subtle glance.

Not even a smile.

Just a look.

You’d look away and after a while, you’d check again. The feeling that spread in your chest was often the same. One of recognition, of attention. It made you feel pretty and desired. Someone wanted you. They were subtle about it, but not subtle enough to refrain themselves from staring.

In most cases, it didn’t lead to anything.

Sure, you had that messed-up phase, after you turned nineteen. Looking back, you really wished your father had been stricter with you. You were always allowed to do whatever you wanted. Meet who you want, do what you want, unless, of course, it got dark outside. No walking alone in the dark.

But he never checked who you were with, if you were truly where you said you were. Your parents trusted you. Back in the day, when you told them you had already finished your homework, they trusted you. Your bad grades weren’t their fault. They had trusted you to do better.

Back when you were nineteen, when you told them you were at the cinema with a few friends, they trusted you. They didn’t check, if maybe you were getting pounded away by some forty-seven year old man, who came on your face and left you feeling used and humiliated.

Never during. Always after.

You had no idea why you felt like you needed this so badly. Attention of men. Approval of men.

Men.

They were never good to you. They used you in most cases and then they’d just up and leave.

First, you were naïve. You pictured all kinds of things. Your mother’s Italian friend, who’d take you to Rome and buy you gelato. You’d walk some coast and he’d show you the lovely way Italians lived. He’d love you, you were sure.

It didn’t matter than he had a daughter your age or maybe even a few years older.

He’d love you.

But of course, he didn’t. Silly you, you really believed that, didn’t you? And he didn’t even say he would. You just made up that version of him in your head.

Some sweet guy from Oregon, who sang Arctic Monkeys song for you with his guitar. You only spoke online, but why care? You’d go and live the American dream with him. Of course you would. He had those soft, brown eyes and the voice of an angel.

You’d give him as many babies as he wanted.

So, of course you agreed, when he asked you to take your top off. Suck on your fingers, look up at the camera with doe eyes, while you did. You slipped two fingers inside yourself, moaning and gasping. Of course you were pretending. Who got off on this? Not you. All he did was stare at you. You didn’t see his face, while he pulled his pants down. It was either his face or the rest of him. But you were looking at him, while you touched yourself for him. It didn’t take him long to cum. But that was alright. You’d get married, after all. In some cases, long distance worked. This was one of them of course.

Blocked.

You spent months trying to find him again. But no way. He was gone, deleted, lost in the depths of the internet. A lost memory. A shameful one.

Sometimes you asked yourself, why your sister turned out normal. She had a job, a family, a husband who loved her. Or did he?

He did get angry, at times. And those few times when he called her a slut, when they argued. It wasn’t that bad, right?

That one time he left her standing at the sidewalk in the middle of the night, in a foreign city. It wasn’t that bad, right? She had angered him after all.

You felt nauseous, just thinking about it. Your sister was the epitome of life and liveliness. She was so spirited, that sometimes her anger scared you. Her confidence did for sure. She was your father’s daughter after all.

But the bastard she married broke that spirit.

And she didn’t even realize it. She just let it happen. You didn’t understand it.

But what you did understand was that she wasn’t as perfect as you always thought. Things were a little more complicated than you initially thought. But you were still far behind her.

You tried to push the thoughts of your messed-up existence and upbringing aside and focus on the task at hand.

Him.

Mr. Important.

You knew his real name and he knew yours, but names didn’t really matter. All you normally called him was daddy.

But luckily, you weren’t babygirl or little girl. That felt odd, even to you. It wasn’t that he was after that – someone who was remarkably younger than him. You just happened to be.

He was fifty-four, going fifty-five. You were twenty-five, going twenty-six.

Thirty years more or less, who cared about that?

And he didn’t really look his age. You found, he looked a good forty-six, maybe.

But aside from that, he was different. The were two kind of men in the world.

The real ones and the made up ones.

The ones who ogled you, while they were walking beside their wives and the ones who never got over their wife’s death and were looking for a way to distract themselves.

You had seen a picture of her. He didn’t make a secret of it. No, he was proud to having loved her. The thought filled you with something bittersweet. A part of you was jealous. Jealous, that someone got loved so intensely, that she’d never be forgotten, ever.

After all, she died young and pregnant. It made you nauseous.

And another part of you, the far bigger part, the less selfish part, it admired him.

He loved her. He loved her so dearly, that she took a great part of his soul with him, when she left.

God, you wished to be loved like that. To be loved at all.

You remembered the way you first met him. The subtle eye-contact. No smile.

But you didn’t feel like you normally did. Something about him was different. He wasn’t lecherous. He was calm. Almost like he was…lonely.

And he understood your loneliness.

The arrangement came quick and without any fuss. He did pay you, but not with money per say. He paid for your studies, he bought you gifts, sometimes he took you out to places you had never been before.

The theatre. The ballet. The opera, even.

That was what you loved the most. He didn’t just use you and left you feeling empty. He didn’t even fuck you every time you saw him. Sometimes you’d just go out. Have dinner. Talk.

You talked a lot and about everything. Sometimes you felt like you were an old soul, sometimes you felt like you knew nothing at all. He knew things. He looked at you. He listened to you.

Sometimes he could be really funny. On other nights he was rather quiet.

You didn’t care if he absentmindedly played with your hand or hair or if he stared straight ahead. Whatever he did, it always made your heart race.

You understood that you were treading on very thin ice.

Feelings were not a part of the arrangement.

He would never love you. You would never be more to him than treasure.

But when you lay there, your head on his chest and still breathless after you just spent hours doing the most wicked things to each other, you couldn’t help yourself. You craved his warmth. His arms around you and how protected he made you feel.

You couldn’t make a mistake. Nothing you did ever made him yell at you.

And that was rather dangerous.

Because you could picture it so easily. Being his wife. His everything. Having his children. Cooking his dinner. Doing all the things loving people did.

All the things loved people did.

You pushed the thought aside with intense fervor, when you heard his raspy voice call out for you.

“Treasure? Are you alright?”

You nearly gasped when you realized how long you had been in there. With a soft shake of your head and a slow exhale, you pushed down the door handle and stepped out of the bathroom. He stood in front of the fireplace and stared down at the flames, lost in thought. When he heard the door open, he looked up and met your gaze. Something in him stiffened for a moment and his gaze ran down your body slowly. You swallowed thickly and tried to push your nervousness aside.

You wanted to be perfect for him. But you were so far from perfect. Each and every time you feared he would look at you, scoff and shake his head.

“I don’t remember that much skin.”

“You looked younger last time.”

“Where’d that wrinkle come from?”

But of course he never said anything like that. Simply your insecurities, giving you a hard time.

He hummed softly and shifted so that he was fully facing you.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured. “Come here.”

You approached him with slow steps, the sound of your tiptoes the only sound beside the crackling of the fireplace.

You came to a halt before him and he tipped your chin up in a gentle way, slowly tilting your head up and making you look at him. He brushed his lips over yours in the softest way, making you shiver in response.

His hand slowly ran down the side of your neck, until his fingers brushed over the lace that covered your collarbone. His eyes followed the movement and he released a soft sigh.

“You get more and more beautiful every day.”

How did he expect you not to fall in love with him, when he was being like this?

“Thank you.” You whispered in return and swallowed a bit of your nervousness.

His eyes crinkled in a smile that hardly reached his eyes and his hands slowly came down to grip your hips.

“You know what day today is?”

You nodded.

“Good.” He whispered and dropped his hands to his sides. “Then be a good girl for daddy and distract him.”

You licked your lips and slowly pushed him back. He was letting you. Until you reached the armchair and he slowly sat down on it. You stood before him and tipped his chin up, making him look up at you now. The look in his eyes was nothing short of admiration. His breath against your skin sent a pleasant tingle down your spine.

You slowly straddled his lap and rested your knees on the armrests, pressing yourself against him and feeling the hardness in his pants press into you already. But not yet, you thought. Why not tease him a little?

You leaned in as if to kiss him, but the second before your lips met, you slowly pulled your head back, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A low growl grumbled in his chest. “Stop being a brat.” He murmured.

You bit your lip and leaned back with a grin. “Me? A brat?”

“You’re just asking to be punished.”

That made you chuckle. “Well…”

“Oh, I see.” He tangled a hand in your hair and tugged on it, tilting your head back and making you look up at him. “That’s how you want to play?” He murmured and his hot breath fanned over your lips and neck. “Alright, then. I invented this game, little dove.”

He released his grip on your hair and grabbed you by the hips, standing up and holding you against him. He picked you up like you weighed nothing and strode off to the bed, practically throwing you down onto it. The sudden intensity left you breathless and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He reached for his tie and slowly undid it.

“I thought you were daddy’s good girl. Looks like I was wrong.”

He sounded as calm as ever, not a hint of anger as usual. He was just being himself.

“I am your good girl.”

“I’d prefer you to be bad right now. Because I feel like punishing you.”

You swallowed thickly and bit your lip, like you did every so often when he got you cornered like this.

“How?” You whispered.

He smirked in that delicious way, which lit his whole face up without even trying. Then he slowly pulled the tie off and ran his fingers along the soft material.

“Turn around.”

Within seconds, you were on your knees and facing away from him. His hands were gentle as he reached for your wrists and brought them behind your back to tie them together. You took a slow breath and closed your eyes, while your body surrendered. It wasn’t hard for you. You trusted him. He knew your boundaries.

For whatever reason, with him you had boundaries.

Never in your life before had you ever told anyone to stop or not do something. Was it fear of being rejected? Simply fear? Something else? Whatever it was, it kept you from setting healthy rules to keep your body and mind safe. You were free to use. Anyone just did whatever they wanted.

Sometimes you did protest, but they wouldn’t stop and eventually you gave in.

But not so him.

He had asked not once, not twice, but countless times. Until eventually you had been forced to be honest and tell him what it was that threw you off. And to your surprise, he didn’t get angry, didn’t even move a muscle. He just nodded and accepted it.

There were a few freaky things you were into and you were obviously allowing him to do. But if there was something that you didn’t want, he didn’t do it. Just like that.

How hard it was not to fall for him. Impossible even.

He tied your wrists together fairly tight and made a point of pulling on the tie to make sure it was good enough. You felt his gaze roam along your back silently. He then ran his fingertips up your back, over your shoulder blades and eventually the back of your neck.

“You’re my little brat, aren’t you?” He purred.

When you didn’t respond at first, he made a point of gently tugging on your hair.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“And you’ve been bad, haven’t you?”

When you nodded, he tugged again, slightly harder this time. You gasped and immediately added: “Yes. Yes, I’ve been bad.”

“So, you deserve to be punished. How should I punish you?”

There was only one right answer to that.

“However you wish.”

You heard the way he smirked. “Good girl. You’re learning.”

He hummed and slowly circled you like a predator. Of course you felt rather exposed, kneeling on the bed like that, wearing nothing but that thin piece of lace and nothing to cover the dampness between your legs.

“Look at you.” He murmured. “So open and ready for me. Let’s see how ready, shall we?”

He didn’t hesitate to slide his hand between your legs and run a finger over your wetness. You couldn’t help but inhale sharply. Your body was aching for his touch.

Surprisingly, he knew how to make you cum. Pretty good even. No other man had ever accomplished that. You’d normally count only on yourself for that, but Mr. Important? Fuck, he was skilled.

He circled your clit in the same skilled way, causing you to squirm and gasp under his touch. He began to work his fingers on you more and more quickly, keeping his gaze firmly on your face. Your brows furrowed in a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, but you didn’t care. You were so close. So close. So-

You whimpered when he sharply withdrew his hand, leaving you aching.

“Please-“ You whined.

“Not yet.” He said calmly. “Open your mouth.”

You obeyed wordlessly, allowing him to slide his slick fingers into your mouth and making you taste yourself on him. The bulge in his pants became more and more obvious and it did things to you. The way he looked at you, while he made you suck on his fingers was enough to make you go dripping wet. After a beat, he slowly pulled his fingers back and dried them against his shirt. You let out a shuddering gasp.

“You still ought to be punished, if I recall correctly.”

“Wasn’t this punishment enough?” You whispered.

He smirked. “Not even close.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently draped you over his lap, stomach down and your rear up in the air. Your cheek was pressed against the sheets and you closed your eyes.

“Ten. You know the rules.” He murmured and you nodded.

His flat hand cracked against your skin, sending a sharp pain through your body. He wasn’t gentle about that. Not at all.

You cried out in pain and tried not to squirm too much. “One. Thank you, daddy.” You gasped out.

He hummed approvingly, before his hand came down a second time, causing you to wince and cry out again. Somehow, every strike seemed to get more and more rough. Your skin felt raw and sensitive, more and more with every hit, but you forced yourself to stay still and count, like a good girl. By the time you reached the seventh hit, the pain was nearly unbearable. But you knew better than to beg and plead. It only turned him on more and he was ready and eager to start anew.

“Nine. Thank you, daddy.”

“One more. Just one more, treasure. You’re almost done.”

He deliberately waited for a few seconds, causing you to go rigid and tense in his grip. The uncertainty of when the next hit would follow was nearly killing you. Just when you expected it and you winced forcefully, he instead ran his palm along your red skin gently. You took a deep breath.

And then it came.

The most painful of them all and you immediately felt tears sting your eyes. Your voice cracked as you cried out: “T-ten. Ten. Thank you. Thank you, daddy.”

He made a soft sound, filled with approval and a hint of pride. “That’s my good girl. You did so well. I’m proud of you.”

His words made you feel warm and fuzzy and suddenly you felt like crying even more. Your feelings for him were more complicated than you thought.

“Thank you.” You whispered, still trying to catch your breath.

“I think you deserve a reward.” He murmured.

You tried to swallow, with your mouth dry and whispered: “I do?”

He ran a gentle hand over your hair and hummed again.

“You do. Let’s see what we can do for you.” He shifted you gently so you lay on the mattress instead, staring up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He ran his knuckles over your cheek and smiled slowly.

“Was it too much?”

You shook your head.

He took a slow breath and nodded. “Good.” He shifted so he was on top of you now and pressed a leg between your own. His knee slowly pressed against your core and you felt your eyes fall shut. You didn’t try to hide your pathetic whimper.

He smirked against your ear and gently nipped at it. “Look at that. Have you been this wet all the time?”

Your face flushed painfully and you swallowed your embarrassment. “Yes.”

He hummed approvingly and ran his lips along your cheek, before they finally met your own. You had no time to understand what was going on, when his tongue already parted your lips and delved into your mouth. He wasn’t sweet about it, instead your tongues met in a messy battle, ready to prod at and devour each other.

“What are you?” He groaned against your lips.

“Your cumslut.” You whispered back.

He groaned again and bit down on your lower lip. “Fuck, yes, my dirty little cumslut. You want daddy’s cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy.” You moaned out.

“Where do you want it, treasure? Dripping down your chin or deep inside you?”

Your eyes nearly rolled back. “Wherever you want.”

He pulled back just enough to kiss your neck. His kisses made you squirm and shudder, but it only ever got more and more intense. You felt so exposed and helpless, but also cared for.

He slowly moved his lips along your collarbone, before they brushed over the material that covered your breasts. He bit down on it and tore at until you felt the cold air hit your now exposed chest. He growled in response and didn’t hesitate to kiss and suck at the skin of your breast. Your hips involuntarily arched against his knee, which was still working on your core. You gasped breathlessly and rubbed yourself against him, desperate for more friction.

“Please-“

“Patience.”

He licked a wet path down your stomach, causing you to writhe and moan.

He wasn’t one for half things. When his lips reached your core, he wasn’t gentle or careful. No, his mouth enveloped your most sensitive spot and he began to work his tongue on you almost furiously. He sucked and licked, slid his tongue inside you and over your wet folds with an intensity that made you cry out. He then sucked on your clit in a way that was almost too much, but just right to make you cum so good that you felt like everything around you faded into nothingness. You felt warm and good, better than you had ever before. He took his time and made the moment last, riding out your release so intensely that you nearly had to pull away from him when it became to much. He smirked up at you and slowly came back up to face you. He was fighting for air, as were you.

“Oh God, that was-“

He pushed his tongue back inside your mouth, nearly fucking it. At the same time he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them torturously and pumping them against you in a way that brought you close yet again.

“P-Please, I- Ah!” Your release rolled over you again, hard and soft at the same time, with an intensity that was near painful. Your hips arched off the bed and you nearly screamed by the way you couldn’t find it in you to shut your mouth.

You gasped for air and expected him to finally pull back, but he didn’t. He kept curling his fingers against your sweet spot and the feeling quickly became too much. Your body was so sensitive and every new touch he added felt almost painful.

“Stop- Please- St-“ You cried out and pressed your hips against his hand involuntarily. Your release came crashing yet again, this time it was a feeling between heaven and hell. It still felt good, but it felt far too much.

“Please.” You gasped, before the feeling even was gone. “Please. I can’t take any more…”

He smirked against your lips and gently bit down on the lower one, before he slowly withdrew his hand.

“Good girl.”

You were still panting and gasping for air, when he gave your cheek a light slap. “Time for you to get to work.”

You moaned, and with some effort, fought your way to get up. Your hands were still tied, so you carefully slid down to your knees, kneeling in between his legs. He was still in his pants, so you looked up at him with innocent eyes and whispered: “Can you help me?”

He smirked again and gently cupped your cheek in his hand. “So obedient.”

He freed himself from his remaining clothes and you found yourself staring at him. Despite his age, he was so well-built and you were always desperate for every glimpse, every touch and every taste.

“Can I?” You breathed out.

He hummed and nodded. “Get to it.”

Your gaze wandered down, but he quickly caught your chin. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Your insides tingled with newfound desire. You forced yourself to keep looking at him, while your tongue slowly slid down his stomach. You saw the shift in demeanor. He was still dominant and calm, but his breathing sped up and something changed in his eyes.

“No teasing today.” He all but growled. “Let me feel that pretty mouth.”

You didn’t hesitate to obey. You parted your lips and ran your tongue over his tip. His head fell and back and he groaned. He then tangled his hand in your hair and guided your movements. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath, he just pushed you down and forced you to take him in. You were caught off-guard for a moment and felt yourself gag. He loosened his grip the tiniest bit and you began to move in the rhythm and pace that he set for you. He quickly went from calm and collected to a beast which rammed his thick cock into you and began to use your throat to his pleasure.

You felt yourself grow wet yet again as you moaned against his skin. Whenever he seemed to hit the back of your throat, he couldn’t control the low moans and groans that left his lips. Your movements became more and more frantic, determined to make him feel just as good as he had you.

Of course you wanted him to fuck you and he probably would in an hour or two. And again and again and again…But right then, you wanted nothing more than for him to shoot his hot load into your mouth and down your throat.

You sucked and flicked your tongue against him in a way that made his grip tighten more and more until he-

He went still, except for his cock, which was throbbing furiously inside you. He came with a low growl and he filled your mouth with his seed. He held your head in place, until he rode out his release. When he finally caught his breath back, he released a soft sigh and his grip on your hair became gentle again.

“Oh God, that was…” He sighed again. “Fuck.”

You slowly swallowed every drop of his cum, all the while never taking your eyes off him. His eyes instantly darkened again and he ran his thumb over your tongue.

“My good girl. My treasure.” He breathed out. “I’m so proud of you.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. It became increasingly gentle and he slowly cupped your cheek in his hand.

“That was incredible.” He murmured. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He reached behind you and carefully freed your from his tie. Then he slowly rubbed his thumbs over your sore wrists.

“Does it hurt?” He murmured. You shook your head.

He pulled you up onto the bed again and gently laid you down beside him. He stared down at you for a long moment, before he finally rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a full-course meal right now.”

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around him, slowly running your hands down his back. “Isn’t that what you just gave me?”

He smirked and slowly opened his eyes. “You and that wicked mouth of yours.” He murmured.

Your smile softened when he pressed a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“Can I stay for the night?”

He would most likely let you. He never sent you away feeling used or unsatisfied or, God forbid, unwanted. But there was a part of you that needed to be reassured so badly. And he seemed to know.

He raised a brow and his own expression softened.

“Did you expect anything else?”

His coldness melted away whenever you were like this, entangled and breathless.

No matter how many times he said that it didn’t mean anything.

His eyes told a different story.

“No.” You whispered softly and rested your head on his chest. “No, of course not.”

[zoe-oneesama]

What are your thoughts on what happened to Chloe at the end of Season 5? Do you plan on watching Season 6?

Like as IF that's the last we'll see of her.

I was gonna wait to give my review of Season 5 - I wanted a release date for Season 6 and then drop them like a count down leading up to the new season - which is why I haven't delved in much and talked about my opinions.

But Chloe's ending was bullshit, and we all know it. Not because she leaves Paris, not because she loses the few friends and connections she has, and not even because she's a massive brat who finally gets some form of comeuppance.

But because of the form that comeuppance comes in.

Why on God's Green Earth is ANDRE the one? ANDRE is the one to drag her ass out of Paris and condemn her publicly and gets to act like the big hero, doing the right thing and putting Chloe in her place? ANDRE. The one who GAVE her her place and covered it in gold leaf and never once until this whack-job of a season considered that a bad thing?!

Appropriate, appropriate face Caline.

The absolute absurdity of them to write THIS MAN in any sort of correct light, the one who from Day 1, Season 1 has been a solid and complete background for why Chloe is...Chloe. Who spoiled and abused his power to make sure she never felt an ounce of consequences or remorse or backlash. How dare they try and pull this move on us when they could remove Audrey from the story entirely and no one would second guess Chloe's entire personality or upbringing?

These writers have somehow convinced themselves that Andre is not only without any guilt in the outcome of this situation, but that he's redeemable! Redeemable through the act of shipping off his daughter, whom he's been nothing but devoted to, and sending her off to a boarding school with her (AS HE ADMITS) just as awful mother as her chaperone, while he abducts casually replaces her with his new better daughter, Zoé.

I'm sure that won't have an adverse effect on your child who is used to absolute and unconditional love for her whole life, you are definitely a good person who's finally figured out how to do the right thing.

/s

These writers have somehow convinced themselves that Chloe is absolutely hopeless and evil and has reached the point of no return, but ANDRE. Andre's fine.

And Gabriel too, apparently. Hm, seems to be a theme with these worthless male parents and getting off scott free....

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

[the-daily-dreamer]

Alicent’s relationships with her children can never be perfect and healthy because they’re objectively broken from their onset. And I’m so tired of seeing brain dead takes comparing the “superior” relationship Rhaenyra has with her kids to Alicent and her kids as some sort of gotcha.

Alicent’s exposure to motherhood isn’t on her terms in any conceivable way. Her children are the products of marital rape and coercion. They are conceived and born when she is a young teenage girl 15-18, well before she is ready to have them. They are born in quick succession with no opportunity for her to recover. And, they are from a man that not only does she not love but who neglects and belittles her.

All these factors severely damage Alicent’s ability to connect with her children in their infancy. And can you blame her given the circumstances?

She’s not ready to have them at all, so she doesn’t know how to properly mother them. And she likely resents them at least a bit in the early stages because they are the physical manifestation of not only her rape but the life she is trapped in. And that likely compounds with severe guilt because these are her babies, why doesn’t she feel the love and joy she’s supposed to?

And yet. She still loves and cares for them. She holds them as babies (despite being a baby herself) and dutifully cares for them even though she could simply dump them off with a nursemaid. She charges with a knife at Rhaenyra for them. She stands between them and a dragon from them. She betrays her closest companion of her childhood for them. She defies the king and their father for them.

I know that Alicent makes some crucial mistakes that ends up hurting her children. And I know that the scenes we see with Alicent and her kids often show her lack of connection to them. But despite the fact that her relationship to them can be nothing but fractured at the onset. There is so much passion and love and devotion she has for them.

These are not scenes of a woman who is a bad mother. These are scenes of a mother who adores her children and would do anything for them. But who can only love them roughly because she never had an opportunity to love them gently. Their very existence was never gentle for her and never fostered through love.

Alicent’s relationship with her kids may be broken. But it’s not her fault that it is. And no matter what there is love and it is her motivation. So stop acting like she is a bad mother when she’s fighting like hell to breed a relationship with them that is fostered in connection.

[nonsensology]

Later at the wish granting ceremony, CEO Magnifico announces he’s greenlit Ice Age 6 and five more live-action remakes.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

There are so many cancelled and unrealized projects that Disney is sitting on, that they do not benefit from in any way by keeping them locked up tight. They really ought to just let them go if they don't have any intentions of doing anything with them.

Incidentally, I could never agree with the mentality of “Magnifico is actually the hero, and Asha is the TRUE villain” that a lot of people seem to have. I drew my comic based on this post. I feel like if more people had been aware of this possible interpretation, they wouldn’t have sympathized with Magnifico.

Does Wish have bad writing? Yes, it does. And it’s because of that bad writing that every single character suffers. What I think happened is that, as a result of said bad writing, Asha became a character that’s so uncompelling and lacks uniqueness that she ends up a blank slate for audiences to project their frustrations with the movie onto. King Magnifico on the other hand, is probably the most interesting and entertaining character, due in no small part to Chris Pine’s performance, and so the audience is much more sympathetic towards him and willing to ignore his flaws.

One of Asha’s problems as a character is that she doesn’t really contribute much to the story. By contrast, Magnifico’s downfall is brought about entirely as a result of his own actions. Magnifico is in fact not a good leader, because he gives in to paranoia and temptation, acts in a very unprofessional manner, and escalates the conflict to an absurd degree.

Please note, Asha does not get upset that Magnifico refuses to grant her grandfather’s wish, nor does she ever demand that Magnifico needs to grant every wish. She gets upset that he insinuates that her grandfather might have dangerous intentions, and because he does not have a convincing reason why he doesn’t return wishes that he won’t grant. Rather than calmly explaining his reasoning to her, Magnifico rudely dismisses Asha and then blows up at her.

If Magnifico were a good leader, he would have explained to each person WHY he won’t grant their wish, and given them advice on alternatives. As it stands, he knows full well that everyone expects their wish to be granted. It’s why they even came to Rosas in the first place, it is the literal reason he even built his kingdom. He clearly makes a big spectacle out of the wish granting ceremonies, which every citizen visibly goes wild for. He never elaborates to anyone his specific standards for the wishes he chooses to grant, other than a broad statement of "for the good of the kingdom". In his regard, Magnifico reminds me of bureaucratic systems that never provide every option or solution upfront, with their logic being "you didn't ask".

Not to mention, he literally tells Asha, "People think wishes are just ideas. But no, no, they are a part of your heart. The very best part." He knows, for a fact, how important wishes are to everyone. But the movie's awful writing makes him think the best solution to dealing with wishes that MIGHT have dangerous consequences, is to just hoard them. All that returning the ungranted wishes will accomplish is returning the memory of what the wish even is, that's literally it, and the people will be no better off than they were before they gave Magnifico their wish.

I dunno about you guys, but whenever I watched stories that preached “be careful what you wish for”, my takeaway was never “your desires could be dangerous and you should never pursue them for fear of disaster”, I always thought the stories were telling us, “beware of anything that promises instant gratification, because it’s usually too good to be true, and will cost you more than you will gain”. While the things you want in life may have disastrous consequences, you won’t really know until you try to pursue them through your own honest efforts, and not through “magical” shortcuts. That’s how we learn and grow, through trial and error. 

As it currently stands from my point of view, when people say "Magnifico has every right to keep ungranted wishes" it looks like they're unintentionally saying, “The Disney Corporation has every right to keep your work and ideas, because you willingly and legally handed them over. Tough luck if you regret the deal you were given. No takesies backsies!”

While I have found no evidence to confirm that the filmmakers intended for Magnifico to be a criticism of Corporate Disney, considering the inclusion of the animation sweatshop scene in Pixar's Inside Out 2, I think the probability is likely. (Not to mention, when Asha shows Magnifico her little flipbook animation, he dismissively remarks “Do we consider that a talent?”)

Please note, everyone is free to rewrite and reinterpret Magnifico however they want. He's just a fictional character after all, and fan content is supposed to be for fun. I just think it's funny how defensive people get over him a he appears in the final movie. They say he deserved better, and I agree, but we have very different ideas of what "better" means. In fact, I think every character in Wish deserved better, because again, they were all victims of bad writing. My problem isn't that they took a good man and made him arbitrarily "evil", it's that they didn't make him evil enough from the very beginning. Remember those deleted scenes featuring a villainous Magnifico with better writing, along with an evil Amaya that he can play off of? I'm fairly certain that everyone unanimously agreed these deleted scenes were much better than the final movie, and yet some still insist that Magnifico should have been a hero all along. I dunno, it's a funny dichotomy. 

EDIT: A few days after posting I came across this video essay supporting the interpretation of Magnifico as a critique of Corporate Disney and I loved it. Please go watch it!

[softtdaisy]

a better father / Aaron Hotchner

summary. All Hotch wanted was to get a second chance to be a better dad. And now that you were offering him this chance, he fears he might have failed already.

words count. 2,465

a/n.  I got this idea with the episode from season two when Haley comes and she tells Hotch that he forgot about an appointment for Jack and I was like omg I need to do something with that so here's sad Aaron again

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

Being an FBI agent and a dad was sometimes hard to combine. Hotch knew something about that. 

He had a lot of regrets about Jack. Not being there much when he was a baby, not seeing his first steps, hearing his first word, and missing so many memories that were nicely caught on camera by Haley. Things he could never make up for.

And no matter how often Jack could tell him that he didn’t hold any grudge against his dad, Hotch still felt bad most of the time. Wishing he could get a second chance to be a better dad. 

At some point, he accepted that it would never happen. He was getting older, and the morality wanted him to date women close to his age. Which wasn’t a bad thing at all. He had wonderful dates with them. But none of them wanted to have a child. Some already had one, some never wanted to get pregnant, and some simply couldn’t. And of course it was never a cause of a breakup—or stop seeing them, because Hotch didn’t date most of them. Hotch simply accepted he won’t be a dad again. 

Then he met you.

You were an old friend of JJ's that he met at her birthday. Your work made you travel around the world for many years, which explained your absence during the past parties and you being unknown to most of the team. But you were back in town, ready to meet new people and start a new life.

Hotch never believed in fate.

But he was sure he was destined to meet you.

You were so full of life, acting like a ray of sunshine in every room you were in. And not that he considered himself dark, but he had to admit that his life and job had quite an impact on how he perceived himself. As someone who wasn’t very funny or joyful to be around. Not a very good dad or a nice partner. And sometimes, not even a great boss.

His life was pretty much in black and white. And when you came around, you brought colors with you.

It started that very first night, when you spent almost an hour sitting outside with Aaron. Drinking and watching the stars.

“Shouldn’t you be with JJ?” He asked after you finished a conversation about your favorite countries to visit and the one you recommended for someone like him.

“Don’t know,” you replied, shrugging. “I like being with you.”

Aaron could blame the alcohol for the redness on his cheeks, but you both knew it was insecurity and flattering. It’s been a long time since someone pointed out how they liked spending time with him. He felt…alive, knowing that you wanted to be around him.

And you weren’t lying for a single second. “You’re an interesting man, Aaron Hotchner. You need to let people see that.” you added, giving him a little shoulder bump. You kept your shoulder against his for a second. You loved the little smile your words created and the sparks that appeared in his eyes.

You felt lucky that you were one of the few people he offered a glimpse of the real him.

It started with coffee dates once a week. Before he went to work, and while you were still discovering your new life back in town, you met at the same coffee shop for an hour. You talked about everything, more life than work. You wanted to see Aaron, and not Hotch, the man JJ told you about. 

Even if she gave you such a good description of him that you were already willing to give him your heart without any hesitation.

You loved discovering new things about him every week. 

Each smile was breaking the wall around him.

Each time he put his hand on yours was him installing himself in your life.

And each kiss was you giving your heart to each other. 

These coffee dates were still a thing.

They just happened every day, at the place you were now sharing together.

And not only did you give him a lot of things already, you offered him the chance he thought wouldn’t come again, which he sadly accepted. 

To be a dad again.

You were four months pregnant, and it wasn’t always as easy as it seemed. Either the stress that comes from work or the fact Aaron still felt like he was too old for this, for you. But he was trying his best to make things as perfect as they could be. He was leaving the BAU earlier than before, and every day off was for Jack and for you. 

And every night, he made sure to have at least half an hour with you in the baby’s room to talk about the future.

But sometimes, dealing with both situations can be difficult. And today was another proof.

What was supposed to be a calm office day turned out to be more rough and animated. A new case came in the morning and turned out to be in town. 

Hotch was part of the team that went out to catch the unsub. He was going less on the field these days. There was a selfish reason behind that: he didn’t want to stress you or miss anything important with the baby. But the case being in Virginia, he took the opportunity to follow Spencer and Emily outside while JJ stayed with Penelope, like the good old days.

“God, I wish every case were as simple as this one.” Emily said when they came back to the car, the unsub was with the police officers. And Hotch had to admit it was pretty easy this time. He couldn’t wait to tell you about this one, how good it felt to be back there.

He could already hear you say something like, “We’ll tell our baby how their dad is a superhero,” which reminded him of when Jack used to see him like that. He hoped your baby would feel the same about him.

What if they hated him? What if they blame him for being away, for not doing enough? What if someone terrible happened to them because of his job?

Most of the time, Hotch managed to put these bad ideas away. And when he couldn’t, he found comfort in your arms. That’s what he needed right now.

He only had one thing to do: check on JJ and Penelope once he was back at the office to conclude his report and make sure everybody could go back home soon. Him included.

When Hotch entered Penelope’s office, he was welcomed by her confused and surprised face. “Sir? What are you doing here?” she asked. She got up and took a few steps towards him to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

“What do you mean what am I doing here?” he asked, even more confused than her. 

And the confusion just kept growing when he looked around and noticed Penelope was alone. “Where is JJ?” 

“Hmm, at the hospital?” From her tone, Hotch could tell that Penelope assumed he was supposed to know about her absence and the reason behind it. “[Y/N] called her?” This wasn’t a real question, because Penelope was there when you called. She heard you. But she couldn’t understand why she would know about that before Hotch.

And he couldn’t believe what he just heard. Sure, it made sense that you would call JJ if you needed help. She was one of your emergency contacts. But why wouldn’t you call him? 

Looking for his phone to check on you, Hotch realized his mistake.

He forgot his phone at his office. And spend the whole day assuming you were fine.

Before Penelope could explain the situation, or maybe she did, but he didn’t listen, Hotch ran to his office. He probably jostled some people in the rush, and there was a high possibility that he forgot to apologize. But it wasn’t his priority. Especially not when he grabbed his phone and saw the notification.

Six missing calls.

Around ten texts.

All from you.

You’ve got awful cramps when you wake up, and nothing would make them go away. You spent most of your day in bed, crying—which you didn’t tell Aaron, but he could hear the tears in your voice in one of your voicemails. You were asking him to come and bring you to the hospital to make sure the baby was doing fine.

But he never answered.

“I called JJ; she’s coming. Please don’t worry and text me when you see this. I love you,” said the last one.

When he dialed your phone, Hotch met your answering machine. 

He kept trying during the drive to the hospital. But all he could hear was your joyful voice asking to leave a message and that you would call back later. 

Never has Aaron needed to hear your voice so badly as right now.

The hospital wasn’t too far away from the bureau. Which didn’t prevent him from driving way above the limits. Not that he cared this time. 

Even if Aaron had prepared his speech in the car to appear calm, he lost his words right when he made his first step in the hospital. Being there was scary. Hopefully, when he arrived, the first person he saw was JJ. He rushed to her, almost scaring her from the way he grabbed her arm.

“Where is she? How is she? And the baby?” 

“Slow down, breathe for a second,” she replied, putting a hand on top of his to try and reassure him. “She is fine. And the baby too.”

The seven words that he needed to hear the most.

“I was supposed to bring her home, but she’ll be happy to have you.” JJ added with a sweet smile. If someone could understand Aaron’s position here, it was her.

Once she indicated to him the room you were staying in and he introduced himself to the nurse, Aaron rushed to meet you.

He was relieved to see you, for real. Sitting on the bed with your eyes closed. He took a second to look at you. Aaron hated that feeling in his stomach. He didn’t realize that until now, there was a quiet thought in his head saying that maybe he wouldn’t see you again. 

But you were there, looking better than he imagined you would. 

And when you opened your eyes and saw the man you love in front of you, you lit up the whole room with your eyes. “Aaron, you’re here!”

“Of course, I am,” he sighed, with a tired smile. He finally walked up to you and accepted the arms you were opening for him. It’s been a long time since a hug had felt this good for him. He let it go for a few seconds, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of having you close to him like that. He imagined you were home, in your bed, on a Sunday morning. Not at the hospital. 

Then everything hit him back. You, being sick and pregnant. Him, not being here for you.

Aaron kissed your forehead before cupping your face with his hands. “What happened?”

“The doctor said it wasn’t serious. Sometimes you get cramped and sick during the second semester. Basically, the baby is telling me to relax and stop overworking.” You replied with a soft laugh that wasn’t effective enough to stop him from frowning. “Love, we are both fine.”

“But I wasn’t there.” 

It hurt you how his voice sounded so sad. 

You heard Aaron speaking when he was physically hurt. And you already hated the way he would contain the pain by gritting his teeth, making his voice sound deeper and heavier. You always thought he was blaming himself for not being careful enough, which explained the tone.

But this time it was different. Aaron sounded like he hated himself for what he thought was a disappointment for you. But for him, mostly. His voice was broken, almost unintelligible. Like he didn’t want to be heard. And deep down, even if it was a part of his life you’d barely ever talked about, you knew where this was coming from.

"Aaron," you said softly, asking him to focus on you and not his pain. "I'm good. We're good.”

When he finally looked up to you, you met his red eyes. “These moments, they’ll happen again, you know.” 

He let out a sad sigh. “That’s not what I want.”

“I know, but you can’t blame yourself for that. This is your job. And we all accept it,” you said. You took one of his hands to put on your rounded belly. “She does too.”

Aaron opened his mouth to reply and argue on how this wasn’t the family dynamic he wanted for his second child. Not again. 

But no sound left his mouth. Which made you smile. This was exactly the reaction you expected from your so serious and composed boyfriend.

“She?” he finally replied, this time the glow in his eyes being replaced by happiness and surprise.

“The doctor did an ultrasound to make sure everything was alright. And this little princess inside finally decided to stop the mystery around herself.” You explained, but it would be a miracle if Aaron even heard you. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction: his mouth open, his eyes going from yours to your belly like he was trying to comprehend what you said. “We’re having a baby girl, Aaron.” This time, you couldn’t contain your own tears.

This was all Aaron needed to put all his stress behind. He couldn’t think about his job and everything that came with it when now he knew that in a few months, he would hold in his arms the miracle he couldn’t wish for anymore. A daughter that will be the result of the love he had for you. A daughter that he will love as much as he loves you. As much as he loves Jack.

Even if he still couldn’t speak, you could tell he was as excited as you by the situation. But there was still one thing that was waiting to be clarified.

“And wanna know the best part?” you asked, slowly caressing your cheek. “She’ll be the biggest daddy’s girl and will always love you. When you’re home, at work, or away. You’ll hold a special place in her heart, forever, Aaron Hotchner.” 

Being an FBI agent and a dad was sometimes hard to combine. But Aaron knew that he was fighting alone to find the perfect balance between both. 

He had you. And a perfect family to make sure he was a great man and a great father.

[evieelyzabethh]

"homecoming"

⭒"and i told her in my heart is where she always be"⭒ college AU Arcane headcanons {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw ☞ slightly pervy jayce, and a bunch of fluff. ALSO, one of my dearest pookies requested a college au so everyone say thank you sidda 💋

♞Vi♞

♞Vi would totally be a student athlete and a very good one. I don't see her as a basketball or football girl but baseball actually. Swinging a bat around is a controlled way to get aggression out. She played soccer and football in high school, though. She did football first, her and Jayce signing up together and both managing to get a spot on the team, but she got annoyed with all the padding really quick and only stuck it out for a year because of Jayce. She moved to soccer but got kicked off the team for fighting after a girl kept bumping into her and never got fouled for it. The fight was pretty bad, and in combination with her pre existing record of violent behavior, the school put her in counseling for her aggression issues.

♞She deeply enjoys baseball and takes it very seriously. Regular trips to the batting cages with Vander helped her regulate her emotions. It requires patience and control and a bat. She really loves her bat. When she made it onto the team, Jinx bought her a wooden one that she spray-painted, and she keeps it in her dorm room. She also likes the atmosphere. Her hand is always in a bag of sunflower seeds, she appreciates a good bubblegum, she likes how she looks in the uniform.

♞This being said, college Vi cleans up her act a bit. She doesn't get into fights anymore, she raised her F's into B's, and she got into a really nice school on a sports scholarship that she refuses to lose. She takes this as an opportunity to get good at something. She knows major league women's baseball isn't really a thing and she doubts she's good enough to ever make it to the Olympics, so she dedicates her time to finding something to make of her life

♞You two meet in a language class. It's a requirement at your college and she's only there because it's the easiest option that they stick all the student athletes in, and you were quite frankly just being lazy and wanted a class you could get an easy A in. She shows up slightly late, but the professor lets it slide as it's only the first day. The only open seat is the one next to you, quietly sitting in the back of the room with your laptop up staring intently as you go through the course's syllabus. She smiles. She thinks you're cute.

♞You can hear the dad rock blasting in her earphones, her hands in the pocket of a school branded hoodie with her head down as she slips in quietly next to you. She takes up a lot of space, her water bottle is one of the huge gallon sized ones, her laptop is large and kinda clunky, her notebook is also splayed out and you silently judge her sloppy handwriting. Just as preoccupied as you are, she's going through her schedule to see what time practice starts and gets out, what time she has to be at her volunteering commitment, the time slot she blocked out to call her sister.

♞Part of her scholarship is working in surrounding communities at recreation centers to encourage kids to get active. She thinks it's stupid at first, but eventually she finds out that she enjoys working with kids. They are constantly in awe of her, constantly asking her to give them piggyback rides or toss them around a bit, but they also deeply admire her. It's not a foreign feeling for her to be looked up to, but it's one she hasn't felt in a long time. She always wants to be better, and they make her feel like she's moving in the right direction.

♞She wouldn't start talking to you right away. Contrary to popular belief, Vi isn't super popular with the ladies. She is much quieter, she likes to keep to herself. She only sparks a conversation with you to ask what you got on the last test because she didn't do all that great and wanted a study partner. She likes being your seatmate a lot. You're just so nice. You're the first to offer a pencil if you need it, you keep sweet-scented hand sanitizer in your bag and soft tissues which she almost feels bad about how many she steals when her allergies hit in the spring.

♞Finals season is going back and forth from the library and her fancy athlete dorm after it closes to study for finals, both of you running on an ungodly amount of energy drinks and two hours of sleep, some nights you fall asleep on her shoulder when even the pale light of your laptop screens can no longer keep you awake. She freezes every time, not wanting to move you but also wanting you to be comfortable, slowing her typing to a gentle pace before giving up entirely and falling asleep herself. You wake up to Vi's earsplitting snores, low music still playing from her speaker, the tv shifting hours ago from bright cartoons to some live action sitcom from decades ago. You debate on leaving, but the buses are no longer running, and she drives you herself, stranding you at her dorm in her large comfy bed where you willingly lay yourself back into her arms.

♞Her teammates definitely know about her crush on you. Anytime you come to their practices or walk her to them, she has a pep in her step and a smirk on her face the whole time. She swears she's not that obvious, but she talks about you constantly and the mere mention of your name has her scrambling. She is a show-off during practices, maybe playing a bit too hard as she slides onto bases in her already ratty sweatpants.

♞She would ask you out at one of their games. She's not big on super big and showy public confessions, so she wouldn't have you guys on the jumbotron or announced by the commentators, but after the game she would catch you in the crowd and ask her to be your girlfriend. Your first date would be to dinner after the game because she is absolutely starving, but she does pay for both of your meals.

★Ekko★

★Ekko, like Vi, would be at university on a scholarship, though one for engineering or something STEM related. He's there to pursue some sort of STEM degree but he abuses the fuck out of gen-ed classes. He absolutely loves being able to take a variety of different classes and different disciplines. He's done some culinary work, some studio art classes, some music theory. He has so many interests and he is determined to get the best out of the experience.

★While his nose isn't always stuck in a book, he's always working on something. His dorm is a mess of papers, his clothes are strewn around the floor, and he probably isn't even there because he's in a lab or in workshop or in the grocery store because he finally got tired of ramen noodles. It's a good thing the university offered co-ed dorms because no one else would be able to put up with him but Jinx, though the second she rolls her ankle after stepping on one of his shoes she has half the mind to burn all his stuff.

★Their dorm room is quite nice. They're the type that have led lights and posters all over the walls, those fake vine things hanging over his bed. The lights are always low in there, they forget about the ceiling light because they use their desk lamps so much. They don't have the nicest things, him and Jinx splitting one fridge and one microwave and maybe a snack cart, but they would have a comfy bean bag chair in there.

★He would get noticed around campus because he skateboards to class and wears cool outfits. The university social media has a page dedicated to OOTDs that he run's and it gets pretty popular. He isn't in a bunch of clubs, I think he would stick to one or maybe two. Of any of them, he would be involved in whatever social justice club they have, and while only a freshman, his passion gets him on the administrative team for communication and outreach. He is a master at Canva and is seen all across campus putting up fliers

★He is a D1 procrastinator which is ironic because he is always stressed. The only motivation he needs is the weight of all the work he has to do on his chest eventually being released and actually feeling like he can breathe.

★Ekko...with a belly button piercing...yes. He would have a few other piercings besides his bellybutton, including a daith, tragus, cartilage, and the first and second on his lobe. He prefers gold jewelry to silver and wears a lot of crop tops to show off the piercing. He takes terrible care of them because he refuses to buy the saline solution and raw dogs it with some soap and water and he hasn't had any reject yet.

★He would be a TA for Heimerdinger in grad school and would hang around his office a lot. A very chaotic lecturer in his recitation sections. He gets to the room a solid hour or two early to work on his dissertation and when class starts, he hops from topic to topic. He loves that chalkboard, he's all over it. He also likes coming to class in nice suits like the one he was in the alternate universe.

★You and him would meet after he bumped into you on his skateboard. He had been replying to an email on his way to class and you had been trying to catch up on the reading you were supposed to have done a week ago and you walked right into him, knocking the phones out of both of your hands and sending the skateboard rolling until it hit a bench. You both scramble to apologize, and as he offers you a ringed hand to help you off the ground, you go back and forth claiming it was completely your fault and not the others. He remembers you after that, partially because you hit the ground pretty hard and he's scared he gave you a concussion, and partially because he thought you were gorgeous.

★He would keep noticing you around campus and Jinx would bully him into saying something to you after the umpteenth time of telling you how cute you looked in that outfit today and how locked in you were at the library and how he wants help finding your insta so he can stalk you. All you see one day at the dining hall is a very confused Ekko with a very annoyed Jinx behind him pushing him your way and leaving quickly. You had been eating alone, laptop sat beside your half empty plate, your blue light glasses laying down on your nose in hopes of protecting you from going blind at thirty from how much time you spend staring at your laptop. Conversation is extremely slow at first, but when you two find your rhythm, he builds the courage to ask for your number.

★Lots of movie nights in his or your dorm or one of the lounges in your building while you do his retwists. Be warned, he is very tender headed and can't sit still to save his life, so you keep having to tap him with the comb and tell him to stop jerking before the parts come out wonky. Also, dye and detox days!!! He complains about his neck hurting while he's bent over the sink, but the feel of your hands in his scalp makes it bearable. You're confined inside as the dye penetrates beneath some plastic bag from under the sink and end up playing a game on the console he brought from home.

❂Jayce❂

❂Though he started high school playing football, and was quite good at it, he does quit the team when Vi does. He was never a really big sports guy, though the gym teacher never stopped pestering him to join the team again. He was always far more interested in science. He went through all the phases as a kid, being obsessed with dinosaurs since he was three, then space up until he hit like 8th grade when he was first introduced to the concept of chemistry and liked the idea of blowing shit up. He had the coolest science fair projects and won like every one of them. Rather than being the kid who told his mom about it the night before, he had the date marked on his calendar and preplans what he wants to do for the year

❂All this being said, he gets offered a scholarship to go to a nice university despite not being in the same state of financial despair that Vi and Ekko were in. While some of the extra money goes towards his dorm, he does put a lot of it towards the club he's in, something like STEM Students for Change. He offers to fund the outreach meetings, the occasional events they put on, and renting tabling spaces.

❂He keeps to himself pretty often. He's not the biggest fan of having to do the big speaking stuff in his club, he's far more interested in being able to do the work behind the scenes. He's always been the type to be upset by non-academic attention, never one put much effort into getting a romantic partner. He's also not a big party guy, only going out at the request of a friend, and spends a lot of his time either in his dorm, one of the libraries, or one of the labs.

❂Very scatterbrained. He doesn't get anything done without his notebook which he takes with him everywhere and is full of scribbles of notes and things he needs to get done for the day. He is also the type to neglect doing basic human things, like eating, especially if it's not in his schedule. It's a cycle of "ok, if I finish a page of this paper then I'll go get a snack" which devolves into "I finished this page sooner than expected, I might as well keep going until 2:30" and then "I'm still not at a good stopping point, I'm gonna finish off this page" until he finishes the entire thing. Sometimes by that point his hunger is forgotten about, and he moves onto something else.

❂He abuses the fuck out of office hours. He is not afraid to send an email or just drop by anyone's office. He builds a great repertoire with his professor which is convenient later when he's getting tons of internship offers through recommendations and getting accepted into his major. He is also a registration warrior. Before his time, he's already been set up at his laptop for at least an hour perfecting his schedule making sure he gets all the classes he needs. He once had a nervous breakdown fall semester of his sophomore year because all the classes he needed were full by the time it was his turn to register. It was the worst semester of his life.

❂He constantly has a huge water bottle on him. Not nearly as big as Vi's, but still large and metal enough to knock someone out if he tried hard enough. He's also the first guy to set off the fire alarm in the residence hall while making popcorn. He swears up and down it wasn't his fault, which isn't entirely false because the alarm was sensitive and too close to the appliances, but he did burn the shit out of it and had to throw it out on his walk of shame.

❂You two would first interact at a party he dragged his friend to after his friend abandoned him and he got lost in the sea of people. He made the mistake of going out on Halloweekend, thinking that 11 would be early enough to party before the unruliness began but he was sadly mistaken. You had been with your friends having a grand time, slightly backed into the wall where he was, trying your hardest to dance without pressing against him too much. He only remembered your face because of the sheer number of times you looked back to apologize, feeling extra bad because of the blush on his face and how hard he was trying to keep his composure. You were clearly having fun in your very low cut and short costume and your eyes were sparkly and you ass was pressed so thoroughly onto his dick he almost passed out from how overwhelmed he was anytime you moved to whatever song was playing.

❂The next day in class, he notices you towards the back of the room, giggling at whatever on your phone and before he knows it, he's putting one foot in front of the other and sitting next to you. Like him, you were someone who liked to be early to guarantee your seat, so he had plenty of time to talk to you, embarrassed that your first impression of him had been the "awkward guy at the party".

❂Many of your dates would be study dates. He is quick with booking study rooms, making sure to throw a bunch of dry erase markers and abuse the hell out of those white boards while you pack a few snacks in your tote bag, so he makes sure to eat. You usually finish your work before he does, playing games on your laptop while snapping a few pictures of him as he slowly goes insane. Markings are all over the walls in every color of the rainbow by the time you two take a break, sliding over to sit in his lap as you two scroll on your phone with your head on his shoulder.

❂He does not have a lofted bed, which is great because you two fuck in his room constantly. He's very lucky to live in an apartment style dorm because Viktor would be pissed constantly being kicked out of his own room. It's his motivation for getting through his days. It used to be a sweet treat from the dining hall, but he hit it once and decided that pussy was just way better (I will be dropping a smut fic with this concept as my treat for getting through my exams)

☽Viktor☾

☽He was very picky with what college he went to. He did a lot of research beforehand. He was very confident that schools would be throwing money at him and planned on being very selective on whose money he took. He was looking at facilities, faculty, Rate My Professor, any measurement of a school's worth was being analyzed before he even thought of applying.

☽As mentioned above, he rooms with Jayce and likes to hit him with his cane when he tries to pick shit up for him or open the door. It becomes second nature at a certain point, he doesn't see it coming and only feels the impact. He loves to embarrass him. Their majors align pretty exactly and they take a lot of the same classes and any time he so much as lets the door close on Viktor its "Wow, I can't believe such a flagrant display of ableism! You really couldn't hold the door open for me?" and Jayce gets red, desperately trying to explain he gets thwacked with a cane every other time he opens the door for him.

☽He brings nothing to class but a pen and a notebook. Not even like a spiral 5 subject one, but one of those 50 cents marbled composition books. He does have a laptop, a very nice one at that, but it hardly ever leaves the dorm. He staunchly prefers physical notetaking to digital and slightly judges those who take notes on things like IPads. He just thinks it's unnecessary and often becomes a distraction. Jayce tries to convert him Viktor's gets firmer in his position after noticing everyone desert notetaking to play games or look at clothes after like the third week

☽While also an office hour abuser, he does prefer a zoom meeting if he can snag it. He's not one to drop by just to say hello, he wants a good relationship with them but he's not trying to get invited to Christmas. He also never forgets to do those course evals and give them a rating on Rate My Professor. There is nothing he hates more than a professor who doesn't give rubrics. That is his biggest pet peeve. That and someone who can't lecture, instead going on random tangents that barely relate back to the course material.

☽His go-to study music classical music. He’s particularly fond of Tchaikovsky, his go-to ballet to listen to being Sleeping Beauty. During the fall months he usually goes for Dracula and during the winter either Nutcracker or Coppelia. He's a fan of instrumental music in general as on the flip side of this are playlists full of the Minecraft or Undertale soundtracks.

☽A lanyard warrior. He is not someone who can just slide his keys in his bag, especially since he doesn't usually carry one around. He can't just carry them around because he will set them down somewhere and forget them and those replacement fees are like a couple hundred dollars. When he does carry a bag though, it's one of those nice leather messenger bags that he thrifted. Speaking of which, his brightness would be so low. He's not even hiding anything and it's a miracle he can even read anything on the screen. He also is someone who uses blue-light glasses when on his phone or laptop, which is part of the reason both are so dim. You are on his lockscreen and home screen on all of his devices, though.

☽He would be so good at proofreading anything you needed him to. While definitely a STEM major, he would also be a grammar stickler and is part of the dying breed of people who actually know how to write a paper without Chat GPT or AI. He would HATE all kinds of stuff like that. Slightly off topic, but he loves sharing all stupid discussions posts he has to do for class. He loves laughing at some of the idiots who say the wildest things, so wild that no one else in the class even wants to respond. He'd also be the type to develop favorite classmates through how they respond and only respond to those.

☽He has some sort of earbuds in his ears everywhere he goes. It's always either headphones or wired earbuds. He would hate the wireless ones after the one time he tried them, and they kept falling out of his ear and it was too much of a hassle having to repeatedly bend down to get them. He likes the noise cancelling ones too, he is impossible to bother when he's using them.

☽For his gen-eds, I can see him getting into film or maybe history. History because he's always had a minute interest in it. He's never been a big war buff, his niche was probably more aligned with the classics. I think he would be fascinated with ancient Greece and Rome. As for film, I can see that being something he decided to take for the fuck of it but then realized he was very interested. Maybe not a rom-com or film bro kinda guy, he would be interested in super niche, campy films. He would like wackier, more experimental stuff

☽He would meet you at some film screening he's going to for extra credit in one of his classes. You showed up because the showing just so happened to be one of your favorite movies. The extra credit was just for showing up, it was also for attending the trivia session after the screening with the points depending on how many questions you could get right and since you both had gone alone and had ended up sitting next to each other and he had already decided you were gorgeous, he decided to ask you to be his partner. He felt a little bad being carried through the competition by you, but you were so excited to just share all the fun facts you knew that he decided he could live with it.

☽You actually ask him for his number after the fact, suggesting you two do a few more movie nights together, trading off week after week showing each other your favorite movies. Though he is very busy, with all his internships, class work, and studying he usually has to do, he happily finds a way to slide you into his schedule. He treats it as his reward for getting through the week. You'd also go on a lot of coffee shop dates. He knows all the nice quiet spots around campus.

☼Mel☼

☼She is another one who has been planning for college since forever. She has had vision boards for which school she wants to go to, what job she wants to have, understanding the admissions process, what classes she'll need to take at her university of choice to graduate most efficiently, has all been written in a journal since she was in high school

☼She is very organized. I totally see as someone who has all of her class notebooks color coded, definitely uses Midliners, has those nice Pilot G2 pens, the whole nine yards. She was also particular about how her dorm was put together. Her and her roommate coordinated on a color theme, and they have like the dream dorm. They have a big TV, an air fryer, a microwave, a fridge with a freezer, an oil diffuser. Any nice thing you can fit in a dorm is in there

☼She is in like every club ever. Involved in the black student organizations, probably in a sorority (I think she'd be an AKA but that's only because I love them), clubs relating to her political science major, and other fun ones like art clubs, maybe debate club too. She'd also be one of those girls that everyone knows on campus because she's so everywhere. She's the people's princess, that one girl you see everywhere surrounded by friends who looks really nice but you're kinda scared to talk to her.

☼She types really fast. It's something she got really good at back in middle school when she got bored after finishing all her work super early and played a bunch of those typing games until she got really good at typing. Because of this, she is someone who can knock out a paper in like one sitting. I do think she'd need an outline or draft, a notebook by her side containing her notes on her sources and a reminder of the thesis she's arguing, but she could knock it out in less than 2 hours

☼I wouldn't call her a party animal, but I do think she likes to go out. Maybe not to the club but a frat party, one thrown by one of the D9 to be more specific. She brought her car to campus and is usually the designated drivers. She only really drinks fancier alcohol, she's not a beer or cheap vodka fan at all, and that's usually all you can get at parties. She doesn't go to get drunk or hookup with anybody, usually just because she got tired of being an academic weapon all day.

☼She gets a call from her mom usually once a week, usually at the same time, likely because Ambessa has that time schedule out to call her. It's super matter of fact, how are the grades looking, what is she doing in her clubs, has she gotten any internships yet. If she's feeling sappy, she does tell her that she's proud of her. Mel didn't love living with her mom, who put a lot of effort into distancing herself from Mel. She knew that she could handle herself and what she wanted, but she didn't know how she felt about Mel wanting something different out of life than her. Mel thoroughly loves her time away from her mother, but she does look forward to these phone calls.

☼I also think she'd be someone who has a secret pet, but it's just a stray cat that lingers around her building that she fed until it got attached. She does one day scoop it up to the nearest vet to make sure it doesn't have rabies and hides it in the dorm during the winter months to give it shelter from the cold. She doesn't name it because she doesn't want to get attached, especially since there's a likelihood that one day it may never come back to her, but when it starts perking up to the little pet names she's given it, she's already too far gone.

☼She is also someone who is quick to book a study room at the library. She doesn't do that well in her dorm. It's too comfy and her bed is right there, and she sets closer goal posts so that she can justify taking a nap. She's exhausted with all she's doing. Because of this, towards the end of the semester she is on main campus a lot trying to get all these essays done.

☼She is a very active participant in class! I think gen-eds would be pretty women and gender studies and African American studies heavy, with a few econ classes sprinkled in as well. Though she's not going into a math related field, she was always incredibly good at it. She could've majored in either the humanities or STEM and would've always done well. She is unfortunately the annoying person getting 100s on the exams and getting rid of the curve

☼Like Jayce, I think she would also meet you at a party. Being far more introverted than she was, you would hang around in a corner, checking your phone for emails. It was early and the party had yet to pick up, meaning everybody had coagulated in certain spaces on the floor, talking and too scared to dance to the music because there was too much room to be perceived. You obviously knew who she was and looked at her a few times, putting in a lot of effort to avoid her gaze when she notices yours. She would eventually walk over to you, red solo cup filled with water she grabbed from the fridge. She obviously knew who was throwing, knew them well enough to dig through their kitchen for a non-alcoholic beverage.

☼She would make small talk with you, asking if you had ever been to one of these parties before, especially since she hadn't really seen you here before. You two end up talking for hours against the wall, her head resting against the wall, not realizing her pupils dilate as you explain to her the chain of events that got you here, the long day of studying you just had, and damn finals are right around the corner and you just needed a break. Earlier than she would typically leave, she gets tired of the noise obscuring your voice and offers to drive you around for a bit. You two end up sitting in a McDonalds parking lot talking over an abandoned pack of medium fries. You two exchange numbers and talk like all the time before she asks you on a for real date.

☼Though you feel a tad bad about it, she loves being your chauffer. You wanna go on a 3 a.m run to some chicken place; she is already on the way as soon as you send the text. She's very quick to do a quick drive by to pick you up so she can show you off at a party. Also, though she can throw it, she prefers to catch it.

☼She is the perfect study buddy. She prefers studying with flashcards and pops a little Ferrero Rocher for every 20 terms she gets correct. With you there, it's even better. She gets a kiss for every right answer which is like infinitely better.