#i am totally going to remind them of this when they get to that part in the novel

[uncanny-tranny]

For Trans Thursday:

I have just recently started to love the size of my areolas after top surgery. I'm 6 years post op. I always thought they were too small, Oddly shaped, and only one nipple will get hard.

Now I am in love with my chest, my scars, my nipples and areolas. Every time I take my shirt off I cannot help but look at my chest. I spend so much of my life being uncomfortable with both pre-op and post-op and I'm finally free.

Genuinely, pre-op and post-op chests are all so beautiful and I adore when people show off their chests because it's fucking hard to do sometimes. It's so nice to see people with all kinds of chests and bodies just existing, it's a nice reminder that we will always be varied and will always be here

[deadsetobsessions]

“I ate paint once,” Danny nonchalantly threw out in the middle of game night.

The entire table stopped. Heads whipped towards Danny.

“Yeah, me too. Cardamom yellow was my favorite. Ugly as hell but the chemicals just tasted right.” Tim replied, using the distraction to nab some of Bruce’s money. Monopoly money, that is. Everyone’s heads snapped towards Tim, only Cass and Danny (who was part of the scheme) caught him cheating.

“Really? I think mine was those spray can blue cosmos paint. But that might have been more my thing for space than the actual taste.”

“WHY WERE YOU EATING PAINT?!” Dick asked, looking like he wanted to lunge over the table and shake Danny until he puked out paint. Bruce looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

“Yeah, what the fuck, Tim?” Jason snickered.

“In my defense,” Danny grinned. “I was left unsupervised. Also, Steph, you owe me $24 in rent.”

“Ugh! I’m almost out of money! Can’t you loan me some, Alfred?”

“I am sorry, Miss Stephanie, you are not qualified for another loan. In fact, one of your properties is about to be confiscated as per the collateral agreement.”

“Noooo!” Stephanie made dramatic dying noises.

“What was your excuse, Timothy?” Damian asked, eyes glued to the board and determined to win the game.

“Hey, I was probably less supervised than Danny was.”

“Yeah,” Danny perked up. “My parents brought us down to their lab all of the time. Taught us a lot of stuff.”

“Really? Like what?” Duke asked, casually slapping away Tim’s sneaky hands.

“Oh, like what a rocket launcher sounded like up close! And how to build a laser gun! Oh! And what human organs looked like when they’re fresh!” Danny chirped, collecting his money from a stunned Stephanie’s hands. He looked up.

“Oh, don’t worry! I at least learned what not to do when it comes to lab safety. And we wore hazmat suits to protect ourselves from the radiation.” Danny smiled in a ditzy fashion as the table fell silent in a horrified manner. Cass tapped his arm amusedly, but allowed his bullshit to stand. After all, it’s not like he lied.

“Radiation?” Duck’s voice raised a couple of octaves. Oh yeah, Danny’s going to laugh about that pitch for a long while.

“Organs?!” Jason’s hands closed around the plastic house he was holding rather forcefully.

“Do you even know what basic lab safety practices are, Danny?” Damian demanded, finally looking up with brows furrowed. He rolled the dice and grabbed a mystery card. He gets $100 from Alfred.

“How old were you??” Duke asked.

“Like… 8, when they first brought me in?”

“Eight.” Bruce rumbled, slipping into a more Batman like persona. When Danny sent him a confused look, Bruce straightened back into his Bruce persona. “Wow, they must have trusted you a lot!”

“Sure?”

“What were their names again?” Stephanie asked sweetly, Cass nodding at him.

“Jack and Maddie Fenton.” Not that they’ll find them here, considering his parents are dead and in another universe.

“Cool, cool, cool!” Stephanie blinked, beaming as her hands formed lethal fists underneath the table.

Danny blinked and tilted his head in an unassuming way, pretending like he had no idea what Stephanie was thinking of. He sneakily handed over $600 to Cass in order to complete his monopoly on his side of the board.

Danny stood up and spread his hands out, one hand clutching his new found victory.

"Well, lady and gents, you've all been floundering against the inevitable tide of capitalism. I am here, as a reminder that you can never win against the hopelessness that will be your financial ruin! I, Danny Fenton, have obtained a quarter of the board and therefore have won against even your best efforts!" He cackled, holding up his fan of properties triumphantly. He shot a mischievous grin at Cass, who held up a solemn thumbs up in support for his monetary takeover.

"... Danny, are you... planning on a career in villainy?" Bruce asked, after a brief and total wave of shocked silence. Damian looked like he was having a conniption at having been bested, unknowingly. Yeah, Danny was disarming like that.

"Yeah, that was concerning." Tim piped up, nabbing a ten from a shell-shocked Damian.

"Hey! The Riddler gives surprisingly good monologues! And he's really loud, so it's hard not to pick up on things. Duke, your turn." Danny sat back down, pouting. The villainy comment was a little too close to his fears.

"Damn it." Duke, who had rolled, landed smack middle of Danny's territory. He handed over a sheaf of bills to a grinning Danny.

"Wait a minute! You have cheated!" Damian bolted upwards from his seat, finally done running through the purchases he remembered Danny making. "You acquired that property not within the games' rules!"

"Okay, first of all, the rule book is a suggestion, like lab safety rules," Danny saw the others open their mouths to protest, but he quickly shut it down. "Second, there's totally no rules about selling and buying places from a private owner so suck on it. And thirdly? Cass sold it to me, so you all can take it up with her."

"Diabolical!" Damian muttered indignantly.

"... Dammit." Dick sighed, falling back into the chair and balancing on its two legs. He couldn't say anything, considering his current of bankruptcy.

"Danny. Danny, I'll buy a property from you." Jason said, eyeing one of Danny's other properties near his own cluster.

"What do you have that would interest me?" Danny asked, falling back into his Vlad-like imitation.

"Ew, don't do that," Steph reached over to jab him in the arm.

"Yeah, Jason, what do you have?" Duke said, the lovely subtle instigator that he is.

"Red Hood's signature."

The others blue-screen, gaping at the actual audacity Jason had to offer up something that would take him no effort. Danny, prepared with a poker face that came with lying straight to Jazz's ever perceptive eyes about whether he nabbed the last of her ice cream or not, was prepared.

"Red Hood? The condom guy working out of the... um. Upper East Side?" Danny asked, pretending to hesitate. He knows where Jason operated. That doesn't mean he couldn't simply pretend otherwise. For science, of course.

...

...

...

The table howled with laughter, Jason's indignant spluttering unable to say anything against Danny's wide eyed look of innocence. Cass leaned against the table, chuckles falling out of her mouth and eyes crinkled in mirth. Dick had fallen out of his chair, helplessly wheezing on the floor. Duke is hiding his face in his hands, mirroring Bruce's pose as they both shake from silent laughter. Damian is smirking, wicked and sharp as he smugly stared at Jason. Stephanie and Tim are leaning against each other, repeating "the CONDOM GUY" in alternating and increasingly louder voices. Alfred had a smile on his face and a tight grip on the bills in front of him that betrayed his amusement.

"He's a crime lord!" Jason exclaimed, indignant.

"Uh, okay. Well, I mean, why would I want a crime lord's signature? I don't want to be on his radar. Or echolocation or whatever. He's... a Bat, right? That's what you guys call that group, yeah?"

"How do you know the Rogues better than the vigilantes?!" Jason glared at his unhelpful family. Those assholes better prepare for a load of rubber bullets the next time they're on patrol near Crime Alley.

"Hey, it's not my fault the vigilantes here are unsociable. Maybe if they monologued more, I'd know who they are."

"Wouldn't- wouldn't that make them more villain like?" Tim asked, stuttering from his laughter.

"I dunno?" Danny replied, enjoying his the family's unabashed joy. "I mean, they're pretty legit and they help people already so I guess they don't need to be sociable... but still I swear I haven't heard anything about Batman other than that he grunts and is mean towards criminals."

Is mean towards criminals, Duke mouthed at a recovering Dick who was in the process of heaving himself back up. It sent him careening back down to the floor with restrained giggles. Cass tapped Danny, reminding him to eat some food.

"Tt. Of course not. They're efficient at their jobs and have no need to be seen as welcoming to criminals." Damian puffed up.

"Yeah, but they've gotta feel safe, right?" Danny shrugged as he plucked a cookie from the cookie platter. "The... one with the sword, what was it?"

"Robin." Damian supplied, eyes narrowed and trained on him.

"Yeah, the baby bird. The kids think his swords are cool so they trust him. But like, the others? The flippy blue one? Not so much."

"Wait," Dick said from the floor. "They don't trust Nightwing?"

"Nah, they trust him to protect them, but he has a history of bringing the kids to the police, you know?"

"What's wrong with that?"

Danny shrugged. "ACAB. But also because everybody knows that half the guys in the GCPD and CPS are child traffickers."

"Wait, what?" Jason and Tim straightened.

Bruce piped in, the emotional whiplash of amusement to concern to amusement to concern visibly making itself known on the man's baffled face. "I thought Batman and Commissioner Gordon took care of that?"

"Sure, the obvious ones." Danny hesitated. Well, he's pretty sure they think he's a meta so... "There's... a meta trafficking ring that they're a part of. That's. That's kind of what I was running from."

Danny looked up pleadingly. Cass placed a hand on his arm in comfort, not knowing that he was fibbing about running from them.

Danny was on the streets helping his own Alley metas to run from them.

Danny is as feral as she was, and that meant he could hide just as much as she could read off of him. Cass was the best and he felt kind of bad about lying to her, successfully or not.

"Uh. Some people said you know Batman, Bruce. I know- uh, that might not be the case but if you do, could you ask him to look into it?" Danny made his eyes tear up. "And maybe he wouldn't care about me much, I mean, I know he doesn't really like metas but if he helps out, I could totally like, leave the city once the kids are safe, promise."

Ooh, Danny put a little too much sincerity into that. He could practically hear the hearts breaking in the game room as everyone glared at Bruce.

"You won't have to leave."

"... Promise?" And Danny's voice was a little too desperate, too hopeful, because Bruce's eyes tugged down in sadness.

"Promise." He rumbled, all Bruce Wayne and all Batman. Danny's core warmed. Danny also saw the rest of the family's faces darken in pure agreement. And partial wrath.

"Yeah! We'll kick Batman's ass if he even thought about kicking you out!" Stephanie proclaimed.

"He's far more proficient in combat than you are, Brown." Damian immediately leapt to Batman's defense and that was that.

Well, later, as Danny was "sleeping" and Phantom was hovering in the cave, invisible and intangible, he got confirmation that his Alley meta kids were going to be safe, soon.

After all, the entire Batclan was suiting up and baying for blood, with Oracle's all encompassing presence behind them, fingers reaching for their enemies' weak points.

[goingdownondaisuke]

Can you write the tuplar crew with a s/o who can't control their volume in bed (🔞 nsfw)

ofc ofc!! thank u for ur request lovely anon!

(afab reader, she/her pronouns, nsfw under the cut!!)

anya ۶ৎ

gets very flustered when you won't shut the hell up

esp on the tulpar, will try to gently remind you to stay quiet while she's beneath you

and if that doesn't work, she'll slap her hand over your mouth and finger you a bit more roughly

its a bit different when you're riding her face, however

like before, she'll give you a small warning by squeezing your waist

and if you're still loud, she'll dig her long nails into your hips and thrust her tongue into you

...which is kinda counterintuitive but oh well

now, if you two are on earth and in the comfort of your shared home, make all the noise you want!!

she totally gets off to it

'no way im making someone as beautiful as her feel this good...'

"hey, shhh, keep it down a bit, yeah?"

curly ۶ৎ

regardless of whether or not you're typically loud during sex, you're going to be loud w curly, because man is he BIG

he knows you're gonna be loud so he usually fucks you in the cockpit or utility room, where it's a bit more soundproof

but of course he's gonna ask you to quiet down regardless bc who knows who could be lurking??!

he'll either tell you to bite your hand, cover your mouth, or he'll rip off your panties and shove them into your mouth

none of them work

for the rare times he'll take you in his room, he always has you face down and screaming into the pillows

he wants to see ur pretty little face scrunched up in the most blissful expressions, but goddamn he just dicks you down too well

a small (huge) part of him really just wants to fuck you anywhere and let everyone hear you scream his name

"fuck, princess, that feel real good, yeah?"

"god, so loud y/n."

daisuke ۶ৎ

it just swells his ego, tbh

he's just like, "wow, i'm making her make these sounds?!"

so cute

of course, he still wants you to hush, but isn't sure how to get you to without being mean

he'll try to be as sweet as possible, he'll run his hand up and down your waist or press his thumb to your lips while whispering little praises in you ear

"you feel so good, but please keep it down before we get caught!"

starts to get a little scared when you keep moaning and squealing at an excessive volume, genuinely has no idea what to do 😭

like curly, will also try to take you to more closed off places, mainly the utility room because it's not odd for him to be in there anyway

it's hilarious how panicked he gets when you two are fucking, one time he took off his hawaiian shirt and shoved it into your mouth

and surprisingly it did the job!!!!

"am i doing good? i must be..."

jimmy ۶ৎ

he totally gets off to it

so much so that he won't even do anything, he'll just let you scream

it happens so often that curly has to talk to the two of you about your volume

he even separated you two for a day, not like that was gonna do anything beneficial

like daisuke, but on a way worse level, it inflates his ego to no end

you'll be moaning loud as fuck and he's just there grinning in your face

he's not very used to women actually enjoying his dick as much as you do, they're typically just cheap whores or girls he's taken advantage of

but you?? coming and clamping around his cock as you moan into the air?? without being forced??

it makes him come like a thousand times quicker

"ooh, you like that dick? i know you do."

"yeah, let everyone else know who's pussy this is."

swansea ۶ৎ

he knows how to deal with youngins like you, after all, he has tons of experience from his wife

he gives your ass harsh smacks when you don't hush, and if that doesn't work he'll pull his thick cock out of you and chastise you while smacking it on your cunt

he's definitely a pussy slapper/clit pincher

orgasm denial orgasm denial orgasm denial

will also just straight up slap the fuck outta you if you keep on

he's so mean i kinda need him

he literally doesn't understand you, its so easy to shut up to him

prefers to have you ass up face down so you can make all that noise onto whatever surface he's fucking you on

dw he's super sweet afterwards, will gives you kisses all over and whisper praise and hdjidissk

"damn woman, can't be that good..."

"make a noise like that again and i'll leave you high and dry young lady."

[salvieslovenotes]

Blame it on the sun pt.1

summary: you and Vi have been best friends for years, which is fine, only you also happen to be a teensy bit in love with her. You're handling it, except a road-trip and a week at the beach might just prove to be the tipping point... pairing: fem!reader x vi (arcane) contains: modern!au, collage!au, road-trip/beach!au, friends to lovers. 2k a/n: i haven't written before so please be gentle! this is a part one, where i am it's super sunny and i was at the beach and suddenly thought about a vi beach au and wrote this in my notes app. sorry not proofread! might do part two/three soon xox

‘Say it again,’ Caitlyn instructs.

You sigh, exasperated. ‘Cait, this so isn't gonna work.’

‘It is!’ Caitlyn insists. It's hard to take her seriously from where she's seated on her yoga mat, in the lotus position and glaring you with a determined gleam in her eye. ‘This is your mantra. You're pulling in all the strong, independent energy. Go on! Say it!’

‘This is ridiculous.’

‘Say it!’

‘I am sexy and fearless,’ you say, giving Caitlyn a flat look.

‘And…’ Caitlyn prompts.

You huff another sigh. ‘And I will not spend the whole week pining after Violet.’

‘You won’t,’ Caitlyn affirms. ‘You're too good for that.’ Her smile turns soft. ‘Just relax and have a brilliant time.’

Caitlyn, your college roommate, really is the most patient woman on the planet, and who's been subjected to more than a few of your Vi-related rants. You and Caitlyn aren’t in any classes together but met at pilates, and she's been the best roommate you've ever had. She’s also the only person who knows how you feel about Vi.

It's just... you needed to tell someone. You and Vi have been best fiends for years, since you were small. You grew up together, went to school together, moved away to college together, have the same group of friends. You played in each other’s paddling pools at three years old for god’s sake.

Right now you're waiting for her and your friends to pick you up, and then you're all going to spend a week of summer break on the coast.

You love Vi, of course you do. Only the tiny, totally insignificant problem is that you're also in love with her.

It's fine. You can totally handle this. You have your mantra and everything.

It's not like you haven't tried to get over the way you feel. At first it was just a little crush. So, when your first high school boyfriend asked you out, you said yes. And you liked him, you really, really did.

But your feelings for Vi didn't go away... they just stayed. They just got stronger. But you're best friends, and she doesn't feel the same. You're friends. So you've become excellent at shoving your feelings down, excellent at dating around here and there, excellent at swallowing your jealousy when Vi has another hookup.

She's never dated seriously, but, as captain of the university’s football team, people know who she is. Unfortunately, being on the cheerleading squad, you get to hear just what the girls think of her. Just how they pine for her after a hook up. It's irritating, them always asking you if she's mentioned them, if she's interested. But you've got this. You accept every few of the dates you get asked on, hoping that maybe this time it'll work. That they'll make you forget Vi.

Only they never do.

You're starting to think maybe no one will.

But you're good—you're excellent at pretending. If you happen to slip up and moan to Caitlyn about it then so what. That's what roommates are for. You always make Caitlyn’s on-again-off-again girlfriend, Maddie, pancakes in the morning when Caitlyn is sleeping in.

‘You'll be fine,’ Caitlyn reminds you, eyes soft. ‘Give me a call if you wanna moan. Or put on that little thing that can barely be called a skirt I know you’ve packed, make the whole club want you and she'll regret her whole life.’

‘Ha ha,’ you snort. Vi won't obviously, but Caitlyn’s gentle teasing makes you smile all the same.

There's a loud beep of a car horn from outside.

‘Oh. Guess that's me.’ You grab your bag, swinging the strap over your shoulder and looking around, trying to think if you've forgotten anything.

‘Suncream?’ asks Caitlyn, moving into downward dog with practiced ease. ‘Second bikini? Book? Rose quartz? Passport?’

‘Passport?’ you echo, distracted, checking your bag for the millionth time. There's another loud honk from outside. ‘But we're not leaving the country…?’

Caitlyn makes a shrugging movement. It looks funny from her current position. ‘You never know. Prepare for anything.’

‘Right,’ you laugh, but grab your passport just in case on your way out, calling, ‘bye love!’

‘Remember your mantra!’ Caitlyn yells just as you slam the door of your little flat.

Hurrying down the steps, you find Vi's beaten-up red jeep idling in the middle of the street.

She's twisted around in her seat as you pull open the door, arguing over music with Ekko, Claggor and Mylo, your friends you met at uni. Powder got a scholarship to Oxford for chemical engineering, and so you only see her over the long Christmas break, but you all call often.

‘What's wrong with Sabrina?’ Claggor asks defensively. He's going through a current obsession - his music tastes change weekly based on the girl he's sweet on at the time. Right now, it's Sabrina Carpenter. Juno has been on repeat.

‘Not again,’ groans Ekko. ‘Hey,’ he adds, nodding at you as you drop your bag on the floor of the front seat and swing in next to Violet. ‘Tell him, would you?’

‘I like Juno,’ you shrug, grinning

Ekko groans again, tossing his hands up as Claggor lets out a triumphant ha!

‘It’s good!’ you laugh as Vi makes a loud scoffing noise. It makes you smile; you happen to know Sabrina occupies a significant portion of her workout playlist.  

Something clenches in your chest at the sight of her. She looks unfairly good, wearing a singlet that shows off her tattoos and arms. Around her neck she's wearing a necklace you brought back for her from holiday one time; it's got a mother-of-pearl pendant, and the slightly crazy lady who sold it to you said it carried protective power from giver to receiver.

‘So I’ll be protecting you always,’ you'd said as you gave it to Vi, laughing. It had been a joke, obviously, but her voice was soft as she thanked you. And she hasn't taken it off since. Not once.

Apparently, one time she had a fit before a game when the clasp broke and it fell without her noticing. Ekko, who's also on the team, told you with a funny expression you couldn't decipher that Vi refused to play until she found it.

‘I suppose everyone has funny pregame rituals,’ you shrugged it off. Tying left shoelaces before right, tapping their locker three times.

Still, it makes your heart kick a little faster every time you see the necklace on her.

‘Damn Princess, way to make us all suffer,’ she says, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. It’s an old nickname, left over from the Princess-themed sixth birthday party you had. Vi turns back to the front, glancing at you quickly then whipping back so fast she’s in danger of damaging something, and she stares at your top for a second, eyes wide.

‘Uh...?’ you say, cautious and more than a little confused.

Vi sort of coughs, heat flooding her cheeks. ‘Nothing.’ Turning to face the road, she clears her throat a good three times. ‘Right, everyone ready? Let’s go then.’ She puts the car into gear as you buckle in.

From the backseat you hear Ekko snort. ‘Nice top,’ he says dryly.

You look down at your halterneck. The pattern has small holes everywhere, like a lacy curtain, and maybe it's a bit much normally, particularly as you can’t wear a bra with it, but you figured as you're going to the beach, it’s fine. Powder crocheted it herself and sent it as a gift for your birthday, along with a vaguely threatening and capitalised instruction to MAKE SURE YOU WEAR IT ON YOUR BEACH TRIP. So... here you are, following instructions.

‘Thanks,’ you say to Ekko. ‘Powder made it.’

Vi mutters something you can't quite catch but sounds vaguely like I'm gonna kill her.

‘I love that girl,’ sighs Mylo with a snigger.

As Vi turns off onto the next street, you connect Claggor’s phone, and as Sabrina starts playing you roll down your window and settle back.

Some time later, everyone’s playing fuck-marry-kill to pass the time on the long drive, and Vi’s laughing at something Mylo says. It's almost perfect. If you ignore Vi beside you, the way her hand rests on the gear stick, one elbow on the windowsill as she loosely grips the steering wheel. It's warm; sun pouring through the windows and you’re trying really hard not to stare at veins on her arms, when suddenly she brushes a hand over your thigh.

The gasp that escapes your mouth is frankly mortifying.

Alarmed, you glance around at her to find Vi frowning at you, confused.

‘D’you mind?’

‘Huh?’

‘Uh...’ she makes a face, a small amused smile tugging at her lips, crooked and slipping to one side. ‘I asked if you could get my sunglasses. They're in the front pocket.’

‘Oh. Yep. Sure can do,’ you say hurriedly, fetching them for her and mentally kicking yourself.

You need to get it together.

It's fine.

I’m not gonna pine, I’m not gonna pine, I’m not gonna pine, you repeat in your head. You're distracted enough that you're starting to think Caitlyn has a point with the whole mantra thing, but then...

Then Vi does something completely inane and absolutely devastating (literally just runs her hand through her hair), her bicep bunching as she raises her arm in a way that's unholy, a sight that belongs in a strip club not a sun-filled front seat on a random Tuesday morning. You turn hastily to the window, heart hammering and mouth suddenly very dry.

Oh this is so not fine.

_______________

Damn Little Mix. Damn them to hell.

No one should be dancing like that, to fucking Little Mix of all groups. Like, really. The way your hips are swaying should be studied by hypnotists, because Vi cannot drag her eyes away.

It's magnetic, sensual and playful all in one heady rush. Every time she thinks she’s used to you, thinks she’s got this... yearning for you under control, you go and do something inane, you smile, roll your eyes, nudge her shoulder, and she’s falling all over again.

It feels like she’s fallen so many times. It can’t get any stronger, she can’t feel any more than this—and then somehow she does.

But you’re friends. Friends don’t think about each other like that. Friends don’t have to bite back the other’s name while sleeping with someone else. Friends don’t fall asleep dreaming about each other.

You’re friends, so she shouldn’t go insane when you simply lay a hand on her shoulder, or nudge her hip. Shouldn’t catch herself staring at your mouth and thinking about it against hers—

Nope. Nope, she’s not doing this. Right now, she's busy being mad at fucking Little Mix, who clearly have got it out for her.

What makes it worse is that you two have always been exceptionally close. People often mistake you for being together as a couple, and Vi always tries to laugh it off, make a joke out of it, when in reality it burrows through her like a blade.

Because that's what she wants, it's all she’s ever wanted.

But because of that, how there's always been an easy casualness between you, how your relationship has always been a little touchy-feely, Vi doesn't need to imagine what it would feel like to have you close, she knows.

It’s worse. It’s so much worse. She knows how well her hands fit into the curve of your waist. She knows what the swell of your hips feels like.

Sometimes she can’t help herself, imagining sinking her teeth into the soft flesh, the sounds you'd make. The way you'd moan her name.

Sometimes she feels she's going mad, wanting you. Wanting you when you're right there. Sometimes she feels she is mad already. She'd accidentally broken a mirror last time you introduced her to your latest fling, a boy from another uni you’d met a match. The way he wrapped his arms around you made Vi want to rip his hands off. They touched you. They shouldn't get to do that.

Fuck.

She downs the rest of her drink, swallowing painfully. You’re camping at a beach for a night, mid-way along the coast to your destination. Everyone’s around a fire, stars twinkling in the velvet sky. Mylo has his speaker turned down low, not to disturb the other people on the beach. Firelight flickers across your skin, giving you an otherworldly glow.

Desire and yearning twist inside Vi into something painful, something tinged with ragged desperation. Her hands are shaking slightly where she’s gripping onto her cider can so tightly she accidently crushes it. She's not really sure what's wrong with her.

You're just... dancing. That’s all. Just dancing.

Laughing, swaying in the firelight, twirling as Ekko raises your arm to spin you by the hand.

It feels like Vi’s heart is sitting on her tongue, she has to keep swallowing it back down. Try as she might, she can't look away.

‘Pretty isn't she,’ says Claggor. He sounds slightly amused. Everyone but you seems to know she's got a thing for you. That she's always had a thing for you.

‘She's beautiful,’ Vi hears herself say–confess. She can’t help it; it’s true.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

night out

a/n: we back babyyy!!! i haven't been able to stop thinking about these two for fucking months, so i wrote both this aaaaand another part to wrap up their story and get it out of my system.

summary: “I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader x ex!peter parker, light smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, bffs kate bishop and yelena belova, french rave, dancing, kissing, over-the-clothes fun, foreplay, references to public sex, choking, manhandling, jealousness, possessiveness, angst, arguments, brat mode activated (though its totally justified), these hoes are not dealing with their emotions in a healthy way but it's just for the sake of yummy drama

word count: 1993

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“I thought we were just going to a cute little wine bar, not a fucking rave,” you yelled over the music as your friends dragged you further into the warehouse. 

“Oh, come on, babe,” Yelena boomed, slinking her arm around both yours and Kate's neck, “don’t be a chicken now.”

“Yeah,” your brunette friend on the other side of Yelena tilted her frame to catch your apprehensive eye, “you already sneaked out, so you might as well make it count.” 

“I hate it when you’re right,” you groaned, your gaze narrowed to a squint as you got used to the warm flashing lights that dully illuminated the club. 

“Then you must always hate me,” a smug smirk spread across her features before the trio of you ventured further into the crowded space. 

As the night faded away, you found yourselves bathing in the strobes of neon light as your bodies moved on their own accord, like you were all part of a hive, buzzing together in harmony.

But then when you tapped both of your dancing friends on their shoulders and ushered their ears to lean in close to your lips, you told them, “I’m gonna go get some water,” receiving two thumbs up before you made your way through the crowd to the curved bar in the corner. 

However, after the bartender handed you a plastic bottle and you tilted your head back to take a much-needed sip, a familiar voice found your ears from across the bar. 

“As I live and fucking breathe,” you tipped the bottle back down and glanced down the way at the unexpected figure moseying closer to where you stood. 

“Peter!” a surprised smile couldn’t help but spread across your features, “what are you doing here?” 

Settling in beside you, he said, “it’s a Saturday night, where else would I be?”

“No, I mean, what are you doing in Paris?” 

“Oh, what, am I not allowed to be in your city anymore since the breakup?” he joked.

“No, of course, you can be here.” 

Leaning in even closer so that he didn’t have to yell as loud, he asked, “so how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m good, yeah,” your head bobbed in a nod, “how about you?”

“Can’t complain,” his gaze washed over you as if no time had passed at all, “so… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you shifted the water bottle to your other hand. 

“You seeing anyone?” 

“Oh, wow,” you half coughed, “Peter Parker, king of subtlety.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count, so I figured subtlety went out the window a long time ago,” he smirked, “so, are you?”

“I–, uhm…” your eyes averted a moment as you uttered, “no.” 

You weren’t, it was true. Though the reason for why you’d sneaked out in the first place did have to do with a matter of the heart. 

You’d asked your friends what their advice would be if you hypothetically needed to get over someone. They both of course assumed that you were referring to the man standing before you in the disco and not the person who watched you like a hawk every minute of every day. The method they had suggested wasn’t a sound one, though one that still found you desperate enough to try. 

To go out, meet someone else and bang the dude out of your system. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Peter asked again, ripping you out of your thoughts, away from your bodyguard and back in the moment. As you offered him a nod, he smiled brightly, “you wanna dance?”

And that’s how you found yourself in the middle of a crowded dancefloor, plastered against your ex.

It didn’t take long before your lips reunited as well, staying locked as you both let your hands wander, though for you it wasn’t entirely in the spirit of rekindling something that you’d missed, and more to help you forget about the person who you truly wished to lose yourself on a dancefloor with. 

“Fuck,” you heard Peter groan in your ear and his desperation poked your lower abdomen for the attention you used to give it, “you wanna go slip into the bathroom?”

“Uhh,” you giggled as his lips tickled the side of your neck, “what kinda woman do you take me to be?”

“Mine,” he smiled, “that’s who. I know you. A club bathroom is nothing… remember Amsterdam?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” your body tingled at the thought. 

“That’s also an option, if that’s the kind of mood you're in,” he winked. 

Chuckling as he squeezed your tit, you shook your head lightly, “I’m not fucking you here on the dancefloor.” 

“Oh, come on, it–”

But the rest of your ex’s sentence was cut short as a figure forced itself between you two and pried you apart.  

Instinctively reaching out for Peter as he was forcefully pushed back, your arm then faltered as you blinked up to discover who had shoved him. 

“Barnes,” a shiver ran down your spine at the stormy expression plastered all over his face, a side of him you’d never witnessed before, “I–”

But he cut you off, only to bark, “out, now.”

“But I–”

“Do you wanna walk on your own or should I just toss you over my shoulder?” he glared down at you just before you watched Peter’s hand plant itself on Bucky’s broad shoulder. 

“Hey, dude, don’t touch her, back off,” your ex tried to square up to the intimidating guard dog. 

“No, no, Peter, it’s alright,” you rushed to explain, knowing full well that your bodyguard could and would put him in the hospital, “he’s–…” your eyes briefly flickered up to Bucky’s steely blue eyes, still directed at you, “he’s my bodyguard,” before you let your touch graze Peter’s forearm, “I’m so sorry, it was great seeing you again, but I have to go.” 

Getting dragged out of the club like a perp from a crime scene was not the way you’d imagined your night would wrap up. 

After he’d virtually tossed you in the back and slammed the car door shut behind you, you fished out your phone and swiftly sent your friends an explanatory text while you half-watched Bucky march around the vehicle to the driver’s side. 

The silent treatment he then served you nearly felt worse than the heated words you imagined tumbled around in his head as he fumed, his knuckles nearly turned white from how fiercely he was gripping onto the steering wheel. 

But when you finally mustered the courage to break the eerie silence, your words came out just above a whisper, “I’m sorry…”

“Are you?” his eyes snapped up to find yours in the review mirror, “really? Because I don’t fucking buy it.” 

“Well, I am!” you threw up your arms, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Not sneak out like a fucking teenager to get drunk with your little boyfriend,” 

“I’m not drunk and he’s not my boyfriend!” 

Not taking any of your words to heart, Bucky went on, “you know how stupid this was, right? What if something had happened, huh? I know you didn’t personally read the threats you got back when I first got this job, but trust me when I tell you that if any of those fuckers had gotten their hands on you tonight, you’d be lucky if you were still breathing when the sun rose. This is exactly the sort of reckless behaviour that caused you to need my help in the first place.”

Your mouth then fell open, utterly stunned at his audacity, “oh my god… you’re unbelievable…” you uttered breathlessly before hazily commanding, “stop the car…”

“No–”

“Stop the fucking car!” you roared, casting your gaze to him once more till you felt his foot step on the break. 

As the car screeched to a stop, you wasted no time ripping the door open and storming out. 

Though you didn’t dare to look back, you still heard him exit the vehicle as well and shadow you as you wandered a few paces away, just far enough for you to be able to get some air. 

“Y/n,” you heard him from just a few meters behind you, “get back in the car–”

But you didn’t shift your feet as you then interrupted, back still turned to him.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

“What?”

“Well aren’t you?” you heatedly twisted around to face him, “because it sure fucking looks like it. Getting all fucking possessive, ripping me away from my ex before I can crawl my way back to him, before I get the chance to feel anyone inside of me but you–”

“Stop–”

“Is that it? You just want me all to yourself?” you kept on poking, too blind by your fury to consider the consequences, “you want it to be you that I’m so in love with that I’d make you personalised porn, which would consequently ruin my life and cause me to have a babysitter essentially stalking me.”

“Stop!” he took a step closer as he barked.

“Unless you’ve already seen the tape,” your feet shifted back, keeping him at a distance, “fantasising that it’s for you, getting yourself off to the image of me bouncing on that pretty pink dildo–”

Your sentence then crumbled into a shrivelled yelp as you felt his cold metal hand seize your neck and push you the last few inches up against the brick wall behind you. 

His fingers didn’t squeeze you in the slightest, though you still knew just how easy it would have been for him to tighten his grip and turn it into more than just a raging warning. 

“You done?” he spat as his eyes pieced directly into your soul, “or do you wanna give me more reasons why you’re nothing more than a spoiled little brat, why I should just quit now and not have to deal anymore with what a fucking pain you are in my ass?”

For the life of you, no attempts at offering him an answer were successful on your lips. 

He scared you. 

He’d never scared you before. 

Both because of the explosion you’d undoubtedly made even worse than it had to be, but also his fleeting threat of leaving you for good. 

It all terrified you… 

Though, there was also a different sensation that it awoke within you, one that caused your eyes to flutter down towards his lips, an action that your bodyguard surprisingly mirrored as well as your heated breaths synced up. 

You had no idea who moved first, if it was you or him, but the next thing you knew, you were kissing him.

With adrenaline still pumping in your veins, you clawed at his broad frame as you let your tongue flicker out and flutter against his own. The steely hand that had locked itself around your neck softened and whisked down your form, mirroring your own starving touch as he securely held you like you were about to fall. 

However, just as your palm slid down to find the bulge in his pants, rubbing it needily before your fingers tried to seize the short zipper, Bucky took a large step back, snapping to his senses and creating a wide distance between him and your melted form against the brick. 

His eyes refused to meet your foggy ones as he held them to the ground, slowly catching his breath before uttering, “get in the car,” defeat shining through in his low tone.

“Bucky–,” you tried, but without success as he then cut you off. 

“Please, just–…” his gaze fluttered shut a moment as you then heard him sombrely promise, “look, I’ll make sure your mom doesn’t hear word of what happened tonight. If we go now, then we’ll arrive before any of the staff wakes up, no one will notice.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[copper-16]

Reminds Me That There's A Room To Grow Part 2

A love unraveled and yet incomparable. Where are two people to go from here?

(a/n: Here is part 2! I am so glad everyone is enjoying this so far, I've had a lot of fun writing it and getting to be creative! I’ll see everyone next Monday for installment 3 - can’t wait to hear everyone’s thoughts!)

Alexia wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected when she barged into her Mami's house the morning after seeing you at the event, dragging Alba behind her.  

But it definitely wasn’t this. 

She had explained everything to the two of them, with a carefully constructed amount of excitement. The footballer didn’t want to seem overeager, but she also found elation building within herself the more she thought about what had occurred. 

She had never expected to see you again, but there you were. Not only that, you weren’t with anyone. You still had the capacity to love her. There was a chance that Alexia hadn’t lost you, and she held onto that hope like a fire lit deep within her chest. She was almost delirious with relief at the realization that maybe the last nine years hadn’t been a total waste, that maybe she had just been waiting for you to return. It threatened to consume her, and she felt as though nothing could break the jouissance that filled her. 

At least, that was what she thought, until Eli and Alba brought her back to reality with their contradicting opinions. 

“She’s here you guys, she’s here in Barcelona. After all these years, Flori is still here and she wants to see me,” Alexia told her family, a brightness in her eyes that hadn’t been present in years. Despite this, Eli and Alba both had a frown on their face as they glanced at each other with skepticism. There was an awkward pause before Alba finally turned toward her sister with a charged look. 

“Ale,” Alba started lightly, trying not to sound too negative. “It has been nine years. Is it possible that Flori has moved on? She was the one who stayed behind, after all.” 

Her younger sister's words were pointed if not entirely incorrect. 

“Do you even know what happened? You never got an answer from her, and now she has shown up at this event with absolutely no warning,” Eli continued, a point that Alba quickly found herself agreeing with. 

When they had all left Madrid, Eli and Alba never expected to lose you so suddenly. 

Where Alexia was upset, they were angry. Angry that you had hurt Alexia for no logical reason, angry that you had done it when Alexia was at her most vulnerable, angry that you were no longer there. They had trusted you with Alexia’s heart, and you had betrayed them. Forgiveness was not possible in their eyes, not after what had occurred. 

Eli missed your mother, who had grown to become a dear friend. Alba had lost your younger brothers, Adan and Leo, who she had been close with. The breakup had been a clean break in the literal sense, but emotionally it had been so much more complex than that. There was nothing but frustrating feelings and a wretched sense of loss for all of them. Where Alexia had softened over time, becoming more sympathetic, the rest of her family had hardened in their negative feelings toward you. 

It was valiant if not feeble that the footballer tried to argue on your behalf. 

“She is here now, and time has passed. Why would I not at least give her the chance to atone or explain herself?” Alexia argued as she furrowed her brows. She looked between her sister and Mami, feeling disheartened by their reaction. 

“She gave up that right years ago Ale, when she let you leave in the midst of Papi dying and you moving to go to your dream club. She let you go, she never reached out, she never explained herself. Does that not bother you?” Alba pressed, unyielding in her temperament. 

“It has been a decade practically, and she never tried. She let you go, ripped up your heart into pieces, and walked out of that door with no remorse. We were all hurt by it, but you should be the most betrayed! She was supposed to love you, and she left you instead. Don’t tell me that hasn’t been the thing that stuck out to you the most in the past nine years?” Alba continued as her words lashed out like a whip, threatening to send Alexia’s sense of stability and hope crashing to the ground. 

“I have a chance to be happy, and you want me to give it away! Does that not bother you?” Alexia spat back as her defensiveness mounted. She stared her sister down with an intensity that usually was only found when she was playing football, not speaking to a member of her family. 

“No, what you have is a chance to be hurt again, and based on past events, that is exactly what is going to happen Alexia. Don’t be stupid,” Alba shot back, and Eli quickly placed a hand on her younger daughter's arm to stop her. 

The room came to a hard stop, but the brunette’s heart beat too fast in her chest to notice. 

Had she made a mistake in trying to be forgiving toward you? 

What if her family had a point? 

“Alba is critical but what she says is in your best interest Alexia. Regardless of how you felt about your relationship, Flori hurt you irreparably. Are you sure you want to let her in again? Is that a risk you want to take?” Eli inquired gently, her voice much softer than the loud argument of her daughters. Alexia took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm outwardly even if she felt anything but on the inside. 

You had hurt her a lot. And they said it was irreparable, but the brunette was beginning to wonder if only you could be the one to soothe the ache. It had been nine years, and she had never once come close to feeling the same way about anyone else as you. 

But you had hurt her. 

Her mother and sister were not wrong in their basis of judgment. Alexia was beginning to wonder if she had been too naive, too focused on not looking a gift horse in the mouth to see the points her family had laid out. 

The Catalan wondered if you would explain yourself fully to her if asked. She hoped dearly that the answer would be yes, but maybe she didn’t know you as well as she thought she did. 

Maybe it was stupid to trust you after all these years. As much as Alexia had wanted to be mad about everything, she could never bring herself to fault you for what happened when you were both eighteen years old. She had always just assumed that the reason had to be big for you to make the choice you had. 

But maybe it wasn’t like that at all. Maybe she had just been too trusting, too loving.

“I…I’ve spent the last nine years thinking about her, loving her, whether I wanted to or not. I know you aren’t as trusting as I am, and maybe I shouldn’t be so hopeful. But I at least want to know what happened to us that led to her making the decision she did. I need that, at the very least,” Alexia decided as her mother and sister nodded wearily. 

Alexia had always taken the blame for what had happened, even if it had been a subconscious realization. She had simply assumed that whatever it was had been her fault. The brunette must have done something for you to make such a drastic choice not to be with her after so long together. 

Eli and Alba’s arguments rang in her head, creating a commotion in her mind of conflicting information. Perhaps it wasn’t her fault, but rather something on your end. 

She wasn’t sure now. 

All that the footballer knew was that by the time she left her Mami’s house, she felt a lot more lost than she had last night. Lost, confused, and drained of any excitement that had been present just an hour previously. 

—

You had woken up the morning after the event in a trance, unable to place your own feelings. 

Had last night really happened? 

Your dress was still on the hanger, just as you had placed it last night. The ghosting of mascara under your eyes left proof of your makeup, proof of the tears you had shed on the walk home. 

All of these years later, and there she was. Somehow just as perfect and illustrious as you had remembered her to be. Nine years on and she remained unchanged, unyielding despite her newfound fame. 

You had changed a lot in those nine years. And truth be told, you thought often of the footballer, though you tried impossibly hard not to. After all, it had been you who had left. It had been your own choice to sever everything the two of you had. 

You had your reasons, sure, but it had still been you. The choice for you to make decisions in your relationship with Alexia had been revoked in that instance, and you forced yourself to try and forget all that you had lost. 

To try and forget the feeling of being held in her arms. To forget the way she curled around you as you slept, or crawled into your lap to take a nap after a long day of training. To forget how much you two laughed together, how exceedingly happy she had made you. 

You had lost all of that, and there was nothing that changed that fact. 

It was ostensibly clear why you had moved to Barcelona five years ago, even if you vehemently denied that the move was because of the Catalan you once called home. But her dream had been yours as well, and even if you were later, you still had to come. 

You found yourself in the stands of her games often, tucked in the back with a hat pulled over your head, avoiding her gaze and that of her family as well. You probably shouldn’t have been there, but you had turned into quite the masochist in the wake of losing her. 

She looked free on the field, exactly as you remembered her. Focused, ardent, driven, mirthful, intelligent, protective. 

Everything you had loved and lost. 

It’s not that there hadn’t been opportunities to see her again, especially when you had first moved and you both were young. But you never took them, knowing that it wasn’t your right. Alexia was happy, and you would never interrupt her peace for your own yearning. 

After last night though…you weren’t sure if the word you would describe her as was peaceful. It was possible you were reading too much into things, but there was an air of longing present in the brunette that confused you more than you expected. 

You wondered if she would call you, but you had no way of knowing. 

It needed to be that way. This needed to be her choice, her decision. You had been the one to take it away, and you gave it back to her almost a decade later. 

There was hope in your body, a nascent festering that took root no matter how hard you attempted to stop it in its tracks. But at the end of the day, you would gladly give back to her the right to choose in favor of everything you dreamed and desired. 

You would make peace with whatever decision that was, no matter the cost to your own happiness. 

—

“You–I’m sorry, you what?” Jenni blurted out as she glimpsed over at Mariona, who found herself just as confused and taken aback by what the brunette had just described. 

Alexia leaned back in her chair as she let out a forced breath. Her participation in this lunch was more compulsory than anything else after an entire practice of her “acting weird,” according to the striker. 

Mariona had been dragged along for a second opinion, though the midfielder had found herself growing more and more curious as Jenni’s pestering turned into real answers from the brunette. The raven-haired woman, while annoying at times, had been friends with Alexia for long enough to know when she needed a bit of a push to talk. 

For Alexia to admit that the reason she was bothered was because she had a long lost childhood lover was not exactly what Jenni was expecting. But the striker was nothing if not able to work with what she was given. 

“Let me get this straight,” the older woman began as she leaned forward against the table. “You met when you guys were like five, grew up together, started dating when you were teenagers, then were supposed to move here together, but she broke things off suddenly right before you left and you haven’t seen her since?” 

“That is correct,” Alexia conceded warily, well aware of how slightly ridiculous it seemed as a story. 

“And all of these years, you haven’t stopped thinking about her? A decade later and you’re still hung up on her?” Jenni asked incredulously, her voice nearly an octave higher than it usually was. She seemed to be out of her mind at the thought, and the brunette slunk down further into her chair, feeling overly barren. 

“You hook up with women like there is a prize for who gets the highest body count,” Alexia shot back, trying to come off as more annoyed than exposed. 

Mariona looked miffed at the vulgarity of the statement while Jenni shrugged, acquiescence in her expression. 

“Low blow Alexia,” the midfielder noted briefly, but the striker waved her off easily. 

“The woman isn’t entirely wrong, but more importantly she’s deflecting. Okay, so you’re still in love with the woman. And it just so happens that she’s randomly at the Spotify event they sent you to, and she’s still in love with you as well?” 

“Well not quite but…” Alexia started to disagree before she trailed off, her friends eyeing her with unconvinced expressions. 

“Yes, fine, sure,” she amended crossly. 

“She just happened to be at the same event? What does she do for work?” Mariona raised her eyebrow, suspicious of a coincidence that large. Alexia paused for a moment as she struggled to think of an answer. All she was drawing was a big blank, and the realization that maybe she should have been more suspicious about this whole thing. 

“I…I have no idea. I didn’t ask! She was just right in front of me, and I panicked, I didn’t know what to do!” Alexia said restlessly, the amount of fidgeting in her seat a clear indication of her nervousness. 

“Wow…she made the great Alexia Putellas panic? I’ve seen you send away more girls than a persnickety Playboy photographer.” 

“Jennifer!”

“Sorry, sorry! Anywho, you panicked, and then what happened?” Jenni amended, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. The raven-haired woman was absolutely devouring this, fighting valiantly not to smile like the cheshire cat. 

“And then we went on a walk and talked for a few minutes, she gave me her number and told me to call her, and she left,” Alexia finished lamely, sinking back into her seat. She surveyed her two friends, who only looked at her with interested expressions. 

“Okay…and what are you going to do?” Mariona inquired once she realized that Alexia wasn’t going to say anything more. 

“I don’t know what to do! My family thinks that I shouldn’t call her, that she has hurt me too much. That maybe she doesn’t deserve to be in my life anymore. What do you guys think I should do?” Alexia. 

“Listen, it seems to be a weird coincidence to me personally. All of the sudden you start to get famous and she just happens to pop up? That is a little weird to me. It sounds like this person hurt you deeply Ale, and it has stuck with you. Are you sure you want to rehash everything?” Mariona pressed, her words strict and condemning.

“I’m not sure if I do. I’ve spent the last decade thinking of her, and then suddenly she was there and I just…I didn’t know what to do with myself. I never imagined her being in my life again, and there she was! I spent my whole childhood loving her. I never saw myself with anyone else,” Alexia admitted quietly as she wrung her hands together for a moment before setting them down in her lap, unable to make her own mind up. 

The vast majority of Alexia’s teammates had never heard of you at all. Jenni was a little too old, Mariona a little too young. Those who had known of you had forgotten, easily deterred by Alexia telling them you had broken up, unrealizing of how much it meant for the midfielder to lose you. 

Mariona had begun to speak again, but the striker had tuned the two of them out, thinking quietly to herself for once. 

As much as she teased, Jenni watched her friend with a keen, knowing eye. There had to be a damn good reason for Alexia to turn away all of those girls. It wasn’t just their looks, some of them were lovely and intelligent and hilarious, and still the star midfielder had absolutely no interest in them whatsoever. 

Almost as if she was waiting for something else. 

Someone else. 

All these years there had been something missing in her, as though she looked for someone who never came through the door. Jenni had never known what was wrong enough to ask, but now she was beginning to piece together the importance of you to Alexia. Where everyone else saw reasons to criticize and judge, the striker was stuck on Alexia’s words. 

How the desire and longing seemed unable to be contained and reasoned with, despite all of the evidence to the contrary. 

“What do you want?” Jenni cut both of them off suddenly, eliciting a frustrated noise from Mariona and a surprised look from the brunette. 

“I don’t know what I want!” Alexia huffed out with frustration, but the raven-haired didn’t accept that quite so easily. There were too many hands in the pot here. Alexia had always known what she wanted to do, she was simply being deterred. 

“No, you do. You’re convoluted with everyone else’s opinions, but I think you know exactly what you want. What is it that you want Alexia?” Jenni’s eyes never wavered from Alexias, as if daring her to look away. 

She knew that the Catalan wouldn’t, and she was right. 

Alexia stared right at her friend, knowing exactly what choice she needed to make for herself. Not for anyone else, but for herself. 

At the very least, she needed to know what had happened to lose you the first time.

—

Alexia told herself she would call you in a few days, giving herself some time to cool off and think things through. 

She couldn’t even make it through a few hours before she was digging up the card you had given her and typing the number into her phone. The phone rang once, twice, three times before you picked up, and despite herself the Catalan let out a sigh of relief that you had picked up at all. 

“Hello?” You said dutifully as you held your ear to the phone, unaware of who was on the end of the line. There was silence for a long moment, long enough that you questioned if anyone was even there, before sound finally came through.

“Hi,” Alexia choked out, failing to keep her voice as calm and unbothered as she had told herself she would be. 

“Hi Alexia,” you replied, fighting to seem as unphased as possible. You were shocked she had called you, and your heart beat so rapidly in your chest it felt as though it was fluttering. 

“I know it’s sudden…but can you talk tonight?” The footballer blurted out after a few seconds. Your heart constricted with panic, but you swallowed it down and forced yourself to remain agreeable and steady. 

“Absolutely. What time and where should I meet you?” You questioned as you took a deep, bracing breath. You listened as Alexia rattled off an address and the two of you agreed to meet in an hour before she hung up. 

This might be your last chance to tell her the truth. Would it be worth it though? Was the possibility of creating an ache in her chest worth revealing what had really occurred? 

You knew her, and you knew that her guilt would be immense even if the situation was completely out of her control. You made the choice for her, knowing that it was the right one. But you were unsure if she would see it that way. Perhaps she would only see the hurt you had caused her unnecessarily, and that would be the end of it. Maybe that should just be the end of it, allowing her some answers while allowing her to move forward with her life. 

It had been nearly a decade. You had been without her nearly as long as you had been with her, and a piece of you knew that the ache would never disappear. You would always yearn for her, even if she decided to move on. 

But that was a right she had earned, and you had lost. 

It had been your own fault after all, that turned you two into this unsure, bumbling mess of emotions and challenges and strife. You would have done anything to change that if you could have. 

It was your fault but not your doing, at the end of the day. 

You arrived at the beach where Alexia told you to meet her a little early, which allowed you to sit down at a bench and look out at the ocean waves that poured in and out. You granted yourself that small moment of grace on the nearly empty beach as you slipped your sandals off and felt the lingering warmth of the sand under your feet as the sun slid behind the ocean. 

You didn’t notice Alexia’s approach until she was in front of you, and though you offered her the seat next to you silently, she didn’t take it. 

It should have been this that informed you that it would go downhill from there, but you clung to the hope that maybe this would be a productive conversation. You still didn’t know what to say exactly, but you knew you were not going to be dishonest. 

Alexia’s eyes examined you critically, as if she didn’t believe that it was really you. 

“How did you end up at the event the other day in the first place?” She inquired after a moment, and you can’t help but furrow your brows in confusion, lost as to why this was the first question she asked. Lost as to where all of this hostility came from, when you had yet to say a single thing. 

You had expected her to become angered as the conversation went on, but she already seemed cross and you had yet to say a word. 

“I work for Morgan Stanley doing investment consulting and management specifically with Spotify. I’ve become close with the people at the company as I work with them most days, and they invited me to the event. There were investors and important stakeholders that I was able to meet in person. I’ve come to the same event every year for the last three years,” you disclosed to the brunette, but the skepticism and hostility in her eyes never wavered despite your clarity. 

“Did you see me before we ran into each other?” She interrogated, and you settled into your seat uneasily. This felt less like a conversation and more like she was drilling you, waiting for you to slip up and say the wrong thing. 

“At the event, or in general?” You replied, wanting nothing but honesty in your responses. You could give her that, even if the air between you two was charged with more tension than you expected. 

“Both.” Alexia crossed her arms, everything in her posture defensive and frustrated. 

“At the event, no. I didn’t know until I was standing right in front of you,” you clarified, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to avoid fidgeting nervously. “In general, yes I had seen you. Only from afar though, at your games over the years. I never would have approached you.” 

I never would have approached you. 

Alexia felt every defense in her mind light up at that statement. When had you decided you were so utterly done with having her in your life? All the Catalan could think of was her mother and sister warning her that this was going to be a mistake. All she could think of was Mariona who talked about how strange the coincidence was that the two of you had run into her, as though it was so suspicious. 

You had left and hurt her. 

It had been your fault, that is what all the evidence seemed to tell her. 

Something pulled at the brunette’s mind though, something that begged her not to be so bellicose. Something that screamed at her that there was more to the story, and that handling everything this way was a horrible idea. 

Fear seemed to rule her though, rearing an ugly head that the midfielder was not proud of. 

“How many years,” she beseeched, fighting the wave of tears she could feel stinging at the back of her eyes. Her voice was low, wavering in a way that betrayed her emotions more than she cared to admit. You had let out a low sigh as you hung your head. 

“Five years. I’ve been in Barcelona for five years, and I’ve been coming to your games on and off for five years” you finally confessed as you shook your head. You looked up at the Catalan, who seemed caught between devastation and outrage. 

“You moved here five years ago and didn’t even think to come and talk to me? You never thought to check on me, to try and reach out?” Alexia seethed, burying her hurt behind a mask of fury. More than anything, the footballer felt like her whole chest had caved in. 

“No I didn’t. I had broken up with you Alexia, that was the choice I made. I wasn’t going to come barging back in four years later and demand that you take me back,” You tried gallantly to remain calm, even in the face of Alexia’s vexation. The brunette hated your answer, throwing her hands up in acute frustration. 

“You never even bothered to ask! You might have taken away my choice once, but you’ve spent five more years taking that choice away. You are a coward,�� Alexia accused, pointing a finger at you even as everything in her screamed not to. She would regret what she said in the light of day, but all she felt right now was wounded. There was an intense urge to protect what little pride still remained inside her, and apparently in order to accomplish that she needed to lash out. 

You met her toe for toe though, not giving her the anger she wanted exactly but rather a sense of indignation. 

“I am a coward Alexia, you’re right. I wanted you to live your life, to move on, and I made the choice I thought was best for everyone at the time, including you. Don’t stand here and act like I made the choice without consideration for your feelings, because I have,” you fought, because even if you were at fault, you had tried so hard not to be selfish. If the Catalan got a single thing out of this conversation, you wanted it to be that. 

“No you haven’t, you’ve been selfish for the last decade! I lost my father, my community, and then you all in the span of one month. You disappeared, just like that. You were like a ghost, and I was on my own, and right when I needed you, you weren’t there!” She practically yelled, and it looked almost like her entire body vibrated with resentment. 

The footballer took a deep breath as she both tried and failed to remain calm. But every time she had more than a second to think, anger and vitriol seemed to flow out of her. 

“I hate myself for how much I needed you all these years, how much I longed for you. I can’t believe I didn’t see what was going on right in front of me. And now you’re back here…for what? A celebrity status? To be a WAG? I don’t have time for that, and I don’t want you anymore if you see me as such a transactional person. I don’t even recognize you anymore,” Alexia explained with an air of indignance. 

Though you had tried to remain calm, something finally snapped inside of you at that. You simply couldn’t allow for the brunette to say such things about you, and finally you allowed yourself the candor you’d held in all these years. 

“Oh for God's sake Alexia, really? I haven’t come here to be your WAG, or for your fucking money! I’m in investment banking for Christ's sake, I am fine financially! I don’t like football, but I spent my childhood going to games because you loved it and I loved you! You think it didn’t kill me to let you leave like that?” 

“You were my forever. We were young but you were the love of my life, and even now I can’t find myself ever connecting with anyone the way I did with you. I know I am older now, but I still have the same heart as I did when I was eighteen. You loved that person, and I’m not saying you need to love me anymore, but do not stand here and act like I have changed into someone unrecognizable when I have not!” You articulated, unwilling to allow yourself to be trodden over with disrespect. 

You were not the same person as you were at eighteen, but you were also not the person Alexia had made you out to be. 

The fight seemed to drain out of your body in an instance. Any hope that had been clung to was lost entirely as you decided just to be honest. You knew the brunette didn’t want anything to do with you, and in that moment you made peace with that. 

You would give her the truth, and nothing else but the truth. When you looked up at the Catalan, there were tears shining in your eyes. 

“I was sick, Alexia. I found out two days before I broke up with you that I had breast cancer, and I needed to stay in Madrid for treatment. You had just lost your father, you were moving to a whole new area of the country. You didn’t need to be worried about your sick girlfriend, trying to travel back and forth to Madrid, to have even more on your plate,” you revealed slowly as you aggressively wiped away the tears that flowed down your cheeks. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“So yes, I made a decision for you. In all honesty, it was a decision I would happily make again and again if it came down to it. I wanted to preserve what little peace and happiness you had left before the move. I ached for you afterward, but I knew that this was the right choice. I wanted you to live your dreams, with or without me. And by the time I finished treatment and came to Barcelona, I felt that it was too late. I had broken us, it was my fault entirely that we had broken up, and I didn’t feel like I had the right to come to you and explain.”

“So no, I haven't approached you for the last five years. I come to your games and I see you play with joy and happiness, and I see you with your family, and I want to leave you with that. So don’t look at me and call me a coward or a gold digger or whatever the hell you think I am, because at the end of the day I tried to make the best choices for you and me, and I can’t take them back anymore,” you released, and suddenly you felt much older than your twenty-seven years. You head hung, and you shrugged before you spoke again, your tone bitter and defeated. 

“If you’re so intent to see all of the reasons I fucked up, fine. If you need to tell yourself that I am a selfish whore to sleep at night, fine. But I sincerely hope that when you go to sleep at night you at least remember for a second that the decisions I made were for you, not because of you. Maybe it was the wrong choice to control that for you, but I can’t go back and change it now. So please, just leave me alone if this is all you want from me. I don’t have anything more to give you, not anymore,” You stated with exhaustion, spinning around to walk away. You disappeared into the night before the brunette even had a chance to say anything, left far too shell shocked to even begin to process your words. 

You were gone without a glance backward, and Alexia sunk down onto the bench you had once occupied as remorse purged every other feeling in her body.

[rainyvandragon]

Oh those precious memories~

See I could tell myself that it's okay that I'm writing this because I am a catholic woman but let's be real those things just aren't true any more. So instead I am going to claim this as an emotional craving because of that time of the month. Definitely nothing along the lines of 10 year revival of my fanfiction writing phase. And it's totally, in no way related to any issues I might have. Totally sane, I tell you.

! 18+ Minors do not interact, I am NOT a fckn daycare!

Yandere! Hazbin Hotel x GN! Reader

Content warning: obsessive behaviour, stalking, slight NSFW (more in some parts then others), just a bunch of red flags and things that I do not condone irl

Charlie:

Honestly Charlie might be the most sane of the bunch in this regard

She isn't to interested in stealing anything from you, that is just not something she would be comfortable with – in general but especially with her Darling

However she doesn't mind keeping things that you let her borrow

It doesn't even matter what

You gave her a hair tie because one of hers broke? She'll cherish it forever

It was raining on a day she had to go out and you suggested she could use your umbrella? Pretty much hers now

Of course the greatest thing for her would be you lending her some of your clothes

She would most likely spend the next nights cuddling up to it in bed

Oh the frustration when the fabric no longer smells like you but rather her!

Yeah sure, she can give you your things back. She just forgot them in her room, oops! Don't worry she'll get them later

Unless she forgets again...

Vaggie:

She would never take anything you truly need or value

In all seriousness, Vaggie could never stand the idea of inconveniencing her Darling

However unlike Charlie she is just not close enough with you (yet) to count on you giving things to her

So instead she uses the position she has in the Hotel

There was a movie night with everybody invited?

Well somehow ever since the clean up the blanket you were cuddled up in is gone. Oh well, Vaggie will just get a new one, they weren't that expensive to begin with anyway (and if she is fast enough with it nobody is even going to notice anything)

Sadly those lucky occasions that allow her to grab some reminders of your shared time don't come around to often

And Vaggie respects you and herself to much to steal from you or go through your garbage bin

Thankfully she has the patience to wait for those windows of opportunity

And hey, since everything went relatively smoothly this week why not suggest another movie night to Charlie? Everyone involved seemed to enjoy it anyway – so there really is no harm done, right?

Angel:

Anybody who immediately thought of Angel stealing his Darling's underwear needs to take a cold shower!

Now don't get me wrong – he has thought about it

He does have a relatively high drive and desire for intimacy and sex

So sure the idea of taking something rather personal from you did cross his mind

But deep down Anthony just is a little sweetheart and he just couldn't take something like your underwear or other intimate items from you without any sort of consent

As for other, less private things

It doesn't matter if Angel and you have the same of different sizes – he WILL steal your clothes and wear them

If you wear make-up or nail polish he will definitely “borrow” things – especially lipstick

Now if his Darling is somebody who likes to keep a lot of pillows or plushies in bed he is definitely not shy about taking things from that pile either. Although, depending on how well Darling keeps track of those things, he might only borrow them for a night or two – maybe rotating between some, making sure to leave them under the bed upon returning so it looks like it just fell off the mattress

Alastor:

Now Alastor is already rather torn apart when he first noticed his desire for your belongings

He never once though about stealing from you...until you forgot something in the lobby – a book, notebook, pen, whatever it was – it was just lying there on the table next to the couches

Ever the gentleman he obviously wanted to return it to you but something inside of him fought against the very idea of it. This might be the closet he gets to having you (at least for now), his Darling

As his obsession towards you continues to grow some of his past life's interests stir awake inside of him

One day whilst helping out you cut yourself on some damaged bit of furniture. Alastor is immediately there to offer you a handkerchief to stop the bleeding – a handkerchief that quickly becomes one of his most prised possessions

If his Darling has a period he might steal some...used goods

However in comparison to some of the others, he is a lot less hungry for souvenirs

Although that is really just because, unlike them, he can use his shadows to be around you whenever and as close as he pleases

Husk:

Husk would never just go into his Darling's room to steal things from them – even if the idea sounds lovely

No instead he just checks for things you leave behind

Now his job at the hotel really helps him with that

You almost exclusively talk at the bar (“Redemption Based Group Exercises” being the only real exception)

At this point he has a rather large collection of napkins that you used or doodled on

Sometimes they disgust him but then he looks at them, the little doodles (even just to test a pen) you left on some of them, all those marks of you (bonus points for lipstick stained napkins) and he just can't

The guilty feelings are even worse with a tissue you once cried it. It's just to close of a reminder of you to throw away!

Anything small that you forget at or close to the bar gets saved by him – pens, small pieces of paper, hair ties, buttons from your clothes, whatever really. If it's small and unimportant enough for you to not really miss it he is going to keep it

Nifty:

Nifty is easily the worst of them all

She is small, fast, obsession driven and the hotel's maid on top of that

What matters most to her is how close to your body her little mementos are (it's pretty much the same way in wish the catholic church determines the value of a saint's relic)

Nifty will most definitely collect hair out of your brush

Or rummage through your garbage bins

Now if somebody is going to steal used period products!

She just really doesn't value her Darling's privacy in the slightest so she has no issues going through every little crevice of your room to look for some “hidden treasures”

Although her favourite thing to do is sleep in your used bedsheets

She is going to wash them – don't worry! Simply just not without first sleeping in them herself for a bit

---------------------------------------------------------

Welp this is the first time in a long while that I've actually written fanfiction so I got those emotions to sort through I guess.

English is not my first language however given how arrogant I can be regarding my skills this should be well enough written. Prove reading was done by Open Office's spell checking system and my high ass.

[olderthannetfic]

You ever get a comment that makes you just sit back, cast your eyes upwards, and gaze at the ceiling as if awaiting answers? I got a comment on a fic I'm writing that has a (canonically) punk character and was informed that "real punks don't do arts and crafts", referring to the idea of 1. making your own patches 2. sewing them on 3. sewing clothes in general and 4. making signs in protest of/support of something. And I. I just.

My dad was in a punk band in the 90's, in the post-Soviet era of Central Asian punks when nobody had any money and were screaming into a microphone to work through the trauma the USSR put them through. Sometimes there wasn't even a microphone. Sometimes there was just a stage at a bar and decent acoustics and vodka. I promise you that they made things. I promise you they didn't just buy everything off of Poshmark that was marked Tripp NYC or put an order in on Temu for 5 yards of grommet trim. There was no internet access but more importantly there was no money. You know what there WAS? Anger. So. Much. Anger. Anger gets clothing torn and signs made and my dad onstage in a country where being queer is illegal to this day going, "We're the Maddest Faggots and this is our new song, 'Fuck Me Like Your Daughter'!"

They did "arts and crafts". They did so, so many arts and crafts. Shows don't advertise themselves. Someone has to draw and then photocopy a cartoon of the mayor sucking himself off and tape it up to every bus stop in Tashkent after the election. Drenching yourself in red paint and marching in protest of police brutality rarely works without paint.

I guess, in the grand tradition of punk, the counterargument is that no REAL punk would do arts and crafts, therefore, my dad was not remotely punk and neither were his associates. But if punk is so fragile that liking all the right music and being anti-authority and protesting inequality all counts for nothing if you so much as put one toe over the line into girliness... is anyone or anything punk? And is that a version of punk worth preserving?

It reminds me of people going, "Real punks don't have anything political on their vests/jackets!" and "No true punk would have that slogan on them, that's just stupid pinterest shit!" and "wow plaid lol. lmao, even. what a poser! go back to tiktok fr fr", etc. I get that these are all basically 'if I don't like it, it's not part of punk'. But diy is baked into punk. It had to be. That's what happens when your subculture involves a lot of poor people.

I am only 25 and I feel like an ancient being from the bygone days of yesteryear having kids interrupt me to say nuh-uh, that's totally not how things work.

--

People are incredibly embarrassing about punk in a very suburban US middle class way.

[a-aexotic]

HEYYYY! So like every other mf on the planet right now I am in my hunger games era!!

Please could you write a Finnick x Reader where she is selected for the quarter quell (Maybe in her games she was lethal and killed like 10+ people?)

And when Katniss shoots the arena in catching fire she gets taken by the capitol (Like Peeta) and they torture her and shit? Then Finnick and her get there reunion she’s all like battered and bruided and it’s dead sad? Not sure if this made sense because i’m half asleep and dyselxic but let me know😭🤣

Maybe he says “It’s okay baby i got you” ??? x

hey of course i can! i hope u enjoy it babe <3 its a tiny bit long! my apologizes

cw's: angst, mentions of killing/dying, typical thg stuff, torture, ptsd, lmk if i missed anything

You were one of the youngest victors alongside Finnick, being only 15 and having won your games. You were also from District 4. You won the 68th Hunger Games, a few years after Finnick.

When you were reaped, Finnick and Mags were your mentors. Finnick came off as self absorbed and arrogant but once you started talking to him, the more you realized that was total bullshit. He wasn't how the Capitol portrayed him, he was much more caring and compassionate. He was very sympathetic to your situation, having gone through the same things.

During your time in the arena, you were one of the most ruthless tributes of all time. In the beginning, you were easily overlooked. The tributes weren't thinking that you were going to be much of a challenge because of your size and the way you carried yourself.

But that was exactly how you wanted to be portrayed. You tricked the Careers into thinking you were some naïve little girl, stabbing them in the back (literally) the first chance you got. The Capitol loved the turn of events, cheering you on.

When you had come back home, you had finally understood the intensity of what you had done. You had killed a whole group of people, ending their lives permanently. Those people had lives and family who loved them, and now they're gone because of you.

You suffered through months and months from never ending nightmares. Even getting consoled by your mother didn't help anymore; she doesn't understand. You didn't even feel worthy of food anymore.

You closed off Mags and Finnick when you had come home, driving yourself into isolation and depression. You rarely went out anymore, eating one meal a day and slept more than 80% of the day. Even sleeping couldn't mend the eternal tiredness you had, the void that filled your body.

Finnick had felt more than responsible for your pain. He gave you time before he realized he was just adding to your pain. Even when you didn't communicate back to him, Finnick visited you every day. He gave you advice and told you what he had went through after the Games as well. Eventually you opened up more to Finnick, and slowly, he had become your best friend.

He had told you that numbing it wasn't going to make it go away. He reminded you that you had him and Mags to help you with this process, and that you weren't alone despite of how you felt.

He helped you regain your sense of purpose again, your self image again. Finnick had singlehandedly helped you rebuilt your sense of self again.

He saw a part of you in him, that scared 14 year old boy who was trying to go back home to his parents. He never wanted anyone to feel that, especially you.

He promised you that he would never let anything bad ever happen to you again.

During your Victor's tour, Snow had suddenly deemed you desirable by the Capitol, wanting to sell you as he did with Finnick. Finnick couldn't risk getting involved, wanting to protect his family.

Every night in the Capitol, you were always consoled by Finnick. Every time you had to do a favor, you remember walking to Finnick's room to sleep, not baring the thought of having to sleep alone in the cold bed. He was always there, holding your hand comfortingly as you both slept.

The Capitol adored you both, nicknaming you the princess and prince of Panem. The more time you spent with Finnick, the more the media had speculated a relationship between the young victors.

You and Finnick had connected in many ways. Both having the same trauma, it was easy to talk to him and for him to understand how hard it was.

You and Finnick eventually got together a few years later, then getting married (in secret, of course) almost right after. You were both deeply in love.

Finnick found solace in the thought of always having you by his side, remembering that no one could tear you apart. That was until the Quarter Quell was announced.

You and Finnick were sitting at the edge of the couch, listening to Caesar's words carefully as he explained that this year's Hunger Games was going to be very different.

When it was announced that there will be only be Victors in this year's games, you heard dropped. You looked over at Finnick and he shared the same terrified look on his face.

--

When Annie's name had been called, you without any second thought, put up your hand. "I volunteer as tribute."

The crowd gasped and you looked over at Annie and you could tell she was a bit relived but still scared nonetheless. You immediately embraced her tightly, letting her let out a small sob. "It's okay, you're okay."

Mags looked just as terrified and you took her hand. When Finnick's name was called, you felt your stomach drop. Not only were you back in the arena, but you were with Finnick.

You looked over at Finnick and he looked prepared to fight. You both stood up and he grabbed your hand, raising it up in union.

The trainride to the Capitol was pretty uneventful. Finnick had wanted some time to think about the plan and so did you. A part of you knew what he was planning; he kill everyone else in the arena and then eventually himself, all for you.

As you sat on the bed, you felt the sadness and anger turn into numbness. No amount of crying was going to stop the Quater Quell and you had to be smart.

You didn't want to survive without Finnick. You were either winning with him or dying with him. Life would be meaningless without him.

Finnick knocked on your door slightly, before walking in. You looked up at him and he gave you a small smile. He took a seat next to and took your hand.

"I have a plan."

"Finnick, I know what you're thinking, and no. You're not killing yourself for me."

Finnick looked defeated. "One of us has to survive, Y/N. For Annie. For Mags."

You look a deep inhale, looking away from Finnick. "I don't want to life without you, everything would lose all it's meaning without you."

Finnick felt his heart burst into two pieces as he squeezed your hand. You felt your eyes watering again and you couldn't help but let out another quiet cry as Finnick pulled your head in, as he embraced you tightly.

"Shh, it's okay. I promise, I won't... I won't leave you."

--

It had all happened so fast, you couldn't even comprehend what had just happened. One moment, you were with Finnick trying to find Johanna and Katniss and suddenly there was big loud boom. You were relieved for a moment; Plutarch's plan had worked. Until you realized how far away you were from the others.

You were wandering, trying to find anyone until you heard people behind you. You turned and then you saw some unfamiliar faces; suddenly, your vision went black.

Then, you woke up in a white room. You felt like your stomach had dropped out of your body once the realization hit you; the Capitol captured you.

You were strapped down to a bed and you couldn't move or shake it off. The severity of the situation had hit you; even if by some miracle you did escape, where would you go? How would you find your way to 13 and back to Finnick?

You knew how ruthless the Capitol was to everyone who disobeyed them. Your worst fears had come true and there was no getting out of here.

You heard the door open and you saw some Peacekeepers come in and then you saw the person you dreaded to see most; Snow. You felt like your whole had come crashing down, how could this nightmare become any worse?

"Hello, Y/N."

You didn't respond, resorting to stare at the wall in front of you instead.

He tutted disappointedly. "Out of all the tributes, you were the one I expected least to be involved in this mess. You are the Princess of Panem... What a shame."

You still hadn't replied and you hadn't dared to look at Snow. Months and months you spent trying to heal the trauma he had caused you, you were sure if you had to look at him now, you would break.

"I want to take mercy on you, dear Y/N. If you tell me everything you know about the rebellion, I will make sure the Peacekeepers are gentle with you."

You shook your head. "No."

He let out a small chuckle. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you. What?"

"No." You said again, louder.

He hummed in disapproval. "Okay then, you leave me no choice. You are going to regret this."

He nodded to the Peacekeepers and walked out of the room. You were then met with Peacekeepers, loosening the straps then taking you to another room.

If Snow knew one thing about you, it was that being only physical with you wouldn't hurt you enough. He had to hit you were it hurt most.

They threw you in the seemingly vacant room and immediately locking it. You were confused until you heard it.

"Y/N, help me!" Finnick's voice screamed. "Please, help me! Get up and do something, they're killing me! Please."

You looked everywhere in the dark room, trying to find the source. It kept going.

"Y/N, please! Help! What the hell are you doing, just sitting there? You are such a disappointment!" The voice started shouting. "We should've just left you to died in the arena! You are useless!"

Now this was something new. Your body was filled with panic and fear and even though you knew it was fake, you felt like you were going to throw up from all the noise.

Suddenly, Annie's voice came in as well. Then Johanna's. Then your mother's. There was nonstop noise filled with screams for help, shouting with disapproving messages. Your body couldn't handle it; it was so overwhelmed with fear that you started shaking on the ground, putting your hands on your ears but that did little to nothing.

You wanted it to stop. It was too much, you were trembling. It felt like days, just sitting there in that room listening to all those demeaning voices of your loved ones. You couldn't even think straight anymore.

It was so bad you had started to pound your head on the ground, screaming and crying. You had have enough. And then, it all stopped. Silence was foreign for you; your ears were ringing.

You were sitting on the ground, almost lifeless as the Peacekeepers took you away. Your eyes hurt from the tears, your body sore, your ears ringing and your head was pounding.

But you knew that was just the beginning.

--

You were asleep in bed and you were awakened by the door opening, you instantly jolted up. You looked over to see a group of masked men in front of you and you had started to tremble again, silent tears rolling down your face, thinking that the Peacekeepers had come again.

"No, no, no." You started to mumble to yourself.

A man came up to your and took your bruised hand slowly, rubbing it gently in silent empathy. That was the first soft touch you'd felt in a few weeks and it almost stung.

"It's okay, you're safe now. You're going to 13 now."

You had to blink a couple times, trying to process what he said. Was this a dream? You went to pinch yourself but it was real life.

He then helped you up but you couldn't help but stumble; your legs were weak, you couldn't remember the last time the Peacekeepers let you walk for this long.

As you got into the hovercraft, you saw Annie. Your eyes widened as you both ran up to each other, embracing each other. She had started to cry a little bit and so did you.

That was when it hit you. You were going to see Finnick. You were going home. You started crying into Annie's shoulder as she held you. "We're safe now, we're safe."

You had seen Johanna as well but she didn't seem too responsive. Neither did Peeta. You fell asleep on Annie's shoulder on the ride back and for the first time, you actually felt yourself drifting off calmly.

--

There were lots of doctors and nurses looking at you and asking you all sorts of questions and you tried your best to answer them. You were still in shock; you were safe. They couldn't hurt you anymore.

"Y/N?" You turned around to see Finnick. You immediately got up from the examiner's table and ran into his arms, your eyes starting to water up again.

"Finnick," you sighed slowly. You pulled away, putting your hands on his face and touched him as if he wasn't real.

"Are you.. Are you really here?"

"Yes, I'm really here." Finnick looked at you and suddenly his voice transported you back into the dark room. You quickly twisted out of his embrace and his expression changed.

His voice was back and you heard all of the nasty things he had to you. You back away, stumbling into the examiner's table and your breathing became heavy. "No, no, no, please-please go away. No."

You slid down to the floor and you closed your eyes, putting your hands on your ears and rocking back and forth trying to get that voice to stop.

Finnick ran up to you and put his hands on your knees, trying to get you to look at him. His heart broke in half; he didn't know what the Capitol had done to you but now he knows it has something to do with him.

Of course the Capitol would try to ruin him. His eyes started to tear up at the sight of you, in so much pain and panic.

You opened your eyes, Finnick in front of you. You started to cry some more before Finnick slowly went up to you, wrapping his arms around you.

When he had started wrapping your arms around you, your instinct was to push him away but his warmth was welcoming and safe and you started to focus on his touch. The voices slowly drifted away, the sounds of your silent sobs only being heard.

You then gave into Finnick's touch, falling into him and putting your head in his chest as he caressed your back gently, shushing you.

"It's okay baby, I got you. You're safe now, they can't hurt you."

[benz12313]

Delirium - Ridoc x Reader 🌶️

{Images are not my own}

Summary: You and Ridoc have been dancing around each other for months, just on the cusp of becoming something more. All it takes is a rough week and a bit of liquor to have you become putty in his hands, and he's been dying for the chance to carry you to his bed. Too bad you guys don't quiiite make it there, at least this time... ;) [Takes place during Iron Flame]

Warnings: ‼️(MDNI) 18+ explicit content‼️, smut, thigh riding, hinting at feelings, swearing, fem!reader, drunkenness/alcohol use

Part 2/3 - Part 3/3

Authors Note: I am absolutely living for goofy, sexy Ridoc in this fic. Is this totally a self-serving fic? Absolutely. Do I still hope you enjoy it? Also absolutely. This is my first attempt at smut so bare with me, I'm easing into it. Also I got a little carried away, and will have to break this into three parts...sssooorrry.

Word Count: 2,093

Alcohol coarsed in my veins, the music in the bar was blaring, and my friend’s bodies pressed in on me. Rhiannon and Tara danced in front of me, bumping into me occasionally, yet obviously lost in each other. Sawyer was close too, nursing a beer and dancing with his eyes closed, probably imagining Jesinia by his side. And then Ridoc… Ridoc was behind me, one hand resting seemingly innocently on my waist, setting my entire body aflame. 

Maybe it was the pressure of looming change. Maybe it was the grueling week of classes. Maybe it was the math test I’d failed. Maybe it was the sore muscles from Fayla pushing me during flight maneuvers. All I knew was that when I’d entered the bar that night, my mission was to release every ounce of tension in my body, get absolutely tanked, find someone to warm my bed, and absolutely lose myself to the night. 

And who had been so achingly close to me all night? Who’d been shooting flirty winks and sultry smiles the moment our friends would glance away? Who’s hands had been roaming my thighs under the table as I’d been forced to sit on his lap so all our friends could fit into the booth and socialize? Hands that had pulled and massaged and pinched; but never moving to where I so desperately wanted him to? Always so close to crossing that line, but never quite taking the plunge.  

Ridoc fucking Gamlyn. That’s who. 

The man I’d been dancing around for weeks, toeing dangerously between friends and bedmates. Countless study sessions where he’d huddle a little too closely while leaning over my shoulder. Mouth dangerously close to my neck as he’d stare at my notes, feigning idiocy when we both knew he was much smarter than he let on. Or on the mat, when I’d get him pinned, dagger pressed to his throat, my own aching for air but so deliciously proud of myself as his eyes would be glued to my rapidly rising and falling chest, letting out a garbled “I yield.” as I’d feel him stiffen below me. 

My personal favorite was just a few days ago, when I’d run into him after he’d just finished showering after a long training session with the rest of the squad.

His curls sticking to his forehead, still dripping, the beads of water trailing down his chest. I shamelessly watched them go down his sculpted abs, silently reminding myself to thank Dane for all the extra training sessions he’d been ordering lately, because it was obviously doing wonders for Ridoc. I’d been just about to drop to my knees and lick them off myself, and then maybe, maybe get a peak at what he was hiding under those gray sweats, when Sawyer had come around the corner, calling after Ridoc to wait up. He hadn’t even seen me, but my eyes flashed to Ridoc’s, and he’d given me a sultry smile, exactly like the ones he’d shoot his conquests before dragging them into his room. “Looks like we’ll have to wait some other time Princess.” He’d muttered just loud enough for me to hear before Sawyer saw me, and I innocently waved them off, heading to the showers like I’d originally planned. It didn’t matter how deftly my fingers worked beneath the steaming water, the orgasm that followed fell flat, my body coiled and aching for Ridoc. 

Gods, Ridoc had taken up way too many of my frustrated fantasies lately. Much more than any friend should. 

“Hey Princess, want more shots?” His voice was rough and low, breath fanning on my ear, his hand flexing on my waist, the pressure of his giant hand so deliciously grounding amongst the crowd and music. 

“Fuck yes!” I called back, turning in his arms and playfully pushing his chest back, towards where the bar awaited us. 

He grinned widely down at me, before removing his hand from my waist, using it to grab the hand that still rested on his chest, threading our fingers together as he shot me a wink. He turned without warning, making a path through the crowd, which I eagerly followed him through. In moments or minutes, I was too drunk to tell, we’d made it to the crowded bar and Ridoc pulled me closer to him, my hands now braced to his chest as he pushed forward, trapping me between him and the bar. 

“Same as before Y/L/N?” He shot the question down to me, eyes following the bartender as he took the orders from those around us. 

I reached onto my tiptoes, the corner of my mouth brushing his jaw, mostly unintentionally as I lightly swayed. “Yes please.” I said sweetly and he gulped, my eyes flashing to his adams apple as it bobbed, suddenly stopping myself from running my tongue across his entire damn throat. 

His hands tightened on my waist, jerking me closer to him, “If you don’t stop looking at me like that Y/N,” His voice a downright growl, making me instantly soaked, “We won’t make it to my room tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Across the bar Sawyer, Violet, Rhiannon, Tara, and the first years all stared at Ridoc and you, practically eye-fucking each other as you downed another two shots. The two of you had had way too many to count already, the both of you clinging to each other, not only because you couldn’t seem to stop touching each other as the night trailed on, but because the two of you needed the other’s support to stand straight. 

“Should we…be stopping this?” Rhiannon asked the others as you giggled at something Ridoc had whispered in your ear, head flopping onto his shoulder, delight covering your face. 

“And put an end to their months of pining after each other? No way.” Violet grumbled. 

“Seriously.” Sawyer agreed, “If I have to hear about one more boner that Y/N has given Ridoc I’m going to have to chop off my own ears.” 

“Just let them get it out of their system,” Tara says, giving Rhiannon a quick peck on the lips. “Either they’ll be back to normal in the morning, or they’ll finally do something about their feelings. Either way, no need to butt in where we don’t belong.”

“I suppose,” The squad leader relented, but when she’d looked up to check on the two of you, you’d both disappeared from the bar. “How’d they move that fast?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ridoc..” My voice was nothing more than a breathy sigh as his eyes raked over me, his arms rested on either side of my head on the cold, hard wall of the back of the tavern. He groaned, hands balling into fists as he pressed his thigh between my legs, giving me delicious pressure that had me whimpering and sliding my hands under his loose black tee. Just utterly aching for my skin to touch his. He was burning to the touch, and the moment my fingertips touched his abs he groaned, head sinking to rest on my neck and his hands gripping my waist, roughly pulling me forward to grind my clothed core on his thigh some more. 

“Y/N,” he moaned out, tongue lazily tasting my collarbone, before his breaths shakily fanned across my neck. “Fuck, Princess, why do you smell so fucking good. Makes it impossible to-” I moaned loudly as I threw my head back, the constant pressure from his thigh making pleasure coil tighter and tighter in my tummy, and he let out the most tortured fucking groan. “Fuck that, why do those pretty little moans of yours have to drive me so fucking insane?”

“R-ridoc-“ I gasped out barely able to think (let alone speak) beyond the pleasure his thigh alone was giving me. It was too much yet not enough all at once, and he hadn’t even kissed me yet. Gods was I too fucking out of it to even tell him what I wanted? What I needed from him?

“Hmm?” He hummed at me, pulling back and eyes scanning my face before he grinned, teasing and lighthearted, as one hand moved to my head, threading into my loose hair. And then he was fisting it, pulling my head back to expose my throat as his eyes scanned my whimpering form, not needing his hands anymore as I desperately chased my high on his thigh. “Gods, I wish you could see yourself Y/N, looking so desperate and needy for me. Riding my thigh like you fucking own it.” I whined as he adjusted his leg, unintentionally bouncing me on it, and a wanton moan erupting out of me at the jolt of pleasure. He grinned maniacally. 

“Ohhhh,” he was teasing now as his mouth dropped to my throat, licking from collarbone to chin, groaning before pulling back and meeting my gaze with an intensity that nearly had me cumming then and there. “Is that what you wanted Baby? You wanted me to bounce your pretty little cunt on my thigh? Let the first time you cum for me be behind a fucking tavern, fully fucking clothed? Can’t even wait till we get back to Basgaith?”

“P-p-please.” I whispered, pleaded really, and his eyebrows raised, absolute delight covering his face as he froze for a moment before starting to slowly bounce his knee. 

“Well fuck Y/N, how the hell am I supposed to deny you when you ask so prettily?” Pleasure coursed through me, as I removed my hands from where they’d been desperately holding onto his torso. I threaded them into his soft locks, pulling him forward, or trying to as he was currently devouring my neck and collarbone, biting and sucking and surely leaving marks to remind us of everything we had done in the morning. As if I could ever forget any second of this. It didn’t matter how many drinks I had had, Ridoc had brought me past being drunk. He’d sent me into absolute delirium, where all that mattered were me, him, and my fast approaching orgasm. 

“Ridocccc” I whined, the coil in my stomach threatening to burst, “I want-“ I panted and he groaned. “Fuck! Will you fucking kiss me already?!” I finally burst out and he laughed, hollow and short, nipping across my jaw playfully. 

“Sure thing beautiful,” He tilted his head, and smashed his mouth to my own as sparks danced in my vision and that coil finally snapped, white light and stars blocking my sight as I let him absolutely consume me. I was shaking, and whining, with my fingers digging into his scalp as our tongues danced skillfully with each other and I pressed my entire body as close to his as I could get. Like we’d been here a thousand times and we were just settling in, coming home after being apart for millennium. 

As I came down from my high my movements slowed, drinking in the moment, as his hand left my hair, and slid gently back down to my waist. He gently set me down back on flat ground, everything spinning now that he wasn’t holding me steady. 

Our kisses slowed too, until he was just lightly pecking me, not really wanting to leave my mouth, not now that he had finally gotten to claim it for himself. He sighed, resting his forehead on mine, dorky grin spreading across his face and eyes shining with unfiltered male pride. “Ya know, I always knew you were secretly depraved, but I never imagined you’d be this fucking needy for me. What wouldn’t you let me do to you, sweet Y/N?”

“Hmm?” I teased, lightly tapping my chin, his eyes following every movement. “How about you get me to your room, and I show you, every, single, thing, I will let you do to me?”

“Fuck, alright.” He chuckles, “Gods, you’re perfect for me you know?” The confession was raw, and I could see the sentiment in his eyes, but my drunken self wasn’t ready to confront that right now, not when my need was beginning to cloud my reasoning again and liquor burned through my veins. 

“Get me back to your room Gamlyn, before we won’t be able to make it back without enlisting help. That’d be embarrassing.” I joked and he laughed, boisterous and loud and so perfectly him that it made my heart ache. 

“Yeah it would, Sawyer would really be sick of me then.” He laughed, stepping back and grabbing my hand, squeezing it tightly. “Lets go Princess, to my room we fly!”

[impactrueno]

after seeing so many people bring up Drop Dead Fred in the comments of my bj & lyds comic, i decided to finally watch it last night and oh my god. i get it now. that's literally them, it's crazy???? i mean not 100% but i'm still shocked at how much they reminded me of both beej and lydia in looks, personality and dynamic (i gotta say though, i'm surprised that fred is more chaotic and infuriating than beej lol. fred makes him look tame in comparison)

it's interesting that tim burton was offered to direct this movie. i can definitely see how that would've turned out. the dark humor, the aesthetic of the imaginary friends and the inside of elizabeth's head already felt pretty burtonesque as they were in the movie, so i don't doubt he was a source of inspiration regardless.

fred and elizabeth though...it's crazy how much this feels like a spiritual successor to the beetlejuice cartoon. obviously it has its own identity so it's not like it's a beetlejuice ripoff or anything, especially since elizabeth is an adult dealing with adult problems and fred's existence is kinda vague in the sense that you don't know how much of him is actually imaginary/part of elizabeth's mind, and how much of him is an actual entity separate from elizabeth. i think by the end he struck me as some type of fucked up guardian angel that only manifests to those who need him. his purpose and reason of existence are directly tied to elizabeth (or whoever needs an imaginary friend) due to her needing some sort of coping mechanism to deal with abuse from her mother and her ex-husband. so like...part of her brain (her taking special pills weakens him until he disappears) but also not. he just exists with the sole purpose of helping her get back on her feet.

which is why i'm baffled at this letterboxd review i saw when i logged the movie:

girl what the FUCK are you talking about.

(spoilers: there is one kiss. one very non-sexual non-romantic goodbye kiss between elizabeth and her living coping mechanism/figment of her imagination/guardian angel of sorts after she managed to heal her inner child thanks to him. i am straight up stupefied that someone would interpret this whole thing as grooming. what movie were you watching)

i'm surprised in general at how so many people completely missed the point of the movie. people taking the gross out immature humor at face value as if that's what the movie is about has me worried about people's media literacy for real lol. this perception of the movie made it flop in the US and even had david letterman condescend to rik mayall when he interviewed him back when the movie came out in 1991. man.........don't piss me off lol

anyway. weird but ultimately lovely movie, it makes so much sense that this is a comfort movie for many and now i totally get why my comic reminded people of it. i understood what they were going for and it's tragic that general audiences did not. it's a movie that's hard to market for sure, because it looks like a kids movie at first glance but the themes and humor are very adult; but then an adult might look at this movie and go "why am i watching a movie where an imaginary manchild calls this girl snotface and makes all these crude gross out jokes" so i'm just. pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration at how misunderstood this movie ended up being

so yeah if you like beetlejuice and lydia's friendship in the cartoon, definitely watch this movie. just know what you're in for lol

[nathaslosthershit]

New Neighbors and Interrupted Streams [Part 1] (LN4)

Read Part 2 here! Summary: Desperate for new friends, maybe it's time to revert to the tried and true neighborly American cookie exchange.  A/N: I know Lando lives in Monaco but in this he is still in the UK. Also I really love fics that have something to do with Lando streaming and being teased the entire time.

This was stupid. This was probably so stupid. But she had to do something.

Two weeks she had been in her new apartment, in a new country. In that time, she had gotten increasingly lonelier, seemingly unable to make friends.

She had moved to the UK for work but with another month till she actually began her new job, she didn’t know how to make friends in her free time.

God, why was it so hard to make friends as an adult? 

So, after a call with her mom expressing her issues with making friends, she was reminded of a good-old US custom.

Baking cookies for your neighbor.

Usually, this was reserved for pre-existing residents to introduce themselves to the new folks moving in, but after all this time she didn’t expect her neighbors to reach out, so it seemed she had to do it herself. 

After that phone call, she tried it twice with some of her neighbors. The first time, she left them at the door with a note introducing herself to them, saying she hoped they could meet up sometime. She found the cookies still in the box, with the opened note on her doorstep later that day. 

The second time, she got so excited when she saw from down the hall that her neighbor had grabbed them, swiftly moving inside his own flat with the cookies while reading the note. But a week later and no sign of any desire from the neighbor to connect with her, she gave up. 

She had one last person she could try with, the ridiculously cute boy who lived in the apartment across from her. She hadn’t actually talked to him, just spied on him a few times from her peephole when she heard him leaving his flat. Creepy, she knew, but she was far too shy to say anything.

But she was so desperate, and she could tell he was around her age… she thinks. After sitting at her table for an hour staring at the home baked goods, she finally grabbed them and knocked on his door before she could chicken out. 

Lando was streaming with Max next to him, when he got a notification that someone was by his door. Thinking it was the takeaway he ordered, he swiftly excused himself to go grab it. What he didn’t expect was the pretty girl who had just moved across from him to be at the door.

There was a beat of silence as they both stared at each other. In all honesty, she was just going to knock, wait a few seconds, then leave the cookies. She hadn't expected him to answer the door so she was unsure what to say. 

Finally he spoke up.

“Sorry, are we being too loud? We can totally quiet down if you need to.” He said while awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

She still didn’t reply, too stunned by seeing him for the first time not through a small and dirty peephole. God, he was beautiful.

Seconds of silence went by until she finally managed to get everything she wanted out.

“No, no I am so sorry. You are completely fine, that's not why I am here. I just didn’t think you'd actually answer the door. Anyway, I know this is probably strange and I don’t think they actually do this here but I just wanted to introduce myself to my neighbors, so I made cookies! Again this is probably so weird of me so it's totally fine if you don’t want them or something, the other neighbors clearly didn’t but that's okay. Anyway- Hi, I live across from you and now I am here with cookies!” She managed to get out in one breath while sticking the cookies out for him to grab.

This time, Lando took a few seconds to reply, trying to process what she said. “You’re American.” Was all he managed to get out.

She didn’t know what to reply, it wasn’t a question but felt like he needed reinforcement about that statement.

“I am.”

“I didn’t realize they actually did this, thought it was a movie thing.”

“Uh- I am sorry?”

“No. no! It's sweet, thank you for them. I really appreciate it… sorry what's your name? I’m Lando by the way” 

How she managed to not actually say her name while she spent a full minute rambling about how she wanted to introduce herself was beyond her, but after quickly introducing herself, properly this time, she finally felt the tension and awkwardness leave her body.

He took the cookies from her, promising that he was excited to eat them even though he knew his trainer wouldn’t be too happy, and took this opportunity to get her phone number. Promising to text her, he closed the door and immediately looked out his peephole, wanting to get one more look at her. He was surprised, and amused, to see she did a little celebratory dance in the hallway, before taking a breath and entering her own apartment, excited she had just made a new potential friend.

“What took you so long, Mate? And why are you so red? And why do you have cookies? Where is the food we ordered?” Max asked when Lando entered the room again, a stupid grin adorning his face.

“It wasn’t our delivery, the new neighbor just stopped by to introduce herself.”

“The cute one you kept going on about?” Max teased, earning a kick to the shin as that wasn’t information Lando wanted everyone watching the stream to know.

“Anyway- she brought cookies as a little hello. It's sweet. I've never gotten cookies made for me before.”

“She brought cookies? The hell would she do that for?”

“Like I said, to introduce herself. She’s american.”

Before Max could ask anymore questions, specifically about why Lando was smiling so much and why he was beet-red, which Max already knew the answer to, their actual takeaway came, saving Lando for the time being.

When he came back and they started eating, Lando wasn’t interrogated on the topic, at least not until he began giggling on his phone.

“Mate, what are you- Oh my god guys he is giggling and texting his new neighbor. Chat, this is unbelievable.” Max yelled as he stole Lando’s phone from his hand. Reading the messages with disgust, he added, “God, you need to work on your flirting, you sound like an absolute muppet right now.”

Lando quickly took his phone back and tried to change the topic. Throughout the rest of the stream, he tried his best to not look at the new messages she had sent in order to not be teased, as the chat seemed to still be mentioning every time he would secretly text her, trying to be stealthy as to not let Max find out.

He just hoped this whole thing stayed on the stream, and that it wouldn’t come to the press, who loved to question him on his relationships. The last thing he needed was to be asked this during media after a race.

He wouldn’t be so lucky, he soon would find out after the next race.

Read Part 2 here!

[tallykale]

episode 19

as you can probably tell, i've thought a lot about what post-canon one would look like in my vision... i've said before that i have issues with straightforward fix-its, and i do genuinely love the tragic open-ended conclusion that the series has, but i... am not immune to playing with characters like dolls LOL

here's some writeups about where everyone is at mentally in these pictures. please please please PLEEEASE feel free to ask me more about this cuz i love talking about my beautiful mind palace

charlotte: somehow the most optimistic person in here, mostly out of necessity. when she died, she saw parker leading her out of a cave as her waiting room and was about to take his hand when airy respawned her, so she has a brief moment of bonding with bryce when he talks about the waiting room and seeing stella. with the knowledge that there is potentially a way to get out (bryce and liam being the proof) and the fear of rotting away again she is by far the most actively motivated to help liam figure out the computer. a lot of her days are spent talking to liam over the mic and writing out the code in the dirt so she can try to understand it. she still has to push against her natural misanthropy (and often shouts at liam or bryce for being fucking stupid and useless) but both working on the code and helping amelia give her something concrete to focus on outside herself. she wants to get home so she can make amends with her friends. charlotte is scared of dying! she's really genuinely horribly scared of dying and has awful vivid nightmares about rotting away. she often pushes amelia into talking about her life which causes some tension, but it's because she really hates seeing amelia lose herself like that - a metaphorical rotting away of the self.

subway seat & atom: not on the same level of pure existential depression as the batch 1 contestants, but they both feel the hopeless mood pretty harshly regardless. subway feels very lonely as the only hidden object still 'awake', and likes to carry whippy creamy around rather than just leave him sitting on the ground constantly. tray is too big and unwieldy for him to do that with, but he 'hangs out' with her anyway, talking to her and whippy creamy in the hopes that it'll get them to want to wake up again. atom doesn't talk much, but he still carries his piece of grass. he's definitely the person who's the least affected by the prospect of being stuck on the plane forever, since he… doesn't really perceive existence in the same way as everyone else? he's an atom. but his time in the competition definitely made him view everyone else as friends, and he feels even more powerless than usual in the face of this incomprehensibly difficult problem.

amelia: falls into total hopelessness when bryce rejoins, basically seeing it as the final sign that they're never going home. still calls everyone their competition names (she actually gets into a big fight with bryce about it lol). she gets really clingy and dependent on bryce when he first comes back but it crashes and burns pretty quickly when, during an argument, bryce tells her how much he wishes he could just go back and never have let liam in and forgot about everything… which really sucks for amelia to hear, given that she's part of that everything. after that, with bryce isolating himself, she's kind of reliant on charlotte to keep her going. she blames liam for airy dying and secretly kind of thinks he killed him but just isn't telling them… she also doesn't really believe there's any way of getting out and is just kind of waiting around to die of, like, old age i guess. after how long she's been here, amelia is convinced that she has nothing to even go back to and frequently forgets details about her life. regularly cries and hates being alone. the shift markings on the side of the water tub have changed from being a way to keep track of time and stay sane to a horrible reminder of how long they've been here and how much longer of an eternity they have before them.

bryce: hates himself and liam and airy and the plane and his entire stupid fucking life. bryce is really, really fucking pissed off at liam for losing the notes and letting texty die and every other mistake he's made, and isn't shy about telling him that. as well as being angry, he's also incredibly miserable, because he was finally starting to turn his life around (he quit drinking after the plane) and now it's all for nothing - and even worse, those 7 months he spent getting better were 7 months he did nothing to help the rest of them, especially amelia. he's horribly guilty about that, and that he didn't tell amelia about the fake votes before he was eliminated… but finds it easier to just let liam take the heat for that one at first. after he fights with amelia about it he becomes a bit of a hermit, hanging out by himself next to the plug, and never responds when liam tries to talk. contemplates suicide regularly but pretty much the only option is drowning himself, and the idea of that still scares him more than staying like this forever. would kill for a beer.

liam: tortured by horrible guilt every day over a million different things. these include getting bryce pulled back into this (plus delayed guilt over getting him for real killed), letting texty die and not saying anything about the charger, not telling amelia that everything was fake, knowing that charlotte is going to die if he doesn't get really smart really fast… he's frequently gripped by fits of rage where he almost smashes the computer and has to hobble around outside with the axe for a while to blow off steam. he has really bad nightmares and dissociative episodes, made worse by the isolation and spending hours in a dark cave. liam really wants to fix things with everyone but genuinely has no idea how to start that conversation. he assumes airy killed himself (and views it as an unforgiveably cowardly move) and directs a lot of resentment towards him. he has a lot of things he wants to say, especially to bryce, but the fact that he cant talk to anybody one on one makes things difficult. spends a lot of time just reading through the code, too afraid to actually make any changes in case everyone explodes, but talking it through with charlotte at least makes him feel like he's doing something. more than he would like to admit, liam catches himself staring at the plane as if it's a simulation or a livestream.

[laaailuh]

-TROPHY WIFE PT.2🏀

╰┈➤PART 1

-pairing: basketball player!e42 miles x fem!black!reader

-genre: fluff

-summary: What it’s like to date Visions Academy’s most prominent basketball player.

a/n: I am obsessed with making these.

MILES MORALES who always needs you by his side to help him choose out of his D1 offers.

“What about this one? Their program seems pretty nice.” “Yeah but baby, it's in Texas.” “So?” “Im not tryin’ to be 1000 miles away from you so another nigga can think he has a chance, fuck no.”

MILES MORALES who continuously reminds the cheerleaders that flirt with him that he's taken whatsoever and not interested.

“That crossover trick you did was so good.” “You should totally teach us some time.” “Nah. My girl can teach you how to get your ass beat though? She crazy.”

MILES MORALES who will give you private basketball lessons. Even though you weren't the best at playing, you still wanted to learn it because it was something that he loved deeply.

MILES MORALES who needs reassurance/ comfort when he gets injured during his basketball season.

“I cant rest Ma, scouts dont look for the player who sits out the most.” “You’re injured though, you need to lay off your ankle.” “Nah I have to-” “Basketball will still be there for you when you heal, so please just rest baby.”

MILES MORALES who tries not to let a fight escalate on the court if another player trash talks or purposely trips him. He wanted to show you that he was bigger than that. 

MILES MORALES who will try and convince you to get him the new 2k game that comes out every year.

“Please mami, they added more moves and everything.” “Miles, you play the actual game in real life, you don't need it.” “But I wanna create a sexy ass basketball player.”

MILES MORALES who will leave his jerseys at your house intentionally because he knows you like to wear it to bed or to his games.

MILES MORALES who lifts his shirt up to dry his face when he's sweating. This makes you go absolutely feral and he knows it too.

MILES MORALES who will take you out to eat after school before one of his games, he wants you to have enough energy to cheer for him.

MILES MORALES who loves when you get your nails done with his jersey number on it.

“You like my new set?” “Mhmmm….I love them baby.” “Now we have to do that tik tok trend where I show my nails on your pants.” “You stay wanting to do that huh?”

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Having The Same Abilities As Wolverine

Requested: Heyy! Can I request a the boys preference where reader is a supe who pretty much has wolverine's powers? Ty!! - @ghostlyaccurate

Requested: Hii can I request the boys pref x female wolverine? <33 - anon

A/N: Reminder my loves! Everything is written as gender neutral, I don't write specifically freader or mreader. I hope you like it! I am working 100% from Wolverines Wikipedia page lol since I forget most of his powers. Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher finds your abilities both disgusting and impressive. Your super sight, smell, etc. are really helpful in certain situations. He jokingly calls you their own personal Tek Knight, which you shut down immediately. What's disgusting is when your claws come out, breaking through the skin of your knuckles. There's a lot of blood. There's a lot of pain even with your healing. And something about them just freaks him out. You jokingly try to poke him with them, touch him with them, and though he'd never admit it, he absolutely hates the feeling. There's just something wrong about them that he can't pinpoint or describe. They're helpful for sure and watching you use them is always gory, he'd just like for them to go away as quickly as possible.

Hughie finds you fascinating. The healing and the claws are always cool, but it's the fact that you're so much older than all of them, so much more experienced, and yet you age so little. Because you're body heals so well, you age at a slower rate than the rest of the world. While that's not totally new for Supes, he's always interested in hearing about your life. You have so much knowledge, so many more experiences, so many lives lived before this mess took over. You find it the least interesting part of your abilities, but Hughie's always had an appreciation for the underappreciated. He loves to listen to you talk about the past, what the world was like, what Vought and The Seven were like. It wasn't always this fucked, at least that's the conclusion he comes to as you talk. It was fucked, it was a mess, but the introduction of Homelander really set in stone this future.

Annie is your confidant. The healing factor has saved your and others lives countless times, but everyone forgets you can still feel pain. Long after your body has put itself back together, the phantom pain lingers. It's excruciating and, secretly, you live in fear of being torn apart. Days and weeks later, you move as if you're still broken. You'll wake up, confused for a moment, expecting to be torn limb from limb, before you come to your senses. Even your claws leave your hands raw, arthritic. You know Annie thinks about that more than anyone else. You told her one night about the pain and since then she's always been aware, quietly asking you if you're alright. Sometimes the pain goes away in a few hours, other times it takes weeks. It all depends on the severity. You try not to complain, knowing you must sound like a broken record, but she doesn't see it that way.

M.M., kind of like Butcher, is weirded out by your claws. He doesn't mind the healing or the heightened senses. For the most part, those things are hidden. It's the claws he gets the heebie jeebies from. You poke fun at him because of this. Out of all the Supe abilities you could have gotten, claws aren't the oddest thing you could have developed. He is reminded of Webweavers abilities and that puts things into perspective for a little while. He didn't trust you in the beginning. It was hard to show him you weren't just another Supe hopped up on V. You're a lot older than everyone, you've experienced more, you're wiser than he gives you credit for. He learns to trust you because of your level head. In situations where other people would be losing their shit, you're calm, cool, and collected. It isn't your abilities that make him befriend you, it's the person underneath them.

Frenchie both loves and hates your abilities. He finds your claws fascinating. Every time you use them he's left in awe. He loves watching you use them, the way you can hide them and bring them out when they're least expecting it. He doesn't find them weird or odd like his friends. They're amazing. He hates, though, that your heightened senses are basically a lie detector test he fails every time. You know when he's been drinking, smoking, getting high. You try not to make a big deal about it, but you do talk to him about it in private. You know when he's lying, though any non-Supe could figure it out when they learn all his tells. He's not as good as he thinks he is at lying. He's always amazed with your stamina, too. It's something a lot of people tend to overlook about your powers, but he doesn't.

Kimiko and you bond effortlessly. Your abilities are so similar and yet so different. Together you're a fantastic duo, unstoppable. She likes touching your claws, though hates the way they have to come out. She knows what it's like, to have to sacrifice yourself, your body, for the greater good. She knows what it's like to wake up confused and, for a moment, feeling as if you're missing parts of yourself. The two of you work together effortlessly and find a lot of humor in your abilities whereas everyone else sees a severed limb of broken bones, you can see just how silly the body is, how fragile and easily it both breaks and repairs itself. She loves your heightened senses and always tells her what you can find out: M.M. got a new chapstick (strawberry), Butcher ate something with peppers, Annie got Hughie a new cologne, etc.

[apomaro-mellow]

The Road to You 2

Part 1

As far as Doug, Jeff, and Gareth knew, Eddie was simply running from the police and Jason’s mob. The less they knew about monsters he had faced, the better. They visited him in the hospital once they had heard where he was. All three were surprised to see that Steve Harrington was in the room. They were even more surprised to find that this was a regular thing from Eddie’s uncle. Then they learned from Dustin that apparently Steve had been with Eddie during all of this. 

It made a solid rock of guilt settle in their stomachs. Jeff was the only one who had said anything outright to Eddie about it though.

“I wish you hadn’t been alone”, Jeff had said.

“I wasn’t alone”, Eddie replied. “I had a whole party with me.”

Jeff scoffed. “I love Dustin, but the rest of them? Especially Steve?”

“Steve was…”, Eddie chuckled. “He was the MVP, man.”

“Not the way Henderson says it. If you let him tell the story, you saved the whole world.”

Eddie smiled. “Let’s call it a team effort.”

It was an odd new status quo to get used to. But there wasn’t much to do about it but getting used to it. Anytime they wanted to visit Eddie, Steve seemed to be there. Eventually, someone had to say something about it. And that someone was Gareth. 

“So can we talk about how weird this is?”, Gareth said, in between snacking on chips.

“Look, I get it”, Eddie said. “But if you knew him like I knew him…” He shook his head and smiled. “Harrington’s actually kind of a dork. He’s not…” Eddie was about to say Steve wasn’t like he was in high school, but that wasn’t true. Eddie didn’t truly know Steve back then. It took the end of the world for him to see him as he was. “He’s not what I thought he was. He’s cool. Case in point, he got me this tape recorder”, Eddie gestured to it, sitting on the floor.

“What for?”, Gareth asked.

“Song ideas. One great thing about near death experiences - inspiration”, Eddie grinned. He had felt inspired since he’d awakened. But one of the not-so-great things about near death experiences was losing control over your body, even if it wasn’t permanent. Eddie had been unable to write down his ideas. He couldn’t even doodle. Dustin was the one to bring up recording his voice. But it was Steve that bought it for him.

“Can’t believe you got me this. Wait. Am I dying? Do I only have three months? Oh say it isn’t so, Steve!”

“Yeah, yeah just don’t make me regret it”, Steve rolled his eyes.

Now whenever the feeling struck Eddie, he could record them, whether it was lyrics or a hummed melody. He was slowly regaining his fine motor skills, so it would happen someday. But for now, this helped.

-----------------------

Mike, Will, and Dustin started clearing their stuff, packing it away. Eddie blinked, then he looked at the clock and just barely held back a sigh. Visiting hours were just about up.

“You nerds got any plans tonight?”, he asked conversationally. 

“Yeah, we’re having a movie night at Mike’s”, Will said.

Eddie knew who was included when they said ‘we’. Their whole crew usually turned up to these things. And that included Steve. Eddie found himself almost wishing he could go. What was Steve like when he watched movies? It was odd but he wanted to know. He got the next best thing though - talking about it with him the next day.

“Of course, Dustin thinks he could totally beat the Thing”, Steve said, legs crossed, magazine over his lap.

Eddie snorted and rolled his eyes. “Didn’t he raise one of those monsters in his turtle tank?”

“Exactly! Everyone else had to remind him too.”

“Do you think you could figure it out?”, Eddie asked.

“I guessed who it was and was right every time. I’m pretty much an expert on the Thing”, Steve said.

“It’s pretty crazy how it got MacReady so early.”

“....What are you talking about? MacReady wasn’t a Thing.”

---------------------

Doug heard shouting from Eddie’s room and it didn’t raise any alarms until he realized it was Steve Harrington’s voice he was hearing. He picked up the pace and thrust the door open, only to see Steve pacing around Eddie’s bed, gesturing wildly.

“It was Childs! It was goddamn Childs!”

“It got MacReady when he was leaving that message!”, Eddie shouted, arms moving stiffly but still conveying his frustration.

But Doug knew when Eddie was arguing, versus when he was debating. Eddie argued when he felt he was in the right and someone was trying to tell him he was wrong. His temper would rise, his voice would start cracking, and he looked almost mean enough to scare small children. But sometimes Eddie liked to argue for the fun of it. Debating. He’d still get loud, but there was no irritation in his voice. And he smiled. Like he was doing at Steve right now.

Steve looked frustrated but wasn’t backing down. If Doug didn’t know any better, he’d say that Harrington was enjoying himself too. 

----------------------

Eddie wasn’t better, but he was well enough to be discharged at last. Solid foods were no longer off limits. He could stand for short periods of time. And his mobility had improved. And there was also the fact that he’d been cleared of all charges. Eddie had grown sick of that room in all this time. The same plain ceilings, floors, and walls. But now that he was being pushed towards the exit in a wheelchair, he felt nervous.

Wayne put a hand on his shoulder. He knew his uncle could sense his apprehension. If it were anyone else, Eddie would hate how they were able to see right through him. But he knew Wayne would never use it against him.

“Ready to go back out into the world?”

Eddie took a deep breath before nodding. Wayne brought him outside. And there was Steve. Leaning against his uncle’s car. Suddenly the outside world didn’t seem as scary. Eddie tried tamping that feeling down but it won out and bubbled up when Steve saw them and smiled.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“So uh, your uncle asked me to come and take your chair in my car. Said his didn’t have enough room and with your van totaled…”

“Harrington’s moving service, you’ve really diversified.”

“Shut up”, Steve smiled.

Steve took the chair and put it in his car once Eddie was situated in Wayne’s. They took off then, but Eddie was confused to see them pull up to Steve’s house and not the little place Wayne had gotten for his troubles. But Eddie figured it out when he saw a small face (possibly Erica’s) in the corner of a window. She disappeared, presumably to tell the others that they had arrived. It was the best surprise-not-surprise party ever thrown for him. 

The party lasted hours and at times Eddie felt overwhelmed. He didn’t think there were enough people in his life that cared this much. And he certainly never thought police chief Hopper would ever attend a party in his honor. It reminded him that he still had to learn about his part in all of this. Eddie had learned bits and pieces here and there, but it was hard to really string the story together like that. He’d save that for later though. Right now, he could use some air. He asked Wayne to wheel him outside and he sat by the pool. He lit up and was able to get a few drags in before Steve came out to join him.

“Here to lecture me at Buckley’s behest?”, Eddie teased.

“No, I’m here to bum one off you”, Steve said. He pulled up a lawn chair right next to him. Eddie handed a cigarette to Steve, then his lighter. Eddie averted his eyes, pretending to be interested in the treeline. For some reason, watching Steve felt like too much right now.

“God what I would do for some weed”, Steve breathed out.

“You and me both”, Eddie said, bringing the cigarette to his lips. “But Rick’s still in jail. And my stash went through the Earth’s crust.”

“Shit, don’t remind me. I could use the weed for that too.”

“...The memories?”, Eddie ventured to ask.

Steve lied back on the chair, eyes to the sky. “Don’t you wish you could forget? Even just a while?”

“Yeah. Yeah of course I do. Shit the nightmares I get…” Eddie’s hand went to his side. Sometimes he still felt the teeth in him. There were nights where he swore there was a hole that went through his stomach. He’d wake up in a sweat, afraid to touch and find that his hands went all the way through. “Does it ever get easier?”

“I don’t know”, Steve answered honestly. “Never gone that long without the next crisis.”

Eddie didn’t know how to feel. There seemed to be this finality with things but also everyone still seemed on edge. Like it was the end but…was it? Even Eddie felt like that was too good to be true. But the thought of having to deal with this all over again before a full year had even passed… Eddie didn’t want this to happen again in ten years, let alone ten months.

“What if it’s really over?”

Steve blew smoke out of his mouth before replying. “I don’t know.”

Eddie let that hang in the air. Because he didn’t know either. Every single plan, idea, and dream he had back in March seemed like nothing now. 

“Your agenda’s open then. Good”, Eddie nodded.

“Good?”, Steve raised a brow.

“Yeah. It means you can be my manservant now that I’m discharged. It’s gonna be a lot of work, but I think you’re up to it.”

“I don’t come cheap, Munson.”

“Rick’s not my only plug”, Eddie winked.

“Deal.”

Part 3 coming soon