#i want her to learn she’s valued even if she doesn’t have a ‘use’ and that there are people who will like her for her uniqueness

[marlynnofmany]

Another Strange Earth Drink

I can finally say I’ve tasted the “worm jerky” that the one Heatseeker ship was named after. It wasn’t as bad as I expected. Extra chewy, and this kind had a sharp flavor that changed wildly between bites — because that’s the variety that Paint liked the most. 

She said, “It’s best if you hold it between your teeth and run your tongue along it to get all the flavors. It’s a full fan of sharpness values!” Her lizardy face was excited as she demonstrated, looking like a kid playing with gummy candy. If that kid was also an orange-scaled lizard alien.

I didn’t bother trying to make sense of the phrasing. “Full fan” was probably something like “rainbow.” I just cleaned my mouth with a handful of cheesy crackers that I wasn’t going to subject everyone else to, and waited for my turn. 

(We had a day to burn while waiting for our next delivery client to meet us, and a visit to the space station’s market had ended with half the crew picking items of their own species’ origins to share with the rest. Eggskin the medic was on hand just in case.)

Oh boy, it was my turn next. 

“What omnivore nonsense have you come up with?” Mur asked, folding his blue-black tentacles sternly. “It had better not involve that infant-food liquid.”

“Nope, no dairy products,” I said, picking up the heavy box under my chair. 

Eggskin tapped a claw against their tablet full of biological info. “I’ve ruled out anything likely to cause digestive distress, and that definitely counts.” 

“Yes, no pizza today, more’s the pity.” I set the box on the table. “This should actually be fun. Marble soda!” I opened the top and began passing them out. 

“Marble what?” asked Blip, frills waving curiously. 

“Is this a drink?” Zhee wanted to know. He angled his antennae into a look of suspicion. Trrili held a similar expression across the table.

“It’s a fun drink!” I said. “There’s a special trick to opening it. The soda itself isn’t that special — the most popular brand is named after a mispronunciation of a common flavor in another language, though they make a bunch of other flavors too — anyways, it’s a bubbly drink with a fruit flavor. This one’s strawberry. And Eggskin says it’s safe enough to try.”

Eggskin nodded their scaly head. “I wouldn’t recommend large quantities, but yes. The bubbles are carbon dioxide and the fruit is in trace amounts.”

“I like fruit,” Paint said bravely, clutching the bottle. “How do we open it?”

“Right. Everybody watch me. First you peel off the plastic wrap.” I demonstrated, exposing the plastic contraption that had something of a learning curve even among my own people. “Now this bit is in two parts. You have to pop the center piece out, ‘cuz that’s the part you actually need, and this part you set aside. It just keeps the bottle from opening early.” I separated the two and held them up.

Everyone was watching carefully. Good.

I continued. “I can help with that if you need. Once you have this part, though, you just place it against the top, give it some pressure, and it pops the marble down into the bottle.” With a flourish, I leaned a palm onto the little plastic doohickey until the marble separated with a satisfying pop.

Paint made a quiet “Ooh” noise while Blop flapped his frills in surprise.

“Now you have to make sure the marble doesn’t just roll back to block the opening when you drink it,” I said. “These dents will catch it; you just have to hold it at the right angle. Like this.” I took a sip, and the marble stayed where it was supposed to.

When I put it down, the air was full of the crinkling of plastic as my alien coworkers got to work on the wrapping. Some had an easier time than others.

“Oh, you’re supposed to rip it along the tiny holes,” Paint said, having already sliced it off with a claw. “I didn’t see that.”

“This is not meant for tentacles,” Mur griped. He tried twisting it, but no luck.

“Here, let me.” I put out a hand, ready to remove the wrap quickly and help the others. Blip and Blop should be fine, but the Mesmers with their praying-mantis pincher arms might find this awkward. They had those tiny little wrist fingers, but—

Identical pops sounded from opposite sides of the table.

I turned to find Zhee and Trrili each holding a bottle with one pincher. They’d used the other to stab through the top, not bothering to remove the plastic wrap first.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” I said.

Zhee said, “Seemed faster.” He peeled off the wrapping now with one deft pincher-tip while Trrili simply wrenched hers away.

A thunk sounded as Blip misjudged the angle and tipped her bottle over instead of opening it. Next to her, Blop was having trouble finding a finger small enough to separate the plastic bits. I hurried to unwrap Mur’s drink and help.

Paint had a little difficulty getting enough leverage to press down on the top, but Eggskin figured it out and gave her a hand, standing on the seat and using their bodyweight. One way or another, everybody got their bottles open.

They tried it! And everybody hated it.

“If the bubbles are regular air, why do they taste so bad?” Blip wanted to know.

“I think it’s the fruit flavor that’s tangy,” Blop said.

Zhee hissed quietly. “You mean fruit’s not supposed to taste rancid?”

“It’s a drink that fights back, and I can respect that,” Trrili declared. “But this is not a battle I’m interested in fighting.”

Mur took a sip and shuddered, sending rippling tentacles in all directions. “Ugh. It tastes like static shock and the wrong part of a plant.”

“That’s a pity,” I said. “It’s pretty good as far as I’m concerned.”

Unexpectedly, Paint said, “I like it! It kind of bites you at first, but then it reminds me of an overripe galaxy fruit. And the bottle is interesting.”

“Glad to hear it!” I said.

So everybody hated it except for Paint. And Eggskin probably, who didn’t make any loud declarations, but they did drink the whole thing. I call that a win.

“Well, that was a fascinating disaster!” Zhee said, shoving his bottle towards the middle of the table. “On to my turn.”

Mur grumbled something that sounded like “Oh great.” He’d already dumped his soda down the sink and kept the bottle as a fidget toy, sticking a thin tentacle in and batting the marble around.

I sipped my own and waited to see what Zhee would bring out. I considered myself lucky to be on the omnivorous side of things — theoretically anything he came up with should be fine.

But of course, theory only goes so far.

“Everyone here is okayed for animal-based nutrition,” Zhee said, setting down an opaque bag. “So everyone ought to enjoy this one. Except for Trrili, who has no taste.”

Trrili did the Mesmer equivalent of sticking her tongue out at him, which involved a disturbing configuration of mandibles.

Zhee opened the bag and began removing little sealed tubs. “I give you: fursqueak brains, with the best vitamin sauce!”

I sank down in my seat, still holding the bottle and not eager to grab a sample of brains. Even when Eggskin clarified that the sauce was Vitamin C, and ought to taste like citrus, it didn’t sound particularly appealing.

Zhee was proud of it, though. Apparently this was the best food in the universe, favored by all the best chefs (of his species, anyway), and there was nothing anyone could say to ruin his enjoyment of it, even if everyone else present was as uncultured as Trrili.

It occurred to me that I could probably ruin his meal by telling him about his ressemblance to the fried crickets that were easy to find back home, but I decided against it.

I just drank my marble soda and enjoyed watching Trrili argue with him instead.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[pacifistcowboy]

i thought i managed to figure out sterling’s (my sol dimension silver) personality but the more i think about her the less she makes sense.

like i know she wants to save the future but she doesn’t believe she can do anything to help, just tell other people “hey i think i can see the future and it’s fucked” and it takes her a while to even say that.

i have it that fundamentally, sterling is insecure and believes it’s best if she stays in the background, both because she doesn’t know how to interact with people and because she has no skills to offer. when she does have to talk to people, she just speaks overly truthfully and says whatever she genuinely thinks of, which tends to weird people out. she notices that, but she doesn’t know how else to talk. she isn’t mean or anything, she just has no sense of being too personal or too random or people meaning something different from what they exactly said.

i like sterling being like this, but it doesn’t exactly feel very contrasting to silver. but at the same time, it kinda does?

silver has outright said he’s been alone for so long he can’t imagine wanting to be on your own, which means he likes making friends, so sterling actively trying to keep her distance contrasts that! and silver has shown that when on a mission he just doesn’t bother to explain himself or what he’s doing because he’s too busy, so sterling just spewing anything and everything on her mind when prompted contrasts that.

BUT!!! when silver is friends with someone, has the time to explain, or is in a relaxed situation, he’s completely honest and is shown to be unknowingly inexperienced in social interaction compared to most other characters, which would be the same as sterling, just not as extreme i guess.

i think the issue, as it’s always been since i first decided to make sterling, is that silver himself is rather self-contradictory. depending on the situation he’s in and how comfortable he is, he can either be a lone wolf who has no time for anyone’s bs and will fight you in a heartbeat if he thinks he has to, or he can be this upbeat fella who’d love to be your friend and help you out. so if i made sterling directly contrast this, she’d just be like silver except the situations in which she acts a certain way would be swapped.

the approach i went for sterling is that, before she gained her ability, she simply avoids others and leaves the ‘useful’ people to be useful, and when she first gets the visions and realises what they are, she tries to convince herself they’re not real and everything’s fine. but she progressively loses the energy to convince herself it’s not real, but even then she has no one to say anything to. no one likes her, socialising is difficult, and she’s sure no one would believe her anyway. plus she has absolutely no confidence that she could do anything herself. so sterling goes on just living her isolated life whilst freaking out about the visions, until she hears about the fact that the princess has been on adventures in another dimension (god i hope that’s a known thing in her world or else this is fucked) and sterling thinks “if the princess has done something nuts like that then there’s a chance she’ll believe me about my visions” and from there she has to step wayyy out of her comfort zone n help the heroes.

i’m worried she’s too much of her own weird thing to even count as a sol dimension version of silver. like sure she’s got a future thing going on, her traits contrast silver’s optimism, determination, and confidence while still sharing the same values of caring about the future and the people, but i just worry her general behaviour will have nothing to do with contrasting him n may end up like somewhat weirdly similar to him.

[recoveringsoulsposts]

I want women to collectively start gaslighting men, in the way they gaslight us. If you see Reddit posts / IG posts say things like this.

I want women to undermine any men’s issues with saying:

“Ahhh it’s not that deep”

“Chill, you’re being emotional”

“You should focus on being a dad, none of your passions will matter”

“Are you sure your fit to do this job?”

“I mean will your education even matter, your degree doesn’t have much value lol”

“Ahh Men☕️”

“I can’t take you seriously”

“You sure”

“I think you’re being dramatic”

“You’re being irrational”

“Men live life on easy mode” (which they do)

“Are you sure, you didn’t imagine it?”

“Nahh we don’t care about your passions and hobbies, how much money do you make?”

“I want a traditional husband that pays for everything but who also does all the domestic labour”

“Have you gained weight?”

“I’m a visual creature so i need a really handsome man”

“Why am I not allowed to have preferences”

“Are you sure it’s not your fault”

“I need to hear her side of the story”

“#notallwomen”

“I mean if men don’t go to war what’s the point of them? Lol”

“You should give her a chance”

“You’re standards are too high”

“Are you sure you didn’t imagine it?”

“I think you’re being hysterical”

“Ahh he’s a 4” (Rating a man on his posts)

“He’s mid”

“Not that funny” - to a male comedian

“Who told him he was funny?”

“Learn to take a joke”

“why should someone have you if they could have someone younger?”

“Why would she go for you, if she could have someone with more money lol”

“You should focus on raising children”

"hun dont be insecure about that, theres way more things you should be insecure about, that receeding hairline for example"

“You’re gonna die alone”

Even if a Man is right about ANYTHING still proceed to gaslight him. IDGAF. Lmao. They have been doing this to women for most of history. Gaslight him, make him feel unworthy and shitty. I genuinely don’t give a shit.

Let me know what more I should add to the list, in the comments.

[traveler-at-heart]

Hot and Cold

Summary: Natasha's playing with fire when a new resident joins the Compound.

A/N: Queen of Angst @esposadejoyhuerta asked for the fluffiest, sweetest, tooth rotting story ever and I was happy to deliver, even after they changed their request to inclue jealousy BECAUSE no one can stop me. Love ya, baby!

Another day, another mission. Since last week’s mess, it seems like Fury’s been finding ways to torture the team.

Yes, at the end they were able to retrieve the drive with the data of over twenty enhanced individuals. But so did HYDRA. And now the Avengers are on a race against time to locate them before the Russians do.

Natasha walks to Fury’s office, not excited at the prospect of risking her life to recruit people who didn’t really want to be found.

“Yes?” she says as soon as Fury turns around. He hands over a very heavy binder. “Is this their criminal record?”

Great, a weirdo with a troubled past. Natasha might not make it out alive.

“No, that’s their academic stuff. She’s a scientist. Crazy smart” Fury explains. “Have you heard of Bio-Thermokinesis?”

“No, not really”

“The ability to manipulate the body temperature of oneself and/or others” he recites, having learned the concept just now.

“That doesn’t sound so bad” Natasha says, closing the folder. It’s certainly better than the last few people she had to chase down.

“Yeah, until she induces a heat stroke or hypothermia” Fury scoffs. “We’ve been failing at recruiting these people. It would be nice to have a win. Plus, she could work in the lab with Banner and Stark”

“I don’t think Nerd Club is worth one’s freedom” Natasha mutters, skimming through the file.

“Well, either way, this mission doesn’t requires strenght. It requires charm. You up for it or should I send Hill?”

As Natasha gets to the picture of the target, she looks up.

“I’ll handle it”

—

As usual, you’re carrying more than you can possibly handle. Books, your laptop, a sandwich from the cafeteria, and correspondence from the main office.

By the time you manage to open the door to your office, half of the things in your arms are dangerously close to scattering across the hardwood floor.

“Oh, shit” you mutter when your keys drop.

“Need a hand?” a voice says and you jump back, the rest of your stuff flying across the room. 

“Uh… can I help you?” you say, because the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen is perched up on your desk, legs crossed and a playful smirk across her striking features.

“Are you Doctor Y/L/N?”

“Yes. How did you…? I’m pretty sure the door was locked” 

Is she a thief? You have absolutely nothing of value, at least not for a conventional burglar. You run every possibility in your mind and then you land on your second least favorite one.

Natasha notices the room getting warmer, probably because of how flustered you got. The file seems accurate regarding your power.

“AC broke down?” she asks innocently, undoing the top button of her shirt.

“Uh… I… I’ll open the window” you say, pushing it and leaning against the window pain. You consider jumping down to escape, but it’s a considerable height. You take a breath, deciding to face the matter head on. “So, which agency sent you?”

“Ever heard of S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Yes, that was my first guess” you admit with a sad smile. “What can I do for you, Agent…?”

“Call me Natasha” she says, hopping off the desk. “I’m afraid I am the bearer of bad news… and a generous offer”

“Mmm” you nod, fixing your glasses. 

“A tactical team was sent to stop the purchase of confidential information for 30 enhanced individuals. We were able to obtain it… and so did HYDRA”

“Listen” you raise your hand, taking off your glasses and pinching the bridge of your nose. “I get it. HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. know about me. The thing is, my power isn’t something you can leverage in a fight. I doubt they’ll be very interested in me”

“I think you’re wrong. And it’s not just your ability. Your expertise in science and your genetic makeup can be used to experiment”

“So, is that what S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to do with me?” you sigh, looking out the window. You’re enjoying the view, vaguely aware that life as you know it is over.

“We want to offer you shelter at the Avengers Compound. 24 hour security, top facilities and technology. You can continue your research” Natasha says, trying to make it sound like a great deal.

It brings her back to that time Fury told her it was either work for the US government or end up in the Raft.

Your offer is slightly better, but a golden prison is still a prison.

“Are there any questions I can answer before you make a decision?” she offers with a kinder tone.

“Yeah. Do I even have a choice?”

—

Academic life is all you’ve ever known. Grants were the perfect way to do your research without having to look for a benefactor and expose yourself. You could learn things about your DNA, your abilities, while doing other stuff without anyone noticing.

Now, you wake up and there’s nothing that drives you. You live with people who have exceptional skills, physical prowess, and military training. Their world is avenging, your world is scientific papers and books.

Sure, their lab is nice, but most of the times you end up leaving early, completely unmotivated and feeling empty. 

Natasha watches from afar, and although this isn’t her doing, she feels responsible. She tries to include you in activities she understands, like training, but you’re very obviously not the athletic kind.

Banner is, as usual, isolating himself and Tony speaks nerd, but is barely around unless a mission requires his presence. 

It isn’t until one day that Peter shows up to the Compound that Natasha gets an idea.

“Hi, Miss Romanoff. Is Mister Stark around?” he asks in that shy tone he always uses when he’s around Natasha.

“Nope, not to my knowledge. Do you need anything?” 

“FRIDAY told me to meet him here. He must have forgotten. I guess I better get back to my Biochem project”

Wait a minute.

He’s a nerd.

“Stay” she says, looking him up and down. Peter reminds her of a puppy when he stops completely, as if he learned a new command. “Wait for Tony at the lab. I’ll try to find him”

“You’re sure? I’m not allowed inside by myself” he hesitates, following Natasha.

“Yeah, it’s fine” she types in the access code, and of course, there you are, spinning in your chair.

As soon as you hear the door opening, you stop your movements, almost falling off.

Natasha finds your blush adorable.

“Hey, Y/N. This is Peter. He’ll be around waiting for Tony”

“Oh, hey. Ok, I was just leaving. I’m kinda stuck either way”

“Ordinary Differential Equations?” Peter says as soon as he gets his eyes on your board.

“Yes. Very impressive” you nod. “This is focused on genetic network. I’m trying to determine inborn errors of metabolism”

“Oh, you know? There’s a brilliant Doctor who’s working on that, maybe her paper would be great for you. She’s Y/N Y/L/N”

“Yeah, that’s me” you say, tapping your chin and examining the board. “What is your ability? If you have any? Maybe I can use a different set of data”

“Yes! I would love to, what do you need from me?” Peter says, a little starstruck at finding out you’re one of the most prestigious researchers in the world. 

“For now, a blood sample” you wink at him, adjusting your glasses.

Natasha sits in the back of the lab as you and Peter work together, and you explain every concept to him. This is the first time since you arrived that you don’t look so miserable.

The Russian takes it as a small win when you join her in the common area for dinner.

--

Since Peter found out about your abilities and your permanent stay at the Compound, you’ve been advising him on his project and college applications. Which is a really nice distraction, but it also makes you miss your own college days.

So, even if you’re in a better mood, it’s still hard to socialize with the team.

One day, you enter the lab to find Rogers, Wilson and Barnes looking at a screen, while Natasha types.

“Whoever encrypted this is slightly smarter than me. Only slightly” 

They look away as you drag a chair to focus on your own stuff, a cup of coffee in your hand and a cookie in your mouth.

“Hi…” you wave at them, feeling intimidated as usual.

“Hey, weather girl” Sam winks at you. 

Natasha rolls her eyes and elbows him.

“Ignore him, Y/N”

You can tell she’s getting frustrated, so you inch closer, looking at the code over her shoulder. Placing your hand on her elbow, you silently ask for permission to take over.

The redhead eyes you curiously, but stops typing and moves the keyboard your way. It takes you twenty seconds to hack into the files.

“How…?”

“I used to hack into databases to make sure my name wasn’t on any watchlist” you explain casually. Natasha laughs at that. “Anyway, there you go”

“Thanks, Y/N. You’re my hero” Natasha says, smiling up at you. Her tone makes you blush and you nod, going back to your desk.

“Nice work. We could use your help if you’re free some other time” Steve says as they leave the lab.

“Of course, Capitan” 

—

An intruder changes your mind about training. The threat is handled swiftly and you don’t even have time to hide before F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirms the suspect has been taken into custody

But you don’t even know how to begin to defend yourself, so you come back to Natasha, asking if her offer still stands.

Needless to say, the spy is more than happy to train you. Not just because it means you’re comfortable asking for things, but because Natasha can teach you something that will help you protect yourself.

You start with two sessions per week, which later turns to four, until you’re comfortable with training almost daily.

The rest of the team joins from time to time, giving you advice and helping you when Natasha’s away on missions.

After a few weeks, Natasha notices how your resistance is better and you’re building some muscle.

Only as a professional observation. It’s not like she finds you attractive, with that nerdy charm and toned arms.

One day, as you’re leaving the gym, she checks her bag, cursing when she notices she forgot a change of clothes. 

“Wanna borrow one of my hoodies?” you offer, handing over your NYU sweatshirt.

“You sure?” Natasha hesitates.

“Yeah, I got tons of these. From all the places I’ve done work or research” 

“I’ll give it back” she promises, taking it.

That turns out to be a lie.

A few days later, when you’re folding your laundry, F.R.I.D.A.Y. requests that you join Tony and Banner in the lab. Leaving the basket in the living room, you think nothing of it, nor do you notice that a couple of your sweatshirts are gone.

It all comes to light a week later, when Natasha comes back from a grueling mission. The only thing that will make her feel better is staying in her room while wearing your UCLA hoodie.

She totally forgets about her attire when she answers the door.

“Huh, so that’s where it was” you tilt your head, smiling.

“I…”

“I’m watching a movie, care to join me? It’s one of your favorites” 

“Ok” she nods, surprised that you’re not mad about the stolen sweatshirt. 

Natasha enters your room, appreciating the combination of books, notes and the board with equations. After you apologize for the mess, you offer a place to sit in your bed.

“It looks good on you” you compliment the redhead. Natasha smiles, trying to be nonchalant about it.

“Thank you” 

It becomes a habit, to steal your hoodies.

“Objectively speaking, you don’t actually need them as you can regulate your temperature” Natasha comments one day, digging through your closet. To her shock, she finds a sweatshirt with a sorority logo on it.

“Not mine. A girl I hooked up with in college” you explain.

Natasha rolls her eyes, throwing the garment as far away as possible while pulling a face. You laugh at her reaction.

“Don’t be jealous, Natty. You’re my favorite” you promise, unaware of the effect your words had on her.

“And yet you never let me wear the Harvard one”

“That was my first” you shrug your shoulders.

“First college or first hook up?” Natasha taunts and you laugh.

“A nerd never kisses and tell. Actually, a nerd rarely kisses anyone to being with” you try to joke, pulling out the Harvard sweatshirt from your closet to put it on.

Natasha eyes it, and you catch her intentions a little too late. She inches forward and you stretch your arm back, trying to place the hoodie out of reach.

“Nu-uh” you shake your head, laughing as she keeps trying to steal it. “Natasha, there are like ten other hoodies you  could take!” 

“I want this one!” she insists, jumping. Her body crashes against yours, and you both stumble, falling in your bed. Limbs are tangled and her laugh tickles your ear as she struggles to lift herself up. After a moment, Natasha smiles, looking at your lips. “Gotcha”

You don’t even know what to say, her intense stare making you feel warm -both literally and figuratively - and your heart beats faster when it seems like she’ll lean forward and kiss you.

“Agent Romanoff, there’s an urgent call for you” FRIDAY interrupts the moment. 

Natasha sighs, standing up and looking at you. 

“Catch you later?”

“Yeah” you nod, trying to hide your disappointment.

—

Natasha was gone for a week, and returned with a very bad injury. You heard the news as Steve and Tony were arguing in the kitchen, blaming each other as usual.

“Where…? Is she ok…?” you try to interrupt them, but they’re in the middle of a screaming match.

“Come with me” Maria says, taking you to a whole different wing of the Compound. Since you’ve never been on missions, you didn’t know about the Medbay.

Natasha’s lying in a hospital bed, asleep.

“She’s ok. A guy threw a knife at her, but it was only a superficial stab wound. Doctor said she’ll be discharged tomorrow” Maria eases your nerves. 

Of course, for her it’s easy to say it’s no big deal. Agents are shot, blown up, killed in the field. A little scratch is nothing, especially for Natasha. But you take a deep breath, leaving the Medbay in a rush.

As you lock yourself in the Avenger’s Lab, you make F.R.I.D.A.Y. a simple request.

“Show me the mission’s footage”

—

Natasha’s had worst, truly. But still, her head is throbbing when she wakes up. The doctor discharges her with the instruction to rest for a week. No training either.

The Russian notices a bag with clothes on the chair next to her bed. She finds your Harvard sweatshirt, which puts a tiny smile on her face.

You are nowhere to be found in the Compound when she returns, so she goes to her room to take another nap, the painkillers making her sleepy.

By the time Natasha wakes up to get something to eat, F.R.I.D.A.Y. requests her presence in the lab.

“What is it?” she says, surprised to find you working on a tablet. It looks like you haven’t slept in the last 24 hours, five or six cups of coffee around the various tables in the lab.

“I created a new technology for your suit” you jump right to it. “It has motion sensors that are triggered by incoming threats. That way, if someone tries to sneak up on you, you can either get an alert or program a defense mechanism that can be shot from any part of the suit” 

Natasha takes the tablet, running the simulation. She’s impressed with the level of detail you’ve placed on this and on such short time. She’s about to thank you, but you’re already asleep in the couch of the lab, clearly exhausted from all the work you’ve done.

The sight of your sleeping form makes Natasha’s heart flutter.

—

Movie night is the one tradition you’ve always been on board with. Coincidentally, it’s Natasha’s least favorite. Depending on her mood, she’ll join everyone on the living room, or talk you into watching something else in your room or hers.

Tonight, she stops by once the movie has already started. As usual, you’re on the couch in the far back of the room, your glasses reflecting the screen as you eat some popcorn.

“Hey” Natasha leans over the back of the couch and whispers against your ear, making you jump. Your eyes follow her as she jumps over to plop down next to you.

“You’re not supposed to be doing that with a hole on your side, Natasha” you reprimand. 

“It’s fine” she lies, grabbing some popcorn.

As the movie keeps going, the woman inches closer to you. At first you think she’s settling in her seat, but then her hand spreads on the back of the couch, dangerously close to your neck.

It’s fine. You can handle it.

Nope, you absolutely can’t. Not when you feel Natasha’s nimble fingers playing with the hairs on the back of your neck, her digits alternating between caressing the skin and scratching your scalp.

“You’re hot” she whispers at some point and you turn to look at her, dazed.

“Huh?”

“You feel hot” she clarifies a second later, her eyes looking at your lips. “Is everything ok? Those powers of yours are acting up”

“I’m fine” you nod, looking back at the screen. Aware that you are in fact increasing the temperature in the room, you take a breath and close your eyes, before anyone else notices.

You’re almost back to normal when Natasha stretches and lies across your lap, her left hand squeezing your thigh as the other one begins to trace patterns in your skin.

All while she's wearing your Harvard sweatshirt.

Your only thought is to take it off, along with the rest of her clothes and kiss every inch of her body.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., is the thermostat broken…?” Tony finally snaps, annoyed at the sudden changes in temperature. “Never mind” 

Everyone follows his eyes as he looks to the back of the room, where Natasha is playing dumb while riling you up.

“Can you two find a room to turn into a sauna and spare the rest of us?” Tony says, which makes your eyes widen, and the room practically turns into a freezer. “Great, now we’re all turning into popsicles. Cap, you’re familiar with the feeling, right?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Tony” Natasha finally stands up, showing you some mercy. “Come on, detka” 

“Uh, ok” you say, your voice barely a whisper as you allow the woman to drag you back to her room.

As soon as the door is shut, she pushes you against it.

“So, tell me” she says with a playful smile. “How hot do you think it will get here?”

You can only shake your head, speechless. Natasha smiles, kissing you softly. All thoughts leave your head, opening your mouth to give her access. You’ll do anything she asks, anything at all.

“I see” she smiles when the room gets hot. “Good thing we won’t have our clothes on” 

It’s the best sex of your life.

So much so, the fire alarm goes off in the entire Compound.

“Fucking worth it” you sigh as you’re both naked in bed, the water from the sprinklers evaporating from all the heat in the room.

[finleycannotdraw]

I am actually so emotionally destroyed by Crystal’s arc in this season. She comes in with no memories but she’s still angry, impatient, and rude sometimes—nothing like how she used to be, but her brain definitely remembers her habits even if she doesn’t remember the context.

And then Charles doesn’t get angry when she insults him, and Edwin matches her snappiness perfectly but still grows to value her. Her parents were so neglectful she probably became an asshole as part of a way to protect herself (causing an “any attention is good attention, including negative attention” mindset). So with the boys, she is faced with people who will actually engage with her when she intentionally challenges them, instead of just yelling at her or ignoring her. And it begins to change her immediately.

She goes from making someone walk into traffic to “I just want to help.” To “I have friends, I’m helping people, what more do I need?” She immediately volunteers to help Becky Aspen. She stops using her powers on random people. She takes Charles’ words to heart when he tells her she needs to let them in. She learns how to work with Edwin when Charles is in trouble.

And even though she has no memory of her parents, she still desperately wants to be reunited with them, even though if she had remembered them, she probably wouldn’t have bothered. “My parents won’t even care”, she says flippantly on the phone. And then when she does call them, they don’t care. But without her memory, at her core, Crystal wants her parents to care. She wanted them to care even when she would hide it behind recklessness and cruelty. This is common in kids with neglectful parents. She had so much hope when it was the anglerfish, and she had so much hope even after she began to remember her old life.

Old Crystal never would’ve tried to talk Esther Finch down by telling her about how toxic anger is and how important it is to choose to do good. And New Crystal wouldn’t have done that either if she didn’t truly believe it.

And at the end, when she gets her memories back, she is horrified by what she sees, by the kind of person she used to be.

Michael from The Good Place says: People improve when they get external love and support. How can we hold it against them when they don’t?

Crystal is a perfect representation of this statement and I will not sit here and let people talk bad about her.

[ilguna]

☼ odds are (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you and Finnick have never seen eye to eye, despite both being close friends with Johanna. it isn't until you save his life in the arena, does he see you different.

warnings; swearing, weapon use, blood, ehhh gore, death, drug mention, kinda starvation mention, suicide (mags), puke mention, the usual hunger games stuff.

wc; 9.6k

--

If there’s one thing that you’ve learned so far about the other district’s personalities since becoming a mentor, it’s that District Four produces the most annoying people by far. You don’t know if they’re born that way, or if it’s the water they drink, but they take that top spot without a close runner up.

Which is crazy, considering people like Enobaria and Gloss exist. They don’t know when to stop even when it’s obvious, yet they can be more mature than Finnick Odair is half the time.

He has the ego the size of a hovercraft and he just uses it to do whatever he wants to whoever he wants. He thinks that if he can smother someone enough, they’ll back down and let him have his way. Arguing with Finnick is truly like talking to someone who always assumes they’re right just because they’re older than you.

Except, in this case, it’s because he’s been mentoring longer, since he won ten years ago. It gives him seniority in calling the shots, or it does in his mind, at least. 

He wants to be the main ally that corrales Katniss and Peeta into doing what’s best in the arena. The problem with that is Katniss doesn’t like Finnick, which will make it a huge ordeal trying to get her to do anything for him. He seems to think that as long as Peeta trusts him, Katniss will follow.

Only, Peeta’s not a complete idiot and he knows how to think for himself. Beyond that, in a setting where there’s going to be twenty-two other tributes that have also won the Hunger Games in their own unique ways—Peeta’s going to follow Katniss’s lead. There’s not a single doubt in your mind that he’s going to let her take the reins and trust her to protect him in dangerous situations.

So, in the end, while Peeta might have his own opinions on what he’d like to do, he’s going to value Katniss’s opinion first. 

Finnick can’t seem to understand that. It doesn’t matter how you explain it to him, he doesn’t want you to be right. Even with Johanna standing here, telling him that you’re not wrong, he refuses to believe it. 

“You’re just going to make her mad.” You tell him again, throwing your hand up. “We all saw the way she looked at you yesterday, and today she’s gone out of her way to make sure she can’t talk to you.”

Finnick glances over in Katniss and Peeta’s direction. They’re on the far side of the Training Center, sitting with Cecelia from District Eight. This morning’s the last chance you get to train before the private session with the Gamemakers in the afternoon. From what you’ve been watching, they’re taking it easy.

“We already knew she wasn’t going to like me.”

“Does it have anything to do with the way you approached her during the parade?” You ask back, tilting your head. “You’re terrible at first impressions.”

“I am not.” Finnick’s face twists.

“Yeah, and that’s why we’re friends, right?” Your tone sarcastic. “I’m not asking for your permission, I’m going to tell Haymitch that you’ll meet up with us later on down the line.”

Finnick shakes his head. “That makes no sense. You are not a strong fighter, I need to be there to help with Katniss.”

“Katniss doesn’t need help!” You exclaim quietly. “What Katniss needed is someone she can trust, and that’s obviously me. I just spent the past two days getting to know her. She doesn’t want to be around either of you.” 

You then place your hand on Johanna’s shoulder, but she gives you a shrug. “I don’t care. She’s going to have to deal with me sooner or later. I have no preference.”

“You have basically no fighting experience, all you’ll do is get in her way.” Finnick tells you.

“Excuse me, I do know how to fight. I set the highest score when it came to hand-to-hand combat with a weapon.”

“When?” Finnick asks, not believing you.

“Today.”

“Bullshit.”

“Finnick, she’s not lying.” Johanna sighs. “And that’s besides the point. We can’t keep (Y/n) out of the plan just because you can’t get along with her. She’s right about Katniss.”

“I can and will keep her out of the fight.” Finnick tells Johanna, causing your face to scrunch up. “Who’s going to get to the Cornucopia first, you or me?”

“I’m not airheaded enough to think it’s me.” You snap back. “But—”

“Katniss knows how to swim, we saw it last year. She’s going to get there second. What stops me then?”

“Me, when I get my fucking hands around your neck.” You point at him. “What happens on the off-chance you chase her off? What’s your big idea then?”

“Haymitch is going to get me something to signal to her that we’re already allies.” Finnick shrugs. “I bet he didn’t talk to you about anything like that.”

“He doesn’t have to.” You laugh. “That’s the entire point. I don’t need him to signal to her about anything. She picked me as an ally on that first day. You can’t say the same. It says a lot about your character.”

“My character?” He’s unimpressed.

“No one likes you!” You shout at him.

“Okay,” Johanna says. “Let’s talk with Haymitch tonight, see what he has to say about the situation.”

“Fine, but I’m not spending the rest of my day with this idiot.” You tell her.

—

Monkeys.

At first, it was only a couple that were hanging above Peeta, who couldn’t be more oblivious. Now, a troop of them have gathered in the twilight in the time it’s taken you, Finnick and Katniss to assess the situation. They’ve completely appeared out of thin air, gathering on open branches.

And they’re all watching Peeta.

You eye Finnick, wondering what he’s thinking on how he wants to handle this. After all, he’s been directed to take charge in situations where Katniss and Peeta’s lives are in danger. Or rather, he asked Haymitch to make it official, because he couldn’t live with the idea that you might be the better fit.

Either way, there’s several different approaches you could take. Does he want to go to Peeta and guide him out of the jungle to make sure he keeps his head down or will that trigger the monkeys? You could try gathering around Peeta and set off the monkeys on purpose to ensure you’re in control, because they’re bound to go off anyway… right?

Or maybe it’s a better idea to lure Peeta out of the jungle and hope for the best?

Katniss makes a decision before Finnick does, carefully arming her bow with two arrows, just in case a fight shows itself. This causes Finnick to nervously adjust the trident in his hand, not ready for what she’s planning on doing.

You, on the other hand, trust her. 

“Peeta.” Katniss’s voice is calm, but there’s a slight edge to her voice if you listen closely. “I need your help with something.”

“Okay, just a minute. I think I’ve just about got it.” Peeta tells her, fiddling with the tree so he can put the spile in the bark. “Yes, there. Have you got the spile?”

“I do. But we’ve found something you’d better take a look at,” Katniss continues. “Only move toward us quietly, so you don’t startle it.”

Katniss has decided to lure Peeta out, then. It’s not a bad plan. With how the monkeys are tracking Peeta’s every movement, anything mildly offensive could cause them to attack. And since eye contact is a form of aggression, he needs to keep his head down.

Peeta turns to face the three of you, panting from trying to drill into the tree with the awl that Mags had passed over before she died. “Okay.” He agrees, not an ounce of hesitation.

He begins to come in your direction, but he’s not at all being quiet whatsoever. This is expected, he wasn’t last year, either. He’s not used to hunting or gently shuffling your feet through leaves. He worked in a bakery, carrying heavy bags over his shoulder.

It doesn’t matter, as long as the monkeys are holding their position—and they are—despite the amount of noise he’s making. He’s only five yards from the beach, where you’re standing, when he finally feels how off the air is. His eyes dart up for only a split second, but that’s all it takes.

Their shrieking fills the air, almost causing you to cover your ears at the pitch. The monkeys launch themselves off the branches and aim straight for Peeta, ready to kill. They’re too quick for your eyes, making them one blur. They slide down vines, jump from the trees with teeth bared, hacked raised and claws as sharp as knives.

You jerk forward, drawing your sword back to swing as soon as you get into range.

“Mutts!” Katniss blurts, in case you haven’t figured it out by now.

Katniss and Finnick take off after you. You swing hard, right at the first monkey that thinks they can get their paws on Peeta. The blade cuts right through fur, slicing skin right open, blood flying everywhere. The mutt collapses, struggling to breathe.

It’s just the first of many.

You move on, drawing Peeta in closer to protect him easier. Katniss shoots her arrows two at a time, taking down twice the amount of mutts you can. Finnick tries to keep up with her pace by spearing several of them at once and flinging them aside. Peeta can’t do much with his knife, but you’re able to keep them off of him with just your sword.

The fight grows harder the longer it goes on as you try to see through the darkness, breathing in the cloud of blood and must. Even as you end up back to back with your allies, it doesn’t get any easier. 

“Peeta!” Katniss suddenly shouts. “Your arrows!”

Peeta stops swinging, briefly looking over at Katniss to see what she means. In an instant, he begins to slide out of his sheath so that he can hand it over to her. He doesn’t even wait to make sure the coast is clear before he does.

“Peeta!” You blurt.

You swing at a mutt that’s already coming at you, catching the sight of another one flying out of a tree, heading in his direction. For a moment, you think you have just enough time to fling the monkey off your sword to save him, but the mutt at the end of your blade grabs your wrist, yanking you out of the formation.

You’re thrown into the jungle, a blur of green and brown passing by, until you hit the ground. You roll for a couple of feet, and then come to a stop, staring at the leaves above your head, trying to get a hold of your air. There’s a dull pain on the right side of your body from the impact.

And then you get back up.

Katniss is running for Peeta, hands outreached to grab him before the mutt does, but she’s too far. 

A body materializes from one of the trees, screaming, jumping in front of him just in time. The mutt’s claws swing inward pulling—who you believe to be—the morphling from District Six in for a deadly hug as it sinks its canines into her chest.

You’ve managed to regroup with them now. Peeta wiggles out of the sheath, letting it fall to the dirt so he can bury his knife into the monkey’s back. He stabs it repeatedly until it finally releases its jaw, kicking it away. Katniss retrieves her arrows, loading her bow, waiting for another attack.

You turn to look at the monkeys in the trees, curious to see what they’re doing. They stare back at you, unmoving, observing you the same way. Beside you, Finnick is breathing heavy, trident resting on the ground. He must think that the fight is over, then.

“Come on, then! Come on!” Peeta shouts at the mutts, trying to egg them on. 

They seem disinterested in continuing though, satisfied with the life they’ve taken, retreating. They disappear into the darkness of the jungle silently, and even though it appears they’re gone, it doesn’t feel like it.

“Get her,” Katniss says, she’s talking to Peeta. “We’ll cover you.”

You eye the morphling, who’s audibly wheezing, not quite dead yet, but she will be soon. Peeta carefully lifts her, turning to leave the jungle, the beach being a few feet away. Finnick motions for Katniss to follow Peeta, you don’t even bother to argue with him about who goes next after that.

There are several orange bodies on the ground on the way out. You step over them, wary of the possibility that they could be pretending to be dead. As soon as you step foot onto sand, a shiver runs up your spine, causing your neck to shrink into your shoulders.

You tense too harshly, the pain in your side returns. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you as you reach to grab your exposed skin. Since you no longer have a jumpsuit to protect you because of the poisonous fog, several cuts and scrapes have been inflicted across your skin.

“Cold?” Finnick asks, it sounds like he’s teasing. Before you can answer, he keeps going, “Or does your body hurt because you couldn’t handle some hand-to-hand combat?” 

You look over your shoulder to see him, eyes narrowed into slits. “You think you’re so funny.”

“What about my observation makes you think that I’m joking?” He asks, coming to a stop. “You just proved me right.”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, face twisting. “Prove you right, how? We’ve barely said anything to each other since the Cornucopia.”

“You have no fighting experience.” He tells you with a straight face. “You’re a danger to the alliance.”

You press your lips together, staring at him, holding back the urge to scream profanities in his face. 

What would he have liked you to do at that moment? You were occupied with a mutt, and Peeta just straight-up abandoned his job to give Katniss a sheath without thinking twice. You were off your game because you didn’t know what to do with a monkey flying at him, while trying to defend yourself at the same time. 

You’ll give it to Finnick, you made an error which could’ve easily have resulted in your death, but it didn’t. What he doesn’t realize is that you will learn from it, you don’t often make the same mistakes twice. You’re not a fucking child, either.

“You forget I was invited to the alliance.” You tell him, choosing not to engage in his behavior. “I don’t know why I bothered responding to you.” You start to move away from him. “All you’re capable of doing is criticizing people.”

You turn away from him, heading to Katniss and Peeta, who are hovering over the morphling girl. They have cut away the jumpsuit over her chest, revealing the four puncture wounds from the mutt’s fangs. There’s blood slowly running out of them, making the situation appear better than it is. 

She’s gasping for air, desperate for every lungful, holding onto Katniss’s hands, unable to control her twitching. A part of you wonders if she accidentally got caught up in the fog, but that can’t be the case. It has to be withdrawal, considering the green shade of her skin, her prominent cheekbones. She watches the clouds in the sky blankly, trying to hold on.

“I’ll watch the trees.” Finnick says, right before turning away from the scene.

You stare at the back of his head, and then turn your attention back to the morphling. Peeta moves to be on the other side of her, crouching down to gently stroke her hair, speaking quietly. “With my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby’s skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water.”

The morphling is completely encapsulated by his words.

“One time, I spent three days mixing paint until I found the right shade for sunlight on white fur. You see, I kept thinking it was yellow, but it was much more than that. Layers of all sorts of color. One by one.” Peeta murmurs.

Rustling of leaves drags you out of what he’s saying, you look over in time to catch the back of Finnick’s body, heading back into the jungle. You give a glance to Katniss, who seems to be in her own world at the moment, and decide that they can protect themselves for a moment while you have a conversation with Finnick.

You head straight in without an ounce of hesitation, following the sound of muttering, leading you straight to him. He’s picking the arrows out of the grass, swinging them out periodically to rid them of the mutt blood they’re soaked in.

“Listen,” You start, Finnick pauses long enough to look at you, before going back to what he was doing. “I get it, you don’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. I don’t need you up my ass about every decision I make. So, worry about yourself, and I will worry about me.”

“I’m not up your ass.” He scoffs. “I was pointing out what happened. You can’t fight, it’s a fact.”

“It’s not.” You shake your head. “While I was trying to kill the mutt, I was figuring out how to save Peeta, there was a monkey—”

Finnick holds up his hand, cutting you off. “I don’t need your excuse.”

You tilt your head at him, lips parted, actually speechless. You knew Finnick’s personality resembled a dumpster, but you’ve never experienced it yourself. It’s always been second hand retellings from your friends.

“Anything else?” Finnick asks after a moment of silence.

You’re stewing again. It’s insane how easy it would be to tear him down from the horse he sits on, but you can’t afford ruining the alliance. With how he’s acting, you wouldn’t put it past him to throw in the towel and tell you to do it yourself. Which you can do, it’s just a matter of whether or not you’d like to at this point.

While you’re glowering at him, thinking of a response that doesn’t end in the two of you fighting, something moves from behind his head. You take a step to the side, eyes searching the ground, but you quickly realize that’s not where it is. It’s up in the trees.

“What?” Finnick asks.

“We should leave the jungle.” You tell him, not wanting to mention it in case your eyes are playing tricks. “It’s not safe here.”

Finnick digs his heels in. “Now you’re being paranoid.” 

He turns around, going back to rummaging through the greenery to find the arrows for Katniss. He’s already got a good handful already, does she really need the rest? 

A branch dips, your eyes flicker to it.

Even though the sun is finally rising, the light hasn’t quite reached this part of the arena yet. You pat your hip for your sword, afraid of what’s to come, and realize that you left it out on the beach with the Twelve tributes.

“I’m serious, let’s go.” You tell him.

“I don’t care.” He says back, inching closer to the tree.

A hand creeps out of the darkness, a furry hand wrapping around the branch further down, as if preparing itself to launch at him.

You bite the inside of your cheek. You can’t lure Finnick out the same way that Katniss did to Peeta. And you can’t fight your way out of this situation without a weapon. As nice as it would be to turn around and leave him in here, knowing what’s behind him, you’d never be able to live with it.

“Finnick, just trust me this once. Katniss has enough arrows.”

Finnick stands, the movement is too quick, causing the monkey mutt to jerk into the light, revealing itself too soon.

“If you’re scared, you can go back to the beach, (Y/n).”

“Finnick, get down.”

He takes a step toward you, mouth opened to continue what he was saying. You watch in horror as the mutt’s body tenses, getting ready to attack Finnick. You rush at him, the same way the morphling did to Peeta.

“Get out of the way!” You shout, jumping to tackle him.

Finnick turns in time to dodge you and the monkey, putting you into each other’s path, forcing you to collide. The monkey’s claws dig into your skin as it throws you down, your head flying back. A sharp pain strikes your skull, your vision immediately going black.

A rough hand grabs the underside of your arm, jolting you awake. You blink quickly, trying to get rid of the blurry vision as you’re harshly brought back to reality. The person tries to pull you to your feet, but your legs aren’t ready for the weight. Your knees buckle, hand grabbing the shoulder of whoever it is to steady yourself.

The throbbing in the back of your head begins, feeling like a giant headache. You wince, gritting your teeth, pressing the heel of your hand to your temple. The back of your neck feels wet and sticky.

“Can you stand?” An irritated voice asks.

It’s Finnick, face twisted into a hard expression. The grip you have on his shoulder loosens, you lock your knees to keep from falling over. You’re trembling though, you can see it when you let go of him completely.

“Yes, I’ve got it.”

You reach back and dab your hand against the sore area on your head. Your fingers are coated in blood, shining in the sunlight that manages to escape the leaves. A sigh leaves your lips, hand falling at your side.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Finnick asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “There was a monkey in the trees.”

“You couldn’t have told me that?” 

“The same way we could’ve told Peeta?” You counter, and then motion to the jungle. “I didn’t know how many there were. I left my sword on the beach.”

“Another great idea of yours.” He says.

You don’t say anything to him at first, turning to go back to the beach. Just before you hit the treeline, you murmur, “A thank you would be nice.”

Whether or not Finnick actually hears you is a mystery, because he doesn’t respond. 

Katniss and Peeta are sitting together in the sand, side by side, looking out at the water. Your sword is tucked at Katniss’s side, right next to her bow. You come to a stop a foot or so behind them.

Finnick passes you, dropping the arrows in the sand. “Thought you might want these.”

“Thanks.” Katniss says. “Where’s (Y/n)?”

“I’m here.” You tell her.

You continue dragging your feet through the sand, wanting to go to the water to clean the blood out of your hair before it dries. Katniss comes to join you soon after, mostly to clean her weapons. When she sees that you’re having trouble, she carefully massages the blood out.

When you’re done, Katniss goes to get moss from the jungle to dry off her arrows. You sit in the sand with your sword, haphazardly playing with the blade.

“Where did they go?” Katniss asks.

“The bodies? We don’t know exactly. The vines shifted and they were gone.” Finnick says.

Katniss hums. The four of you sit on the beach in silence, staring at the water, watching the sky come to life. Katniss starts to scratch her arm, and then stops suddenly, looking at you, and then to the boys. You follow her gaze curiously, and find them scratching at their faces.

It’s the scabs from the fog, Katniss’s skin is covered in them, so is half of Peeta’s body and Finnick’s face. You, however, not so much. You were able to stay ahead of the fog, you thought to guide them out with the best possible path. Still, Peeta has trouble with his prosthetic leg and he needed support and…

Finnick never should have asked Katniss to carry Mags down the hill. You knew as soon as the words came out of his mouth that he was making a mistake. Katniss doesn’t have that sort of strength, she’s a skinny girl. She might’ve put on some weight since her Games, but it basically replenished what was taken in the first place.

He should’ve asked you. And even though you tried to object, he shut you down and told you to keep running. You didn’t have time to argue with the fog closing in, so you went right back to what you’d been doing before. It wasn’t even three minutes later when Katniss fell with Mags on her, causing Mags to take the situation into her own hands.

She kissed Finnick goodbye and walked into the fog.

None of you have mentioned it since it happened. You would like to say something to Finnick, but you’re sure it wouldn’t go over well with him. You can guess what he’d say back to you, taking none of your feelings about her into consideration. Besides, he seems to be holding it together pretty well, the last thing you’d want to do is accidentally send him over the edge.

“Don’t scratch.” Katniss tells them. “You’ll only bring infection. Think it’s safe to try for the water again?”

You don’t move from where you sit, letting them go back into the jungle to gather water. You’ve already had more than your fair share of injury in the past hour and a half, you’ll let them take their chances.

Peeta brings back a shell of water for you to drink, and even goes back one more time for a refill. You thank him and tuck the shell of water into the sand for later. 

“Why don’t you three get some rest?” Katniss asks. “I’ll watch for a while.”

“No, Katniss, I’d rather.” Finnick says.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Katniss concedes. “All right, Finnick, thanks.”

Katniss and Peeta lay down in the sand, you don’t bother. You turn your back to Finnick to ensure he knows you’re disinterested in conversing with him. You spend the next few hours picking the clumps of bloody sand from your sword and flicking them toward the water.

You’re not entirely sure what Finnick does, and you don’t really care. The more you think about him and the alliance, the more irritated you grow, causing your pounding headache to get worse. 

First, he tells you that he’s going to get you kicked out of the alliance by talking to Haymitch before you, and he nearly does. It’s a good thing that Haymitch doesn’t make rash decisions, otherwise you’d be on your own right now. He was almost convinced that you’d be more harmful than useful to the rebellion.

It wasn’t until Katniss made a comment about how much she trusts you, did he make up his mind and tell Finnick to deal with it. Katniss doesn’t like people easily. It was different for Mags, Wiress and Beetee because they don’t really pose a threat to her, and she doesn’t think that they’d go out of their way to kill her.

With you, all she told Haymitch was that it was easy to talk to you and she didn’t feel like she had to hide her true feelings. Which is an accomplishment and something you can use to your advantage later if needed. For right now, it’s pretty clear what she’s thinking even if she’s doing her best to hide it.

Anyway, Finnick doesn’t like that you don’t have to try with Katniss. And just like he told you in the Training Center, Haymitch had to give him a gold bracelet to symbolise to Katniss that he can be trusted. Which was funny when you found out at the Cornucopia.

Finnick was right, you didn’t make it there first—not that you thought you were anyway—but you did show up a minute later. Katniss was the one that saw you and welcomed you onto the island, despite Finnick trying to tell her not to. 

He’s been pretty pissed and cold since.

By the time Katniss stirs awake, it’s about midmorning. Your sword is clean, the shell cup empty of water, and you’re surprisingly feeling a little bit better. And it appears that Finnick has been busy this entire time.

He’d woven a grass mat and laid it on some branches to shield Katniss and Peeta’s faces from the sun. There’s two bowls full of fresh water, and a third that contains shellfish. 

He sits with them in front of him, cracking shellfish open with a stone. “They’re better fresh.” He tells Katniss, ripping flesh from the shell and popping it in his mouth. His eyes are puffy.

A tang of sadness hits you, you can’t imagine how difficult it’d been for him to cry silently with you sitting so close. His eyes lock with yours briefly before you turn away, getting to your feet. You brush the sand from your skin.

Katniss goes to reach for one of the shells but stops. She then holds her fingers close to her face, observing the blood beneath her nails.

“You know, if you scratch you’ll bring on infection.” Finnick says.

“That’s what I’ve heard.” She says, getting up to wash the blood off in the water. She stomps back up to you two a moment later. “Hey, Haymitch, if you’re not too drunk, we could use a little something for our skin.” She tells the sky.

A second later, a parachute swings out of the jungle, heading for her. She reaches up to catch a tube in her hands. “About time.” She says, going to sit next to Finnick in the sand. 

She unscrews the lid, squeezing the thick, dark ointment into her palm. Her face twists, whether it be from the color or the smell, and then begins to massage it into her leg. A sigh escapes her while she closes her eyes.

“It’s like you’re decomposing.” Finnick says after she hands him the tube. But looks must not matter to him for the moment, because he gives in and starts to treat his skin as well.

“Poor Finnick. Is this the first time in your life you haven’t looked pretty?” Katniss teases.

“It must be. The sensation’s completely new. How have you managed it all these years?” He asks back.

“Just avoid mirrors. You’ll forget about it.”

“Not if I keep looking at you.” 

Katniss offers the tube to you, but you hold up your hand, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine, save it for yourselves.”

“You’ve got a couple spots.” She motions.

“I’m good, really. But thank you.”

You swing your sword, and then wander away from them, trying to put some more distance so you can sit alone for a while longer. They wake Peeta up a few minutes later, and then you can hear the cracking of shells against rocks. You don’t bother to join them for the meal, you’re still full from last night.

You draw shapes in the sand, smooth them over to start over, and then write names. It isn’t until you’re on the third one, do you realize it's the names of dead tributes that you’ve mentored recently. You stare at them, mystified as to why you’ve chosen them, of all the people you know.

A scream from across the arena interrupts the silence of the arena. Your head jerks up, eyes searching the trees beyond the Cornucopia to find the source. A wedge of the jungle begins to vibrate, a huge wave crests over the trees, coming down the hill. You get to your feet, sword clutched tightly in your hand as you watch the wave hit the center water, and distribute evenly over the Cornucopia.

The wave that comes toward you reaches your knees, going as far back as the treeline, before retreating back to the center lake. Katniss, Peeta and Finnick gather their belongings before they float away. 

A cannon fires. The hovercraft appears over where the water had come from, dipping down to collect the body. The claw comes back with the body, and that’s the last you see of the hovercraft.

You go to sit back down when Katniss’s head whips in your direction. “There.”

You turn your head, curious as to what she’s found. It’s three people stumbling on the beach, one of them being dragged onto the beach by the second, and the third is wandering in circles. They’re red, blood red.

“(Y/n), get back here.” Finnick hisses.

You don’t move from where you are, squinting at the figures.

“Who is that?” Peeta asks. “Or what? Muttations?”

The second person dragging the first suddenly drops the body, throwing their arms down at their sides and stomping their foot in anger—a move that you recognize from someone else, but can’t place your finger on. It isn’t until the person marches over to the third one to shove them over, do you realize.

“Johanna!” You shout, delighted. “Finally!”

“(Y/n)!” She replies.

You run toward her, sword swinging at your side, excited that you’re not stuck with Finnick by yourself anymore. Johanna will be able to act as a buffer between the two of you, and she’ll be able to shut him down when he gets mouthy with you now. 

You throw your sword to the side, slamming into a hug with Johanna. The two of you rotate, her laugh is musical in your ear. You’re so happy that she’s alive, you don’t know what you’d do without her.

When you pull away, you motion at her. “What are you covered in?”

Finnick walks up beside you, “Hey, Johanna.”

“Finnick.” She says, and then she motions to the jungle. “We thought it was rain, you know, because of the lightning, and we were all so thirsty. But when it started coming down, it turned out to be blood. Thick, hot blood. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t speak without getting a mouthful. We just staggered around, trying to get out of it. That’s when Blight hit the force field.”

A small gasp comes from you as you cover your mouth. “Johanna, I am so sorry.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t much, but he was from home.” She sighs. “And he left me alone with these two.” She nudges Beetee with her foot, he doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at all. “He got a knife in the back at the Cornucopia. And her—”

Wiress has gotten back to her feet, wandering, murmuring, “Tick, tock. Tick, tock.”

“Yeah, we know. Tick, tock. Nuts is in shock.” She rolls her eyes, but at the mention of Wiress’s nickname, she’s drawn to Johanna, placing her hands on her. Johanna shoves her down to the beach. “Just stay down, will you?”

Lay off her.” Katniss snaps.

Johanna’s eyes narrow at her. “Lay off her?” She hisses. In an instant, she raises her hand and goes to slap Katniss, but you’re able to grab her wrist before she’s successful, pulling Johanna away from her.  “Who do you think got them out of that bleeding jungle for you? You—”

Finnick steps in, tossing Johanna over his shoulder, forcing you to let go of her while he brings her to the water. You listen and watch as she screams some really insulting words at Katniss, and then Finnick drops her into the water to silence her. He does this until she goes quiet.

Katniss and Peeta take Beetee and Wiress to the water to clean the blood off of them, since they’re both incapable of doing it themselves. You wander to join Finnick and Johanna in the water, despite the unwelcoming glares you receive from Finnick.

—

“Get up.” Katniss suddenly orders, shaking Peeta, Finnick and Johanna awake. “Get up—we have to move.”

It’s about noon, judging by how the sun is positioned directly overhead in the sky. It’s been a relatively quiet morning these past couple hours, mostly because the entire group has spent it napping on the beach. For a while, you were sitting with both Johanna and Katniss, but Johanna eventually got tired and laid down on the beach.

You’re not entirely sure why Katniss suddenly feels the need to move. The only event that has happened recently is an announcement of sorts from the Gamemakers. A bell tolled twelve times like it had late last night, and the lightning started again. It must mean something to her, because she stood up to look around the arena.

“What is it?” Johanna slaps Katniss’s hand away.

“I think the arena works like a clock.” She says, Peeta rubs the sleep out of his eyes, while Finnick squints at the surrounding jungle. “(Y/n), you remember last night when the bell tolled?”

“Yeah.” You pull your knees to your chest, watching her.

“It was because it was midnight, and the start of the clock.”

“Twelve bongs.” Finnick murmurs.

“Yes.” She nods. “Wiress figured it out first, that’s why she’s tick-tocking. She’s trying to tell us the arena’s a clock.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Johanna says, shaking her head. 

“It does.” Katniss tells her. “Lightning at midnight, blood rain at two, poisonous fog at three, monkey mutts at four…” She trails off, assuming you get what she’s saying. 

Peeta’s nodding, looking down at the sand. “It’d explain why we had to deal with the fog and monkeys back-to-back.”

“So what’s going to happen now, then?” Johanna asks.

“Blood rain.” Finnick tells her.

The group of you sit in silence for a moment, digesting this. If she’s right, then that does mean you have to move, or at least get to a point in the arena where you can observe. After that, you could move from wedge to wedge to avoid what lurks in the jungle.

“What should we do, then?” Peeta asks.

“We need to move, get out of the way.” You say, looking at Katniss. “The Cornucopia?”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Johanna agrees.

Katniss nods. 

You break apart, going to collect your belongings out of the sand, securing them to your body to carry them with you. Finnick and Peeta work together to get Beetee back into his jumpsuit, now clean of blood. 

Katniss goes to wake Wiress, who’s been murmuring in her sleep this entire time. She jolts awake, grabbing onto Katniss’s arms tightly. “Tick, tock!”

“Yes, tick, tock, the arena’s a clock. It’s a clock, Wiress, you were right.” She tells her. “You were right.”

Wiress relaxes considerably, nodding a little. “Midnight.”

“It starts at midnight.” Katniss confirms.

Wiress nods at one of the wedges. “One-thirty.”

“Exactly. One-thirty. And at two, a terrible poisonous fog begins there.” Katniss says, pointing at a different area of the jungle. “So we have to move somewhere safe now.” Wiress smiles and stands. “Are you thirsty?”

As soon as the woven bowl is handed over to her, Wiress gulps it down. Finnick gives her some of the bread from a sponsorship you missed, she slowly chews on it. From what you can see, it’s the salty seaweed bread from District Four. Yuck.

You hand Katniss her weapons, watching her secure the spile and the tube of medicine to a square cloth of a parachute before using a vine to tie it to her belt. 

Beetee’s not entirely conscious, so Peeta goes to lift him out of the sand, causing him to stir and become deadweight. “Wire.”

“She’s right here.” Peeta says. “Wiress is fine. She’s coming, too.”

Beetee tries to push Peeta off of him. “Wire.”

“Oh, I know what he wants.” Johanna rolls her eyes, crossing the beach to pick up a cylinder. It’s still covered in a thick layer of blood, making it impossible for you to see what it is. “This worthless thing. It’s some kind of wire or something. THa’ts how he got cut. Running up to the Cornucopia to get this. I don’t know what kind of weapon it’s supposed to be. I guess you could pull off a piece and use it as a garrote or something. But really, can you imagine Beetee garroting somebody?”

You snort, she tilts her head.

“He won his Games with wire. Setting up that electrical trap.” Peeta tells her. “It’s the best weapon he could have.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Katniss chimes in. “Seems like you’d have figured that out.” She says slowly. “SInce you nicknamed him Volts and all.”

Johanna’s eyes narrow in her direction. “Yeah, that was really stupid of me, wasn’t it?” She asks. “I guess I must have been distracted by keeping your little friends alive. While you were… what, again? Getting Mags killed off?”

The air becomes hard to breathe, you steal a glance at Finnick out of the corner of your eye and find his eyebrows drawn in, thinking. You can’t believe Johanna just threw that out in the open. 

Katniss’s hand grips the knife on her belt.

“Go ahead. Try it. I don’t care if you are knocked up, I’ll rip your throat out.” Johanna tilts her head.

“Maybe we all had better be careful where we step.” Finnick says, trying to calm the situation. He gives Katniss a look, taking the coil from Johanna to set it on Beetee’s chest. “There’s your wire, Volts. Watch where you plug it.”

This allows Peeta to pick up Beetee without an issue. “Where to?”

“To the Cornucopia, like (Y/n) said.” Finnick says. “I’d like to watch. Just to make sure we’re right about the clock.”

One at a time, you approach the nearest sand strip, heading to the center island. You take up the very back with Johanna, who has her arms crossed, seething. Or maybe not, you can’t see her face at the moment. Every time Katniss tries to call her out for her behavior, you know they get closer to considering killing each other. 

The Cornucopia is barren of any Careers, allowing you to spread out and pick where you’d like to be in the mouth. The weapons that remain have been thoroughly picked-over, the only thing you could possibly grab now are knives. You don’t really have any specialty weapons. You had to teach yourself how to fight with a sword.

Peeta lays Beetee in the small bit of shae that does exist. As soon as Beetee’s comfortable, he calls over Wiress. She crouches beside him, and he hands over the coil of wire. “Clean it, will you?”

Wiress nods, and hurries over to the edge of the island. She dunks the coil in the water, quietly singing a song to herself about a mouse running up a clock.

“Oh, not the song again.” Johanna groans, throwing her head back. “That went on for hours before she started tick-tocking.”

She suddenly stops, standing up straight, coil of water in her hand, dripping watery blood onto the black rock. She points to the jungle. “Two.”

You look to where she’s pointing, and find a wall of fog seeping out onto the beach. 

“Yes, look, Wiress is right. It’s two o’clock and the fog has started.”

“Like clockwork.” Peeta says. “You were very smart to figure that out, Wiress.”

All she does is smile, and then she goes right back to singing and cleaning. “Oh, she’s more than smart.” Beetee says, coming back to life. “She’s intuitive. She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines.”

“What’s that?” Finnick asks.

“It’s a bird that we take down into the mines to warn us if there’s bad air.” Katniss explains.

“What’s it do, die?” Johanna asks morbidly.

“It stops signing first. That’s when you should get out. But if the air’s too bad, it dies, yes. And so do you.”

This is clearly a topic of conversation that Katniss doesn’t want to participate in, so it drops. Johanna turns to head inside of the Cornucopia, flicking her short hair over her shoulder. Katniss and Finnick follow soon after, going to stock up their weapons.

Johanna comes out with a pair of axes, looking over the blades with a fairly impressed look. She then swings the axe forward, at the golden walls of the Cornucopia. Since it’s been softened by the sun, the blade sticks. Johanna grabs it with one hand and yanks it out.

You watch as Peeta draws a circle with his machete on a large leaf he took from the jungle. He seems to draw a map of the arena, with the jungle and beach having its own sections. And then he divides the circle into wedges. “Look at how the Cornucopia’s positioned.”

Katniss comes over to look, “The tail points toward twelve o’clock.”

“Right, so this is the top of our clock.” He says, going on to write the numbers one through twelve around his circle. “Twelve to one is the lightning zone.” He writes lightning in small print in the wedge, working clockwise to add blood, fog, and monkeys to the next three sections.

“And ten to twelve is the wave.” Katniss says, he writes it in. 

Finnick and Johanna come to see what they’re doing now. Tridents, axes and knives hanging off their bodies. Johanna pulls one of her knives from her belt, twisting it in her hand, holding the handle out to you.

You take it from her, holding it in your hands while you watch Peeta.

“Did you notice anything unusual in the others?” Katniss asks JOhanna and Beetee, but they haven’t experienced anything other than the blood. “I guess they could hold anything.”

“I’m going to mark the ones where we know the Gamemakers’ weapon follows us out past the jungle, so we’ll stay clear of those.” Peeta murmurs, drawing diagonal lines on the fog and wave beaches. He then sits back. “Well, it’s a lot more than we knew this morning, anyway.”

You look over the clock in silence.

Silence.

Your eyes dart up, and you find that Katniss is one step ahead of you, an arrow armed on her bow, pointed at a soaking wet Gloss. Wiress is sliding toward the ground, her throat slit open, it’ll be impossible to save her. The arrow slams into his temple, killing him instantly. Johanna is already on her feet, swinging her axe into Cashmere’s chest. 

The sound of sand crunching beneath boots causes your head to whip in the direction, finding Brutus and Enobaria running up the other side. A spear drawn back in Brutus’s hand, aimed in your direction. 

And furthermore, Finnick’s.

“Get out of the fucking way!” You scream, shoving Finnick down.

The both of you hit the sand, the spear whizzing right over your heads, where you had been standing seconds prior. It slams into the golden Cornucopia, the entire head buried in the structure. Brutus had thrown it with enough force to kill you both in an instant.

Two arrows are sent back by Katniss in retaliation, but neither of them must land, because she jerks forward to chase after them. Three cannons blast in quick succession, confirming three dead; Wiress, Gloss and Cashmere. 

Katniss disappears around the mouth, with Johanna and Peeta right behind her. You and Finnick are just picking yourselves out of the sand when the ground jerks beneath you. Your shoulder slams into the sand, and then you begin to quickly roll, as the rock island that the Cornucopia sits on begins to spin, fast.

You desperately reach out, trying to find a ridge to dig your fingers into, but you only come up with handfuls of sand. The jungle has turned into a blur of green and beige as you pick up speed, water turning to mist in the air.

You’re almost at the edge of the rock when a hand clamps around your ankle, stopping you from falling off. You’re left to face the water, dizziness beginning to overcome you, until you slam to a sudden stop.

The urge to vomit rises up your stomach quickly. You yank your ankle free from whoever it is that has a hold of you, quickly crawling to the edge to puke up water and bile into the water. You try to close your eyes to make yourself feel better, but all it does is speed up the rate that you’re spinning.

The throbbing in your head returns in full swing.

When you finally finish gagging over the rock, you pick yourself up from the sand, wiping it from your skin. The others have gathered together at the mouth of the Cornucopia, just as disheveled as you are. 

“Where’s Volts?” Johanna asks.

You sit down while they circle the Cornucopia to confirm he’s off of the island. Finnick apparently spots him about twenty feet out in the water, and dives in to retrieve him. Katniss, on the other hand, finds Wiress in the water, the coil still clutched tightly in her hands.

“Cover me.” She tells Johanna, racing down the strip closest to her body before diving in. She swims hard, battling the hovercraft on who will get to Wiress’s body first. She reaches her first, working to loosen Wiress’s fingers, and then comes back to the center island.

By the time she makes it, Wiress is gone, as well as the two other bodies that were floating in the water. Finnick lays Beetee down in the sand, letting him get a hold of himself again. Katniss places the wire in his lap, now clean of blood, sparkling in the sunlight.

Beetee unravels a small bit of the wire, running his fingers over it. It’s a pale golden color, and it’s incredibly thin. You know Johanna was joking about him using it to garrotte people but it would be completely impossible to. As soon as you’d tighten it, it would snap. 

For a while, you sit in silence together, catching your breath, wringing the water out of your clothes or shaking sand out of your clothes. When it appears as though you’re ready to move on, Johanna stands. “Let’s get off this stinking island.”

You’re forced to recollect your weapons, since they had been strewn across the island due to the spinning. Your sword and the knife Johanna handed you are relatively easy to find. While the others have to take a moment to dig.

Beetee tells Peeta that he thinks he can walk now, as long as he’s patient and willing to go slow. It’s better than carrying him again, so Peeta helps bring him to his feet. It’s then decided you all should go to the beach at twelve o’clock, because it should give you several hours before you have to face the jungle again.

Peeta, Johanna and Finnick head off in three different directions.

“Twelve o’clock, right?” Peeta asks. “The tail point at twelve.”

“Before they spun us.” Finnick reasons. “I was judging by the sun.”

“The sun only tells you it’s going on four, Finnick.”

“I think Katniss’s point is, knowing the time doesn’t mean you necessarily know where four is on the clock. You might have a general idea of the direction. Unless you consider that they may have shifted the outer ring of the jungle as well.” Beetee says.

You squint, face twisted. You would hope the Gamemakers didn’t shift the jungle too, that would give the entire secret of the clock away, wouldn’t it? But then again, you guess it doesn’t matter. 

“Yes, so any one of these paths could lead to twelve o’clock.” Katniss says, offering you a shrug when you look at her.

You circle around the Cornucopia as a group, picking out every detail of the jungle, only to discover that each wedge has been almost perfectly replicated. Katniss says something about how there was a tall tree in the lightning section that stood out, but now she can’t find it.

Johanna suggests following Enobaria and Brutus’s footsteps, but the sand has been blown away completely from the wind. Katniss lets out a heavy sigh, “I should have never mentioned the clock. Now they’ve taken that advantage away as well.”

“Only temporarily.” Beetee says. “At ten, we’ll see the wave again and be back on track.”

“Yes, they can’t redesign the whole arena.” Peeta says, trying to make her feel better.

“It doesn’t matter.” Johanna’s tone impatient. “You had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless.” She pops a hip out, crossing her arms. “Come on, I need water. Anyone have a good gut feeling?”

A path is chosen at random. At the beach, they peer into the jungle, trying to judge what could be inside.

“Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don’t see any of them in there.” Peeta shrugs. “I’m going to try to tap a tree.”

“No, it’s my turn.” Finnick objects.

“I’ll at least watch your back.” Peeta offers.

“(Y/n) can do that.” Johanna waves her hand. “We need you to make another map. The other washed away.” She yanks one of the leaves off of a tree to hand it to him.

“Wait, I didn’t agree to this.” You make a face, shaking your head.

“Then Katniss can go with you to keep the peace.” Johanna motions, Katniss nods.

You smile at her, but send a glare in Johanna’s direction, irritated that she’s already working to pair you and Finnick together. You’re tired of his presence and being forced to talk to him. You liked it yesterday when he was stubborn and refused to talk to you the entire day unless he had to.

Either way, you have no choice now. Finnick leads the way into the jungle. About fifteen yards in, he stops in front of a tree that looks like it’ll give you a good stream of water. He then holds his hand out, “Knife.”

“You have your own.” You tell him.

“Johanna gave you the best one.” He says, fingers beckoning for the knife. “It’s thinner.”

“You’ll make it dull.”

“Don’t be a pain.”

“Use your own knife.”

“No, I’m not ruining my own knives.”

“So you’ll ruin mine instead? Don’t you have like ten of them?” You motion at his belt. “Choose one of them.”

“I don’t want any of those.”

“You do realize that the knife is the only weapon I have beside my sword, right? You’re carrying like three different tridents, why don’t you use one of those?”

Finnick’s face twists at you. “Don’t tell me you’re actually that dense.”

“No, but you are.” You tilt your head at him.

Katniss shakes her head. “I know why Johanna sent me in here now.”

You look over your shoulder. “You can go, Katniss. We won’t kill each other.”

She purses her lips, thinking. “I’ve got to pee, so I’ll do that and come back.”

“Sounds like a deal.” Finnick tells her.

Katniss wanders off with her bow, heading deeper into the jungle, completely out of your sight. You look back at Finnick, who still has his hand out, waiting for your knife. You grab it begrudgingly, placing it in his hand. 

He starts to drill into the tree with the tip of your knife, ruining it immediately. You’ll get him back for this later. You’re not sure how, because trying to use his trident would make you look stupid. Maybe you’ll steal a knife off of him when he’s sleeping, since he seems to place a lot of trust in the others to watch over him.

The silence between you and Finnick is fine for the first few minutes, but you really don’t like standing over him like this without saying anything. You clear your throat, turning your body away so you don’t have to look at him.

“I’m sorry about Mags.” You tell him. “I didn’t know her well, but she was always kind to me when I was with her. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.”

“I’m fine.” Finnick tells you. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” You shake your head. “I should’ve taken Mags during the fog, I could’ve carried her.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.” He mutters. “Either she died during the fog, or the monkeys, or even the Cornucopia. At least she didn’t suffer.”

You hum. “I guess that’s true.”

There’s a few beats of silence, and then he sighs. “You’ve saved my life twice now.”

You make a noise, not really interested in this topic. All he’s going to do is start keeping score. You’ll even bet he’s going to tell you he doesn’t want to be in your debt.

“Hardly.” You tell him.

“You saved me from the monkey in the jungle, and if you hadn’t moved me out of the way, I could’ve died because of the spear.”

“We could’ve died.” You correct him. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is.” Finnick says, he stops drilling into the tree to look at you. “I was wrong when I said that you’d get in the way.”

You shrug, not really feeling the need to thank him. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” He tells you. “Really.”

“Forget about it.” 

[sepublic]

            The Owl House’s first episode really is a litmus test for people who claim to support Problem Kids who act out but ultimately need support by their community instead of punishment by the system, because jeezus.

            The way so many people were clutching their pearls over Luz bringing fireworks to school, treating her like some domestic terrorist in the making who needed to be carted away, and not just… An eager kid who got in over her head trying to bring fun with something associated with fun, especially in her country!!! Like this was so obviously a well-meaning child who just needed to be sat down and explained the dangers of fireworks, who was clearly willing to listen!

            And yeah, Luz DID become a domestic terrorist. But you know what I mean, and really that just proves my point that Luz can be a rebel in a fantastical sense, but when you apply it to a real-world context, suddenly she’s a menace that needs to be stopped. Because it’s easy to root for the metaphor until you have to uncomfortably apply it your own life. Why else would Belos be an actual colonizer from IRL history, and not just a space alien or demon?

            It’s the way people saw this cartoonishly-evil system that the show was so unambiguous about, and because they thought they were being clever by being uncritically contrarian (when really they were just affirming their own latent biases), they argued that Oh yeah maybe the system IS good for Luz, maybe this is what she needs! The way people were so ready to take the camp’s promises at face value, that See it’s going to teach her how to do taxes and listen to the news!

            People were just so insistent that actually, the Troubled Teen Industry means well and will do well in taking this brown child away from her struggling brown mother, without a choice for either of them. They just ignored the obvious bit about Principal Hal sending Luz to the camp as a punishment, out of spite, after breaking his promise to give her another chance as soon as he ran into the aftereffect of Luz’s prior chance. Luz even brings it up, “That doesn’t count, right?” And he still went through with it because he doesn’t actually care about what Luz needs, he just wants to punish her!!!

            It’s Be Gay, Do Crimes until the protagonist performs actual crimes and suddenly she has to be arrested. Nobody questioned how at least half the incidents Luz was sent to the office over were clear overreactions by the school; Things that didn’t harm anyone! It’s almost as if, gee, maybe sometimes kids DO cause problems, but there’s a particular bias and double-standard regarding certain demographics, and so they’ll be punished for the same things other well-behaved kids get away with! Principal Hal clearly had it out for Luz from the start , so I really don’t care about his judgment.

            It’s all about restorative justice for criminals, until one of them does something even remotely problematic and suddenly they have to be hauled off and not worked with. It’s all about supporting child welfare, recognizing that kids are a struggling and oppressed class in and of themselves, until Luz is having her entire summer vacation, a whole three-months period to herself that is idolized in our culture by kids for this reason, to be sent learning how to do taxes.

            But nnoooo these are important life skills, you argue! But if your parents used up your whole vacation, your only reprieve, to send you to a camp where you had to learn these things, you would understandably be calling it child abuse. Y’all stress the importance of breaks and how school genuinely wears a kid down, and vacation is legitimately necessary; But Luz is a Problem Child and you’ll say it with unironic contempt.

            And that’s not even getting into the implicit bigotry of the system, because under kids’ show censorship you can’t actually SAY that the system is targeting Luz disproportionately for being brown. But you can definitely imply it, just as in Teen Titans, Cyborg goes on a whole spiel about how he can verbalize Starfire’s struggles with fantasy bigotry without her even having to explain it to him, clarifying that he knows because he’s… part-robot.

            Belos isn’t allowed to rant about indigenous peoples but his attempted genocide of natives in a fantasy world is so obviously meant to hearken to what IRL Puritans did with Native Americans, and the show even clarifies that its universe’s witch hunters had the same motives as IRL witch hunters, who were racist, misogynistic, etc. Lilith tells Luz to go back to her world. The Reality Check Camp has Masha, an obvious Russian migrant child, a dark-skinned kid, and another kid based off of Molly Knox Ostertag, who is openly queer. Gee, it’s almost as if the camp is targeting, specifically, kids who don’t fit within the cultural hegemony of the United States!

            And yes, it’s interesting that Yesterday’s Lie creates ambiguity for Luz because these kids seemed to get along and find each other because of the camp… From her own perspective. But Luz doesn’t have the luxury of re-watching a scene carefully, she had other things on her mind. She’s canonically an Unreliable Narrator who remembers things as worse than they actually were, as revealed in the very next episode.

            The kids said they found solidarity while also calling the camp terrible, so it’s clear it was an unintended side-effect of the camp, it had nothing to do with the camp itself; But Luz isn’t the calm, detached viewer. So her takeaway is something that will fuel her regret over coming to the isles, which her mother really contributes towards at the end of said episode.

            I don’t think TOH is the pinnacle of Leftist media, obviously. It’s basic, entry-level stuff; But this is a kids show. So not only is its effort impressive for a kids show and setting the bar, but it’s also a good introduction for kids into other ideas. The writers are clearly operating off of ideas and beliefs, so it’s fun analyzing how they bleed into their work, how they think to convey these ideas, and Readings are always a thing. And also, yeah; It IS a kids show! What I’ve said should be obvious to kids, the first episode is cartoonishly obvious, but some of y’all are actual grown adults who still can’t get it, how embarrassing!

            And in the end, I don’t think it’s because you don’t have the skills. I think some of y’all do understand, but are just contrarians who live in a perfect bubble where you don’t notice the system’s issues and are insistent on taking its side, even when the narrative is unambiguous about its fault. I also think some of y’all are just racist, and/or misogynistic. That some of the people saying this are white does not elude me.

            I know I toss those words around a lot, but seriously; It genuinely is everywhere, but of course privileged people can ignore it, and treat women and PoC as insane and overreacting. It’s Not That Deep until it bleeds into everything, including people’s writing and how they engage with media. Luz was struggling with the viewers’ own racism since the first episode.

            The most absurd part is that the show does get around to this; It does address that Luz can get carried away, and that she needs to be more mindful. It can also be nuanced in acknowledging that she was disproportionately targeted and punished for being “weird.” The first episode sets up the show’s conflict, its themes, its status quo and cast; As well as the flaws and trajectory of our main character’s arc. It begins addressing these things pretty early on with Luz learning to be more mindful as early as the fourth episode.

            But y’all are adults who lack reading comprehension with a kids show, and demand every issue of the protagonist be resolved in its first episode, which is already going fast because of everything else it’s handling, on top of its first lesson for our protagonist. Y’all really needed Luz’s flaws to be resolved ASAP instead of her development occurring naturally over the course of the show, and ending with the show because it’s about her story.

            Because you can’t bear to deal with a girl of color’s flaws being a consistent thing on the backburner spaced across the show for her to eventually conquer, she needs to be punished immediately! Because it’s not enough that she learns and grows from her mistakes, no Luz needs to also be punished in a show that starts off talking about the system’s disproportionate punishment. But then y’all see your white faves and complain about how they were so much more fun when they were mean, why didn’t they stay mean, why didn’t we get more time for them to be mean before they had character development…!

[gatheringbones]

[“It was only after I came out as a dyke that, for the first time in my life, I felt ready to celebrate being a girl, and I did. Actually, I overdid. Armed with Esther Newton’s Mother Camp, Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble, and Joan Nestle’s A Restricted Country, I embraced femme. I dressed up in short flowery dresses, pushup bras, satin panties, and lacy stockings. I paid great attention to my long, curly, perfectly-coiffed hair, my glamorous makeup, and especially my pouty lips. I spritzed Lola’s smell on my skin—Estee Lauder’s Private Collection—and painted my nails. I wore all of it with black combat boots and a brilliant sense of irony. I reveled in my girliness, went over the top, learned how to tweeze my eyebrows and line my lips with a lip pencil.

My gender presentation was unmistakable: blatant female sexuality. I was a proud, in-your-face, take-no-prisoners, uppity, don’t-assume-I’m-straight-because-I-wear-lipstick-and-dresses femme dyke. Because femmes are always assumed to be straight or sleeping with men, and I do sleep with men, I made sure to always have a butch on my arm so I’d be read as femme. Even though I was sure I’d be mistaken for straight, the boys took one look at me and steered clear. It was as if I was too much of a woman for them to handle, like I was a handful, and I was. But butch girls love a handful—a handful of tits, a handful of ass, a girl who needs to be handled, a girl who can handle herself.

How I figured out I was a femme had a lot to do with the women I was attracted to and the dynamic between us. When I was in junior high, I used to mess around with a friend of mine named Angela. Angela was one of those girls who developed early; I remember she had big breasts in like sixth grade. We mostly kissed and touched over clothes, and we played out various boy-girl scenarios. I was always the girl—my early femme roots. My favorite of all our little scenes was the one where she was my male boss and I was the secretary. The boss made me have sex with him and told me if I didn’t I would get fired. Now this was all before Clarence Thomas, Anita Hill and the media awareness/obsession with sexual harassment. I remember she’d tell me to suck her dick and push my face unmercifully into her crotch, which smelled amazing,. The drama of it all—the force, the degradation, the power games—really got me off. After that, there was no going back to simplicity. I was hooked on the power.

Jen really epitomized all the girls I was attracted to then and still am. Being with a butch girl, I was valued for my combination of strength and vulnerability, for dressing up, for wanting an arm to hold onto, hips to wrap my legs around, being able to give my body over to her and say, I trust you, I’m yours. My butch loved me in low-cut dresses, appreciated my sexual voraciousness, worshipped my inner slut. I reveled in the fact that I could be strong and submissive all at once. Surrender and still be a feminist. Being a dyke is not just about who I fuck and love, it’s about being a girl who doesn’t play by the rules.

Butch girls don’t play by the rules either, and I love butch girls. Girls with hair so short you can barely slide it between two fingers to hold on. Girls with slick, shiny, barbershop haircuts and shirts that button the other way. Girls that swagger. Girls who have dicks made of flesh and silicone and latex and magic. Girls who get stared at in the ladies room, girls who shop in the boy’s department, girls who live every moment looking like they weren’t supposed to. Girls with hands that touch me like they have been touching my body their entire lives. Girls who have big cocks, love blow-jobs, and like to fuck girls hard. Every day, it is the girls that get called Sir that make me catch my breath, the girls with strong jaws that buckle my knees, the girls who are a different gender that make me want to lie down for them.

Someone else said it about me recently and it’s right on target: “She gets off on all different sorts of people sexually, but she falls for butches.” Like the poet who bought her first strap-on with me and then wanted to sleep with it on. The shrink-in-training who got harassed every time she drove down South. She did look so much like a fifteen-year-old boy: blue button-down shirts, neatly-combed blond hair. The ad exec who had names for her dildos and used to love for me to spit-shine her wingtips. The photographer whose face was so mannish she could pass almost anywhere. The writer who wanted a body like Loren Cameron’s. The telephone repairwoman who drove a truck. The cook who had a boy’s name. The academic who got cruised by gay men on Castro Street. The cornfed farmboy from the Heartland with arms so hard and strong you swear they’ve been working the land, not the iron at the gym.

And there’s the one who’s got the James Dean stare down, and dresses like a clean-cut fag, and looks at me like she could look at me forever and never blink or grow tired or move from the spot she’s in. She’s a girl who loves girls like me—girls in velvet bras, girls who want to surrender to her mouth. She’s a girl who isn’t afraid to throw a femme down on the bed and fuck her. Possess her. My kind of girl. This girl is different.”]

tristan taormino, from this girl is different, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[am-i-interrupting]

hii how are you doing?

so, i have this idea for a silco fic - reader is his assistant and they become close friends, like, even though she’s younger than him, he trusts her and values her opinion. they like discussing books and philosophy and stuff, but silco refuses to believe he’s falling in love (he sees it as weakness ig) . reader starts feeling like her feelings are one sided. idk lots of hurt and drama but with a fluffy end!

Kingpin’s Office

Sevika was laid back on the couch in Silco’s office. From one hand dangled a large bottle of alcohol. Her other was hidden behind her cloak.

Her leg bounced up and down. It’d been a stressful week for everyone. Especially her because it’s been a stressful week for Silco.

Numbers were piling up. They were growing larger and larger and more and more. Silco didn’t have time for the unimportant shit and she wasn’t the best with numbers. Most people in Zaun weren’t.

It wasn’t like there was some education system. No, most of those who did things that topside would use math for just used common sense and trail and error.

That wasn’t possible for things like payroll and equipment costs. This was important but it shouldn’t be taking up Silco’s time and they both knew it.

It’s only now, in the trenches with a storm on the horizon, that Sevika dared open her mouth with a suggestion, “There’s a gal in the Promenade I know. Owned a shoe shop for a while ‘til some enforcer’s wrecked the place and she wasn’t able to pay to get it fixed.”

“Your point?” Silco asked, smoke from his cigar slipping from his lips with the words.

“She’s good with numbers,” Sevika said, getting to the point, “and she’s looking for work.”

Silco paused. He thumbed the corner of the paper in his hands. He brought his cigar towards his mouth and slowly, thoughtfully took a drag. His lower lip curled to his right side as he blew out the smoke.

“Bring her in.”

That’s how you met and were then employed by the Eye of Zaun. At first it was just the numbers. Then your work began to expand. It wasn’t officially but you were given different papers to go over, the ones not so important to be looked over by Silco himself.

It was easy to be intimidated by the man. However, without an official office and Silco still wanting to keep a close eye on you at first, you learned the man wasn’t one who needed to be feared all the time. He certainly had his scary moments, yes, but he also had his softer ones as well.

You noticed little habits within that first month of doing paperwork on the couch. He would tap his cigar once, twice and then twist it to put it out. He enjoyed the sound of ice clicking against glass. He would pick up his cup and empty it just to hear the noise. He wasn’t found of music while he worked but he couldn’t say no to the blue haired girl who would fall in from the rafters.

The first time you met Jinx was an experience.

“I’m busy,” Silco had said causing you to look up but the two of you were the only ones in the room.

You jumped slightly in your seat when a voice responded to him, “Isn’t that what she’s head to fix?”

He took a deep breath. “She is here to look over documents which don’t require my attention. That doesn’t mean I don’t still get busy.”

“Blah, blah, blah. You know what I’m hearing?” the voice asked. “A bunch of big fat excuses.”

Silco didn’t dignify that with a response. He simply let the scribble of his pen answer what he thought about it.

A mere moment before a loud bang sounded through the room, Silco gathered the papers and spun his chair to face the side instead of the desk. A flash of blue and then you saw a young girl, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, sitting on the desk.

She groaned as Silco still focused on the papers in his hand. Her head tilted back and her body followed it to fall. She laid on the desk.

Two braids angled over the side and her bangs followed the pull of gravity. Her eyes looked at you. She smiled and waved. A pen between your fingers, you waved back.

“It’s so quiet in here,” she said.

“Jinx,” the word (which you realized was actually a name) was said in a low, warning tone.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said as she righted herself. She got right in his face. “You’re no fun.”

“Hmm.”

He moved his chair back to its previous position and placed his papers on the table top. Jinx moved to a cabinet and flung it open.

“What kind of music do you like?” she asked, head reared back to look at you.

“Oh, I— I’ll listen to anything,” you said, startled to have the girl’s attention directed towards you.

“Anything,” she repeated with a sly smile coming over her face.

“Jinx,” it was said in that same tone.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Put out on a record regardless of the warnings. It was not what you would expect him to have. It carried a strong bass with a nice tune, guitars and drums, a beautiful singing voice. The track was lovely but rock music instead of the instrumental you assumed he’d have.

You quickly learned that Jinx seemed to be Silco’s soft spot. It was cute. The towering figurehead of the Undercity was wrapped around the finger of a blue haired teenager.

You were now approaching a year of working with Silco now. You had your own office but occasionally (most days) you would end up bringing some of your work into his.

“Ballad put in a request for a raise,” you told him. “What would you like me to do?”

He waved a hand. “Whatever you see fit.”

That was another unexpected thing. Once he realized, about four months in, that you were actually competent, he let you do what your gut told you to. He didn’t question it. He trusted you with it.

He actually began to frequent your office the past few months nearly as much as you frequented his, bringing a piece of paper with him and asking your opinion.

He never simply left after getting that answer. No, he commented about how you decorated the space. This led to talks about all sorts of things.

You learned that he enjoyed to read. He had an entire collection of books, some of which he’d even let you borrow. They were all well taken care of even if the spines were a bit worn.

You noticed they were also mostly from Piltover proper. Upon questioning him about it he said, “If we ever hope for them to take us with an ounce of seriousness and give us the tiniest bit of respect, it’s important to know how to speak like them.”

The two of you had many talks which lasted minutes at the least and hours at the most.

You had learned you rather enjoyed his company and held onto a spark of hope that maybe he enjoyed yours as well.

You gave Ballad that raise they asked for. They deserved it and there was money for it.

You continued on with you work, completely unaware of the eye which kept flickering towards you.

Silco had been feeling things which he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was a warmth in his chest which occasionally spread downward towards his groin. He recognized it as attraction.

He waved it off as though that was all it was. It was simply being attracted to his beautiful employee. A common trope, he supposed, but nothing dangerous.

Recently though, as he’d gotten to know you more and more, that warmth was becoming something softer. If he could run it through his fingers, he knew it would feel like silk.

He was still trying to figure out what this was. He was racking his brain, trying to see if he could remember something like this.

Then, as your lips curled around a word which was left unspoken while you read, he was struck with an urge.

He wanted to kiss you. Not like he’d imagined before where it would be hard and rough, with clothes coming off.

No, he wanted to kiss you.

He wanted to cup your jaw and tilt your head up. The want was to look into your eyes and then pull you close. He yearned to press his lips against yours, soft and lingering.

Were your lips as soft as they looked? Would you make a soft noise? How would your tongue feel teasing against his?

He tore his eyes from you. He looked down at the papers in front of him.

Those sort of thoughts were dangerous.

Dangerous for himself because that would give him something to lose. Jinx was already enough. It was dangerous for you because you would have a target placed upon your back.

This needed to stop.

He put an end to visiting your office. He stopped speaking to you when you visited his unless directly spoken to. He made his words short and curt.

He needed to separate himself from you before he did something he couldn’t take back, not after.

You felt the change. You noticed it instantly. You brushed it off at first. Perhaps he was just having a bad couple of days. However, as it continued on, it couldn’t help but feel personal.

What happened?

You had a rather nice, comfortable relationship with Silco and now it was suddenly upended?

A part of you laughed at yourself. You really thought the niceties would last? You thought you could be important to the kingpin of the Undercity?

How could you be so naive? So utterly stupid?

You took the hints. You began to retreat. You stayed in your office.

It was empty in there. You’d come to have a warmth in the air because you knew once a day, Silco would find his way in. Now it was cold.

“You’re getting harsh on my girl,” Sevika said one day. “Why?”

Silco flipped the page to the other side. “I don’t know what it is you’re talking about, Sevika.”

“Yeah, bullshit,” she said. “You go in her office every day for five months and she’s doing the same thing in yours. Now, all of a sudden, she asks me if she did something wrong and you’re always cooped up in here. You’re telling me you’re not being hard on her?”

Silco continued to ignore Sevika. Even though his pen halted for a moment.

You were worried you had done something wrong? To the point of going to Sevika? His stomach turned.

Sevika walked up to the desk. She placed her hand down on it with enough force his ashtray jumped up.

“Why?” she asked.

He finally dignified her by letting his eyes turn up. “I am her employer, not friend.”

Sevika gritted her teeth before a wide, harsh smile crawled across her face. “Oh, so that’s what this is about,” she said. “Okay.”

Silco raised his right brow.

“You caught feelings,” she stated. “Yeah? Doesn’t give you an excuse to be an ass. Our line of work is dangerous. Doesn’t matter what her relationship is with you, she’s gonna have a target on her back regardless, just like me, just like Ren, just like Jinx.”

His lip twitched slightly at the mention of Jinx. Sevika expected as much. That’s part of why she did it.

“Do us all a favor,” she said as she yanked open the door, “just get this over with and fuck already.”

She didn’t slam the door. She didn’t have a death wish despite what she’s just done. The display left her blood and skin jittery. She needed a smoke.

Nothing changed over the course of the next couple days, other than the fact that Silco was extra snippy with his second in command.

You were supposed to close the door and go back to your office. That had been the script for the past couple weeks. Instead, you took a step into the room and closed the door behind you.

“Should I put in my weeks or wait until you fire me?” you asked.

Silco halted. His pen slipped in his grasp. His eyes turned to you. “Why would I fire you?”

“I don’t know,” you answered. “I’ve been trying to figure it out. Did I overstep? Was it something I did? Something I said? You’ve been avoiding me and I don’t know why.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” he said.

“Well, you certainly have been avoiding something then!” you exclaimed. “Is it me? My office? The work I do? I’m confused and I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep dancing around you without even knowing the steps I’m supposed to take.”

“You don’t need to dance around me.”

“Well it sure feels like it. So am I quitting or are you biting the bullet and firing me?”

“You’re not getting fired. Stop being dramatic.”

“Okay.”

You rocked back and forth on your heels. You wrung your hands in front of your torso. Your jaw clenched and unclenched.

“Then I quit,” you said even though it pained you to do so.

“You’re not quitting,” Silco said.

“Well, why not?”

Silco stood. For the first time in nearly a year, you felt the full effect of the Eye of Zaun. He was imposing and demanded attention.

Maybe you had a death wish though or maybe you were just really stupid because you weren’t scared.

“Because I am not upset with you.”

“Then what are you?”

He rounded the desk. His hand reached for your own. He stopped where your nails had begun to dig into your skin.

His head bowed down. You could feel his breath against your own. His eyes darted down. You wetted your lips. He met your gaze.

He tilted his head. Your eyes began to flutter. For a second you thought. . . But he pulled back. He looked you over once more.

His hand traveled to your elbow. His knuckles grazed your torso. He let them trail down. His hand wrapped around your waist. He used it to guide you closer to him.

Then his lips met yours.

[janeyseymour]

The Other Woman

I'M BAAAAAAACK. With this short little one shot thanks to @jeridandridge and her big brain ideas that she let me steal

Summary: you have another woman that melissa has the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. Jealousy ensues.

WC: ~2.8k

It’s been about three years since you’ve started at Abbott Elementary, and honestly? It’s been challenging. Challenging, but rewarding. You’ve found a work family that you actually want to be a part of. But you’re also in a tougher area in Philadelphia, and on top of all of that, you’ve been working on your masters in reading since landing the job as the third grade teacher who took the load off of none other than Melissa Schemmenti.

You feel like you’ve been up to your eyeballs in work, both for your students and for yourself. But now, hopefully that you have your masters degree, that work load will lighten significantly.

The other thing that’s been quite challenging? Masking the feelings that you have for a certain redhead. She always gave off that she was hardheaded, stubborn, and difficult in most situations, but you’ve seen that she has a softer side. You’ve seen the way that she loves her students and former students like her own, how she makes sure that both Jacob and Janine are eating something that has actual nutritional value, her softer side for Barbara Howard, even the simple gestures of bringing Mr. Johnson takeout menus to places she thinks he’ll enjoy. And she’s been incredibly nice to you from the start- something that you’ve learned is entirely out of character for her. She claims it’s because you helped lighten her load, but the truth of it is that she quite likes you- enjoys you even.

Melissa Schemmenti, second grade teacher at Abbott Elementary school, would never have the same feelings that you do- at least that’s what you think. So, after about a year of harboring these emotions, you decide that you have to simply get over yourself and the feelings that you hold. You throw yourself into your work and your classes. During the last semester of classes that you took, you ended up finding a sweet girl who works as a teacher at a school in the suburbs. She helps you to repress the love that you have for the redhead while you’re with her, but as soon as you walk into Abbott again… it’s like Emily doesn’t exist.

It’s not like things with Emily are official either. Yes, she’s met Jacob and Janine at a happy hour once or twice, but aside from that, you would say you’re casually dating her. She would say the same, which is nice. There’s low commitment, minimal effort, outstanding sex.

“So, we’re thinking us going down to Oscars after work on Friday,” Jacob mentions casually at lunch on Tuesday. “You in?”

He knows you’re going to say yes. You love Oscars, and you almost never turn down a good time with two of your coworkers. “You know I’m there. Us four?” You gesture to yourself, Jacob, Janine, and Gregory.

Janine glances to her partner in crime before cutting in. “Us four, Mel, Barb, Mr. J, and Ava?”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “So this isn’t happy hour- this is getting hammered.”

“We just thought it might be nice to go out and have a few beers to celebrate you getting your masters,” Jacob shrugs with a blush creeping into his cheeks.

And so, after the school day is done and your door is shut for the weekend, you make your way into the lobby of the school where the rest of your little work family is. You all shove your things into your cars and lock them before you begin the short walk down to your favorite dive bar.

“Oh, I invited Emily by the way,” Jacob says offhandedly as your group travels.

“Who?” Melissa’s rough voice asks.

Your brow raises. “You did?”

“I thought you might like to have your girlfriend there,” he tells you.

The second grade teacher’s face hardens. “You have a girlfriend?”

“No,” you state quickly, shooting your friend a glare. “Emily is just this girl I’ve been seeing casually. It’s not- she’s not my girlfriend.”

“You sure about that?” Janine asks.

“Yeah,” Melissa huffs. “You sure about that?”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Yeah, Lis. I’m pretty sure. It’s drinks maybe once a week, and then it’s just sex. Isn’t that what you were doing with the Captain?”

Green eyes stare at you as she quirks her lips, raises a brow, and folds her arms over her chest. She essentially stays that way for the rest of the walk down to Oscars, making for some uncomfortable tension between the group.

That tension is quickly gone when Ava orders a round of drinks for you all. After that little spat that you had with your favorite redhead (ironically, not the woman that ends up in your bed almost every weekend), you realize that your goal is to get absolutely hammered today. Little do you know, that Melissa also feels that way now. After downing the drink that Ava treated you all to on the company card, the second grade teacher drags her best friend to the bar.

“Girl, what’s got you so angry?” Barbara asks as Melissa takes another shot. “You were fine when we left the school.”

“I-” The redhead pauses to wipe the little amount of alcohol from her lip with her sleeve. “I didn’t know that Y/N had a girl. I was gonna ask her out tonight, but now that plan’s a load of shit, and I’m pissed I didn’t make a move sooner.”

“You heard her,” Barb shrugs. “It’s casual. You still could.”

Green eyes are rolled. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Then you need to try to keep this temper of yours under control, the jealousy too,” the kindergarten teacher chides. “We’re here to celebrate Y/N and her getting her masters.”

Melissa huffs before making her way back over to where you are- already taking your second shot of the day. But then your eyes lock with hers, and you hate how much it turns you on when she’s pissed off. As much as you love seeing her angry, you don’t want to be the one who’s making her feel this way.

“I’m sorry I was a bitch earlier,” you lean in, wrap an arm around her waist, and whisper into her ear. “I didn’t think you’d care if I was talking to someone.”

“I thought-” Whatever Melissa is going to say never gets uttered because Emily walks in, and Jacob and Janine both cheer and giggle. You’ve never moved your hand away from someone so quickly, and you hate that you have to in the first place. Your arm being around that waist felt so right.

“Hey!” Emily makes her way over to you, wraps an arm around your waist, and kisses your cheek.

“Hey,” you smile awkwardly as you return the sentiment. “Uh, let me introduce you to the rest of the group. You obviously know Jake, Greg, and Janine.”

She waves at them.

“This is Barbara, Ava, Mr. J, and…” you sigh softly when you see that the redhead has gone stone faced again. “Melissa.”

Emily smiles at everyone. “It’s great to be with youse, celebrating Y/N gettin’ her masters. I wish I liked my coworkers as much as y’all seem to get along.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there,” you tell her softly. “It took me some time to find my group.”

Emily is handed a drink, and you find that it’s quite nice that she already knows some of your friends- this way, she isn’t attached to your hip. You’re able to play darts with Jacob and Gregory, get in some gossip with Janine, challenge Ava and Mr. Johnson to a chugging competition, and chat with Barbara while your date mingles with your friends. It doesn’t go unnoticed that while you’re conversing with Barbara, Melissa stays silent. 

“I’m heading to the bathroom, and then ordering another drink,” the kindergarten teacher tells you as she begins to shimmy her way out of the booth. “Would either of you like anything?”

“Whiskey, neat,” the redhead grumbles.

“Angry balls,” you request.

Barb’s eyes go wide. “What?”

“Shot of fireball mixed with an orchard,” you explain. “Thank you.”

As soon as Barbara is out of earshot, you scoot in closer to the redhead. “So, you gonna tell me why you’re all pissy?”

Melissa scoffs. “I’m not being pissy.”

“Yeah you are,” you call the redhead out. “No smiles, arms crossed, brows furrowed. Quiet, for once in your life.”

“So maybe I’m a little pissed,” the redhead admits quietly, although she does uncross her arms, and one finds its way around your waist, pulling you in just slightly closer. Liquid courage.

“And why would that be?” you question. “It���s just the gang.”

“And that girl,” Melissa mutters under her breath, but you’re close enough that you can hear it.

“Emily?” you ask. At her nod, you roll your eyes. “At this point, I’m pretty sure Jake and Janine like her more than they like me. And like I told you earlier, it’s honestly just sex. I don’t want anything else with her, and she knows it.”

“Then why’s she here?”

“Because Jacob is convinced we’re goin’ t’fall in love or some shit,” you chuckle. “You know him.”

“An idiot,” the redhead sighs.

“He’s got a good heart though,” you quip. “Just like you. I like you more when you’re nice, you know.”

Your colleague turns to face you slightly, and you swear there’s a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you smirk, as you reach behind her and tuck the hairs that have threatened to fall in her face behind her ear. “It makes me sad when you’re all pissed.”

Jacob’s eyes follow where Emily is looking- at the two of you, cozied up together in the booth.

“You good, Em?” the social studies teacher asks.

The woman turns to face him with a sad smile. “They like each other, don’t they?” It’s not asked in an angry way, or even in a hurt way. It’s more of a statement phrased as a question. 

Jacob sighs quietly. “I- That’s a question for Y/N.”

Emily just purses her lips in thought before throwing the dart in the direction of the dart board.

When Barbara returns to the booth, it’s apparent to her that the two of you had reconciled. It almost seems to her that her best friend had admitted the feelings she has for you. Of course, she doesn’t voice that. Instead, she just joins the conversation with a smile, happy that things seem to be back to normal.

It’s a long while later that you’re all more than a little drunk, and the Abbott clan decides to call it a night. You thank your friends for coming out to celebrate with you, giving them all hugs as they depart from the bar. The only one that you give a quick kiss on the cheek to is Melissa- an act that does not get past your date.

And then it’s just you and Emily on the sidewalk.

“Did you want to go somewhere else?” you ask. “Or maybe just back to my place?”

“Maybe we could skip the next bar and just head to a diner? I could use some food, and I think we need to talk,” Emily tells you quietly, although her voice feels much louder now that you’re out of the dive bar atmosphere.

“Y-yeah,” you nod along, scratching the back of your neck. 

It’s not long before you’re in a small little diner eating burgers and thanking the waitress for her service. And then Emily sighs.

“Is- is everything okay?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

“Yeah,” she smiles, although it doesn’t reach her sparkling eyes like it usually does. When you look a little harder, you can’t help but note that her eyes aren’t even sparkling the way they usually do when she’s with you. “I just-” Emily bites her lip nervously before letting the words tumble out of her mouth. “I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You don’t want to be in the way of what?” you furrow your brow.

“You,” Emily whispers. “Y/N, I care about you, and I want what’s best for you. Unfortunately, that’s not me.”

“What?” you ask softly. “Em, what are you-”

“I’m not mad at you,” the woman across from you promises. “But you have feelings for Melissa. Stronger feelings than you have for me.”

“I- I-” you stammer out with wide eyes. She’s right, but you don’t know how to say it.

“And that’s okay,” Emily smiles. “She likes you too. Anyone with eyes can see it, and I don’t want to be in your way of finding true love and happiness.”

“W- What?” you continue to flounder. “I- I-”

“It’s okay,” Emily assures you, yet again. “I saw the way that the two of you were flirting. The way she brightens up and comes alive when you’re near her. Your- your eyes sparkle when you look at her. I want you to be happy.”

“Em,” you breathe out. “I- I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” the woman promises. “You can’t help feelings, and we had a good run. I would still like to be friends- and I had a great time out with your coworkers tonight… well aside from Melissa.”

“She-”

“Once I knew why she hated me, I couldn’t help but understand,” Emily shrugs.

You take a bite of your burger. “How are you always so understanding of everything?”

“We’re teachers, aren’t we?” your date teases.

Despite the fact that the two of you essentially broke up at the diner, the rest of your meal is cordial, and you even gossip about how Gregory and Janine absolutely are going to end up married at some point. 

And then you’re seeing Emily off in an uber for the night before walking back to your own apartment for the night.

You take off your makeup and change into a pair of sweat shorts and an Abbott hoodie before settling on the couch with a beer and really taking in what Emily had said to you. She knows that you have feelings for Melissa. She also seems to be convinced that your redheaded coworker has feelings for you. 

Your eyes glance at the clock. It really isn’t all that late.

Before you know what you’re doing, you dial Melissa’s number.

“Hello?” the redhead’s gruff voice crackles through the speaker.

“Lis?”

“You dialed me, you know it’s me, hun,” Melissa quips.

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles up out of you. “I know it’s a long shot, but would you want to come over?”

“Emily isn’t there?”

“No,” you roll your eyes. “She and I- I think you and I need to talk, and I want to do it before I lose my nerve.”

You can hear the redhead pull herself off her couch. “Fine. But you owe me money for the Uber I’m going to take.”

“Deal.”

Your colleague shows to your house about twenty minutes later, and you can’t help the smile that finds its way to your face when you take her in. She’s just in a pair of leggings and a tank top, her hair tied up messily, but God does she look beautiful as ever.

“No just sex tonight?” Melissa smirks.

You shake your head. “Not tonight.”

“Well that-”

“Not ever again, if this goes well,” you tell her as you invite her into your apartment.

Sculpted eyebrows furrow. “What does that mean?” she asks as she settles on the couch.

You take the opportunity to sit next to her and pull her in closely. “Em and I- we… uh, talked.”

“Okay?”

“I- I don’t really know how to say this, so,” you trail off as you cup her cheek with your hand and pull her in for a soft kiss. Her lips are frozen against yours for a second before she fully comprehends what’s happening. She kisses you back before pulling away.

“Y/N, I don’t want to play-”

“Emily and I broke things off,” you tell her. “After we left the bar.”

“And why the hell would you do that?”

“Because,” you smile as you look into her eyes. You can see that she’s hoping you say it’s for her. “Because I have feelings for you, not her.”

“What?” she asks, despite her wish for you to admit that to her. It clearly shocks her.

“After everyone left, we went to get burgers, and… she told me it’s clear that there’s something between the two of us. I’m tired of trying to hide my feelings for you, Lis.”

That’s all Melissa needs to hear before she pulls you in again. 

@schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 13 - Alien Sex]

Pairing: Human!Jimin x Alien Queen!Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Sci-Fi!AU, Reverse Harem!AU

Kinks: free use kink, mention of anal experimentation, douching kink, public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, alien sex magic which changes his cock to a pussy, he still has a prostate though, double penetration of his pussy & ass, tentacle sex, her tentacles produce their own lube, she can also change her pussy to a cock & uses it to lay eggs in his ass, wet & sloppy scissoring, lots of kissing, praise kink, he wants to be called a good boy but also a good girl and a good whore, multiple orgasms, breeding, bondage with her tentacles, subby boy tears, orgasming to the point of squirting, giggly aftercare, ps: he got kidnapped from earth and then forced to marry her but he likes it so idk kidnapping kink?

Wordcount: 4.7k

a/n: this is for you, Alien Queen JFADJFJ I hope this is what you imagined. it is honestly so unhinged like damn. also, happy birthday jimin <3

“You called for me, my Queen?” 

“I did. Sit.” 

Jimin obeys your orders, sitting down on the spot you point at. At the edge of your big circular bed. He fixes his thin rope by tugging on its folds, shifting on the silken sheets nervously. 

Silk is an expensive fabric on your planet and isn’t made the same way than it is on Earth. On Vulvaria, so called silk spinner are paid a handsome wage to spin their hair into the fabric. The hair of a silk spinner grows twenty feet per year and is therefore perfect for creating the luxurious and soft fabric.  

You solely wear silken ropes and order all your husbands to wear the fabric as well. Jimin, the husband you called to you tonight, was ordered to wear an especially thinly woven model of the fabric. His dark nipples shine through the fabric, as does his well groomed, dark bush. 

You wear a long wrap skirt and no shirt, only using pearls from Vulvaria’s oceans to cover your breasts. Jimin thinks that they look especially beautiful against your turquoise skin.  

The skirt dances on the floor as you strut to the bedroom door. You talk to him.

“Have they informed you why I have called you here tonight?” 

“They said that your desires started.”

“They have.” You lock the bedroom door. “Did they ask for your consent before bringing you here? I know my guards can be rather forceful sometimes.”

“They didn’t need to ask, I followed willingly.” 

You look over your shoulder. Your hair is a beautiful dark blue, harmonizing perfectly with your skin tone and your glowing blue eyes. 

“You did?” 

Jimin nods his head, gulping nervously when you turn to him. You walk back to him, swaying your hips.

Jimin doesn’t look like you do. His skin isn’t naturally turquoise nor is his hair naturally blue, his eyes also don’t naturally glow. Jimin isn’t from here. Long ago he lived on Earth before scientists of your planet kidnapped him for their experiments. Jimin didn’t really have a life on earth, he was a loner and had no hobbies or ambitions, so he didn’t particularly care when he was kidnapped by aliens. They implanted a chip in his brain first, which allowed him to learn their language instantly and to live longer. After they explained their situation and their plans for him, the experiments began. The experiments they did on him as they journeyed back to Vulvaria were strange and scary at first, but soon Jimin began to look forward to them. Vulvarian scientists value comfort and honour their experimental pets. Call him crazy, but Jimin began to truly like all the anal probing which was done to him and he was rather sad when the long journey to Vulvaria came to an end. 

So when he was brought before you as your newest treasure and was told that he was to marry you, Jimin welcomed it with open arms and an even more open hole. He welcomed the wedding night, welcomed the public sex and welcomed the free attitude the Vulvarians had around sex. Free Use, as the humans would call it, was a daily and normal practice between consenting adults. Of course such acts were never held in the presence of children. The Vulvarians deeply honoured the innocence of children and any who dared to break the sacred law of honouring it, were cast into outer space. But in places where no children were present, things like Free Use and public sex was common and normalised. 

It was also normal for the queen to take more than one husband – or wife if she so wishes – under the condition that she care for each of them properly. 

Jimin was one of seven husbands. He was the third to last to join your marital bed and he was one of two humans. The other, Namjoon, was your second husband and has lived with you long enough to have earned his Vulvarian tattoos. The others were once residence of other planets, except for Seokjin and Jungkook, the first and the newest husband, who are born and raised Vulvarians who had the honour of marrying their queen. 

Jimin likes all of his fellow husbands and he very often finds himself engaged in sex with them. They are each very delightful company to have. 

Tonight however, it seems that the only company he gets is you, his Queen and wife and beloved love.

“You never cease to amaze me. It feels like yesterday when Yanoshnik reported to me how eagerly you took your daily anal examinations and you haven’t been able to be satisfied ever since”, your voice carries a hint of teasing as you remind him of his insatiable hunger.

Yanoshnik was the lead scientist on the ship which brought Jimin to Vulvaria. Jimin still thinks back to her fondly. She knew just what to do. 

“I sometimes think that I was put on earth just so you can kidnap me one day and introduce me to this life.” 

You chuckle, “this pleases me to hear.” 

“I’m so entirely grateful for you, my queen.” 

“Please, drop the formalities. It’s just you and I tonight.”

Jimin flutters his lashes, heart racing in his chest. You place your fingers under his chin, tilting his head so you could inspect his face.

“Have they told you what I expect of you tonight?”

“I was brought to Annatar to be prepared, but haven’t been given any details.”

You offer your very own sex preparation spa where people can come and get ready for sex. Jimin was prepared in the anal douching wing of the spa where only the most gentle of preparation mistresses handled him. Sometimes - and keep such knowledge a secret - Jimin goes to this spa with the lie of needing preparation, when in reality he misses the experimental and scientific ways the Vulvarians handle anal preparations. To be strapped into a comfortable chair and have a slickened hose inserted inside him only to have his stomach slowly filled with warm water while someone massaged it gently was true heaven for Jimin. And once he had to empty himself and he heard the preparation mistresses clap for him, it very often brings him close to orgasming. Jimin really enjoyed tonight’s stay in the preparation spa even if they kept your plans secret. 

“So they didn’t tell you anything?”

“No. Just that my insides needed to be cleaned properly.” 

“Tch”, you click your tongue, “what tactless servants I have. You were supposed to be told to during your preparations. Fine then, I shall do it.” 

Jimin nods his head, holding his breath in anticipation. 

“I desire to turn your cock into a cunt and then scissor with you. And as we grind our cunts together, I will penetrate your holes with my tentacles. Perhaps if I feel like it, I will lay a slime egg in you. I expect of you to carry it until it is dissolved and your body absorbed my nectar.”

“Yes, my queen. Please do”, Jimin croaks, cock throbbing behind the fabric of his dress. 

You cradle his cheek, eyes soft in fondness.

“I expected nothing less of you, my darling Jimin.”

He smiles, eyes glassy in emotion. He loves being your darling. It is his only purpose in life.

“Very well then. Do you have any questions before we start? I gather you haven’t had your cock changed before?” 

“I haven’t, no. Will it hurt?”

“Have any of our procedures ever hurt you, darling Jimin?”

“No”, he flusters, “no, I guess not. Oh god, I’m such a whore.”

You chuckle, now busy with preparing the cock changing spray. 

“You must introduce me to this God you always mention.”

“It’s just a saying. I guess like you say My Arn, we say my god.”

“I see. Humans are so fascinating.” You turn back to him with the spray in your hand. “Undress and stand up.”

Jimin obeys gladly, cock hard and throbbing. You inspect it and smile.

“What a shame to change such a hard cock, but it will be worth it. Now watch and revel in it.” 

You put seven decent sprays of the warm liquid on his cock. It tingles and tickles, forming pink smoke thick enough that he can’t see anything. 

“Ah, oh”, he gasps, knees buckling and hand instinctively reaching for you. You hold it tightly, caressing his knuckles.

“Hush now, I know it feels very ticklish. But it isn’t terrible, is it?” you speak to him in a caring voice.

“No, it feels good.”

“Of course it does. My milk is one of the ingredients, which is the key component in allowing species other than Vulvarians to change their genitals.” 

“Have the others experienced this before?”

“Not everyone. Seokjin and Jungkook obviously haven’t.”

“Because they’re Vulvarians and can change their genitals naturally."

“Exactly. What a clever thing you are.”

“So everyone else has?” 

“Yes, everyone except Taehyung. He is very nervous about it. I haven’t warmed him up to the idea quite yet.”

“I see. I’m sure that he’ll come around. He is a softie, he just needs a little more coddling.”

You chuckle fondly, “that’s true. What a sweet darling he is. Now look darling Jimin, look at your beautiful cunt.”

Jimin looks down and gasps. The area where normally his cock protrudes and bulges is flat. Only his dark bush is there. 

“Oh my god”, he gasps, reaching down, “my cock is gone. ___, it is actually gone.”

You laugh, eyes spilling over with fondness. He also glows so prettily when he gets excited.

“Do you like it?” 

“Yes, but it feels strange. Like something is missing.” 

“Lie down and spread your legs. Prop yourself up on your elbows.”

Jimin obeys your orders a little confused but eager. You walk to the dresser to get a mirror, then hurry back to him, placing yourself right in front of him. You flip the mirror, using a glowing crystal to shine light onto his presented cunt. 

Jimin moans, cunt throbbing as he sees himself for the first time. His dark pubes form such a beautiful contrast to the rosy, flushed skin of his folds. Said folds are swollen already, giving view to his empty vagina and his engorged clit at the top. Just under his vagina and covered in his juices, his asshole was waiting to be stuffed. He knows the female anatomy, because Vulvarians have the same genital anatomy as humans except that their skin is blue and purple, so Jimin knows what a cunt looks like. And yet he feels as if he sees pussy for the very first time tonight and it turns him on so much that it aches not to be stuffed. 

“Fuck me, please”, Jimin begs, rolling his hips up desperately. 

“So you like yourself?” 

“Yes, so much. I’m so pretty.”

“You are. The prettiest ever with the prettiest cunt.” 

Jimin whimpers, twisting the sheets.

“Please fuck me please. I’m an empty whore.” 

“What’s a whore?” 

“It’s what humans call someone who has too much sex. It’s mostly used for women to shame them for having sex.” 

“And men aren’t called as such?”

“They’re not shamed for having too much sex, so no.” 

“You humans are strange creatures. Why would a woman need to feel shame for having sex? Isn’t She who brings new life into the world? She who nurtures and creates and shapes nothing into a full human? Why shame Her but celebrate him for the same thing?” 

“I never understood it.”

“What strange creatures. Our Vulvarian men would never think to feel in such ways. Doesn’t matter. Tonight, my darling Jimin, I shall show you how wonderful it is to have a cunt.”

Jimin writhes and whines, cunt throbbing in anticipation. 

“Scoot further up the bed.”

Jimin obeys gladly, parting his legs as widely as possible.  

“What a good boy. Is it okay for me to call you as such or does your cunt change your feelings?”

“You can call me a good boy or good girl or just a good whore. Everything is nice.”

You chuckle, “a good whore. I see. Shame and praise at the same time. What a good whore you are.”

Jimin drips with new excitement, feeling like crying.

“Please fuck me, please.” 

“And how eager you are. Put your left leg down flat on the sheets.”

He obeys. 

“Very good.” 

You open the wrap skirt, throwing the fabric to the side. Your sweet cunt is finally revealed to him. Your well groomed, blue pubes look delicious against your flushed cunt. When Vulvarians flush, their skin becomes purple. Jimin thinks that you have the most beautiful purple cunt. 

“Stay like this and don’t worry about lasting long. You will orgasm countless times tonight, it is expected. Just enjoy yourself and try to breathe whenever it gets too much.”

“Yes my que-aah! Holy fuck ah!” Jimin screams, dropping in the sheets and arching his back. You connected your pussy with his own and began rubbing your clit against his’. Your cunt is so wet in your slick, your folds are warm and swollen and your clit is hard and erect. Each time you grind back and forth, your kissing pussies make the wettest sound. Sticky and lubey and so incredibly sinful. It truly is as if one could listen to your cunts making out. 

Jimin growls, tensing his jaw and huffing out air.

“Does it feel good for you?” you ask, staring at his face obsessively. His cunt is so soft and so insanely wet. You are drinking up the sensations greedily. This is exactly what you needed in your state. 

“Yes, so good aaah”, Jimin mewls, tilting his head back as far as possible. His dark hair spreads messily on the white sheets, his throat looks so pretty when it is as exposed as it is. 

“That’s good to hear. You have such a soft cunt. So pretty and wet.”

Jimin mewls and whines, feeling dizzy. 

Desires, so your state is called, is when your body desires sexual pleasure to the point your other senses almost shut off. You explained to him that it is similar to what animals experience as heat except that the purpose of this state is not recreation but pure fun. 

Jimin witnessed a similar state in Seokjin and Jungkook before and he helped you before, so tonight isn’t new to him. He enjoys the passionate sex you and he have and how it always leaves him disoriented afterwards. 

Right now, he feels the first orgasm of the night approach so rapidly that all he can do is whimper your name and then it is already here. He shakes and trembles, helplessly squeaking your name because he never experienced such a sensation before. Orgasms with his cock are quick and explosive but this feels deep and it drags out to the point where Jimin twists the sheets against his will. 

“That’s it darling, that’s it”, you talk him through it, sharing his state in a more composed way than he does. One orgasm almost leaves you blind to it. In your state, it feels miniscule and small. The true pleasure is the act itself, not the orgasms which are a result of it. You can go over and over again and not be affected by it. Very often it is to the detriment of your poor husbands, who have to shake through their countless orgasms until you are satisfied.

“It’s a lot, it’s a lot”, Jimin begs, now writhing in a kind of overstimulation he hasn’t experienced before. When you overstimulate his cock, it aches and Jimin can’t handle it. But this is addictive. It doesn’t hurt, it just feels like too much. The kind of much Jimin needs more of, but truly can’t handle because it is so new. “Please too much, please.”

“Breathe darling, breathe through it.”

“No, please just one second please.”

You listen to his weak pleas, lifting your hips for now. You lay yourself over him, running your fingers through his hair and shushing him softly.

“You’re doing so well. Is it too much?” 

“Yes too much ah”, Jimin sighs, chasing your tender touch. 

You lean down and kiss his forehead. He melts, body finally calming down. It feels so good to be pampered with your loving kisses.

“Good boy. I’m so proud of you”, you whisper, kissing a path down the slope of his pretty nose. “What a good boy you are. I’m so proud.” 

And as you worship his beautiful face, you allow your tentacles to grow. Vulvarians are built like humans, but have the ability to grow tentacles if they desire to do so. These tentacles match the colour of the Vulvarian’s skin and have the ability to produce a liquid with a lube-like consistency. Which is, if one asks a Vulvarian, a rather beneficial feat to have as it allows for these tentacles to be used in all of the sexual adventures they enjoy to engage in. They are also very sensitive to sexual stimulation so it is beyond pleasurable to fuck each other with them. 

Tonight, you crave nothing more than to have your slickened tentacles fucked by his holes. You know that he doesn’t need preparation to have his ass fucked. Jimin is the husband with the most lose hole ever. If it wasn’t for the need to clean up, he could be penetrated whenever and it wouldn’t hurt. 

Which is why you asked for him tonight. You need quick relief and need someone who can take you as quickly as possible. Oh, how starved you are for him.

You connect two of your tentacles with him. One you rub through his puffy folds and the other you use to trace his loose rim. He is so soft and warm, leaking so perfectly.

Jimin gasps and tenses up, glassy eyes locking with yours.

“My good whore”, you whisper, face softened in adoration and fingers playing with his silky hair, “does this feel good to you?”

“Yes”, he whimpers.

“You know what I want to do to you?”

“Yes, please fuck me”, he begs, nodding his head vigorously. His hips twitch into your touches, body aching in need. “Please ___, I can’t take it anymore, please fuck me.”

“Take a deep breath for me.”

Jimin obeys, eyes so cutely submissive.

“And breathe out.”

Jimin obeys, but struggles soon when you use his obedience to fill his holes at the same time. Pressure and slight burning and the sudden unbearable sensation of being full is a lot to handle for him. He stops breathing, making little sounds instead.

“Too much?” 

He nods his head.

“I’ll pull out.”

“No.”

You stop.

“No, please.” He spills tears. “Please don’t stop.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please.”

“Fuck, I’m obsessed with you”, you get out, claiming his pillowy lips in a hungry kiss. You push your tentacles deeper into him, swallowing his overwhelmed sounds as you force him to his luck. He begged for it and you are so happy to oblige. 

You gave Jimin an especially sensitive cunt, inside and out. You made sure that the formula would give him a sensitive g spot and an even more sensitive cervix. You currently poke at the latter with the tip of your tentacle, covering it in your addictive slime as you give him sensations he has never felt before. You even use your sucker to make out with it, sending constant fire through his veins.

He sounds so helpless and overwhelmed, barely managing to kiss you back. So you break it, but stay close. His pillowy lips brush against yours as he sobs and gasps. 

“How does it feel?” 

Jimin gives you his answer in a sob and his arms hooking behind your head to kiss you. You let him, smiling and purring as he basically licks into your mouth needily. He drools and sniffles, sobs and gasps. This is exactly what you needed. To have him ruined beneath you, to turn him into your desperate toy. 

You growl into the kiss, slithering your tentacles deeper into him. You make sure to move them constantly in wiggles and writhes, pumping them in and out of him deep and passionate. His noises are your motivation, his trembling body the reason you do this. 

“Take me, what a good whore, take me”, you say into the kiss, giving him no time to answer you as you swallow his words in a sloppy tongue kiss.

Jimin writhes, trying to flee you as much as he wants to be closer to you. But you can’t allow his wiggles. You wrap your strong tentacles around each of his ankles and wrists, pinning him down into the sheets as you abuse his holes in the most pleasurable of ways. 

You slip another tentacle to his clit and begin rubbing it, finally engaging the one in his ass too. You made sure that the spray wouldn’t remove his prostate. When you want him ruined, you want him to truly be ruined. You know how sensitive Jimin’s prostate is so it is expected of him to break the kiss only to scream and arch off the sheets. His legs and arms fight his restraints, forcing you to tighten around him and warn him with an animalistic growl.

“Too much, I- CUM! AH!”

“That’s it. Good boy, cum for me. Such a good whore”, you encourage him, speeding up your tentacles. His holes are so tight, stimulating you perfectly. You can’t stop leaking into him, pounding him, practically ripping him open with your slickened tentacles. The one in his ass is so far inside him, stimulating him in places he hasn’t been fucked in for so long. 

Jimin sobs miserably, wiggling his arms in his restraints to the point you let loose around him just enough to see what he will do. He sobs and rubs his own hands over his face in a weak attempt to handle what you give him. He can’t talk nor kiss. Everything feels so good. His ass, his insides, his pussy, his clit. The pleasure is intense and never ending. It feels so good to have a pussy. It feels so good. 

He was fucked by your tentacles before. He was scared at first. They were so alive in him. The lube you produce allows his skin to become sensitive to touch, which means that he could feel every inch of his insides get explored. Tentacles are alive, they wiggle and move and are restless. Jimin cried so much the first time you fucked him senseless on your tentacles and it seems that he will be the same tonight. 

His ass is so stretched out. Your tentacles become thicker with length and right now, you have a good three feet inside him, stretching his rim to its limits. You are so alive inside his stomach and tonight you are alive above his insides as well. Not as deep but so intense. It is like you have settled in him and you want to come bursting out of his stomach.

“I can’t stop cumming”, he coughs out, having to orgasm again. It doesn’t lose intensity. On the contrary, Jimin fears for his vocal chords if you have him screaming any harder.

“Good girl, yes give me everything, good boy, I’m so proud of you, my good whore”, encourage him in a hungry growl, helping him through it with vigorous wiggles of your tentacles and hungry kisses with your suckers. 

Jimin screams even louder than before, twisting his own hair. You know what it means. You are making him squirt. You press down on his g-spot, cervix and prostate at the same time, forcing his orgasm to be so much more intense than it needs to be. You even press your hand to his bulging stomach to make sure that he gives you every single droplet of his sweet liquid.

Jimin can’t scream anymore as it happens to him. He only lies there, head thrown back, neck tense and mouth agape as his voice refuses to come out. He tugs on the sheets, back arched and cunt squirting clear liquid everywhere. His holes are so tight that it throws you over the edge as well. You growl this time around, back arching and toes curling as your restless tentacles tremble in ecstasy.

“Please no more please”, he begs, body twitching in helplessness. 

“Mhhm good whore”, you praise, pulling out your tentacles. They are weakened from their orgasm, hanging beside you weakly. They are still leaking, ruining the sheets even more. The ones around his wrists and ankles are still strong however, pulling his legs apart and pushing his arms above his head. You bend his legs by his knees, forcing them to press into the sheets beside his body.

Jimin sobs. His holes are so loose. They are leaking so much of your cream. It hurts but he likes it. He was used so well, he was ruined so well, he was nothing but a whore for you and he loves it. 

Suddenly he feels something inside his ass again. He forces his heavy eyes to open, throat producing a weak sound. You are looking down at him, crazy and hungry. Judging by the pulsing deep inside him, you are filling him again. It isn’t as alive as your tentacles were. Instead it is hard and girthy.

Jimin sobs your name weakly, writhing in agony. He can’t handle much more.

“I’m almost done, I promise. Just let me make you mine” you rasp, rolling your hips into him to fuck your newly grown cock deep into his loose walls. 

Jimon spills tears, mouthing your name.

“You’re mine, that’s right. Mhhhhm fuck, it’s happening”, you purr, eyes rollling back and body shivering as you find your last release inside him.

Jimin can count each egg you lay in him. Five of them. He can feel them travel through your cock and can feel them shoot into him and lodge themselves between his walls. They definitely feel like intruders and like something claiming him, but he likes it. He loves everything you could ever do to him. His purpose is to carry whatever you put inside him. And if it is five huge eggs then it is an honor to do so. 

“Fuck, Jimin”, you croak, pulling your flaccid cock out of him. You fall on top of him, and wrap your arms around him so you could pull him with you as you collapse into the sheets. 

His face naturally nuzzles into your chest, he clasps you as he feels the effect of your orgasm set it. When a Vulvarian orgasms inside someone with the purpose of laying eggs in them, the semen they eject with it has the ability to force the muscles of the bred hole to tense up. Like this, it allows for the eggs to get their desired incubation time without accidentally slipping out prematurely. Tonight it is very difficult to handle the clenching of his muscles.

He groans and presses his hand to his stomach. The eggs are so visible to his palm, making his stomach bulge.

“Are you in pain?”

“A little. I was so loose and now I’m not.”

You roll him to his back, placing your warm hands on his stomach to rub it gently. You lean down, kissing his tummy as you massage it. 

“Breathe through it. Just as you have been doing so perfectly.”

Jimin obeys you and like this, he overcomes the worst part of the incubation phase. Deep warmth and a feeling of euphoria follows. 

He giggles and wiggles. You giggle with him , kissing a path up his chest until you can taste his smile in a kiss. You let your hand slip between his legs to play with his leaking cunt mindlessly.

It feels so nice to him. Warm and good but not too pleasurable to the point where he gets riled up again. It is comforting in a sense.

“How was it for you?” you ask him, gazing at his flushed face. 

“Good”, he giggles, “so good.” 

“Yes? It was perfect for me. You took me so well. All of me.” 

Jimin giggles, eyes crinkling into the prettiest of crescent moons. 

“I’m happy.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“Oh god, I’m so happy”, he giggles and hides his eyes behind his hand, “thank you for this. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“You’re the sweetest. Come here you, I need to eat your cute face”, you say and make him laugh by playfully nibbling on his puffy cheeks.

[daybrightsims]

Alright, they've lived in my brain too long; Time to air out my thoughts about the polyamory in BG3

To give a little context: I am currently ethically non-monogamous with my primary partner of almost 7 years. I am not a monolith of thought when it comes to polyamory/ENM/open relationships. These are my own personal thoughts and feelings. I've also completed the game with Astarion and Halsin romanced. Spoilers ahead, read at your own risk.

TL;DR - I don't share the current opinion of whether or not Astarion is okay with Tav pursuing Halsin and the discourse around his agency and choices in the relationship are bumming me out and frustrating me.

I am getting increasingly frustrated about the conversation about Astarion being polyamorous/okay with Tav being with Halsin in the game, primarily because I think a lot of the "think pieces" are coming from 1) monogamous people who have only ever been monogamous, 2) monogamous people who have been burned/cheated on/forced into polyamory by a partner (I feel for ya'll, that wasn't okay), 3) people who are very VERY protective of Astarion, and 4) people who are blatantly uncomfortable with polyamory. My goal is not to invalidate anyone's experiences, but to share an alternate perspective.

I do think that Astarion is not only okay, but happy with Tav dating Halsin. I glean this from how he responds to being poly with ANY OTHER companion. If you ask him to share with literally anyone else, he will say no and give his reason.

Gale: He doesn’t want to be in a love triangle (which with Gale, it would be).

Lae’zel: He’s uncomfortable and Lae’zel would kill him (also true).

Wyll: He knows Wyll is old fashioned and monogamous.

Karlach: He knows Karlach’s feelings for you are strong and he doesn’t want to stand in the way of that (he even says he’d be cool with an arrangement but knows Karlach will need all of your affection based on what she’s been through).

Shadowheart: He would be cool IF Shadowheart had more experience and ya’ll were together longer. But he knows Shadowheart is fragile in her current state.

Minthara: He REALLY doesn’t like this idea and will dump you immediately.

I did also see that ***SPOILER*** they updated or are updating some of the spawn Astarion language to have issues with your affair with Mizora should you pursue it, and it requires a persuasion/deception role to keep you two together.

Up to this point in your relationship with Astarion, he has become more comfortable voicing his opinions and concerns with you. He is learning to value his autonomy and his non-physical relationships. He will tell you when he doesn’t want to do something. In fact, he’ll break up with you over pushing his boundaries. He is fine with you pursuing the Drow twins and fine with you sleeping with Haarlep, even comforts you when Haarlep uses your form. So when he says he is okay with you pursuing Halsin, he means it. Yes, he voices his insecurity with you that you may be pursuing Halsin because you and he haven’t had sex in a while. But he acknowledges that Halsin has experience in this arrangement and doesn’t pose a threat to your relationship. Plus, if you kiss Halsin in front of him, he’ll say “don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the show.”

To me, the idea that this is the ONE thing that Astarion doesn't have agency over in an arc of showing he can speak up for himself is you sleeping with Halsin is an idea that takes more agency from Astarion. He is a grown man. A 240 YEAR OLD man. That trauma he's endured does not mean he needs to be babied or coddled because he can't make his own choices. I think that's an unfair assumption to put on him that Halsin and Tav being together is the ONLY thing he can't enforce his boundaries on.

If he didn't want you to be with Halsin, he would say no like every other monogamous character in the game.

If you want a good example of someone saying yes just because they want to keep you, look at Karlach. You can tell she is HEARTBROKEN when you ask her, but she says “I don’t want to lose you”. That is not an enthusiastic participant in a polyamorous relationship. Astarion says “yeah, go for it! Just give me some reassurance”. Polyamory is not immune to insecurity. I've asked for reassurance in my own relationships and so has my primary partner. That’s not unenthusiastic. That’s realistic as shit. If you ask him about the relationship after you finish his questline, he doesn’t need reassurance because you’re having sex again. That’s also super realistic.

Am I sensitive to this as someone who practices ENM? Almost certainly. It's hard to see a lifestyle I live be villainized and claimed to be "forced" onto characters. I was actually really excited that I could pursue both Astarion and Halsin, and that Halsin places so much importance on consent and not misleading your partner. And it sucks SOO much to see one of my favorite characters be reduced to "oh, he's only doing it because he's afraid to lose Tav." It makes me almost feel bad for liking the interactions between them and enjoying to option. Do I think people mean to make me or other poly people feel bad? No.

But it does.

Headcanons are headcanons. I get it. People are absolutely allowed to interpret the poly aspect of BG3 how they want to. People are allowed to feel uncomfy with how it's portrayed and not pursue it. But it still bums a queer ENM Astarion and Halsin lover out.

Now excuse me whilst I live out my Astarion x Halsin x Tav polycule fantasies in the form of fanfiction.

[reiderwriter]

The Us That Could Have Been

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU Reader

Requested: yes - role reversal of the player!Spencer fic I posted here!

W/C: 5.7k

Summary: They say if you want to get over one man, you have to get under another. Spencer isn't so sure why he dislikes the idea of you doing that quite so much.

Warnings: Mentions of Maeve, spoilers for S8, mentions of minor character deaths, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, angst.

A/N: I'm not going to apologise for this one... Have fun.

Find the rest of my masterlist here.

If you were a genius, you’d know that it took you three hours, twenty-three minutes, and six seconds to fall in love with Spencer Reid. If you were a genius, you’d also know that it took him five years, seven months, twenty-seven days, and two hours to the second for him to break your heart. The thing you were learning about geniuses though, is that they were the most oblivious people on the planet. 

Her name was Maeve, he had told all of you. And he needed your help to save her because he was in love with her. And of course, you went along with it, you tried your best even while your heart was cracked in two because at this point, you couldn’t stand the desperation on his face. The day he told you about her, only days before he died, you cried in the arms of Penelope Garcia for hours, letting her console you as you felt your world get flipped upside down. 

“I don’t know why I’m feeling like this, god, Penelope. Five years, and I knew, I knew that if he liked me like that something would have happened already, but I just…” She rubbed your back as you laid your head on her shoulder, letting your tears fall freely as the sobs wracked through your body. 

“I’ve been in love with him for five years and he never even noticed, and… Penelope he hasn’t seen this girl before and he’s desperate for her. What about me is so unlovable?” Your voice cracked as you broke down again, burying your head in your friend's arms as you let all the emotions hit you at once. 

“Y/N you listen to me right now. You are not unlovable, you have never been unlovable. If Spencer cannot see what is right in front of him, then he is an idiot. You are the most amazing thing that has happened to him, you’re a great friend, you’re smart, you’re beautiful-” 

“I’m not her. Penelope, I… I want to be her-” She held you as you emptied yourself for hours, crying until you were so physically exhausted that you just couldn’t anymore. You couldn’t say that you stopped crying per se, just that your body ran out of emotions to sustain you. 

“Okay, Y/N, here’s what you’re going to do now,” Penelope said. She’d heard you out for long enough, but she wasn’t going to let you be miserable for long. 

“You’re going to pick yourself up, take care of yourself. Get a haircut, dye your hair, whatever you need to do to get some change. And then you’re going to do your goddamn best to forget him, because if he’s too stupid to realize how special and amazing you are then he really doesn’t deserve you.” You sniffled a bit and nodded at her words. 

“And then, you’re going to get back out there. Y/N, when was the last time you went on a date?” 

“I don’t know it’s been… The last one I can remember was before I entered the BAU. I’ve just been so busy-” 

“Bullshit. You’re going to put yourself back out there and find a man, or multiple men, who actually value you and want you. A wise scholar once said the best way to get over a man is to get under another.” 

–X–

A year later and you’d probably taken Penelope’s words to heart a little bit too much. Maeve had died at the hands of her stalker not even a day later, and you felt terrible for Spencer, but he’d pushed you away, he’d pushed everyone away, so you’d decided she was right. 

Your first date had been a few weeks later, and you’d have liked the fact that you’d taken him back to your place and then immediately kicked him out and never seen him again after that to stay a secret. But the BAU copycat didn’t let any of your business stay within the team for long. He had pictures of you with the first guy, the guy from a week later, and the guy after him as well. By the time you’d figured out who the copycat murderer who’d sent you all Zugzwang-themed threats was, he’d got pictures of you locking lips with five separate one-night stands.

The team had said nothing about it, of course, except Hotch’s private aside asking if any of the men in the pictures needed informing about the situation. You’d had to admit to them that you’d not seen any of them since, and, with no reaction from Spencer, you’d felt almost vindicated in taking this step. 

If he didn’t care then, in those tense months where you were all leaning on each other for support, reeling from the death of Erin Strauss and the attacks on the team, closer than you’d really ever been before, then he wouldn’t ever care. 

The thought was freeing. So you’d kept up with your constant stream of men, not letting them get close enough to hurt you in the way that Spencer had, using them and discarding them like broken toys, ignoring that maybe it was you that was the broken one. 

It took a year for him to notice it. A year of you coming in with suspicious bruises on your neck that you laughed off, a year of your newfound confidence, a year of your conscious distance for him to notice that he missed you. It was slow at first. In those first few months, he just accepted that of course, you’d been seeing people. He’d assumed from the photographs everyone had seen that you’d been dating the entire time he’d known you, the feeling unsettling him a little, but he thought that was only because he’d never noticed. 

Now it was all he could notice. The way you’d walk in sometimes smelling unfamiliar, having showered at a hookup's place before taking off, the way you were suddenly open to the flirting by the local PDs on your cases. The way a sadness seeped into his chest every time he saw you with someone else. Envy wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with, so it took him stupidly long to name the emotion. 

You were back at O’Keefe’s after a local case successfully closed, and if you were drinking a lot, no one mentioned it. No one except Spencer, who’d made it his objective to keep you safe and by his side the entire night, for reasons he couldn’t even name. It was stifling, having him constantly hovering over you. 

“Spencer, lighten up a bit, have a drink.” You smiled up at him, trying to get him to loosen up so you could escape the way his sudden care was making you feel. The bartender was eyeing you up from his place behind the bar, and while you were usually careful not to get involved with men whom you’d likely run across again, you were throwing caution to the wind that day. 

“I’ll have a drink if you drink some water and slow down a bit, Y/N.” He handed you the glass he’d retrieved earlier and you sipped it slowly, squirming under the care in his gaze. He ordered a drink, and you eyed up the bartender as he did so, pushing Spencer’s hand off your hip as he approached, offering him a smile. He looked between you and the unfamiliar man, and felt a cold flash in his veins, waiting for his drink and then pulling you away back to the table with the rest of your friends, tangling your hand with his. 

You pulled out of his grip but followed him dutifully. He guided you into your seat quickly, brushing your hair out of your eyes before falling back into conversation with the rest of the team. You hated the way he could still make your heart stutter, still have you feeling hot all over from a single touch, and you felt trapped in the booth, screaming for a way out. 

Your chance came an hour later, when he excused himself to the bathroom, and you excused yourself as well, running back up to the bar. When he came back, you were gone.

“Where is Y/N?” He asked with a scowl, cursing himself for letting his eyes off you for even a second when you’d drank so much that night, having come back to suggest you turn in for the night, getting ready to offer you a ride home. 

“Y/N? By now, she’s either in the back room with the bartender or she’s convinced him to get off early and head back to hers,” Morgan chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. “Took her only two minutes of conversation to have him inviting her out the back entrance, she’s been gone for like five minutes now. 

The constricted feeling settled in his chest again, as his scowl deepened. Not knowing why he was feeling so goddamn destroyed by that statement, he let his head hang and left the bar himself, taking himself outside to get in his car and go home. Unbeknownst to him, you watched him leave from the alley behind the bar, the bartender placing open-mouthed kisses on your exposed neck as you buried your worryingly consistent feelings in the scent of bourbon and lust. 

The next week is rough for both of you. You laugh and play along with Morgan’s jokes about your game, keeping an eye out for him the entire time and ending all the conversations as you feel him enter the room or step closer. It doesn’t stop him from hearing it all, though, all the details about your sex life tormenting him, as he boils with anger at how wreckless you’re being with your constant stream of guys. 

“Mama, you were on fire last week. Took you only two minutes to disappear with that guy, you’re going to have to let me in on your secrets,” Morgan laughed from his perch on your desk. 

“Sorry, a magician never reveals her secrets, and what I do is definitely magic.” Your tone was suggestive and set the man off in a booming laugh, but with your back to the door, you hadn’t heard Spencer’s entrance. 

“The secret is that men are more accepting of casual hook-ups with strangers than women,” he snapped at you both, beginning to ramble as you both looked up at him in shock. 

“Okay, kid, I was just joking-”

“When surveyed over 75% of men said they would be willing to have sex with a complete stranger, vs. 0% of women, and while that’s just one study, there are multiple others that I could quote that have similar results.” 

“Spencer,” you chastised him, but he didn’t stop.

“What? Did you want to know when posing the question of an affair to people in a relationship that 18% of men reacted positively to having casual sex with a stranger, and surprisingly 4% of women also reacted in the affirmative? Did you ask that guy if he had a girlfriend before you fell into his bed, Y/N?” 

“Okay, that’s enough, Spencer, take a walk. I don’t know what’s up with you today, but that was out of line. Hotch is looking for you in his office.” The words came from Morgan, but he kept his eyes locked with yours as he was scolded, memorizing the look of pain in your eyes as he finally backed away. 

He didn’t know why he did it. He knew it would hurt you, and yet he continued anyway, even after you’d begged him to stop. He was hurt, and he didn’t know why, and he didn’t think he had any reason to be hurt, and somehow it was all because you’d been in the back of his mind constantly for as long as he could remember. 

–X– 

“Okay, girl’s night, my place, tomorrow night. There are no cases, and I managed to get Hotch to agree to let us put our phones on silent for the night, so it’s just me, you, JJ, and Blake, a bottle of wine and some good old-fashioned girl talk, what do you say?” Penelope asked you gleefully in the break room one day as you both prepared your drinks for a busy day of paperwork ahead. 

“I’m sorry, Pen, I have plans already.” You grinned up at her as she pouted, promising to make it up to her another time. You didn’t offer an explanation though, just excusing yourself back to your desk and letting her know that you’d make it up to her another time. 

Reid took your place as soon as you vacated it. Almost obsessively, he’d been following you around like a lost puppy since he’d exploded on you the other day. 

“I know you said girls’ night but… Could... Could I come? I think I need some uh, girl talk?” He asked Penelope, an awkward, embarrassed look on his face as he smiled tensely. If anyone knew what was wrong with him, recently, it would be them. 

Last year, he’d have said it was you, but the distance he’d felt recently, combined with the fact that he was almost 90% sure you were the root of his problems had him desperate for other opinions. 

“Oh. Are you sure, Spencer, we’ll be talking about all kinds of gross women stuff?” 

“I was raised by a single mother. I’m sure nothing you say could gross me out. Please?” She nodded her approval telling him what time to get there and to bring his beverage of choice, knowing he didn’t really drink wine all that much if he could help it. 

He turned up twenty minutes late, after spending a great deal of time pacing outside of Penelope’s apartment building wondering if he had any right to unburden himself on them like this. Pacing he wondered whether you’d actually showed up despite your mysterious plans and whether this had been all for naught anyway. 

When he eventually knocked on the door, Penelope opened it and greeted him with a warm hug. “We were wondering when you were going to knock on the door, one more minute and we were going to come out to get you.” 

JJ stood up to hug him, wine glass in her hand, and Blake offered him a wave from her perch on the couch. He took off his scarf and coat and accepted the glass of water Penelope offered him, settling into a chair opposite the three women. 

“Penelope said you wanted advice about something?” Blake was the first to enquire, the three of them getting straight into it, not letting him chicken out of it. 

“Yeah, I think so. Lately, I’ve been having these, I don’t know, weird feelings…” 

“Oh god, I thought I was a few years out from having the talk with someone,” JJ joked, but Penelope shushed her quickly after a quick snicker, letting him continue. 

“I’ve been… I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been acting really weird around Y/N, and I can’t figure out why.” He finally pushed the words out, feeling a weight off his chest at the confession. 

“You can’t?” The room was silent for a minute as they looked at each other, and he looked at them looking at each other, wondering what it was exactly that he’d missed. 

“Yeah? I don’t know, every time I see her I just want to, I don’t know, have her attention on me, even if I have to say something a little mean to get it. And in the bar that time, I was so, I don’t know hurt, I guess, when she disappeared without saying goodbye.” 

They just listened to him go on, not stopping to interrupt him, so he continued. 

“And there’s been this weird distance between us lately, and I guess it’s been there for a while, but I miss her, but she’s still there. I can still talk to her, and I can still spend time with her but I miss her all the time.”

“Spencer,” Blake said with a soft voice. “Since when have you been feeling like this?” 

“I don’t know, I guess it started after everything happened with Strauss and the copycat in New York. But she’s always been… I don’t know, closer than most people? But every time I think we’re getting back to normal recently, she pulls away again and there’s this… void where she should be.”

JJ put her drink down and leaned a little closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Spencer, I think you might be in love with her.” He considered the words for a moment, before getting ready to dismiss them. 

“No, love is a good emotion, this doesn’t feel good, it feels… ugly.” Blake stared at him sympathetically, calmly talking him around. 

“Spencer, think about it. You’re protective over her, you don’t like seeing her with other people, this all started right around the time the copycat sent those pictures of her with other people. It is love, and it’s jealousy, too.” 

The words hit him like a tonne of bricks as he suddenly felt the full force of his words. He was in love with you. 

“Oh god, what do I do?” He held his head in his hands, and Penelope scoffed a little from her seat, the rest of them turning to look at him.  

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to figure this one out on your own genius.” She said with a slightly sharp tone, and even the girls sent her questioning stares as she continued. 

“You don’t just get to decide that you want her after all this time, not after how you’ve been treating her these last few months.” She turns her head away a little bit and sips her drink, her tough-love approach leaving him slightly defeated.  

“Penelope, do you know something?” Blake asks firmly, trying to coax some answers out of her. 

“If I did, I’d be under a strict oath not to tell anyone. And I wouldn’t want to considering how much pain she was in when she made me swear never to tell anyone.” It was clear from the tone of her voice that she really wanted to say something though, the words desperate to spill out. 

“Penelope, your loyalty is commendable, but don’t you think what you have to say could help both of them?” JJ quietly coaxed out of her, and she finally gave in. 

“Okay, but if you hurt her, Spencer Reid, I will never forgive you ever again.” He nodded quickly, hanging onto her every word. 

“Think about what else happened a year ago.” She encouraged him, and for a moment, he was coming up blank.  

“A year ago? We were in the middle of the copycat case. Strauss had just been killed. We were close to being pulled off the case-” 

“You got a girlfriend, Spencer. You came in one day out of the blue and just announced that you were in love with someone you hadn’t met, and you didn’t realize that you were torturing her.” Penelope tried really hard not to snap at him, but his ignorance of your feelings was frustrating, to say the least.  

“What Penelope is trying to say, Spencer, is that we think Y/N was in love with you, too,” JJ added, softening the blow. “And finding out you didn’t feel the same way so suddenly was, well it was a shock to all of us really.”

“What Penelope is trying to say is that she spent six hours with me crying into this couch, and then picked herself up and helped you try to save the woman you had chosen over her. So yeah, she’s been a bit distant, but can you really blame her?” 

“She… She was in love with me?” His heart stopped for a second, dropping to the pit of his stomach as he thought back to those days, how you’d acted around him, the smiles that hadn’t reached your eyes, the reassurances that he’d brushed off, so desperate to help Maeve. 

“Honestly, until you told us about Maeve, I thought you two had something going on,” Blake added. 

“We used to have an office bet when Emily was around about which of the two of you would confess first,” JJ admitted shyly. 

“Oh, god.” He let his head hang a little in shame. “Do you… do you think she still feels the same?” 

They shared another glance at each other again, and he panicked trying desperately to decode whatever it was that had just passed between them. 

“Look, we shouldn’t profile each other but… It’s not a coincidence that all of her hookups tend to happen after you pay her some attention.” Blake observed, letting Reid fill in the blanks of her statement.

“That might be my fault actually, I told her the best way to get over you is to get under someone else.” 

“I don’t want her under someone else,” he stated then, cutting himself off before he could say anything else too damning.  

“She’s not here tonight, why isn’t she here?” He panicked looking frantically around the room for answers, but none of them knew really.  

“She said she had plans, but she didn’t tell me what they are.” 

“Do you think she’s… do you think she’s with…” He couldn’t finish the thought, instead bolting upright and gathering his things. 

“I need to go.” He let out, as the women cheered behind him, finally happy that he was taking action. Penelope shouted your address at him as he left as if he didn’t already have it memorized, running out in the rain, his feet carrying him to your apartment.  

He saw the light on when he approached, thankful that you were still there, and bounded up the stairs to your floor, not giving himself time to second guess this before he pounded on your door.  

You pulled the door open, a confused look on your face as you greeted him, his chest heaving, water dripping down his face. He looked like a mess. 

“Are you alone?” He gasped out, having to pause between each word to catch his breath.  

“Spencer, what are you doing-” The breath left your body as he leaned into you, catching you around the hips and walking you back into your apartment, your back hitting the wall behind you as he rested his forehead against your own, chest still desperately drawing in oxygen. 

“Please, please tell me right now if there’s someone here with you. If there is, I’ll leave, if there isn’t…” His gaze fell to your lips and your entire body lit up, the haze of your confusion finally lifting as you took in each of his words. His lips moved forward, seconds from connecting with your own when his question was finally answered.  

“Y/N? Who is it?” The voice was male, and it was coming from your living room, but it was all Spencer needed to know as he detangled himself from you, pushing his wet hair out of his face and putting some distance between you two, muttering apologies as he backed out of the door again. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I’m sorry,” he said, quickly turning away from you and leaving your apartment quickly. 

“Spencer, wait-” You tried to yell after him, but it was too late. He had disappeared into the night, as quickly as he came. 

You returned to the living room, cursing yourself for not answering quickly enough as you crawled back into the seat you’d just left. 

“What was all that?” Your brother asked from his perch, shoveling popcorn into his mouth in a way that had you somehow even more pissed at him for the simple fact of his existence.  

“That was Spencer. He… God, I think he thinks I’m in here with a guy.” 

–X– 

The next few days at work were tense, as you desperately tried everything to catch his eye. But you weren’t sure why you were putting in so much effort. He was the one who had burst into your apartment and practically begged you for your attention, why were you now the one chasing him?

Needless to say, you took your frustrations straight to Penelope Monday morning. 

“And then he left without letting me explain that it was my brother, and he hasn’t talked to me once this morning, he keeps running away from me and I don’t even know what the fuck it was he was trying to gain from all that and- ughh he is so dense.”

Penelope had sensed the oncoming disaster the moment she’d seen your social media post about your brother’s visit Saturday morning, and you only confirmed all her fears as you unloaded onto her. She silently cursed Spencer as well, and once she’d given you some reassurance and reminded you that you had some case files on your desk that were urgent and distracting enough to calm you down, she practically lept from her seat to hunt Reid down.  

“Spencer Reid, you get your ass in my office right this second,” she whisper screamed at him in the breakroom, his sunken eyes showing that his jump to conclusions had left him in a poor emotional state. He jolted at her words, as she watched to see if you noticed the two of them before practically frog-marching him off down the hall.  

“What the hell happened? We sent you off to confess your feelings, and you what? Pin her to the wall and breathe down her neck before running off with your tail between your legs?” 

He looked down guiltily before replying. “She had a guy there, Penelope, I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to get rejected like that.” 

“She did not have a guy there, Spencer, she had her brother there.” She pulled up your post on her phone and thrust it in his face as she watched his eyes go wide at his own stupidity, clutching the phone as he read your words.  

“And if you weren’t a coward, you’d have stayed and told her even if she did actually have someone over.” 

He’d since tuned out her words though, the crushing weight of his almost-confession that had been stuck to him since the weekend dissipating slowly. 

“This is her brother?” He looked up at you again, desperate to confirm the words she’d already said. 

“Yes. You’d know that if you weren’t such a technophobic freak. I love you but this is the 21st Century and you’re an idiot.” 

“Yeah, I am.” He handed her the phone back and slunk out of the office, and back to his desk. He had a chance to try again, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up this time. 

–X– 

You didn’t know how you knew that night, but when you heard the knock at your door, you knew it was him. 

You hesitated before reaching for the door handle, pulling it open, and confirming your suspicions. 

“Hi.” You said, and he returned the greeting with a mumble of his own before the two of you fell into silence again. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but couldn’t, instead letting his gaze fall to your lips. You heard the hidden question in his look and opened the door a little wider. 

It took only a moment for him to come crashing into you, hands holding your face as his lips met yours in a passionate embrace, drinking you in as again walked you back into your apartment, not even breaking away as he closed the door behind you.  

You wrapped your arms up and around his neck, as you let his hands fall to your hips, your chest, your ass, exploring every part of your body he could reach as you stood caught up in each other. In your desperation for each other, you hit walls, and bumped into tables, finally stopping at your kitchen island as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he started pressing kisses down the hollow of your neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered between kisses. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was your brother and I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, and I’m sorry I’ve been so weird recently.” You pulled his face back up to your own claiming his lips in yours once again, swallowing each of his other apologies. 

He pulled away again, looking at you tenderly as he lifted you into his arms and gently carried you into your room, laying you down on your bed. 

“I love you,” he whispered, and the words broke you. You’d spent five years practically begging him to say them, and another year since trying to bury even the very idea of him feeling the same way deep inside you. Tears fell from your eyes and he kissed each one of them away, muttering confessions into your skin. 

“I love you, please don’t cry.” 

“I love you, you’re so beautiful.” 

“I love you and I’m so so sorry.” You pushed him away again slightly, regaining enough of your composure to finally talk again. 

“I need to know that you’re serious, Spencer. I can’t… I can’t do this if you’re not totally sure, because it will destroy me.” Your voice broke as the words stumbled over the knot in your throat, your hands balled into his shirt, legs still wrapped around him. 

“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt you ever again.” He pressed his lips back into yours again, and you let the kiss deepen, lips slanting over each other in desperation as the need to be joined overtook your body. 

He lifted your skirt, trailing a hand between the two of you as he checked your arousal. You could feel his cock pressing into your thigh, desperate to be freed from it’s restraints. He began kissing his way down your naval, but you pulled him back up.  

“No, I need you now. There will be time for that later, but if you don’t do this now I think I’ll drive myself mad with wanting.” His lips reconnected with yours again as you began divesting yourselves of clothing, and within another two minutes, he was pressing into you, muttering more adoring serenades into your skin as he began catching the tears escaping your eyes again. 

“Yes, Spencer, more please,” you moaned underneath him, legs tight around him as he began thrusting into you with a ferocity you hadn’t felt from him before. It was tender, but you were both desperate, after months of separation, to come back into one another. 

Your lips and teeth clashed together as you let the room echo with your moans, his moans, and the sound of your skin slapping against each other. His forehead came to rest against your own as he grew closer to his release, lips disconnecting as you just stared into each other's eyes in that moment, seeing each other truly for the very first time. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum.” He pressed down into you harder, looking down to the place where you were joined and letting out a whispered curse as he watched you take every inch of him. His hips stuttered then, and you felt your own climax reach you as you felt him release into you, his lips softly tracing your own as you breathed each other in again. 

He pulled out and immediately went to work making sure you were comfortable, propping you up on the bed, making sure the pillows behind you were plump and soft, and running off to find something to clean yourself up with. You watched him silently, again brushing some of the tears from your eyes. 

“How do you feel?” He said shyly as he returned, having pulled his pants back on at least as he bought you a glass of water. You offered him a small smile and a thank you as you replied. 

“I think… I think we need to talk, Spencer.” You said, not meeting his eyes as he looked down at you attentively. 

“Why did you come tonight, Spencer?” You asked, voice so quiet you resisted the urge to repeat the question, knowing that he heard you perfectly clearly, 

���I needed to tell you how I feel. It’s been staring me in the face for six years, and I somehow didn’t know, but once I did I just… I needed you to know.” You nodded at his words, standing still in front of you on the bed as you swung your legs off and asked him to pass you your nightdress back. You pulled it on over your head as you asked him your next question. 

“Why did you run away the other day?” 

“I didn’t know it was your brother, Y/N, I should’ve-”

“It shouldn’t have mattered who it was. If you love me, you should fight for me, right? The way you fought for Maeve.” Your tears start falling again as you open the wound that brought you this far. 

“Y/N, that was… That was different-” You can hear the panic in his voice as he tries to come up with the words to explain himself. 

“Spencer, if.. If it’s different then I think you should leave. If you don’t love me the same way you loved her, then there’s no point starting something.” 

“Y/N, please.” 

“No, Spencer. I have spent six years of my life filled with nothing but love for you. I wake up and think about you, I go to bed and you’re still there in the back of my mind. My every action is informed by your presence and I am so, so tired. So if you do not feel the same way, you need to turn around and leave this apartment.” 

The silence between you is thick, as you stare up at him through your tears, face stern as you push him away. 

He gathers his things. Moves towards the door and doesn’t say anything, and just as you’re about to break down, to let the sob burst from your chest in an agonized wail, you hear your front door close behind him, and you’re left alone in the empty apartment, stuck in the purgatory of your love for him, unable to move an inch. 

[deaddovedecadence]

if requests are open, i'd like to ask for a fic of yandere batfam caring for a sick reader (i've got 1 foot in the grave rn 🤒) with forced infantilization (if that doesn't squick you out, hopefully) gn reader would be preferred. thank youuu 🙏

They are in fact open and fun fact, ive never done infantilization before so im super excited. I think what I'm doing to do is like a mini fic of each batfam member and how they're deal with you being sick. I'll totally do a gn! reader but they might come across as non binary.

-

Alfred: not the worst but not the best. Fussing over you all the damn time whenever you have even the faintest bit of even a cold because he’s lost enough people, you will not be one of them. He tucks you in bed. and will read to the books he read when he was young, smiling to himself with you fall asleep from the drugged milk. Over all a 5/10

Bruce: Doesn’t really believe in it. Thinks that forcing you to be strong will make you, an oldest daughter even stronger. Still when you get sick he’s so gentle with you, cooing that he loves you and that soon you’ll be all better, that your dad is here now. It hurts so badly because you know who he is and yet he’s so fucking gentle with you. 5/10

Dick: Honestly he’s like this all the damn time. Says that because you were an oldest you ought to relive your childhood. Holds basic respect over you to make sure that you do what he wants when he wants because you know that he’ll go back to that coddling cooing cruelty if you don’t. When you’re sick it’s turned up to the max because he likes taking care of people who can’t fight back. Likes being able to hug you and hold you and love on you all he wants. 8/10

Jason: He’s definitely more gentle with you than he is with his siblings but definitely has rough edges. He sees you as someone that needs to be protected but in the manor you are more equal. He fusses when you’re sick for sure because even though he knows that you have the best medical care, he still remembers all the people he lost in crime ally. He’s not obvious about it because he doesn’t know how to be but yikes does this man watch over you like a hawk. 4/10

Cassandra: Thinks that you’re weak and needs her care in a way that her siblings and steph do not. Cass respects strength and the ability of people to take care of themselves ,and you in her eyes can not do that. So when you fight, she forces you down, humming sweet lullabies from cultures all over the world. When you’re sick it proves her point because the rest of them would have been over this by now. You need her. 7/10.

Tim: uses it to manipulate the fuck outta you. Tells you that you are weak, that your sickness is proof you need their love and attention. Will drug you to be dependent on them will you’re ill and probably made you sick in the first place so you’d learn that you belonged in the family, that there is no going back for you. Calls you a child even though you’re older than him. 8/10

Duke: They almost coordinate with Tim, making sure that you never suspect any of them. Duke’s power is words, they know how to spin them and manipulate them and make it so that you aren’t really sure of what’s real and what you dreamed up. A gaslighter to the max. Loves and respects you but thinks that you need to stay here, you aren’t strong enough to be a bat’s lieutenant. 7/10

Damian: While Dami does think that you are weak, he also thinks that. there is a value to you that the others do not quite understand. You soothe the family and act asa merger so that even when they anger each other, they come back for you. Damian is very intuitive and this allows him to understand you better even if he lacks empathy to those outside of his family. Even when you are ill he worries over you but demands you heal because you are strong. 0/10

[aquamarinemarie]

Second Love

There is nothing wrong with being a man’s second love. Or a woman’s for that matter.

I’ve heard it being said, whether by gleeful solavellan critics or by angry, disappointed solavellan’s themselves, that the love Solas and Lavellan share is now diminished or tainted by Solas’ love for Mythal.

I could not disagree more.

In fact, I believe Solas’ love for Lavellan is made all the stronger by him having experienced (and lost) love in the past.

No one ever forgets their first love, this is true. First love is special.

But first love rarely lasts. For most people their first true love is the love that will inevitably lead to their first heartbreak.

Solas’ first love betrayed him – so much so that he had to burn her off his face. She lied to him, she used him, and yet he still held out hope that she would come back to him. He fell in love with an unobtainable, married woman, who thought she could control him.

“But you were always stubborn, Fen'Harel. Insubordinate. Unmanageable, even by Mythal’s reckoning.” – Elgar’nan

A woman who wanted to be a queen. To be a god to her people. She was not the woman he thought her to be, and so, their relationship had fallen apart.

And then Mythal was murdered. Solas blamed himself and grieved his first love alone.

In Inquisition Solas never anticipated that he could fall in love, not for a second time. But within a year’s time Lavellan had somehow wormed her way into becoming someone so special, so dear to him, that he was tempted to throw everything away just to be with her.

Second love could not be denied, no matter how hard Solas attempted to resist. No matter how many times he tried to turn away.

Love kept calling him back, and love kept calling him forward.

Second love is less naïve than the first and has learned from past mistakes. Second love is all the more hopeful and knows the pain of love lost. Second love knows the value of their shared bond and can show you what real love is supposed to be.

Solas and Lavellan’s love is an enduring, mature love. It endures separation, persists through doubt, is sacrificial, is understanding, is compassionate, and is forgiving.

When Solas says that he will tear down the veil to create the world Mythal wanted, please know that this is a lie. Solas is ultimately tearing down the veil for himself. To rectify one of his greatest mistakes. To salve his conscience.

Solas knows he’s in the wrong here, and that is why he cowers when Mythal appears before him. Remember who Mythal was when she was alive.

She was his queen. Judge, jury, and executioner of the elven people.

Solas truly believes he deserves to be executed – that is why he halfway offers the dagger to her. But what he doesn’t, nay, couldn’t anticipate is for Mythal to own up to her part in their wrongdoings and to admit that she broke him.

She then finally releases him.

Old friends and former lovers. Solas will always love Mythal, but he is no longer in love with her. His heart belongs to Lavellan now, to his future.

[rose24207]

A lesson in Strength and Kindness

Summary: When Jacob stands up for a bullied classmate and gets in trouble, Lando and Y/N work together to ensure their son learns the value of both strength and kindness, teaching him that standing up for others can be just as important as following the rules.

Genre: Mafia!Dad!Lando, fluff

TW: Mafia

A/N: English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The luxurious black car purred quietly as it pulled into the long driveway of the Norris estate.

Jacob sat in the backseat, arms crossed and lips pressed into a pout. His usual cheerful demeanor was nowhere to be found, and the chauffeur, Matteo, glanced nervously at the rearview mirror.

"Master Jacob, we're almost home," Matteo said gently, hoping to lift the boy's spirits.

Jacob didn’t reply, staring out the window with a deep frown.

When they reached the grand front entrance, Matteo stepped out and opened the door for Jacob.

The boy climbed out, clutching his school bag tightly, and trudged up the steps. Matteo watched him with concern before heading inside to inform his employers.

Lando was in his study, going over business papers, when Matteo knocked and entered.

"Sir, Jacob seems upset. I thought you’d want to know."

Lando frowned and stood immediately. "Where is he?"

"He’s in the living room, sir," Matteo replied.

Lando found Jacob slumped on the couch, staring at the floor. His school bag was tossed haphazardly on the carpet.

"Jacob," Lando said softly, sitting beside him. "What’s going on, buddy?"

Jacob didn’t look up. "Nothing."

"Doesn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me," Lando said, ruffling his son’s hair. "Talk to me."

Before Jacob could reply, Y/N entered the room, her kind eyes immediately scanning her son’s face. "What’s wrong, sweetheart?"

Jacob hesitated, his small hands clutching his knees. "I got in trouble at school."

Y/N sat on his other side, concern etched across her face. "Trouble? Why? What happened?"

Jacob bit his lip, clearly reluctant to explain. Lando exchanged a glance with Y/N, who gave a small nod.

"Alright," Lando said. "We’ll call your teacher and get to the bottom of this. But first, tell us what happened, Jacob. We’re not mad, we just want to help."

Jacob finally met their eyes, tears brimming. "There’s this boy... Ethan. He was being mean to one of the younger kids at recess. He pushed him, so I told him to stop."

Y/N’s heart melted at her son’s protectiveness, but she stayed quiet, letting him finish.

"And then?" Lando prompted.

"And then Ethan said I should mind my own business. So I... I pushed him back," Jacob admitted, his voice trembling.

Y/N wrapped an arm around him. "Oh, Jacob."

"The teacher saw, and I got in trouble for pushing," Jacob said. "But I was just trying to help!"

Lando’s jaw tightened, his protective instincts kicking in. "Did you tell the teacher what Ethan was doing?"

Jacob nodded. "But she still said pushing wasn’t okay, no matter what."

Lando sighed, his hand running through his hair. "Alright. Your mum and I will talk to your teacher tomorrow. We’ll figure this out, okay?"

Jacob nodded, leaning into Y/N, who kissed the top of his head.

The next morning, Lando and Y/N arrived at Jacob’s school, escorted to the principal’s office by a nervous assistant. Though Lando’s reputation preceded him, Y/N’s calm and warm presence seemed to balance things out.

"Thank you for coming," Mrs. Bennett, Jacob’s teacher, said as they entered. She gestured for them to sit.

Lando’s expression was neutral, but his sharp gaze unsettled the teacher slightly. Y/N, as always, was the first to speak.

"Thank you for meeting with us," she said kindly. "Jacob told us what happened, and we wanted to better understand the situation."

Mrs. Bennett nodded. "Jacob is a good student, and he’s very kind to his classmates. But we have a strict policy against physical confrontation. Even if he was standing up for someone, pushing Ethan wasn’t the right way to handle it."

Lando’s jaw tensed, but he remained silent, letting Y/N lead.

"We completely understand," Y/N said, her voice gentle but firm. "And we’ve spoken to Jacob about how there are other ways to handle conflict. But we’re also concerned about Ethan’s behavior. Jacob said he was bullying another child."

Mrs. Bennett hesitated. "Ethan’s behavior has been noted before, and we are addressing it. However, Jacob’s actions still violated the rules."

Lando finally spoke, his voice calm but cold. "So, the bully gets a slap on the wrist, and the kid who stands up for someone else gets punished?"

Mrs. Bennett flinched slightly under his intense gaze. "That’s not what I’m saying, Mr. Norris."

"It’s what it sounds like," Lando said. "Jacob shouldn’t have pushed, sure. But it seems to me like he was doing the job your staff failed to do—protecting a vulnerable kid."

Y/N placed a hand on Lando’s arm, grounding him. "We’re not here to place blame," she said, her tone still soothing.

"We just want to make sure Jacob isn’t discouraged from standing up for what’s right. Perhaps there’s a way to teach him and Ethan a lesson without making Jacob feel like he’s in the wrong for helping someone."

Mrs. Bennett nodded slowly, visibly relaxing under Y/N’s kind demeanor. "You’re absolutely right. I’ll speak with both boys again and make sure Jacob understands that his intentions were good, even if his actions weren’t ideal."

"Thank you," Y/N said with a smile.

Later that evening, Jacob was back to his cheerful self, playing in the garden with Amelia. Lando watched from the patio, arms crossed as he leaned against the railing.

"You handled that well," he said, glancing at

Y/N.

"You mean we handled it well," she corrected, nudging him playfully.

Lando smirked. "I was ready to pull Jacob out of that school."

"I know," Y/N said, laughing softly. "But sometimes, a little kindness goes a long way."

Lando looked at her, his expression softening. "That’s why I’ve got you."

Y/N wrapped an arm around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder as they watched their children play. "Jacob’s a good boy," she said. "He gets that from you, you know."

Lando chuckled. "I think he gets that from you, actually."

As the sun set over the estate, the Norris family found peace in their little corner of the world—a balance of strength, kindness, and love.

Thank you for reading!