#if you’re one of the people I’ve already ranted to I’m so sorry but at least this version is... cleaner

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

really wish my one friend would quit flirting with me. and trying to goad me into hanging out more. and assigning us fictional characters that are oh-so-coincidently either couples or with romantic tension. and then interrupting our gameplay to ask me repeatedly if I think they’re “like us” (which they rarely are…). and matching my icon on discord without asking (again, usually by insinuating a couple connection). and giving me random things I do not want and did not ask to receive (and then forcing me to take them???).

[purplepenntapus]

Im sorry I love the Zoro Mihawk Perona dynamic but the fandom trend of turning it into “Mihawk adopts Zoro and Perona as children and raises them” makes me want to die

[moon-my-beloved]

neighbors (tf141 x fem! reader)

part I: first impressions

tw: mentions of crappy parents, angst, and reader being absolutely terrible at socializing. that’s all babes - xoxo

you really weren’t sure why you were so.. anxious.

ever since encountering your (undeniably ethereal) neighbors arrive, you became a little more self-conscious when getting out of the house. that same day, you had carefully and quietly made your way towards auntie lotties house once you were in the clear that the men would not be coming outside any time soon.

“oh dear! what’s got you in such a hurry, luv?” auntie lottie had said in shock, letting you into the comfort of her home and ushering you to sit down while she got you a glass of water.

“i think I’ve just made a fool of myself,” you said in dejection, telling her of the shit show you just did upon meeting your neighbors. a hearty chuckle making itself known once the older woman came back with the glass of water she had promised.

“don’t be silly, they probably didn’t even see you! besides, you will eventually talk to them sooner or later.”

you didn’t even want to think about the possibility of bumping into them any time soon. what would you even say? ‘hey I’m your neighbor from across the street. sorry you caught me peeping at you all like some fucking creep.”

in hopes of just keeping your mind off of the men that have been haunting your thoughts, you asked auntie lottie if she had any new ideas for her her next recipe in which you were grateful for when the woman spent most of your stay ranting about a new sponge cake recipe she had seen.

you spent most of your evening with auntie lottie and the sun had already set down by the time you bid your goodbyes to her. the crisp, fresh air blowing on your skin making you sigh in containment as you make your way back home. the sky was clear today, lifting your head up just enough to see how the stars twinkle against the night sky and how the moon cascaded a small glow over the land with how bright it looked. you don’t realize you’ve already arrived to your destination before another rush of cold air snaps you out of your haze.

living by yourself feels great, there’s no questioning that. but you can’t help at times feel that daunting feeling of loneliness claw its way to your mind and make your heart ache in wanting to at least come back home to someone. that desire to be wanted.

your family was a lost cause. practically forgetting all about you once you turned eighteen and went to college. no text messages or phone calls were ever heard from them throughout all those years. small christmas cards being sent here and there that read, “we hope you’re doing well. - mom and dad. friends? they were all living their own lives. building themselves an actual family with their soon-to-be husbands or wife’s. some of them already having kids of their own. you were too scared, too aware of yourself to taint them with any unwanted things. you were never good with people.

god you sound pathetic.

shaking your head a bit, you make your way up the small steps and take out your keys, daring to take a small glance at the house across from you. your eyes catch a small light coming from one of the windows, the silhouette of people walking by visible even though the curtain.

you wonder what they did for work. lottie hadn’t mentioned anything of what they do. from the looks of it, it’s definitely something that keeps them away from home for long periods of time.

your brainstorming is cut off short, eyes widening a bit when someone from the other side of the window suddenly stops in front of it. without a second to waste, you hurriedly make your way inside. your heart pounding out of your chest as you lean your back against the door.

fucking hell.

you had been avoiding them like the plague. successfully staying away from any unwanted attention even when you sometimes caught glimpses of chocolate eyes and mohawk taking their morning run while getting ready for work. ignoring the way your face burned up in shame.

or even at times when you would see skull face reading a book with mutton chops. tea on their sides as they enjoyed the sound of birds chirping and wind chimes bumping against each other with every gust of wind.

they all looked so.. content. and for some reason you just knew they were a family. one with each other with the way they maneuvered themselves with one another. so natural.

nevertheless, you were doing a great job… until you weren’t.

you had been getting off your shift when you decided it was a good idea to do a small grocery run. with the holidays coming and the weather becoming increasingly colder by the days, you needed to stock up before there was nothing left.

so here you were. a coat over your shoulders, still in your work clothes and heels digging into your feet uncomfortably. pushing a cart and checking off items from your list as you went.

stores were busy during this time of year. christmas songs were played through the speakers along with decorations filling every corner of the store. kids bustling around their parents in excitement with every toy they pointed out to.

by the time you were done checking off the last item from your list, you were exhausted.

“maybe a small treat would be nice..” you mutter to yourself, making your way to the snack aisle and barely making it past the corner before a scottish accent calls out your name.

you pause abruptly, turning your head to the sound as your eyes widened in utter shock when realization dawns at you.

two of your neighbors were standing there, just a few feet from you. mohawk giving you a wolfish grin while waving a teasing hand at you. the other man sending an apologetic smile your way for his friends behavior. god he was so much prettier up close.

“that’s ye right?” only being able to nod as his large body makes its way towards your direction. ocean eyes pinning you down in place with the way they roam around you, analyzing you. he wore a leather jacket, white shirt underneath that did nothing but enhance the way his chest stretched over the material. he wore a nice pair of jeans, topping of his outfit with a pair of black boots. he definitely had that bad-boy style look to him.

“way to make a lady feel comfortable mactavish. I’m sorry about him, luv. auntie lottie had mentioned us having a new neighbor and wanted to put a face to the name. I’m kyle, by the way, and this dog here is johnny.” the pretty man said, earning a small scoff from johnny, grumbling something about kyle not being any better than him. he wore a nice umber coat accompanied by a black turtleneck underneath. black slacks adoring his legs and a nice pair of chelsea boots. you would not even question if he was a model.

shit, you had been staring for too long, barely finding your voice before uttering something that sounded at least somewhat normal.

“I’m sorry for not introducing myself sooner, I don’t really get out much.” a nervous chuckle making its way past your lips as you try so hard to not make it so obvious of how you’ve been the one avoiding them this whole time.

“‘na need tae apologize bonnie. jus’ glad we caught ye jus’ in time. a’m sure tha’ other lads would love tae meet ye.” a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that can only be described as up-to-no-good with the way he’s staring at you.

“what he means is if you would like to come over some time, meet the rest of the team.” a charming smile plastered against his perfect lips that you don’t have it in your heart to say no. (not like you were going to in the first place)

you exchange numbers with johnny and kyle not missing the way their lingering gazes stay on you even after they leave.

sweet treat long forgotten.

a/n: we finally meet half of the boys RAAAA. i hope you guys like this chapter and if there’s anything that should be fixed like my god awful interpretation of scottish accent, please let me know! 😭 enjoy mis amores! <3

[bigfatbimbo]

holyyyy shitttt I’ve never run into a writing blog I agree with so much! refusal to write dom!male characters? you’re speaking my language here, seriously! the sub bill fic/concept was so godly too actually what the fuck?????

despite that — I actually came here to speak about Stanford lol. I’d just be so curious to hear any thoughts you have on sub! ford really, whether hcs, a drabble, or just you going on a general little rant over how you think he’d be like. sorry if this is too vague!!!

a/n — anon, your so real!! I literally cannot write dom!male characters without getting icked out — also i’m glad you liked the bill fic!

warnings — dom!reader, sub!ford, gender-neutral reader, mentions of various kinks

summary — [SMUT] headcanons of reader and sub!Ford

ᯓ★ I genuinely do not know why people would be think this man doms, he is such a bottom.

ᯓ★ He has very little experience, maybe he got lucky at a party in college or met a hot alien during his time in the portal, but he might as well be a virgin.

ᯓ★ He’d probably be very nervous your first time together, fumbling taking his clothes off, not knowing where to start.

ᯓ★ His confidence has come along way but he’s still a nerd at heart, and he’d get flustered so easily.

ᯓ★ His praise kink would be so unmatched.

ᯓ★ Call him good and smart while talking him through it, he deals with so many high tension situations, he’d love you to be soft with him.

ᯓ★ “Pretty boy” would ruin him. After being bullied for being a freak all his life, even if he is genuinely over it now, it’s still be jarring to be praised for his looks.

ᯓ★ He would literally feel such a relief when you tell him you’d be leading, like “ah, yes. perhaps that’s.. a good idea.”

ᯓ★ Ford is probably immensely touch-starved after everything he’s been through. He’d want you to touch him literally everywhere.

ᯓ★ He would probably be pretty vanilla, anything to crazy would freak him out.

ᯓ★ Not a fan of degradation, where is the pleasure in being openly mocked by a loved one?

ᯓ★ After a little bit, he would probably feel bad for making you do all the work, so he’d try to do things for you to make it up to you.

ᯓ★ However, only to realize he wants constant reassurance while doing that too. Even when he’s fingering you and treating you nice, a ‘good boy’ every now and then would make him fold.

ᯓ★ And it’s probably always deserved too.. He’s a genius and a scientist, it’s not crazy to say he knows a thing or two about anatomy. Things to enhance your pleasure.

ᯓ★ Would love pegging, probably already knows about it, but you’d still have to ask first. And even then he’d be incredibly nervous and not masking it well.

ᯓ★ Probably cannot go for a long time or do that many rounds. Look, he’s old… I don’t know what you people expect when you’re into a 60+ year old man.

ᯓ★ Will always help out during aftercare no matter how tired out he is. Even if you insist he rest, he’ll still get you glass of water at the very least.

[bwabys-scenarios]

warning: pregnancy, Kurapika won’t let you give the baby up for adoption, obsessive and possessive behavior, reader is kidnapped

Imagine having a one night stand with Yandere!Kurapika and he ghosts you after… only to come to your door with chocolates and flowers after you tell him you’re pregnant.

It’s not like he didn’t like you, no Kurapika was beyond thrilled to have you in his bed, but he also knew that trying to stay with you would only get in the way of his goals. So, although it hurt, he decided to cut you off. He got to be with you for one amazing night, and he’d cherish that forever.

Well… his life changed when you sent him a picture of a positive pregnancy test. You sent it in desperation, crying because you feared that one of the people you cherished had only been in it for sex. It hurt so much, and it was only made worse when your period didn’t come.

So you sent that picture, asking him to please help you, to tell you what to do.

And he didn’t respond, leaving you on read.

It was devastating, to say the least. You spent the entire day crying, stressed out of your mind. Were you really going to have to deal with this all on your own?

That’s what you thought, until your doorbell rang near midnight. You weren’t woken up, in fact you had been pacing your apartment for the past few hours trying to think of what you should do about your predicament.

So you walked to the door, eyes puffy and red from crying. “K-Kurapika?”

Behind the door stood the man that had been causing you so much heartache, your best friend of 4 years, Kurapika. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and in his arms were a box of expensive chocolates and a bouquet of elegant flowers.

“(Name), oh my angel…”

He stepped in, setting the flowers and chocolates aside before pulling you into his arms to kiss your forehead. Kurapika’s hand instantly settled on your belly, as if already checking for any changes in your body with his soft, warm palm.

“I’m here, and I’m ready to be a father. When I got your message I was ecstatic, I’ve always wanted to rebuild my clan-“

You pulled away, pushing his hands off of you. “Kurapika, where the hell have you been and why haven’t you been answering my calls? You can’t just waltz in here and expect me to be fine with you ghosting me!”

“(Name), love, I-“

“Love? I’m not your love, Kurapika. You pushed me away and left me all alone when I needed you most… how can I trust you to be a father when I can’t trust you to be here for me?”

Kurapika was silent, his expression unreadable as he let you continue your rant.

“You just… you left me after we had sex, Kurapika! You left me all alone… it made me feel like I was nothing, like you only wanted one thing from me.”

You teared up from embarrassment and frustration. It had been humiliating to wake up to an empty bed with not so much as a note or text from him saying where he had gone. And then he wouldn’t answer your calls…

“I’m… I’m sorry, (Name).”

You rubbed your teary eyes. “Whatever. I’ll carry this baby, but it’s going up for adoption. I can’t raise it alone.”

This made Kurapika freeze, his eyes going wide with shock and terror. “(Name)… no, you can’t be serious. It’s my baby too, we should raise it together. I want to be a father!”

“You gave up any chances of that happening when you abandoned me. I hope your mission is truly worth it Kurapika, because I want nothing else to do with you.”

You pointed to the door, your lip wobbling and your brows furrowed. “Now leave! I n-never want to see you again!”

Kurapika was oddly quiet, his now scarlet eyes trained on you. You had never seen him look this way before… he seemed… deranged.

“I’m not leaving, (Name).”

He grabbed your wrist with enough strength to scare you. Kurapika wasn’t hurting you, but it was obvious that he easily could if he wanted to. “L-let go of me, what the h-“

Kurapika tightened his grip on your wrist when you struggled, his face neutral. “(Name), this baby is mine, and so are you. Calm down, or I’ll make you calm down.”

Your heart started to race. Who was this person? You maybe have been mad at Kurapika, but you would have never thought in a million years that he would do something like this!

You were scared now, trembling. “Let me go… please, just let me go.”

He softened slightly, his grip easing up a little. “I can’t, (Name). You’re coming with me, it’s obvious to me now that I can’t bear to be without you. And now that I know you’re pregnant…”

His eyes darted to your belly, and he reached out a hand to gently caress it again. “I can’t let you out if my sight. You’re under my care now.”

Before you could protest, you felt yourself growing tired, your limbs heavy. He caught you in his arms and lifted you up, cooing softly as he caressed your cheek. “There, there, my angel. Everything will be okay. I’ll prove to you how devoted I am, and you’ll never want to leave my side. Just sleep, when you wake up everything will be better.”

And as you drifted off, unable to stay awake, you could barely make out the sight of his car… and two suitcases in the backseat.

‘He planned this… planned to… take me away…’

That was the last thing you thought before passing out. As you slept, Kurapika bucked you up, using a pillow to cushion your head. He still couldn’t help but place his palm on your belly.

“I promise… from now on, I’ll never let you out of my sight. You’re both my responsibility…”

From that day forward, you would never know true freedom again. Kurapika had you now, and he would never let you go. Not you, the mother of his child, the love of his life.

Together forever, that’s how you would stay. He was sure of that.

[lewisvinga]

west coast | lewis hamilton x fem! reader

summary; y/n leaves lewis due to the feeling of being held back from consistently traveling to his races, only to realize how much she missed him.

warnings; mentions of drinking

notes; he’s so sexy , i know my goat is gonna look sexy asf in that ferrari red

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs

word count; 1.3k

‘born to die’ series masterlist.

f1 masterlist !

“I’m sorry, Lewis. It’s for the best and you know this.” Y/n wipes away the tears falling down her cheeks as she holds on tightly to her suitcase filled with her closeness.

Lewis lets out a disappointed sigh, nodding his head in agreement. He knew that she had to finish her degree which meant everything to her. But finishing her degree meant she couldn’t follow him around the world anymore. It meant that they needed to have a break.

“I know, it’s just…”

“Hard being away from each other.”

“Yeah.” He responds with a deep chuckle. “Honestly, I got this feeling like it all probably would’ve happened later if we waited more. Probably would’ve been worse.”

Y/n slowly nods her head in agreement, not trusting her voice to respond for her. She leans down to gently pet the top of Roscoe’s head. The dog seemed to know what was going on since he refused to leave her side.

She gives the dog one last pat on the head before standing back up, giving Lewis a sad smile. “I guess, it’s time for me to go. See you around then?”

“Yeah, see you ‘round.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“This isn’t your usual club.” Y/n mumbles as her best friend drags her into what she thought was a normal club. Y/b/f laughs, hooking her arm with the confused girl.

“It’s an exclusive club! Celebrities and big names only. And it’s L.A., there’s gonna be many people here.” Y/b/f explains with a smile. Due to being a well-known influencer, she was let in along with Y/n who had a known name due to a previous relationship.

“Now, drinks?”

“Y/b/f, I have to study for an exam all day tomorrow. No can do.”

“If you’re not drinkin’, then you’re not playin’!” Y/b/f exclaims over the loud music as they make their way to the bar. “C’mon, I know you’ve got the music in you. Don’t you?” She adds with a smile.

Y/n let out a sigh before a smile crept up on her lips. “Just one drink, Y/n. Just one.” She knew that it wouldn’t be just one. She knew that she’d wake up with a hangover but it was Los Angeles, she couldn’t miss the chance to party in Los Angeles.

“Perfect!”

2 hours later, Y/n was already drunk and returning from the bathroom. She was stumbling out of the bathroom and was suddenly met with a familiar scent. She sobered a bit when she glanced up and saw those big brown eyes that she once and still adored.

She could feel herself heating up from seeing him a couple of months after breaking up with him. Her skin was basically hot to the touch. “Lew-Lewis.” She says with wide eyes, still tipsy.

“Y/n…” Lewis says in a soft tone. He was quickly as shocked, as seen by the way his eyebrows were raised up high. “H-How have you been?”

“Uhm, great!” She quickly says, standing up straight and fixing her short dress. “Was able to take enough classes this semester to graduate. Actually- you didn’t ask that. Ignore that. I- How about you?” The alcohol in her system made her rant a bit but it made him let out his signature laugh.

“I’ve been great too actually.” He replies with a smile, nodding his head. She noticed how his hair was styled differently. He opted for dark brown braids as opposed to the honey brown, a color she suggested a couple weeks before splitting.

“Your hair…” Y/n trails off, “It looks really nice.”

“Thank you. I mean, you suggested it so I decided to try it out.”

She smiles and nods before a silence falls over them. They both wanted to say something else but couldn’t figure out what to say. Although she was just months away from graduating, her heart still longed for him. And even if girls were constantly throwing themselves at him, he only wanted her.

“Y/n, I miss you.”

Panic fills her mind as she hears the words she has been wanting to hear. She wants to say that she missed him so much but something keeps her really quiet. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s still tipsy and wants to get drunk like she’s a lush. But in a panic, she blurts out, “Gotta go! Y/b/f is calling me!”

She turns around and runs back to where her best friend is sitting in a panic and with wide eyes. She sat down next to her and covered her face with her hands. Y/b/f was talking to an athlete when she noticed her friend's panicked look.

“What's wrong?” She immediately asked, focusing more on her best friend than the guy beside her.

“Lewis is here,” Y/n says with a sigh, grabbing Y/b/f’s drink and taking a long sip. “I need a drink, come with me.” She added, standing back up and grabbing her friend's arm, dragging her to the bar.

Another hour had passed and the club was getting hot. A little too hot for Y/n’s liking. She could feel her blown-out hair starting to frizz up, her mascara was slightly smudged in the corner of her eyes, and she felt hotter than fire. She needed to go outside.

Fortunately, she noticed a balcony outside before entering the club. So, she followed a set of stairs by the bathroom which led right to the grand balcony. There were a few people there, some with drinks and some with parliaments on fire in hand.

Before she could open the door, her eyes landed on once again, a familiar set of crinkled brown eyes and a wide smile. Her once sweet boy swayed along to the music. Maybe it was the fact she had more alcohol in her system, but she wanted to go up to him.

Y/n takes a deep breath and opens the door leading to the balcony. She didn’t realize how hard she had opened it until she saw him look right at her. The person he was talking to backed away, immediately recognizing her.

She slowly walks over to him, her heels clicking along. “Lewis.” She quietly says once she stood in front of him. He stood up straighter as his eyes furrowed up in confusion.

“Y/n-“

“I miss you too.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I mean, yeah, but you made me panic when you said that,” Y/n sighs, fiddling with the gold rings on her finger. “And now I’ve had a lot more to drink and it gave me the courage to and I know it’s stupid. Missing you when I was the one to end things for my studies, which have been going well anyway. I’m about to graduate and I still miss you, Lewis. I thought that my desire was to settle down to finish my degree but it wasn’t. It’s you I desire.”

Silence fell over them for a minute. She immediately began to regret everything she said. The regret caused her to sober up again. She opened her mouth to apologize but before she could, Lewis pulled her closer by her waist and kissed her plump lips.

Her arms immediately wrapped around his neck as she pulled him closer, finally getting what she wanted, what they both wanted. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against hers and keeps his hands on her waist.

“Come back to me, love.”

“Lewis, I’ll go running back to you any day.”

Lewis lets out a breathy chuckle before leaning back a bit. He wore a smile so wide that he couldn’t even bother trying to contain it. “How about we get out of here?”

Y/n’s smile matched his as she nodded in response. “I like that.” She whispers, grasping his hand. Looks like down on the West Coast, things will actually turn out alright.

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

hinny prompts??? ooooh um maybe write something where harry is being a bit protective of ginny? hbp, post dh, whichever point in time you feel most inclined to write about!! thanks 😍😍😍

“You were right about Vanishing spells,” Ginny declares irritably, dumping her school bag onto the table Harry has secured for their study date in the library. “They’re a pain in my arse.”

“Ah,” Harry says, looking up from his essay with an expression of sympathy. “Bad lesson?”

Ginny throws herself into the chair opposite and scrunches her nose in distaste. “Awful. Might as well have been using one of Fred and George’s trick wands for all the good mine did, at least then I’d have had a laugh.”

“Did McGonagall set you extra homework?”

Ginny sits up rim-rod straight in her seat, makes her lips as thin as they can go, and adopts a lofty Scottish accent, “Miss Weasley,” she chides, in a passable impression of McGonagall. “An essay on the proper wand motion and theory behind Vanishing vertebrates to me by Tuesday.”

“Brutal,” Harry winces. “How many inches?”

“Two hundred and four. And once you’ve finished that, please use your newfound knowledge to Vanish the Chudley Cannons abysmal goal scoring problems, Fleur Delacour’s superiority complex, and Harry Potter’s penchant for danger. And then you can fling yourself from the Astronomy Tower for your trouble.”

Harry snorts loudly. “Oh, is that all?”

“I might just skip straight to the Astronomy Tower.”

“Efficient. Please don’t, though.”

“Honestly,” Ginny grumbles. “She set me fourteen inches. Fourteen! I’ve already got loads of Charms to do this weekend, I’m going to be in the library all–”

Ginny trails off, for Harry had turned in the middle of her rant to scowl rather hatefully at a group of fourth year Ravenclaw girls whispering at a nearby table. “Er, Harry?”

Harry turns back to her, but the scowl remains. “Sorry. Fourteen inches?”

“What’d they do to you?” Ginny jokes, jerking her head toward the girls’ table. They aren’t being particularly loud, and Harry isn’t typically one to become enraged by library volume etiquette.

“What?” Harry says quickly. “Nothing.”

Ginny grins. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“It’s nothing, honestly.”

“C’mon,” Ginny goads. “Were they trying to ask you about the Chosen One rubbish, or something?”

Harry shakes his head. “No. They… before you arrived, they were talking about you,” he says in a tone of combined incredulity and disgust.

“Ah.” Ginny sits back in her chair, utterly unsurprised. “What was it this time? That I’m spiking you with a Love Potion? Or that you’re only interested in me because I’m a tart? Or – ooh, my favorite is that I’m using you to usurp your position as Quidditch Captain. I think they might be onto something with that one, actually…”

Harry doesn’t even laugh at her joke as his expression approaches the realm of horror. “The Love Potion one but… People have been saying that other stuff about you? To you?”

Ginny shrugs unconcernedly. “Not to my face, but I’ve heard it, yeah. Dunno if you’ve noticed, Harry, but a lot of girls fancy you.”

Harry shrugs this off so quickly that Ginny can’t help the feeling of satisfaction and smug glee that sparks in her chest. “But that’s… that’s so fucked.”

“Well, yeah,” Ginny says, slightly amused by his naivety to the Hogwarts gossip mill. “I suppose. But honestly it’s all rubbish anyway, I don’t give a rat’s arse. Let them say what they want, they don’t know the real reason I’m with you - all your gold.”

Harry laughs despite himself, but the concern quickly returns. “But I don’t understand. Why would anyone think you’re spiking me with Love Potion?”

Ginny grins wickedly. “Dunno. Might want to tone down your infatuation with me. It’s very suspicious.”

Harry shakes his head as he lets out another reluctant laugh. “No, but I mean it. It’s… it’s mental,” Harry makes a gesture to her general person, like she’s meant to agree with something. 

“Yeah, I mean, obviously I’d never do that to anyone, let alone you–”

“No,” Harry interrupts. “Well, yeah. I bloody hope not, you’re not Romilda Vane,” he adds darkly. “But that’s not what– I just meant, why would anyone even assume that? Half the blokes at this school fancy you.” He gestures to her again, as though his point should be self-evident.

A heat blossoms over Ginny’s cheeks. “Half the blokes in this school do not fancy me,” she laughs. “You’ve been listening to my brothers.”

Harry stares at her like she’s the one who’s lost her gobstones. “No, I haven’t. But that’s beside the point. It’s just… insulting.”

“Doesn’t paint me in a particularly good light, no,” Ginny agrees, feeling like she’s missing something. “Rather creepy.”

Harry exhales in frustration. “I just meant, how can they honestly think that’s the only reason I’d fancy you? I mean… you’re…” He gestures to her again. 

If she’s meant to fill in those blanks, Harry is going to be disappointed. “I’m… what?”

Harry stares at her incredulously. “You’re… brilliant! You’re the best in the school at Quidditch, you’re always making everyone laugh, and well, you look like,” he gestures to her again, helplessly, “that.”

The heat has spread from her cheeks down to her chest. She might be on fire, actually. “Harry–”

“No, it’s… how can anyone honestly think that I wouldn’t fancy you? It’s really rude, actually, I don’t know why you’re not bothered.”

Ginny is struck quite dumb by this proclamation. A tingly, glowing warmth is radiating out from her glowing cheeks. Ginny supposes it shouldn’t feel so surprising - they’re together, and Ginny doesn’t think she’s alone in how quickly her feelings are escalating; on some level it comes with the territory that he’d think these things of her. But she had been totally unprepared for him to be so indignant – not about being the subject of baseless gossip yet again – but about the insinuation that Ginny would need any help in attracting his attention. 

“I don’t–” Ginny splutters. “Well, that’s– you really think all that?”

“That you’re brilliant at Quidditch?” Harry asks in disbelief. “That you’re funny and beautiful? I mean – yeah? You are.”

“I think you might’ve overdosed on that Love Potion I’ve been slipping you–”

Harry barks out a laugh again. “Come on. Honestly. Of course I think that. You must know that.”

She supposes she did know, but it’s quite a different matter to have him state it so baldly like this, like her brilliance is so wildly self-evident. Harry’s gone and released a jar of snitches in her stomach. 

“Well, clearly the rest of the school’s got a different opinion,” Ginny says, trying to disguise the way his words have impacted her. “Or perhaps you’re underselling your own appeal.”

Harry smirks, and Ginny might die. “Find me appealing, do you?”

“Obviously.”

“Glad my Love Potion’s worked.”

They grin stupidly at each other, and Ginny’s heart is thrumming in her chest. 

“I am sorry, though,” Harry says, his grin fading. “That people have been saying all that about you. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine,” Ginny says, waving her hand. “Honestly, they’ve done me a favor. Got you to admit how obsessed with me you are, didn’t they?”

“Didn’t realize I was hiding it,” Harry replies, casually delivering the fatal blow to Ginny’s composure. 

“That’s it,” Ginny announces, stuffing her Transfiguration book into her bag. “We’re done with the library.”

“But you haven’t even started–”

“Don’t tell McGonagall, then. Come on.”

Harry doesn’t need telling twice, as he packs up his things with admirable speed. 

They make their way to the Library exit, still grinning soppily at one another, and their path takes them past the table of Ravenclaws. As they’re passing, Ginny thinks she catches a snippet of their conversation, sees a tightening in Harry's jaw: “--so obvious, I bet she gets them from her brother’s joke shop–”

Suddenly, Ginny is being spun around on her heel. Before she has time to react, Harry kisses her, boldly, smack in the middle of the library. His hands come up to cup her face, and Ginny’s heart is hammering in her chest. After several moments, he pulls away, leaving Ginny feeling rather gobsmacked. 

She watches as he shoots a nasty scowl at the Ravenclaw girls, who are all staring in blatant shock. Satisfied, he takes Ginny’s hand again and continues their meandering path from the library, as though they’d experienced no interruption. 

“Er, Harry?” Ginny says, thoroughly gleeful. “Not complaining, or anything, but I’m not sure that helped with the whole Love Potion narrative. And it’s definitely not going to help me beat the tart allegations…”

Harry shoots her a sheepish look. “Fuck. Sorry. We’re both tarts, then.”

Ginny’s grin widens. “Oh really? I wish you’d told me sooner…”

[ladycaramelswirl]

It Happened in Texas

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader ❤︎

Chapter 3: You’re not trying to get fired - it’s just raw talent

series masterlist

A/N: The case in this chapter is based on s4e2 where Hotch ignores the doctors orders and goes straight to work after tearing his eardrum 🤡

tags: minor grovelling, slow burn. Hotch needs a hug. Some canon typical violence and a few uses of y/n. Sorry for any typos.

Word count: 2.8k

Enjoy! 🤍

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

You are so fired. 

Strauss is getting impatient with your fruitless reports. Hotch and you are not on great terms. In fact, since Jack’s party, he’s been avoiding you like the plague. He isn’t ignoring you or glaring at you anymore, but for some reason, he now never pairs himself up with you and keeps his emails to you even shorter than before. He also refuses to talk to you when Jack comes to visit and spends all his time at your desk. It had taken you months and a 5 year old to give you the courage to make any friends on the team. So why are you standing here, scolding your boss? You must have an innate talent for getting fired.

“Hotch. If you think that never hearing Jack say I love you again, or never hearing him laugh again is worth getting back in the field straight away, I’ll think you’re insane, but I’ll never bring it up again. However, I don’t think you’re willing to tell your son his dad can’t hear him anymore because he wasn’t taking care of himself”. 

You take a deep breath, and add for good measure,

“Sir”. 

Hotch stares at you. You are not a confrontational person (at least with your colleagues). And right now you were so out of line. While everyone else might have warmed up to you, you and Hotch aren’t exactly friends. But you had gotten to know Jack, who had been the catalyst to you becoming friends with the team. He’s probably the only reason that you don’t hate your job now. You love that kid. And after seeing Hotch clutch his ears at the graveyard and overhearing him ignore Morgan when asked if he was cleared to fly, you felt you needed to say something. Clearly no one else was going to. 

But why wasn’t Hotch saying anything? You shuffle your feet and try not to think about your face heating up from embarrassment. Where was the person from 30 seconds ago who was basically scolding her boss? Your resolve had completely evaporated. And now you were nervous. Which was a very bad thing to be in front of a profiler.

“I know that you’re my boss and we aren’t exactly friends, but I’m saying this as a…”, what were you exactly? An overeager people pleaser who had just gotten the team to get used to working with you. And an idiot who is currently screwing up her chances of staying employed at the one job you had left. “As a person who respects you a lot”, you decide on. This is definitely true. He was a good person, even if he clearly didn’t like you. He might be avoiding you, but he’s still polite. And if he didn’t say something soon, you were going to say something stupid. 

“You’re also the best boss I’ve ever had, so if you permanently lose your hearing and have to be taken out of the field, that would suck for me too”, you laugh nervously. 

Damn it, you were already in saying stupid things territory. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Oh god, what if your rant was hurting his ears? You start whispering.

“Are you okay? Am I being too loud? I’m sorry, I’m just going to shut up”, you say softly. He’s still staring. 

“I should go now”, you mumble and promptly run away, immediately making your way to the precinct bathroom and locking yourself in a stall. Why did you say anything? The rest of the team had just left him alone, but you were never a fan of turning a blind eye to people’s problems. It just didn’t seem right. Despite the fact that the other team members are clearly each other’s family, you are technically just a coworker. So you’ve definitely overstepped, but it just didn’t seem right to let it happen. To Jack. Not Hotch. Though technically you did care about Hotch too. As a friend. Probably. 

“Hey, you okay in there?”

You startle from your thoughts and see Emily’s shoes from under the stall. You quickly shake yourself together and flush the toilet you clearly haven’t used before coming out.

“Yeah? Am I not allowed to pee?”, you laugh, washing your hands. Emily frowns, but knows better than to press. She might have seen you run out of a precinct conference room you’d been alone with Hotch in, but you’re not going to tell her why and she doesn’t overstep boundaries. She pretends to believe you and moves the conversation to the case. The team has figured out who the unsub is and are about to raid her house. You both leave the bathroom and move towards the SUVs with everyone else. Everyone except Hotch. 

“We gotta go. Where the hell’s Hotch?”, Derek asks.

“He was on the phone with Strauss, said he wanted us to go without him”, Rossi says, walking to the passenger seat. “Let’s go”.

Derek shrugs his shoulders and everyone piles into the cars. You feel your stomach drop. Technically you did just tell your superior off. Was he going to report you for insubordination? Maybe he had had enough and was finally telling Strauss to transfer you. He hadn’t wanted you on the team in the first place. If you get fired from the BAU you’ll probably have to leave the FBI. You shake your head. Whatever happens, the case comes first. You need to stop the unsub before she hurts anyone else. 

You try to forget about your earlier conversation with Hotch and focus on the case. The unsub’s apartment is empty, but Rossi finds her next target, Faye Landreaux, in her journal. You all drive to her house and Emily distracts the unsub while Morgan sneaks Faye outside. She’s trembling like a leaf and doesn’t respond when you ask if she’s okay, so you guide her to a paramedic to make sure she hasn’t gotten any injuries. Technically your priority right now should be the unsub, but the entire police department and 4 FBI agents have a gun pointed at her and Faye is completely alone. You don’t feel right leaving her yet, so once she’s been looked at, you try to talk to her when you hear a gunshot from behind you. Faye cries out and you let her know she’s okay. The sheriff has shot the unsub. It’s over. A police officer the victim knows starts talking to her so you move back to the team. Emily pulls back the unsub’s shirt to reveal that she had maimed herself to become the “Angel Maker’s” last victim. You fail to not feel nauseous. 

It’s late, so you’re all staying the night in Ohio. On the drive, everyone’s talking about how early they have to get up tomorrow. You look out the window and can’t stop thinking about love and what it does to people. What it did to Chloe Kelcher. To all of the “Angel Maker’s” fans. Female unsubs that hurt other women always bothers you more than other cases. Emily notices your silence. 

“You okay?”, she asks quietly. 

“Just tired”, you smile. If she notices it doesn’t reach your eyes, she doesn’t mention it. She nudges her knee against yours - an ‘I’m here if you need me’ without words. 

You nudge her back - ‘thanks. I know’. She smiles. You really are tired though - it’s 2am because the unsub liked attacking at night - and you stifle a yawn. You’re about to fall asleep when the car abruptly stops, signalling your arrival. 

It’s a cute inn, the owner offered you all free rooms for the night as a thanks for capturing the unsub. Everyone piles out, eager to go to bed. You’re suddenly awake though when you see who’s in the lobby handing out keys - Hotch. He’s looking straight at you. Everyone grabs their keys and turns in for the night. If anyone notices you and Hotch lag behind, they don’t say. He gestures to a corner with some armchairs. 

“Can we talk for a minute?”

You nod, slowly taking a seat. You’re too afraid to speak and keep your eyes on the ground. Was he going to fire you now? In some inn in rural Ohio?

“Thank you.”

What? 

You snap your head up to meet his gaze. 

“I called Strauss earlier to let her know I’m taking 2 weeks off from the field. You were right earlier. What I’m doing isn’t fair to the team or to Jack. I want to apologise for putting you in a position where you felt you needed to tell your boss that he was being stupid. That shouldn’t have to be your responsibility.”

He looks straight into your eyes and you can see the sincerity flooded in his. 

“I’ll be taking a car back to Quantico. I shouldn’t have gotten on a plane at all in my condition. You don’t have to worry about me.” He takes a breath. “And I appreciate you telling me what I needed to hear. Even if you shouldn’t have had to”, he adds. 

You don’t know what to say, so you say the first thing that pops into your brain. 

“I’m not fired?”

Aaron looks incredibly guilty. 

“You thought I was going to fire you?”

You nod, still unable to form coherent thoughts in your relief. 

“No you are definitely not fired. I’m sorry for making you feel like your job was on the line”, he says and feels even guiltier at the obvious release of tension in your shoulders.  “If anything I should be fired for endangering you all with my inability to make sound decisions”, he sighs. “When you’re the boss, people become too afraid to tell you that you’re wrong. And sometimes I forget that I can be”.

You try to find the right words. “I don’t think being worried about people getting hurt when you’re not working is wrong”, you say. “But I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself. And thank you for apologising.”

Aaron nods at this, searching your eyes for something. He seems to be pleased with what he finds and stands up. You follow suit, and the both of you start to walk towards your rooms. You lapse into silence as you walk up the stairs until Hotch clears his throat.

“Well, when someone tells you that they respect you but you’re being insane, you rethink your priorities a little”, he chuckles, trying to break the ice. 

You feel your entire face grow warm - you had forgotten that you had called him that. 

“Sorry”, you mumble.

He stops abruptly and you turn to look at him. 

“Please don’t ever apologise for what you said to me today.” 

His gaze bores into you as if to try to make you understand. No wonder he has the most confessions from unsubs in interrogations. His stare is a little lethal. Your knees feel a little weak. 

“Sorry for saying sorry?”, you manage.

He raises a brow at you. 

“Ok. Then I’m not sorry?”, you offer. He smiles at this. 

“Good. Because I’m very grateful it happened.”

You beam. 

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I do.”

You reach your room first. You move to unlock your door and he waits to make sure you get inside safety. Your hand stills on the doorknob and you turn around. 

“I hope you know that it’s still true.”

He looks confused. 

“I still respect you. And now I respect you for being able to step back. And for apologising. Maybe it doesn’t mean a lot coming from me, but I think you’re a great boss and a great dad. Jack is very lucky.” You meet his eyes so he knows you mean it. “You’re a good person, Hotch.”

A lump forms in Aaron’s throat. He doesn’t know how to tell you how much your words mean to him. He wishes, not for the first time in his life, that he was better at communicating his feelings. He shakes his head. 

“It does mean a lot. I respect you too, Y/N.”He pauses, as if trying to find the perfect words. “You’re always looking at the good in people. Jack loves you. And you’re kind, not just with the team. When we catch unsubs you always make sure to take care of victims.”

Your eyes widen. You hadn’t known that he’d noticed.

“You’re smart, loyal, empathetic. I know that these last few months have been… unpleasant for you. And I’m sorry for my part in that. But I’m proud to have you on our team. I know that this morning you were just doing what was right, and earlier you said we aren’t friends, but you were the friend I needed today. So thank you.” 

You blink, trying not to well up at his words. You don’t know if anyone’s ever said something like that to you. Afraid you might cry if you speak, you give him a hug. It’s quick, nothing intimate, but it feels righter than words in this moment. You take a step back.

“So we’re friends?”, you ask, opening the door to your room. He looks at you thoughtfully. 

“I’d like to think so”, he smiles softly. You give him a smile back.

“Good night, Hotch.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

You sleep well that night for the first time in a while. 

——

The next morning, you’re quiet as Hotch tells everyone he’s driving back to Quantico instead of taking the jet. You offer to take the drive with him, which surprises yourself just as much as the team. While you had gotten closer with the rest of the team in the last month, you and Hotch aren’t really close enough for you to voluntarily spend 7 hours in a car together. You’re not exactly sure why you offered either. 

You’re too busy trying to get everyone on board that you all miss Rossi’s barely hidden glee at this unexpected development in your relationship. 

“It’ll be fun!”, you say excitedly. 

“I love you, but 7 hours is crazy baby girl”

“Long car trips make me nauseous. In fact there’s a correlation between-”

“Yeah no, the baby makes me carsick.”

“The thought of being trapped in a car for 7 hours makes me sick”

You’re a little sad because a group road trip would be fun, and it would help to have a buffer between you and Hotch, but it is unfair to force everyone into something they’re uncomfortable with, so you give everyone a hug goodbye before sliding into the passenger seat beside Hotch. You can almost feel him overthinking. 

“You don’t have to do this”, he says.

“I know. I want to”, you tell him. Surprisingly, this is true. 

He stares at you.

“It’s 7 hours”

“It’ll be longer if you keep arguing with me”, you shrug.

He stares at you some more.

“I’m not leaving you to do this alone. Plus 7 hours isn’t that long if you’re with a friend”

He smiles at this.

“A friend?”

“Unless you’re taking back what you said last night?”, you ask tentatively. Had he just been reacting to what you said to him? What if-

“No. I meant everything I said”, he says firmly, looking directly at you to make sure you know he’s serious. His gaze that felt intimidating last night, now somehow makes you feel calm. But it might take a while before you can maintain eye contact with him. You turn to face the road.

“Good. Now drive, or I’ll call Reid and ask him to explain the statistics of car crashes in Ohio”, you tease. His eyes crinkle in amusement.

“Driving right now”.

You grin and start looking at your CD options.

“If I’m your friend does this mean I get to choose where we eat lunch?”, he asks.

You roll your eyes.

“You didn’t let me drive so I’m picking lunch.”

“Yes ma’am”.

Bonus scene:

“They’re driving here together from Ohio? Doesn’t Hotch hate her?”, Penelope asks through the screen. 

“I don’t think he hates her. Don’t you remember what it was like when I first joined?”, Emily asks the team. 

“We never hated you! Except maybe Spencer. But that was a whole other thing. I just don’t get why he still doesn’t like her. She’s so sweet”, Penelope pouts.

“He didn’t tell her no, so that’s an improvement”, Derek reasons.

“I didn’t hate Emily!”, Spencer scoffs.

Emily raises an eyebrow at him which causes him to sputter. 

“Well ok I wasn’t very nice to you at first. But it wasn’t because I hated you”, he tries to explain. Emily mouths a quick “I know” to let him know she’s joking. 

“I don’t think Hotch has ever hated Y/N”, Rossi chuckles. “He just needs time.”

Everyone nods. They all relied on him now, but Hotch was famous for being cold at first. Rossi grins at everyone missing his point. Being the only profiler on the team with relationship experience made for excellent entertainment. They’ll get it at some point, he thinks, sipping his drink. 

(to be continued)

Main Masterlist

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Heyy! I’m new here and I absolutely love your writings wksiwksjwjshe is your 300 event still open?

if yes I would love to req a cinnamon + poplar ! hehe thank you! (If it’s already closed then don’t mind me)

*HI sorry this took forever! But I hope you love it ;) Ace is such a filthy boy in this one, EYE certainly enjoyed it*

Pairing: Ace x Fem Reader

WC: 2200

Prompt: “Shh I know baby, I know it’s good. You’re doing so good for me…” 

TW: SEX, shameless flirting in public, Ace being kind of a pervert, reader is a bit older than young buck Ace, p in v sex, unprotected sex (don't) creampie (also don't) fingering, teasing, pet names, filthy language. the usual?

— — 

You sat at your desk in the medical ward of the ship, up to your ears in paperwork. Blood test results to log, supply order forms to go over, you had so much on your plate and it was eating away at you. The rest of the crew was in the galley drinking but you were stuck working. 

Suddenly the door to the med bay swings open and in waltzes the crew’s head doctor. 

“Ok little chicken, that’s enough work for tonight.” Marco smiles warmly at you as he approaches your desk. 

“Please stop calling me that." You sigh and rub your eyes. "And I still have more releases to sign off on, and the IV tubing we use for Dad is on backorder, so I have to decide if we go up a size or down a size and did you know-“ You ramble on and on while Marco rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll handle it. Go out and have a drink.” Marco eyes your tired face. “Gods know you need it, kiddo.” 

You sigh. You feign a smile as you rise from your desk chair, the joints in your back and knees popping from how long you had been sitting. 

“Was… was that your back?” Marco asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. Shut up.” You say as you push your way out of the med bay. You follow the sounds of music and riotous laughter towards the galley and enter quietly. You slunk between the groups of pirates towards the center of the room and grab a beer from the barrel full of ice. You pull your cigarette lighter out of your pocket and use it to pop the cap off your beer. You stow the lighter back into your pocket. 

“Hey, y/n! Over here!” 

You turn around and see a somewhat intoxicated Ace waving you over to his table. He had that stupid, goofy grin on his face. You smiled back and headed in his direction. He was standing around a wooden table with Thatch, Izou and a few other Whitebeard pirates and nurses. 

“Jeez y/n you look like you’ve been up for a week.” Ace teases you. 

“I think I have, now that you mention it…” You say and take a sip of your beer. 

“Man I haven’t seen you this down before, y/n. What the hell is going on with you?” Izou asks. 

“Well, since you’ve asked! I’m exhausted. I’m bored. I’m stressed. I can’t tell if I want 5 more beers or to fall asleep on the floor! I am wildly overworked and under-fucked.” You finish your rant and slam your beer. 

“Anyone else need another one?” You ask to the now silent group of people that surrounded you at the table. You were met with mostly blank stares, shocked at your sudden outburst. You turn and head to grab a new beer. 

“I’ll come with you!” Ace is quick to join with a mischievous smirk on his lips. 

He follows you like a puppy as you head towards the beer. 

“You know I can help you with that, right?” Ace grabs your arm and pulls you to face him. 

You laugh. 

“I don’t really think Marco would trust you enough to run my blood tests for me, but thanks.” 

“No no, the other part. The being under-fucked part.” Ace smirks down at you. Again, you laugh. 

“Haha, oh yeah? What are you, like 23? Like you’d know what to do with it if you had a chance.” You smile playfully and wiggle out of his grip, finally retrieving another beer. Ace does the same and sidles close behind you on your way back to the table. Suddenly Ace’s breath is hot in your ear as he leans in to whisper something to you. 

“Well I’ve got an 8 inch cock that might change your mind on that…” You stop dead in your tracks and your eyes widen. 

“Wha-?”

Ace passes by you and goes to join the table again. “Only if you want, though! Come on, let’s have another drink!” Ace beckons you over like he hadn’t just whispered the most crude, filthy thing in your ear 30 seconds ago. 

Convincing yourself you had imagined it, you snap out of your trance and return to the table to drink. 

You enjoy a few more rounds of drinks and you notice with each beer, Ace slides his body closer and closer to yours. You could attribute this to the size of your party shrinking as people headed off to bed, but at this point he was basically pressing his side into yours, occasionally grazing his warm hand over your hip. 

His touch was fleeting, but hot… it made you crave more. You found yourself leaning into him and he pulled you closer in return. He felt you shudder. 

“Oh man, y/n, you must really be tired. Do you need help getting back to your room okay?” Ace looks down at you with a devious smirk.  You knew what he was really asking.. and you were far too quick to respond. 

“Yes, I think I’d like that, Ace.” You smile and he wraps his arm around your hip and pulls you away from the table. 

Ace is all but giggling as he brings you back to your room, pinching and squeezing your skin anywhere he could tease it. He stops at your door and looks at you expectantly. 

You laugh. 

“Would you like to come inside, Ace?” 

“Hell yeah!” Ace practically jumps into your room behind you and slams the door shut. 

From the instant the door is closed, Ace’s lips are on yours. You barely had time to react to the kiss before he started tugging at your clothes. You laugh and pull back from the kiss. 

“Haha slow down!  We have all night Ace… I’m not going anywhere.” You purr at him and stroke his cheek. What a sweet, eager little thing he was. 

Ace nuzzles himself into your neck and plants a wet kiss. 

“‘M’sorry, just hate seeing you like this…” Ace continued licking and biting at your neck. You whimper. “Gonna fix it… gonna make you feel so good, baby.” 

Your cunt clenched in anticipated of what he was about to do to your body. Ace pulls your dress over your head and tosses it to the floor. He distracts you with more kisses as he unclasps your bra and pulls it off of you. Ace kisses down to your stomach and gently pulls your panties down. You step out of them and realize you’re completely bare in front of your friend. 

You covered your breasts instinctively. Those doesn’t go unnoticed by Ace, who was coming up to meet your eye again. He pulls your arm gently away from your chest and smiles. 

“Aww are you shy, baby?” Ace coos at you. You blush so hard you think your face might be on fire. Why was he having this affect on you? He was a young blowhard at least 5 years your junior, and yet he ended up with all of the control in this situation…

“That’s ok, come here…” Ace gets on your bed and sits up with his back against the pillows and headboard. “Let me show you why you don’t need to be shy.” He smirks and holds out his arms to you. 

You lick your lips and climb into Ace’s waiting lap. He positions you with your back again his chest, sitting between his legs. This position reminded you how Ace was still fully clothed and you were completely naked. Something about being so vulnerable in front of him was intoxicating… 

“Spread your legs, sugar. Show me that cute pussy.” Ace whispers in your ear as he pulls your legs over his own, spreading them as far as they could go comfortably. 

“Ace…” You whimper quietly, trying to turn your head away. You were embarrassed at how aroused he had made you, all while barely touching you… but not nearly embarrassed enough to ask him to stop. 

Ace wastes no time before his hands are on your dripping sex. 

“Holy shit…” Ace glides a finger up and down your slit. “Look at how wet you are, pretty.” His one finger turns to two fingers as he collects more of your slick from your hole and brings it up to rub firm circles onto your clit. 

“Ace! Fuck!” You throw your head back, body feeling like it was filled with static electricity. He had you so worked up that every little touch felt like it was amplified by 100. 

“You’re so wet that I bet I could just slip my fingers in..” Ace smirks and swiftly plunges the two digits into your hole. You moan. “And I bet that if I do this…” Ace begins to firmly pull and tap his fingers into that delicious spot inside of your cunt. “… you’ll cum.” 

“Shit, fuck, Ace! O-oh my- Ah! ACE!” You cry out and explode all over Ace’s arm and the bed in front of you. 

“Looks like I was right, huh baby? That’s a good girl, give it all to me.” Ace playfully reacts as he rubs at your clit to prolong your orgasm. 

“Fuck… Ace…” You lay heaving on your bed in Ace’s arms, the spasms from your climax finally ceasing. 

You feel Ace smiling into your neck as he peppers it with sweet kisses. 

“I wouldn’t know what to do with it, huh???” He chuckles into your damp skin. 

“Shut up and fuck me already.” You roll your eyes. 

Ace gently moves you out from between his legs and he rises from the bed to remove his vest and shorts. You audibly gasp at the sight of his huge member springing free from its confines. 

“Jeez you weren’t kidding…” You say softly, eyes not leaving Ace’s cock in front of you. 

“I’m a pirate, baby, not a liar.” He flashes you that stupid grin again. “Now face down, ass up, sugar.” 

You quickly oblige, grabbing a pillow to cushion your face that was now stained with mascara. The first thing you feel is a warm hand sliding up your spine and massaging your skin, then you feel the prodding of Ace’s thick cock at your sopping wet entrance, the heavy mushroom tip barely breaching your hole. Ace dipped his tip teasingly in and out… 

“Ace…. please…” You whine as you push your hips back to entice him to fully enter you. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll give it to you, you don’t ever need to beg for me, pretty.” Ace plants both hands on your hips and pulls your ass flush against his pelvis, sinking his cock as deep as it will go into you. 

Strangled moans leave the both of you as he bottoms out. Ace pulls out slowly, looking down to admire the wet mess you’ve already left on his cock. He pushes back in and you moan again, squeezing him involuntarily. 

“Gods you were right… this tight little pussy is under-fucked.” Ace speeds up his thrusts and you gasp, the wind nearly knocked out of you. “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna make sure that never happens to you again… gonna fuck you every day… make you feel so fucking good…” 

Ace was slamming into you at an animalistic pace and you felt a second orgasm creeping up on you. You could feel the droplets of sweat from Ace’s face splatter on your back, as well as the crazed, possessive grip on your hips almost certainly leaving bruises. You couldn’t form words, only broken sobs and shrieks as your lover drilled into you, dead set on making you cum again. 

Tears fell from your eyes against the pillow and you whined, so close to reaching your peak again. 

“Shh I know baby, I know it’s good. You’re doing so good for me…” Ace coos at you. “Cum on my cock and I’ll fill you up, ‘kay sugar?” Ace leans forward and presses his chest to you as he continues his brutal assault on your pussy. He reaches one hand from your hip down and around to rub at your clit. The stimulation sends you over the edge and your orgasm rips through your whole body. “Ace!” You scream out and lurch forward, no longer able to hold your torso up with your arms anymore. 

“Good fucking girl! Now I’m gonna make you mine…” Ace praises you. 

You try to mumble out “please” but you truly have no idea if you were saying anything coherent.

“Haaa, fuck!” Ace cries out and spills his load impossibly deep into your warm hole. You whimper as you feel rope after rope of Ace’s hot seed filling you. Ace rubs firm circles into your hips as he calms down from his release. 

Suddenly, Ace pulls out of you and flops back into your bed and pulls you to his chest. You nuzzle into his sweaty pecs as you throw a leg over his hips. Ace pulls the blanket over the two of you, briefly leaning upwards to make sure your whole body was covered and comfortable before settling back on the pillows. 

“So you were serious?” You ask quietly. 

“About what, baby?” Ace answers as he strokes your hair. 

“About fucking me every day?” You chuckle. 

“Mmhmm…” Ace kisses the top of your head. “Tomorrow. And the next day.. and the next day… and the next day… and the next… and…” 

You hear Ace start snoring and smile. 

xx 

[emilsgrippers]

Today, TDI Tumblr, I’ve come to rant about Alejandro and how YOU GUYS TREAT HIM.

This is Alejandro. (And his girlfriend Heather, say hi Heather)

Alejandro is 18, allowing him to just BARELY pass as a young adult. Despite him still being so young, he is often sexualized due to his looks and personality.

This is not cool.

Most of his fans who sexualize him in this way will alter his personality to further push the typical Spanish lover stereotype onto him (I’m aware this is what he’s based on), however, he’s more than that!

He’s very intelligent, and he’s good at mostly everything. He’s not just Spanish lover who takes his shirt off and dips you while holding a rose inbetween his teeth.

In Alejandro’s lore, he has two brothers, José and Carlos. Carlos is the oldest, José is the middle child, and Alejandro is the youngest.

Little is known about Carlos, but José is well known, and Alejandro rants about him on a few occasions. He explains how José pretty much bullied him his whole life, by punching him in the arm and calling him something he hates being called ‘Al’.

Since it went on for..his whole life, and even resumed when we see José in TD:AS, it’s easy to deduct that his parents do nothing to stop this.

Now, Alejandro was always kind of the lesser brother, if that makes sense. José was always better, always more, always just overshadowing him in a humiliating manner.

So, Alejandro was taught to use his looks to get what he wanted, since, with José around, it was really all he had going for him. (That’s another part of why he doesn’t eat any junk food).

Hence why he manipulated half off the TDWT cast and then revealed himself to have sinister intents to eliminate everyone else. Of course he only wanted to win, but, do you want to guess why he wanted to win so bad?

To prove he was better than José!! Wow!! Before his tie breaker with Cody, Alejandro , in the confessional, says something about José at home seeing him tie with someone like…Cody. Alejandro says José will already have his insults ready before face palming sadly.

that’s just a quick debrief ^_^

Now! Thats everything about him really. But here’s what the fandom reduced him too

“Daddy? Sorry Daddy?” “He could get it!!” “I could take him (not in a fight)”

I’ve seen all of these commented on Alejandro posts…yikezzz…

Now, does he look good? Yeah, he does! (But Blaineley is right there) But not to the “I need to sexualize him and drawn him in lewd poses, positions and outfits!” Kind of way. Remember, he’s just 18.

(“18= adult so!!—“ he’s just 18)

And mostly everyone else just gives him the “mi amor” treatment.

He calls her ‘mi amor’ ONCE. During the world tour finale, and that makes sense considering it’s between a heartfelt confession and a make out session. He never carries her bridal style while calling her mi amor. He does do countless loving things for her, like using the immunity idol to have her eliminated!

But carrying her in his arms and calling her mi amor never happened. It never happened with..ANYONE? He holds Heather bridal style for one challenge..where she was a bride.

He would NOT call you Mi amor, guys. Maybe carry you? But he’d call you by your name. Maybe a nickname? But not Mi amor. ‘If he did it once—‘ in between a heartfelt confession and a make out session does he ever just see her and go “hi mi amor… *wink..!” NO he doesn’t

Also!! He’s not a CREEP.

I see so many people say “he probably rewinded (whatever episode Heather accidentally lost her top in) so many times 🫣” no I don’t think he did..!

That’s a double whammy! Why sexualize one (practical) minor…when you could sexualize two?!!!

Plus it’s just gross..it’s disgusting what you’re implying by saying he rewinds it all the time.

In conclusion, I’m gatekeeping him and you need to bring me a legal document proving you’ll be aloud to use him in any bit of media from now on. Using his name is now prohibited unless what it says above comes into account. Thank you

[ironunderstands]

AAAAAAAAA

Genuinely I feel annoying as fuck for saying this but like I can’t stand the way anybody else but me or my mutuals writes Aventio/Ratiorine 90% of the time

So, to vent my frustration, here’s a not in order at all bulleted list of stuff I absolutely despise when seeing content of them. This is not to call ppl out or anything, I just wanna rant about my preferences lol

oh and cw: mentions of slavery, nsfw, suicidal tendencies and non-con

-one or both of them being way to horny/flirty

Maybe this could work in content with an established relationship, but like, these guys don’t fuck, I’m sorry, they don’t. They are the biggest virgin losers ever regardless of if they have had sex in the past or not. Some of yall don’t get that they were acting in Penacony for the most part and Aventurine’s flirtiness didn’t have any weight behind it, he was really just messing with Ratio. I think if he were seriously trying to court Ratio, he’d probably be LESS flirty, but that’s just me. I understand why people make nsfw of them without any kinda buildup because well it’s fun, but for me personally I don’t really like it 90% of the time, however I fully get this is a me thing. I can tolerate it more in fanart bc well it’s fanart so yeah there’s not gonna be 3000k words of lore behind it, but like if I’m reading a fic and Aventio go from not even being in a relationship to having sex on a whim it just confuses me.

-yandere anything

I despise this trope already but it makes me 100000x more annoyed because holy shit neither of them would be a yandere I get it some people like this but WHYY THEMMM it doesn’t make sense. Yandere Aventurine makes me even more mad bc why the fuck would he make someone suffer like he did when he was younger???

-emotionless Ratio

Idk why half the community treats Ratio like he’s an unfeeling logic robot who’s sole goal is knowledge even when the game beats you over the head about how he’s the exact fucking opposite of that, but honestly I think this is just a symptom of the fact that a lot of ratiorine writers don’t give two fucks about him at all and he’s practically written as a plot device for Aventurine’s characterization.

-misunderstanding why Ratio is a tsundere

I’ve seen a lot of people misinterpret how and why Ratio is a tsundere towards Aventurine, citing it as if he doesn’t want to be associated with him/looks down upon him/is ashamed to like him when that’s really not true at all. Ratio respects and cares about Aventurine a hell of a lot, and he isn’t shy at all to show it when it’s necessary (see DSAIWYTBOL or the “if you can’t hold on any longer then tell me”). However, the reason he pushes away Aventurine isn’t exactly personal (although Aventurine’s closeness to him is part of the reason why).

Rather, Ratio tends to downplay his close relationships a lot, likely as a defense mechanism, as he admits himself that he isn’t good with people in one of the dialogue options with trailblazer for the express visits. Now why he is this way is a subject of speculation because Ratio rarely ever talks about himself, and the only character who actually has a voiceline on him is Aventurine himself, so it’s very hard to get an outside perspective on him. His character stories don’t really help that much either, as they are more about his personal philosophy and journey in life rather than his personality.

However, taking what Ratio says towards Aventurine at face value when he has proven the opposite (especially considering how the trope of the tsundere is kinda centered on the character in question spouting bullshit) results in people completely misunderstanding their relationship which can get REALLY annoying. Ratio doesn’t think Aventurine is an idiot in the slightest, he just worries about how his methods put himself in danger, not his capabilities.

-fast burn

You’re telling me these emotionally constipated idiots will get together easily? No. There’s a reason I write the most crazy bullshit happening to them before a confession scene and that’s because that’s the only way you can get them to confront their goddamn feelings quickly.

-slavery aus/anything like this

Self explanatory. If you have fetishized Aventurine’s past or made stuff like this please stay 1000 feet away from me at all times or block me. Thank you 🙏

-babying Aventurine

He’s one of the most competent members of the cast, but somehow people act like his breakdown scene in 2.1 is how he behaves 24/7 when that isn’t true at all. Aventurine is incredibly smart, and single-handedly clawed his way to the top. He does not need Ratio to save him. Would he appreciate Ratio’s support? Of course, and he definitely needs loving relationships in his life, but Aventurine isn’t a damsel in distress and not everything in his life is miserable and related to his trauma.

-or the horrible reverse of babying Aventurine: his trauma doesn’t exist actually and he’s perfectly fine/ they write him like it never happened

This one is rather rare and it has overlap with a few of the other points (seriously I’m gonna tweak out the next time someone writes the character who is implied to have survived sex trafficking being a person who would even dream of crossing others boundaries). Usually this happens because people treat Aventurine’s playboy mask as if it’s his actual personality and not traits he picked up to survive and succeed at his goals, and while admittedly even Aventurine is losing track of where the mask ends and he begins, some of y’all take it wayy to far even going on to unironically call him a fuckboy when he’s anything but that. The thing is, I think this happens when people erase who Kakavasha is from their minds, and act as if that side of Aventurine is a purely innocent child and all the “bad” parts of him are part of Aventurine’s mask. However, that’s not true, and Aventurine’s most admirable traits ARE Kakavasha’s. His strategicness, his intellegence, his bravery, these are all traits he possessed long before becoming Aventurine of stratagems, something which he demonstrated when he for example got his sisters neckless back, or made that bet with his first enslaver.

Aventurine’s purity and Aventurine’s capabilities are not separated between Kakavasha and Aventurine of Stratagems, both of those qualities ARE Kakavasha’s so if you are going to write him with the mask off, you have to write BOTH, not give into one or the other.

The things I tend to drop when writing him with the mask off are his false compliments and niceties, acting like he really gives a shit about the IPC’s goals, turning down the flamboyance and cockiness to reasonable levels and making him seem less like he’s playing pretend. Honestly I don’t think it’s that hard yet this is still a pitfall I see a lot of people stumbling into.

-Ratio talking like a goddamn encyclopedia

I understand he’s like that sometimes, but he also is well versed in internet lingo and seriously nobody unironically talks like that 24/7 because it’s pointless, and Ratio doesn’t use big words to seem smart, he uses them when they are necessary.

Like I’m sorry but if they are in a middle of having sex and unprompted Ratio starts talking like a biology textbook I’m closing the fic and running around my room screaming BECAUSE GOD IS IT CRINGE. Promoted it can be funny because yeah I can see him doing that but oh my god HE WOULD NOT SAY THAT I don’t even want to give an example it pisses me off that bad but trust me it’s a common phenomenon AND I HATE IT

-Aventurine trying to kill himself 24/7

He isn’t an active suicide risk every goddamn day of his life, he’s just self destructive and those are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS.

Yes, he tested if you could die in the dreamscape several times, but that’s because one of the favorable outcomes for his mission WOULD BE DYING in the dreamscape. He’s not doing this during a normal work week and even if I believe he still has suicidal tendencies, he’s not gonna throw his life away randomly or over nothing

-Ratio holds authority over Aventurine in any capacity

No, just no. Like the only other thing he might have over him is being intelligent, although they both are smart at different things so even then does it matter? Like I’m sorry but normal human with the ability to float and make imaginary constructs versus LITERAL FUCKING STONEHEART is not a fair fight on Ratio’s end. It doesn’t matter that he’s physically larger than Aventurine, muscles don’t mean shit in a sci-fi setting, especially when your opponent can just summon 3 bajillion coins to drop into your head at a whim and there’s nothing you can do about it. Not like Aventurine would ever dream of hurting him, of course, but seriously people need to stop acting like their different in stature really means anything. Even in terms of position, Aventurine probably outranks him so this false sense of authority people apply to Ratio in their relationship is confusing at best.

Hmm, well that’s all the things I remember to bitch about although I probably have more complaints. To be fair, whenever they aren’t written like incredibly smart people who are idiots hopelessly in love with one another when together I pop a blood vessel so most of these (besides THAT one) are non issues and if you have made/enjoyed these don’t feel ashamed because of my opinions. I needed to let out my inner grinch every once and awhile, so thanks for reading

[fuumiku]

They’re really interesting foils in many ways. I’ve always thought that Marcille & Mithrun have underrated dynamic potential. Give me the cringefail dungeon lords. Give me the elves with ears-centric metaphorical self-image issues. Give me the academic elites whose deepest strongest desires will always remain unreachable and the only option is to turn to the corrupt forbidden fruit of a demon pact. I am so so normal about Mithrun and Marcille

I wonder if the resemblance between captain Mithrun and general Hagreus aka Marcille’s fave in Dalclan is intentional… They definitely look very alike. It could represent idealization vs reality? Something something the romanticization of elves and their societal drama in their fiction vs a very real and imperfect product of their military system. The canaries certainly aren’t glamorous next to whatever Hagreus is the general of. I feel like she never had the opportunity to notice the resemblance herself bc within seconds of meeting him he was wrestling her on the ground but. If she had… She would so think he should have been his actor in the tallman stage play of Daltian Clan in that new extra comic hehe. I love the little details like Hagreus’ lips being drawn with extra details because they’re full and pretty while Mithrun’s lips are drawn with extra details because they’re chapped lmao.

This art is all silly and surface level but in my head mithrille is like so dramatic and I make up daltian clan level big plots with them gbdgd. I made a spotify playlist for mithrun if y’all interested, rn it’s mostly centered around cravings that consume and losing yourself and illusions inspired from his time as dungeon lord but it’s branching out. Varied vibes, levels of intensity and degrees of confusion and await you ✨ I would emotionally rant about Chainsaw Man ost lyrics and how they tie in with Mithrun and the winged lion’s relationship but this post is already a monster

I want more of these two please please please pleaseee just one or two interactions in the new canon content coming up… All they ever did was debate philosophy on desires and human self-fulfillment and try to murder each other, please… I never get to gush about them and I can’t shut up so if you want more thoughts I talk about them more below

To get a girl to peacefully accept arrest follow these simple steps: in private, ominously stand above her and forcefully interrogate her, while in public, tell her you’ve met before (untrue and also not a pickup line) and interrogate her with a thin veneer of decorum. If all else fails, threaten and follow through on said threat. My guy needs more than just physical therapy I’m afraid

Sorry if most of these were Marcille-centric with Mithrun standing there looking cool, if I were doing these more from Mithrun’s pov things would be like "She’s a bit much but I guess I don’t mind hanging around her." or "Oh you’re a half-elf? -insert elven supremacist rethoric-" or "I have to keep her from becoming demon stew." immediately followed by "Did someone say demon? Kill kill kill kill kill" since these are set prior to like really knowing another. Then things would be more like "huh she has bad tastes in novels but her magic research is pretty interesting" and "I’m lonely and don’t understand myself— Oh she loves talking about feelings? Oh shi-" That last one is an aspect of why I like Marcille and Mithrun’s potential dynamic lol. She’s very… Emotionally intelligent alongside being impulsive. You think you have no feelings because the world has beaten them out of you? Think again!! Marcille be upon ye! -In a therapy sort of way but mostly in a connecting with people and your own self through interpersonal relationships and talking kinda way. I just think a lively, upbeat, annoying friend way too interested in your personal life would do him good, the canaries are nice but like if Marcille went to prison and was a sort of extra new bunkmate I think that’d be interesting and fun to read is what I’m saying

Unlike Kabru she wants all the useless messy filler of his backstory, eating chips while listening. Like two chibi sets side by side, "me and my fellow canaries, name name and name-" "Hold on that’s too much info we have to compact this" vs "Then we were to sleep on the third floor of the dungeon, which had the look of a mausoleum, and name and name got into a fight over the campfire placement." while Marcille is like uh-huh what next what next while kicking her feet. She thinks of pre-dungeon pompous Mithrun and is like omg you went through a character arc and became better as a person- and then he opens his mouth and she’s like nevermind let’s keep working on that. She would also go "ew ur hair is greasy" and give him a full hair care treatment. What I’m saying is I need them to be forced to spend time in a dungeon together and become besties through a life or death roadtrip

Marcille is insecure about her ears, long, like an elf’s pride should be, but rounder, inelegant. Seeing Mithrun though, the epitome of beauty, with his half-cut ears make it a sillier thought. Not sure if Mithrun is the best person to reconnect with ur elven culture with but it sure is an option Marcille would so appreciate being around someone both cool headed and kind, I genuinely think they’d get along, like not that Senshi isn’t that too most of the time but I think Mithrun would be in a way that’s more refreshing to her. I’d be so curious about them discussing Dalclan, I doubt he’d have read it but she could make him read it, maybe post-canon with the excuse that they’re trying to find him a new hobby hah. He’d tear into the writing and everything but it’d be a fun time, I like to think that it’d make him a bit less prejudiced. Marcille @ Mithrun "👉👈 Soo maybe you don’t know these books they’re pretty recent having come out 50 years ago but…"

I’ve been in a Mithrun phase I want to make and read Mithrun-centric fics and angst so baaad. I razz him a lot here but he’s literally a traumatized military man that became obsessed with revenge due to bad coping and neglects himself in the process idk not much for him going on and some of it is because he has to work on himself, but hey no one’s perfect it all comes from a place of love and relating though I prommy. He’s the one ungodly angsty squeaky toy blorbo with brain damage rep I have don’t take him from me

[coolnameloading]

Lute x Fem! Reader Part 2

Part 2 of Lute x Sinner Reader story yaaaay

Over the last few months, the hotel has been in what you can only describe as organized chaos. The hotel gained a new resident in Sir Pentious who was a spy for the Vee’s and then wasn’t or something. Charlie reassured you constantly that Pentious was not working for the Vee’s anymore and you had nothing to worry about.

But those sick fucks have been chasing you for longer than any of the other overlords so you’d rather be more safe than sorry. 

After that particular event, you started to feel less safe in the hotel. 

You heard Vox, he tried to infiltrate the only place where you’ve felt safe since you got to the literal hell hole and he tried to send in a fucking spy who Charlie just let walk in instantly after he had attacked the hotel twice.

Who knows what would have happened to you….all of you if Angel Dust hadn’t seen him planting those stupid cameras? 

You love Charlie, she’s nice and she gave you a place to stay. Being mad at her is like being mad at a puppy but all you could keep thinking about for the rest of the month was wondering if Vox saw you.

If the Vee’s know where you are.

If they’ll come looking for you.

What they might do to you if they do catch you.

You had a close call with Velvette one time and one time was enough for the rest of your afterlife. Bitch tried to color-match your fucking fur! You’re pretty sure the only reason you got away was because she was drunk off her British ass.

Vaggie could tell right away that there was something wrong with you and tried to reassure you.

“He didn’t see you Chesh”

She whispered approaching you slowly. 

“You don’t know that boss! What if he did? He could be on his way right now with the other two and he already beat the radio demon once! I need to lea-”

Vaggie cut off your rant by placing her hand on your shoulder gently and pushing you down to sit on the couch.

“Charlie and I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. We promised when you started staying here that we’d keep you safe and we will. You don’t need to run.”

“Thanks, boss… I’m sorry for freaking out. It just really shook me up, I guess.”

You mumbled out, blushing at how pathetic you sound. 

You may not remember much about your life but you’re pretty sure you died sometime in your 20’s. Yet here you are whimpering pathetically and having to get comforted over a fucking video camera. 

After that incident you became more jumpy, every sound put you on edge, and it was worse whenever you were around any form of technology that didn’t look like it was from before the 1980s.

The others tried their best to calm you down in their own ways. Angel Dust started leaving his phone in his room because you’d flinch every time he got a text or phone call from Valentino. 

“Don’t make a big deal outa it, he was annoying me too.”

Husk would keep your favorite booze on standby at all times, when you’d thank him he’d simply grin at you and say, 

“Us feline demons got to stick together.”

Alastor was happy to throw out any and every piece of technology that would make you tense up even slightly, which included most of Pentious’ weapons and very nearly his airship. 

He obviously wasn’t doing it for you but it still felt nice.

“Don’t worry my friend! I’ll happily get rid of these infernal contraptions! I’ve always believed they lacked class anyway.”

Pentious recognized his part in your new-found anxiety and tried to gain your trust by handing his machines to Alastor with many, many, many tears.

“I am more than happy to…give up my arsenal as an apology for invading your persssssonal boundariessss.” He’d hissed out while trying to hold his tears back.

You couldn’t really be mad at him after that.

Nifty even volunteered to go out and ‘hunt phones’ for you.

You said no but that didn’t stop her from bringing you the….remains of some people’s phones.

 “Sometimes I kill mother phones in front of their children as a warning to the other phones!”

“Niffty phones don’t have mothers.”

“Hehe, not anymore…”

Charlie was actually very happy to see how the others stepped in to help you and she was very proud of them even if their methods were…unorthodox.

But that lead her into a spiral. She was desperately trying to figure out why the hotel wasn’t working even though everybody showed considerable improvement.

This leads to her talking with her dad, which somehow leads to you being here in heaven.

“Um, boss why exactly am I here?”

You ask Vaggie nervously, glancing around at the pastel clouds around you. God you haven’t seen pastels in years.

Vaggie looks over at you and sighs, “Well Charlie figured you wouldn’t want to go out with the others and you wouldn’t like to stay in the hotel alone so this was the best option.”

You nod, understanding her point but on the other hand.

“And the…exorcists?”

Vaggie’s shoulders tense for a moment before she looks away from you and mumbles, “I have a feeling they won’t do anything even if we do run into them.”

You want to ask more questions but decide against it, today was stressful enough as it is without you asking stupid questions. 

“Whatever you say, boss.”

You whisper following behind Vaggie and Charlie as they enter the gates of heaven after another fucking song. 

Is it just you? Are you the weird one? Should you be singing more often?

The three of you follow behind the two seraphim, Emily and Sera, while they give you a tour of heaven. Charlie looks completely enamored by the place but Vaggie looks annoyed, as if the pastel clouds had offended her personally.

And you…well honestly you feel a little underwhelmed.

Heaven looks like a glorified mall so far, a mall with strippers because there are way more people walking around shirtless than you thought there would be. 

So you keep trailing behind Vaggie, Charlie, and the angels when you see someone who looks familiar.

She’s a cat demon like you, same color pallet and everything, except she seems much shorter and has a pair of pastel-blue angel wings coming out of her back.

You end up drifting away from the group and start following the small cat angel through the crowds. 

Eventually, you get close enough to reach out and tap her but when you’re about to get her attention you feel a firm hand on your shoulder and you get pulled away roughly and pinned to one of the walls.

You’re completely disoriented for a moment and then you hear a familiar annoying voice.

“Well, well, well look what the cat dragged in.”

You look up to see Adam and Lute, Adam has a wide smirk on his face and Lute looks….wow.

She’s not wearing her helmet so this time you get to admire her completely.

You’d probably be happier about her pinning you to a wall if she wasn’t also holding a giant spear to your neck.

Then again…-

Yeah, it’s still pretty hot.

[drewsbuzzcut]

Under The Mistletoe

(through the years)

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: lots of alcohol consumption, kissing, mentions pregnancy, and some angst

year 6 takes place during their small breakup before they have Sloane

Year 1 (just boyfriend and girlfriend)

The amount of champagne you’ve had should not be allowed at a Christmas party filled with people your boyfriend works with- plus their family members.

You’re dressed in a soft, long and gray skirt, a black fitted short sleeve, and cherry red heels with your favorite red lipstick. Your hair is in loose waves, specifically styled to show off your diamond stud earrings Mat recently bought you.

You’ve been with Mat for less than a year, so to say you’re nervous to be around everyone he knows is an understatement. So far, everyone is nice and inviting. Sydney Martin has been a great friend and lovely enough to include you. Although you’re grateful for their acceptance, you still feel very overwhelmed. This leads you to escape to the kitchen. You find the bottle of wine you and Mat brought and pop the cork. As you’re filling your glass, Mat stands behind you just watching you be you. He loves that you’re getting along with his second family, and he loves that you know how to handle your alcohol.

You’re mid sip, when he comes up behind you, practically scaring you.

“Mat! You cannot sneak up on me like that,” you gasp, voice lowering when you realize it’s him who is behind you.

He wraps an arm around your stomach, pulling you close. His chin rests on your shoulder, allowing you to feel the vibrations of his laughter and to smell the decadent scent of his cologne.

“Sorry, baby. I just wanted to check up on you. Are you doing okay? You’ve had four glasses of champagne and now a glass of wine. Not that I’m complaining, though,” he whispers in your ear.

“I’m fine. I’m just really nervous, so I needed something to help with the edge,” you explain, melting into his arms.

“Nervous? Why? You’re perfect and everyone loves you,” he says with an effortless charm that makes you want to drag him into the nearest restroom.

“I barely turned 21 and you’re 26. Everyone here is more than likely older than me, so I just don’t want to be judged, or you be judged for dating me,” you rant, taking a long drink from your glass. You blow out a deep breath and cross your arms over your chest. You’re already thinking too much into it and you can feel the headache start to creep up on you.

“They don’t care, babe. They just care that I’m happy, which I am. You make me happy. I love you,” he reassures you, hugging you to his body and kissing your cheek.

“I love you,” and although you really do mean it, Mat can still hear the insecurity in your voice.

You squeal when he drags you away, still with his arm wrapped around you.

“Babe, you cannot move me too fast. I’ve had way too much alcohol for you to spin me around like a ballerina,” you giggle, your flushed cheeks make Mat blush.

“I have a surprise, though.” It’s at this moment you realize that he’s been holding something behind his back.

“What’re you up to?” You ask, rubbing on his shoulders.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs and you do.

He pulls you close, smiling when you giggle with your eyes closed. You’re about to ask him what’s the hold up, but he places his lips on yours before you can get the words out. You sigh against him, letting your arms loop around his neck. As they move, you can tell he has one arm up. You pull away to look up and you see the mistletoe dangling in between his two fingers. You smile at him, bringing him in for another kiss. If you weren’t already inebriated from alcohol, you would be from this kiss. His lips are warm and fit perfectly between yours. It still feels like the first time he ever kissed you, and you feel your body warm at the thought that Mat is the one.

“I can taste the wine on your lips. It’s sweet. You’re beautiful, baby,” he whispers against your lips, pecking your bottom one after he speaks.

You cover your blushing cheeks, but he’s quick to pull your hands away, wrapping them around his neck. He slowly sways you around, holding the mistletoe over your heads again and leans down to kiss you. This time it’s much faster and hard, but you stop yourself before you can shove your tongue down his throat.

“There’s a bathroom right down the hall, they won’t miss us,” he whispers in your ear, a hand going down to rest on the small of your back, borderline resting on the swell of your ass.

“Or maybe you can just take me back to your place and you can unwrap me. You know, as an early Christmas present,” you whisper close to his ear as you hug him. Your chin rests on his shoulder, so you try to seem as innocent as possible to everyone who is subtly watching the both of you.

“Deal. Let’s go say bye to everyone,” and again he’s pulling you with him to bid your goodbyes. The whole time you think about how romantic his mistletoe idea was. Your cheeks will never go back to their usual color, they’re stained red.

Year 3 (plus Nolan)

Nolan is only 7 months, but it doesn’t hinder him from looking around with wide eyes. It’s probably a blur of red, green, and dazzling sparkles but he’s intrigued. He continues to babble and laugh when people come up to softly tickle his tummy. Ever since having a baby, your hormones have been all over the place, so you’ve been especially clingy with Mat. He’s been a champ. He’s so good at showing just how much he loves you and your son.

Although you’re in the nicest red off the shoulder sweater and black jeans, you feel so uncomfortable. You’re worried about leaking breast milk, and you really just want to be in some sweatpants. However, you’re a hockey wag and you always want to support your man. You’re just glad he hasn't left your side the entire night.

You’re seated on his lap with Nolan resting in your arms. Every now and then Mat will press kisses to your bare shoulder, and it does wonders with helping you relax. Other than that, you sit and listen to everyone around you, chiming in when talked to.

After dinner, you spend the majority of the night laughing and talking at the table until a couple gets up to dance around as everyone laughs cheerfully. You’re so happy that these people are your second family. In the midst of all the chaos, Mat gets your attention with a kiss to your cheek.

“I love you,” he says loud enough for only you to hear.

“I love you,” you kiss him, but he pulls away quickly which makes you pout.

You watch as he reaches into his pocket, trying hard to dig something out. He breathes a sigh of relief when he finally gets out the slightly crumpled mistletoe. You smile at the object and what it means.

“We’ll start with the youngest,” he says, of course referring to Nolan.

You lift him up and watch as Nolan scrunches up at the contact. Mat’s scruff is probably too much for him. You laugh at his little whines and your boyfriend’s pout.

“It’s my turn,” you jest, laying a hand on the back of his neck.

“I won’t keep you waiting,” he quickly pulls you into a kiss, getting too into it when Nolan smacks a tiny hand in his face.

You try hard to hold in your laughs, but Mat’s shocked expression is too good to not laugh.

“I guess, Nolie bear doesn’t want daddy to kiss momma. Sorry, barzy,” you tease him.

Mat pouts, similar to the one Nolan does when he’s about to cry. You’re mid laugh when he pulls you back in for another kiss. Both of his hands hold onto your face as you breathe each other’s air. This time, you don’t think twice about your tongue curling around his. You just let yourself get lost in him. It’s like a snowflake falling into the snow, it easily gets lost. It gets all blended into something beautiful.

“About to make baby number 2?” You pull away to see the Martin’s giving you both a knowing look.

“And if we are?” You joke, feeling oh so warm when Mat rests his forehead on your exposed collarbones.

“You might want to find a bathroom and someone to hold Nols,” Syd says.

“Noted,” you giggle at Mat’s minor input.

“Thank you for our mistletoe kiss, hotshot. I love you more than words can express,” you kiss him once more, but his smile is too wide for it to be considered a kiss.

Year 6 (partially separated with two boys and pregnant with your first girl)

You linger in your car, dressed in a silk black dress and gold, glittery heels. You don’t want to go inside and see Mat and your friends. You have to constantly remind yourself that you’re doing it for the boys. They love their dad and you don’t want them to not experience the holidays without him present- especially because he travels a lot. It takes the promise of only one glass of wine and an early exit due to the boys’ bedtime to get you out of your car. You move slowly as you gather your sons and enter the house that this years team Christmas party is taking place.

You’re instantly greeted with smiles and hugs, and part of you feels guilty for not wanting to come in the first place. These people have been wonderful to you. It hurts to think that soon they might not be in your life anymore, but according to Sydney Martin, there is no way she’s letting that happen.

When you meet Mat’s eyes, you feel the ache in your heart return. He looks sad and that’s usually a very rare sight to you.

“Hey, thanks for bringing the boys. You look nice,” he greets you, going in for a hug but you just pass AJ into his arms.

“Thank you. The boys really miss you,” you say.

Usually throughout the party, you two would be glued together at the hip, but this time you try to stay away from him. You just can’t be near him. You’re partially angry, still feeling petty, and you feel guilt for not telling him that you’re pregnant again. If you’re around him for more than 5 minutes, lips will start to loosen and truths will be spoken. You miss him every second of every day. Why did you think it’d be a good idea to come? You cannot put this much stress on your body. Not right now.

The entire night you can feel his eyes on you, following your every move. If it were anyone else, it’d be creepy. Because it’s Mat, it’s warm and comforting. You pride yourself on the tranquil and normal reaction you have when he takes a seat next to you. He doesn’t say anything, he knows better, so you sit there in silence for what felt like forever. Each time he moves you tense up, and you know he gets bothered by the way he huffs. To end your misery, you decide to head out just a tad bit earlier than you planned.

You make your rounds to say goodbye, lingering longer around Mat so he can kiss the boys. He’s gracious enough to help you buckle them in the car, but your walls are going to continue to tumble with any extra second you spend around him.

When he buckles AJ in his car seat, you see him pull out that same mistletoe and raise it above the baby’s head as he presses a small kiss to his forehead. He does the same when he buckles Nolan in his seat, getting a more enthusiastic kiss from his oldest, though. You can’t stop the smile from forming on your face. Just because you’re broken up, doesn’t mean he can’t carry on his tradition with his kids. You’re actually glad he’s continuing it. It’s nice to know he still has some happiness this time around after everything that’s happened. He spends a few more minutes with Nolan and Angel, caressing their heads and kissing their chubby cheeks.

You don’t expect there to be any words traded between the two of you, but he does shock you when he pulls you into a hug. His arms are wrapped around your middle, and you can’t help but wrap yours around his neck. You don’t stop yourself from carding your fingers through his hair, only freezing when he looks down into your eyes. You can see the sadness swimming in his hazel eyes. You know you shouldn’t, but you reach into his pocket to pull out the mistletoe. You hold it over your head, hoping he doesn’t reject your request. That’s when you see it, the sadness gets replaced by a sliver of hope. He leans down and places his lips on yours so delicately like he’s afraid you’ll break. The kiss is chaste and cautious, but it still feels so good. You quickly pull away when your head isn’t swimming in clouds any longer. You wipe at your lips, that tingling feeling still lingers. Your heart starts to thump rapidly and you remember all the reasons why you shouldn’t have kissed him. All the guilt comes rushing back and it bites at you, waiting for you to break the shell of a woman you’ve become. You bid a rushed goodbye and hurry into your car. You needed to get away from him.

When you arrive at your other home, you feel horrible. There’s a nauseating nagging in the pit of your stomach and you know it’s because you let yourself kiss Mat. You let yourself get lost in him because it’s just that easy. When you go to bed that night you cry at the thought that he didn’t get to kiss your nonexistent bump, because he doesn’t know you’re pregnant. Then you cry because you’re willingly keeping it from him.

If only the future you knew that everything would get better in the next few days on Christmas Day.

Year 7 (married with three kids)

Mat, who is indeed involved in a conversation with Casey and Matt, has all his attention centered on you. You’re seated at the table, Sloane and Angel in each of your arms. You talk to some of the girls, despite Sloane’s happy babbles and AJ chewing on your finger. You look happy, and every time you pick up your wine glass, your wedding ring gleams, reminding him of just how lucky he truly is. If he looks to his right, he’ll see his oldest, Nolan, playing with the other kids and he finds joy that his whole world is in one room.

He departs from his small group, just needing to be close to you. You smile at him, cheeks heating up when he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms over your shoulders.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers into your cheek, nosing at your skin before he starts pressing kisses down the side of your neck.

You break out in chills despite the long sleeve you’re wearing and the second glass of wine you’re drinking. You raise your hand up, caressing the back of his head as he continues to show his affections.

“Shall we evacuate the room?” Sydney asks, causing you to giggle and Mat to hide his face in your neck.

You don’t answer, instead you turn your head to the side to lock your lips with your husband’s. He cups your cheeks, pushing his tongue into your mouth. After many years together, you couldn’t care less about those witnessing your heated moment, even more so now that you’re in your own home. You let out a very low moan when he sucks at your tongue. That’s when you know it’s time to pull away. Mat’s eyes start to get hazy and his lips get swollen and pinker. Plus all the hoots and hollers start to big your two little ones settled on your lap.

“Here let me have him,” Mat picks up AJ, setting him in Alexa’s waiting arms.

Next, he holds Sloane, reaching his hand out for yours. You give him a quizzical look.

“Follow me, ma’am,” he requests.

“Ma’am? What am I a grandma?” You tease him, latching your hand to his.

“Pardon me. Follow me, Mrs. Sexy,” he corrects himself. You blush at his words.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask, though when you see the mistletoe ahead, you know just what he’s planning.

“You know, just our tradition. Grab Sloane,” he passes your baby girl to you.

You hold her with one arm wrapped around her small stomach and one hand resting under her butt. She watches Mat with wonder, reaching her little arms out to him.

“Okay, I need you to hold her up a little bit- yeah that’s good!” Mat says as you raise Sloane so she’s eye level with him.

He caresses her baby soft hair, softly pinching her cheeks to get a squeal from her.

“Kiss, baby girl,” he says, slowly kissing her lips. You quickly kiss her cheek at the same time. Sloane smiles and reaches her arms out to him, babbling more when she’s in her dad’s arms.

“Next is Angel,” he tells you, but you are already on your way to get him.

You hold up AJ the same way you did Sloane, and he squirms and giggles when you both kiss him on his cheeks. When he requests to be put down, you both watch him toddle back to Alexa to resume his nap.

You turn to find Nolan waiting patiently for his turn, so it’s not hard to bring him up in your arms.

“Daddy! I’m ready for my kiss,” he cheers.

“My big boy! I love you,” Mat exclaims kissing his cheek many times.

“Mommy, your turn!”

“I know, buddy!” You wait for him to turn in your arms and you press a kiss to his puckered lips.

“I love you both,” he sighs, resting his head on your shoulder, one hand rubbing at his daddy’s bicep.

“We love you, too, buddy,” Mat whispers, bringing the both of you into a hug.

“Can I go play now?”

“Yes, you can go,” you let him down, smiling as you watch him runaway.

He’s so big and it feels like it was just yesterday that you started this little tradition with Mat. Now, you have three babies who will soon be just as big as Nolan. It makes you happy, but it also makes you sad. You want them to stay little forever, but you also want to see who they’ll grow into.

“You okay?” Mat asks, cupping your cheek.

You nod, a smile replacing your frown as you place a hand over his.

“I just love you and our babies.”

“I love you guys more. Now, it’s time to give my big baby her kiss,” he says lowly, moving in closer.

“Oh… I can’t wait,” you whisper, closing your eyes just as you feel his lips connect with yours.

The cool metal of your wedding ring bites at his skin from where you’re holding him, but it feels like home.

a/n: This was fun and heartwarming to write! I hope y’all enjoy lovelies!! Also, I tried to follow along the timeline, but it may be slightly off… not a noticeable problem though!

[verdantwyrm]

Hi! Sorry to rant, I don’t know if it’d be appropriate, or if the theme has been discussed already… But you’re, like, the ambassador of Curly enjoyers to me, so I figured this would be my best bet.

The thing is, I’ve been quietly seething lately thinking about how much the perception & treatment of Curly post-crash is defined by his injury. Like, how much it would’ve changed if the man had at least retained his face.

(I mean, he is my fav character for many reasons and in a lot of ways, and yet when replaying the game I have to stop and remind myself every now and then that this is the same person we occasionally play as, with the same set of memories, traits, thinking patterns etc. Not because I forget the fact, but because of how easy it is to subconsciously divide them when he neither behaves nor looks the same anymore. I have a mind exercise of coming to the med bay as I have to pass by, to observe Curly where he lies on his gurney table and try to imagine his pre-accident version looking up at me from there. Something of an attempt to strengthen the associative connection and not be part of the problem.)

Imagine an AU where basically everything is the same but the cockpit didn’t catch fire during the crash, and instead the ship just stopped very abruptly, Curly hit the wall/control panel badly and broke his spine, leaving him paralyzed from the neck down. So he is aware but unable to move around or communicate effectively (like in canon), but also he’s completely recognizable. Now, I’m not saying people in the fandom wouldn’t have still treated him like a prop or a pet or a child or some kind of silly f/cked up mascot (bc some people are *****), but I bet my kidney the occurrence would’ve been considerably less common than it is now. And that’s it, that’s the point. The whole dehumanization thing going on is just disheartening.

Anyway, sorry once more if it was all over the place, didn’t mean to be rude... Thanks for listening and for all your committed work as an ambassador and an advocate!

Hi Anon! o(^-^)o Thank you so much! And do not apologise, you have no idea how much I appreciate you and others coming into my inbox and giving me their opinions, feedback and perspective of stuff! Curly is my favourite character as well and I will not tolerate slander! Especially when its just straight up incorrect.

But to answer your question, alot of Curly's post-crash dehumanisation does immensely come from the fact that he's lacking any real facial features. Real life burn victims that have suffered directly to their faces experience this basically every day. Because they lack a """normal""" face thats recognisable, alot of people subconsciously stop recognising these people as Human because they Do Not Look Like One.

Even people that are just double or triple amputees (or in Curly's case, a quadruple amputee) deal with an immense dehumanisation and infantilisation because they "lack the necessary equipment to be an adult human" and perform tasks on their own. There comes a very specific type of infantilisation towards disabled people and thats the utter denial and ignorance that once you "become" disabled you no longer have sexual desires, that you no longer function as an adult and anyone trying to have sex with you or engage with you in that way is a creep because to them you are the equivalent of a 10 year old.

Curly and how he's treated by the fandom and whatnot is significantly impacted by how he looks, and the example you give me of him managing to not burn all of his skin off but would become paralysed from the neck down, I know for a fact that if that was the case, he would be treated significantly worse because he cannot move. Canon Curly isn't paralysed, he's just in an excruciating amount of pain that reduces his movement, but he does still have somewhat control over his limbs. If he somehow ended up paralysed ontop of that, the treatment he receives would be way, way worse. And I can't even begin to describe what that would look like, but I know deep down in my gut that it absolutely would.

If he were to somehow not get burnt but still get paralysed like you said, I think his treatment could be different, but I'm not sure exactly how. He would absolutely still be dehumanised to an extent especially with being paralysed, but its the fact that he has a face that makes a difference. People might be able to remind themselves that he's a grown ass man, but probably not.

You going through the effort to conciously remind yourself that they are infact the same character is actually fantastic, and it shows that you're willing to see disabled people as human beings, real people, even in this case. And you're doing marginally better than alot of people who look at him and completely reduce him to nothing but a dog, creature or an "it" or "thing"

And it's also evident in how Jimmy treats him too, as a liability, that because he's in this state he can just strip away his title like it doesn't mean anything, dehumanise and project his own authority over. Jimmy does this with Anya and Curly, significantly so with her, but in an increasingly horrifying way with Curly.

And thank you so much Anon! Never apologise, I had alot of fun answering this question, and I will continue to work hard as Curlys ambassador and defender! ヾ(*・ω・)ノ

[formereldestdaughter]

ok wait i need to hear more of your thoughts on peeta owning a bakery....

This is one of those rare times where I’m pretty sure this anon isn’t someone I know personally bc I’ve subjected anyone who will listen to my rant about the Peeta Bakery Headcanon. Anyway, you’re gonna regret asking this anon bc there are fucking Layers here.

I know this is probably a controversial take based on the number of fics where I’ve seen it, but I simply do not think that Peeta would open a commercial bakery after Mockingjay!! Like on a metatextual level, I don’t think it really fits with the point of the ending of the series. It actually sort of fascinates me that it’s just such a common headcanon because the ending of Mockingjay is exceedingly vague. I think that vagueness invites us, as readers, to imagine a better world post-revolution. A world where Katniss would feel confident that her children would be safe from injustice, where she’d feel confident that her children would never know want the way she did as a child. A just world. A kinder world. Can a capitalist society ever be just? Is a capitalist society where a disabled teenager has no other means to subsist himself (or feels like there’s no other way he can be a contributing member of his community) really the post-revolution world we dream of? Is that really the best we can imagine?

(This got so insanely long I’m adding a read more lmao)

I get that showing a better world is not always the point of post-mockingjay headcanons/fics. Like there are plenty of really great post-mockingjay fics I’ve seen where, yeah, part of the fic is that society like ISN’T all that different or all that much better. I’ve seen that really well done! Hell, I’ve written them myself! It’s easy to imagine how a lot of aspects of society would not get an overhaul, a lot of the same structural inequalities would continue to exist. One headcanon that really stuck with me (I can’t remember which fic it was from) was that Peeta sells basically mail order baked goods to people on the Capitol, sending them iced cakes and pastries by train, because there are still people who were “fans” of theirs during the Games. And idk this doesn’t actually have much to do with my point lol but I liked it because it’s kind of fucked up and like! Yeah! It makes sense! If he needed money that would be a good way to make it! War often makes people rich, often for horrible reasons, and often it’s people who already have capital in the first place.

Anyway, more about the hypothetical bakery because alright. I bring up the fact that “yeah society not being all that different post-revolution and still being an unjust capitalist hellscape” could be a reason why Peeta re-opens a bakery because that’s actually never the types of fics where I see the bakery headcanon. Fics where Peeta opens a bakery are usually trying to make the exact opposite point. Like. Things are getting better, now he can open a bakery! Look at how much better the world is now, plus he’s got a bakery! Peeta is healing, that’s why he can open a bakery now! And I am so, so sorry to inform everyone who’s never had the grave misfortune of owning a family business, but there is truly nothing further from the truth lmao. Like just putting aside the immense amount of emotional baggage that Peeta has about his family, running a small business is an insane amount of work in any context and being a baker especially is physically grueling and involves early hours (and long hours) that aren’t really the best fit with the multiple ways that Peeta is disabled now. (I could go into this more because I have a lot of thoughts. But I will spare you.). I also think it’s seen throughout the books that Peeta is someone who needs time to pursue creative outlets to process his feelings and someone who values leisure and values quality time with his loved ones. And having grown up in his family’s bakery, I think he’d understand the reality that running a bakery wouldn’t leave much space of those pursuits and wouldn’t leave much space for him to have the things that keep him healthy and stable. I think he’d know that the way he is now— after two Games and the war and unspeakable torture at the hands of a dictator—isn’t compatible with the lifestyle necessary for running a commercial bakery.

And tbh with that in mind, I don’t think he’d push himself to re-open a business (one that would be a constant reminder of his dead family and his complicated relationships with them that got no closure) that would require him to sacrifice his physical and emotional well-being. Like I think he might look into the possibility, I think he might even start trying to open a bakery out of a sense of obligation/duty, maybe harboring some idea that this is who he was supposed to be, who he would've been without the Games, or that it’s this last piece of his family that can live on, or that it’s this last connection to his family so he can’t let it die too. But ultimately, I think any attempt to open a bakery wouldn’t get very far. Maybe he'd start wading into the logistical nightmare that is small business ownership and realize it's not for him (because it's probably also true that as much as him and his brothers were involved in the business, there's almost certainly parts they weren't involved with and didn't see, i.e., filing taxes). Or maybe looking into opening a bakery��� how triggering it is, the stress of it— causes a downward spiral. Maybe he hates how much he's worrying everyone by unraveling. Maybe having a breakdown from the stress of just trying to open a bakery makes him realize, yeah, maybe in another life he would have ran his family’s bakery but the way he is now just doesn’t work with running a bakery, not without great sacrifices he's not willing to make. I just can’t see a bakery coming to fruition.

I know a lot of fics include Peeta deciding to reopen a bakery as a big step in his healing or include him rebuilding a bakery as part of his healing process but honestly, I think the opposite would be more true: I think Peeta either trying/failing to open a bakery or ultimately deciding not to open a bakery would be hugely healing for him. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way he is now as a person, his new limitations but also his strengths. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way his life his now and accepting that he likes his life the way it is, that he’s satisfied with his life without needing to own a bakery. I think it would be an important part of him coming to terms with the loss of his family. I think he knows he can never have things back as they were and I don’t think he would try to recreate them, especially because his family’s legacy isn’t a business. I think he’s emotionally intelligent enough and self reflective enough to realize that what mattered to him about the bakery— taking care of others by feeding them, being integrated into his community and being actively involved in it, brightening people’s days with delightful things whether that’s beautiful cakes or hearty food or delicious treats— and the things he learned from his family through the bakery, are things that he can carry on in other meaningful ways.

(Do you regret sending this ask yet, anon? Because if not, you will soon. I’m not done yet. There’s more.)

I wasn’t really sure where to put this next part in what is rapidly becoming an essay because it sort of combines the points about like “what do we imagine a post-mockingjay society to look like” with the practical difficulties of starting this bakery but here’s another thing: do people really think that the Mellarks owned the land the bakery was on?? Like, sure, the merchants are the petit bourgeois of Twelve but I still don’t imagine they really own anything. In a society where houses are assigned to people upon marriage, where property ownership and capital are so closely interconnected with citizenship (as shown by the Plinths who, by having immense capital, are able to leave their District and become citizens of the Capitol) do people really think the Mellarks would be allowed to own the land their bakery is on?? I always imagined it sort of like a tenant farming situation: the Capitol gives them the raw materials for the bakery and in return the bakery give them some absurdly high portion of their profits, or the Capitol sells them a year’s supply of raw materials at a premium on credit and at the end of the year the Mellarks have to use the money they made with those materials to pay it back, except it’s never enough to turn a profit so they always have to buy next year’s materials on credit and the cycle continues.

We (understandably) get a really skewed view of the merchant class through Katniss’s perspective so I can see why people come to the conclusion that his family owned the property and, as the last surviving member, he would’ve inherited it. I’ve seen the inheritance thing in fics a lot or a hand wavey “well Twelve was decimated to no one owns anything anymore so it can be his” or even like an almost sort of reparations type situation where he’s entitled to the land as a surviving refugee of Twelve. But I don’t know. I guess I don’t think it fits with everything else we know about Panem that the Mellarks would’ve owned that land and I think the question of whether the government would’ve let him take ownership of the land post-revolution brings up a lot of issues about the structure of society post-Mockingjay that I find more interesting to explore in other ways, especially when, from an emotional perspective, 1) I find the idea of Peeta not opening a bakery more compelling and 2) I don’t think it really fits his character arc by the end of Mockingjay to reopen a bakery, as I went on about at length above lol.

On the flip side: literally who cares!! Do whatever you want!! Headcanon whatever you want!! I get why people go for the bakery!! It’s fun, it’s wholesome, it’s a built in bakery AU that isn’t even an AU. It doesn’t matter if it’s practical or realistic!! It doesn’t need to be practical or realistic!! It’s fanfic of a dystopian YA series!! My unfortunate affliction is that I grew up in a family that owned a restaurant and that I have multiple degrees in the social sciences so I can’t see the bakery without being like “What about the overheard? What about the start up costs? Who’s spending long nights balancing the books? Is Peeta covering shifts when an employee calls in sick? Is Peeta the sole person working there until the bakery is open long enough (often a year or more) to start turning a profit? How does that sleep schedule work with his nightmares? How does that work with Katniss’s nightmares? What happens when he has an episode and suddenly needs to take the day off before he has any employees? Does the bakery just remain closed for the day? Can the profit margins withstand regular unexpected closures? Can the supplies withstand regular unexpected closures?” And if the answer is “Elliott none of those things matter he’s not doing the bakery because he needs the money but because he wants to”, then my question is why does he want to? Does he not get the same sort of satisfaction out of feeding his loved ones? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would rather give away baked goods than sell them?? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would prefer to make cakes for people’s special occasions upon and then when they insist on paying him for it, he only lets them “pay for the ingredients” which actually cost significantly more than he says they did??

So yeah my point is that it’s a matter of personal taste! It doesn’t fit the way I see the series but that doesn’t mean it’s like wrong, I’m not an authority on Peeta lmao.

It’s also a matter of personal taste in the sense that I find the themes that most resonate with me at the end of Mockingjay (and the end of Peeta’s arc specifically) more interesting to explore in other ways. Grief, living with loss, relearning yourself, finding hope, figuring out your place in a dramatically different world when you don’t even know who you are anymore, healing, building a new life after such complete and total destruction of your old life— those are all things I find compelling about the end of Mockingjay but for me the bakery isn’t the most compelling way to explore them.

Not to say I find the concept of the bakery totally uninteresting. I have this fic about Johanna that I’ll probably never finish where the point sort of is that, yeah, her life really isn’t all that much better after the war. It’s been years at this point and she’s still miserable and she doesn’t know how to be a person but by the end she’s trying to figure it out. And towards the end, Peeta tells her that he’s spent years sort of passively, half-heartedly trying to figure out how to inherit the land his family’s bakery was on, only to find out it was never theirs in the first place. They’d been renting it the whole time and he’d never even known as a kid. So he sort of passively, half-heartedly went on another wild goose chase to find the owner and now, finally, after years of writing to various government agencies and being sent in circles and things being barely functional, he’s managed to track down the owner. Now it’s owned by the daughter of the man who owned it when he was a kid because the original owner (who was likely up to some sketchy war crime shit) died during the war and she inherited it (the irony…). He got in contact with her and asked how much it would take for her to sell it and she told him she’s not interested in selling but in light of the situation, in light of the fact that he’d have to build a new building in order to operate a bakery, that she’d cut him a deal— she’d only require 50% of the bakery’s profits as rent instead of the 80% his family used to pay. And of course Johanna is outraged, that’s not right, the owner shouldn’t be allowed to do that, they should do something about it, they should fight back. And Peeta is like. Not interested. He was actually sort of relieved that opening wasn’t very feasible. Getting the answer was a lightbulb moment where he saw that over the years of trying to look into this, he’s built a life that he likes— one where he’s stable, where his loved ones are stable, where he’s cared for and can care for others— and he doesn’t really want to change it drastically by opening a bakery anyway. He just needed an answer, one way or another, before he could get some closure and move on. (And the point of the conversation is Johanna is having her own lightbulb moment that it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to change, it’s not a betrayal of the people and things she’s lost but that’s not my point here!!).

But anyway. That’s obviously not about running the bakery— it’s about the choice to not run one.

Anyway!! Anyway… are you satisfied anon? Is this what you wanted?

Lastly, here is my most important qualm with the bakery headcanon: must Peeta be gainfully employed? Is it not enough for him to be Katniss’s boytoy? Can’t he just paint and garden and bake and hang out with his girlfriend all day? Is that really too much to ask?