#like u see this area in the beginning of the game with no way to get there + a lvl 100 unique and youre like

[leowifefang]

they really made us go in a circle!!!!

[hawtlineblingz]

My Thoughts on Zayne's Hidden Motive Discourse

pic : chibiayato (x)

Disclaimer : this post is made as a response and purely written by my understanding and opinion on recent discourse that happened on tiktok regarding the hate and mischaracterization on Zayne. This post isn't proof read and English is not my first spoken language so i appologize for bad grammar / spelling mistakes and i hope my points and arguments can came trough correcty.

! DO NOT REPOST TO OTHER PLATFORM (link shares are okay) !

Context :

I'd like to put out my arguments, as proof that i highly do not support the narration, the hate train from TikTok community has on zayne saying "they made him a pushover wattpad boy on this card" and said this card is Zayne being very OOC.

Before putting out my thoughts. I want to point out that i wrote this based on the game's JP Dub because i understood Japanese better and i just want to say that there are alot of contexts and implied language that unfortunatelly got lost on the EN translations.

[Proof media shown below]

Quick summary of the card and proofs :

At the beginning of this memory MC got injured on a mission and zayne suddenly was positioned as the helping medical staff for the area that MC we're working on though he lied about his reasoning during this moment.

Their interaction is highly implied that zayne communicates with her as Zayne the Doctor and Zayne as MC's romantic partner.

Its clear that zayne uses different words when talking with her as a Doctor and as a non platonic partner and so is his tone when speaking.

Proof 1 :

After treating her wound as a doctor, he put MC hair behind her ears and, told her that he's going back to work.

(Vid down below)

If u watch the JP dub u can clearly tell this is him playing 2 different figures at the same time.

Proof 2 :

When MC we're talking to the kid that she saved, Alfred, he told her that she was very strong, and she asked if he wants to see her solid abs. But then Zayne came in, while coughing, and said

Though on the JP dub he says "That's useless, a kid shouldn't be seeing that". In a teasing way, though his tone is very stoic and he said it with a poker face.

And after that he spoke to her switching being a doctor and a partner again, when he told her to wait in the treating room 5. He does this for litterally the whole menoria, but i think 2 examples are enough as a proof.

Proof 3 :

The mention of "fortune telling". A reference to Zayne's MYTH 2. It's not really important but i just wanna point this one out to argue that during this conversation Zayne n MC clearly have a healthy realtionship he mentions alot about her wellbeing as a very important part of his stress management, seeing her well and able to banter with him put his mind at ease, knowing MC's nature to be a little bit reckless and clumsy.

Proof 4 :

When Alfred told MC and Zayne that they we're invited to the farewell ceremony, and asked them if they could attend, she bargained Zayne for his time to appreciate the people on the area, calling him "医者のおじさん" or Uncle Doctor. And Zayne referes to himself as both Uncle Doctor and Brother Doctor or "医者のお兄さん" now this is very important. Because this shows a concrete proof that Zayne has been playing 2 person figures during his time at the local's hospital. As Dr. Zayne and 'just' Zayne.

On the JP dub he said "Uncle Doctor might be busy, but Brother Doctor might have some time to spare". This important context is basically not translated well on the EN dub. And he is not acting OOC.

Proof 5 :

At the farewell ceremony, MC and Zayne talked about life and death meaning and value, as a hunter and a doctor. On this part u can clearly hear Zayne is a little bit upset on how reckless MC is as if she doesn't value her life enough to help people. She told him about already having her last wishes but she stopped herself because he interupted her, Zayne is upset, again, u can hear him clearly not happy at the way she positioned herself and her life against danger and death.

He made his boundaried clear especially having to positioned himself as a cardiac surgeon on how it's hard when he had touched someone's naked beating heart on his own palm, doing an OC-CPR. Trying to save that person.

During this time MC fell silent as she think about everything and rechoose her words, reminding herself how difficult it is to prevent and save someone from death.

Proof 6 :

When the lanterns being released to the sky MC said that the lights is beautiful, he nods at her saying "yes, its beautiful" but he didn't even turn around to look at the lantern, his eyes are glued to her posing for the picture. A VERY IMPORTANT POINT, he admited that he IS talking about her, not the lantern. You can tell on how his yearning for her is growing here, It's not everyday Zayne can be this transparent with his intentions especially when being asked.

Proof 7 :

As MC fell asleep on his car after the flight he asked if she wants him to drop him off at her place, but then he asked again, gently, if she wants to just stay at his place. Again, hints for his yearning on his voice.

NOW. This one has been a point of hate on Zayne because on the EN translation he said this :

While on JP he said "if u can't answer it now, i'm assuming it's a okay". Now this sentence implying a hint of worryness on how tired and sleepy she was.

The people on tiktok pointed out that Zayne did not care about her consent while on the card, is clearly said that MC did KNEW and RECALL she went straight to Zayne's house. The situation isn't like as if Zayne took her somewhere shady without her consent. And he treated her with so much care by cooking her breakfast.

Proof 8 :

Now here Greyson exposes Zayne to MC that he insisted that he wanted to took the medical mission on a high risk quaranteened area, even though he was positioned on a less dangerous area beforehand. He even said Zayne acts like he doesn't care much trough his words but Zayne is actually CARES and WORRIES about her alot.

We can see trough out his latest cards, every emotions are drawn on his voice and body language.

Proof 9 :

During this part it stated that Zayne did gave MC permission to overstep his boundaries by pursing his lips, giving permission MC to touch his skin.

- every convo during this part is Zayne  flirting with MC and the boombayah happened and they took a nice nap-

Proof 10 :

Post sex nap convo between Zayne n MC shows how Zayne has changed as a person, his tone is very gentle and witty, clearly he's comfortable with her, and another clear sign of a healthy relationship. On this moment, Zayne starts up a topic about being open, and straightforward is very important to him, but MC revoked Zayne by saying he also isn't being transparent with her, Zayne kisses her forehead and said that he hates hearing things about her wellbeing from other people, it made him feel like an outsider. And the rest of the conversations is MC and Zayne giving each other reassurance regarding keeping each other safe and sound.

Now i'd like to mention a few things from Zayne's previous card, Snowy Serenity, and a few things from Zayne's Find Tobias' (Abyssal Chaos) coversations with MC.

That the main 2 problems within Zayne and MC's relationship are :

1. Zayne is really bad at letting people hear what they wanted to hear even if it's to give the other person a sense of security, he sometimes a bit too blunt and too honest, but he's willing to work it out. This was also briefly mentioned on the Heartwork Routine Event.

2. Zayne and MC is struggling to be alot more open with each other because they don't want to worry their partner.

On Abyssal Chaos MC said that Zayne has changed by being more bold and flexible with her. Shown how much he's being alot more confident in engaging PDA.

The pattern with them is they both need something impactful and intimate to be able to open up. On Snowy Serenity Zayne was missing. And on Hidden Motive MC was injured. But after that theres an improvement between their relationship as the intimacy gave them a safe space to be open to one and another.

The Zayne hate on TikTok mainly focuses on how they said Zayne is turning into another wattpad boy and everything is OOC, but from the proofs i have stated above clearly i dont agree with that because i see it as Zayne and MC are both working out their relationship, and Zayne is constantly working himself up to be a better person who is willing to communicate.

The crowd on TikTok are blaming Infold and Sylus for "dragging" Zayne into another Wattpad based character while, again, I think Zayne character development is very well written, i don't feel like this card is fanservice-y, even though this whole game is a fanservice, i get it, it's one of the selling point of an otome game.

The thing with Zayne being bolder when it comes to intimacy shows on how much MC already trusts him, and how he has become very comfortable with her, Zayne is the type of person who has a habit of bottling his emotions, even though he got praised by almost everyone for his incredible self control. But Zayne on this timeline is a normal human being with physical - spiritual needs and emotions, not a demigod, not a mythical creature. Zayne himself has a breaking point considering how much restraint, yearning, has been closed of from affections he already been trough growing up. AND him letting loose his self control and lowering his guard down is not an incredibly OOC act, in fact most of the time initiated the intimate acts as shown on his previous cards, once MC flags up her green flag he took the lead.

Plus, this is a relationship is between two consenting adults. Everyone can tell this isn't the first time they engage in intimate / sexual activity.

As time goes by and the story progresses obviously we're going to see changes, and process within the characters. Zayne is not a block of wood and he is not an exception. Blaming Sylus and Infold writter for this is also not a solution, even Sylus himself is not a typical wattpad / booktok CEO. Though, again in otome games it's very common to have tropes between the love interest and the protagonist. I just hope the hate on Zayne stops, because i honestly enjoys his character writing. Same with the TikTok community hate on Xavier saying he gr00med MC, and saying Caleb is into inc3st relationship, i don't even understood how the mischaracterization on the boys are so severe on TikTok it's kind of sad.

Infold writers incorporates so many linguistics and cultural reference that's also a shame it's not translated well enough to the EN sub and dub so often times people missed their opportunity to understand why the card title is "Hidden Motive".

Ending statement from me is that i wish many players would do their own indepth reading and understanding before making a misleading scene on social media, this is why sometimes a certain fandom / community can't have nice things because of their own fandom and actions can lead to a train of hate and misconceptions regarding the game and our boys.

Proofs exhibit below

I highly suggest to watch the whole card on EN dub and other language dub (on this case its JP dub) as a comparison because the underlying contexts on some of the sentences are different.

[glitterycvm]

Herbalist!Reader X Sukuna

WARNINGS: SMUT, p in v, degrading, rough sex, sukuna being mean

a/n: this took so long to write 😭😭

synopsis: sukuna gives u a reward for healing him

divider creds: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

it was about 11pm at night, and you needed to grab a couple more herbs to complete a medicine order. the thing was, the order was due tomorrow morning, and you had procrastinated the whole day. so here you are, roaming around the forest scrummaging around bushes, and trees, basket in hand which a flashlight in the other.

you were peacefully looking through a patch of echinacea, when you suddenly heard someone grunting with pain. you were a little worried, nobody ever came into this area, especially at 11PM at night... you were also curious about the noise, wanting to find out the cause of it. what's the worst that could happen?

flashlight in your hand you try to find the source of the noise, which soon turned into heavy pants and footsteps. as you searched you heard footsteps approaching you, you hide behind a bush,you place a hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing. then you see a tall pink haired man who was clearly very beat up, cuts spotted all around his chest area. he also had very distinct black tattoos. even though you could barely see him under the moonlight, you couldn't deny that he was very attractive.

you felt an urge to get to know him, to be near him, to just be in his presence so you take a deep breath and approach the tall man. as you walk towards him, "excuse me!" you belt as you walk closer to the man. he turns around and looks down at you. gosh he was so tall. and the way he looked at you, his piercing dangerous gaze. "what?" he hisses, hand over his chest. there was blood all over his hand. you looked back up at him sympathetically "I noticed that you're injured, like really badly..." you pointed out "and I was wondering if you wanted to come back with me to my cottage so I could take care of your wounds?" you offer. oh the innocence in your eyes, the way you looked up at him, the kindness of your heart. sukuna was invested. he wanted to ruin all that kindness and Innocence in you. he found it so cute that you had no idea what you were about to drag yourself into.

sukuna smirks, he bends down to your level, he scoffs loudly "you think I would need your help? please.I think I can take care of myself." he mocks. his words make your heart ache, why was he so mean about it? but you weren't gonna give up now. he was going to be yours. "are you sure? you know you have a lot to say for a guy who's nearly bleeding out" you remark, crossing your arms in the process. "c'mon let me fix you up, unless it hurts your precious little ego-" you tease. sukuna glared at you dangerously "you better watch your mouth." he grunts, you smirk, "aw? did that hurt your feelings?" you mock him. "you know what? if it makes you shut up, fine then!" he snaps. sukuna was loving the little game you were playing with him. if anything it made him even more attracted to you.

"so your name's sukuna?" you repeat, as you begin to clean his wounds. "didn't I just say that?" he snaps back. "woah chill out" you mutter as you begin to open a jar of aloe vera gel. sukuna rolls his eyes and stares up at the wooden roof of your humble cottage. "this might sting so be prepared" you warn before spreading a thin layer on his wounds. sukuna hisses at the sharp burning sensation. he looked so hot when he felt pain. the way his eyebrows furrowed, and the sounds he made... you wanted him so badly. you close the jar tightly, "that should be it" you comment. sukuna sits up on the couch, as you stay sitting on the floor. now you could get what you really wanted this whole time. "you know I think I did a really good job" you praise yourself. sukuna smirks sharply "I guess you did..." he admits "don't you think I should get a little reward?..." you ask slyly, as you rise up from your knees. sukuna chuckles "oh and what would that reward be?"

SCHLAP. SCHLAP .SCHLAP."s-slow down sukuna!" you mewl, placing a hand near his hips to try to slow him down. sukuna chuckles and grabs both of your hands and pin them to your back. "what happened to wanting that reward huh? too much f' you to handle slut?" he whispers in your ear, his voice raspy and endearing. he slaps your ass as he mercilessly thrusts into you. your sweet moans echo throughout your small cottage, the sound of skin slapping harmonizes with your moans. "if you keep going like this, you'll get hurt again..." you warn him. he rolls his eyes "oh well, you'll just have to fix me up again, and we both know you would love that." he says coldly. he thrusts into you like he's running out of time. his second cock rubbing up against your clit giving you endless amounts of ecstasy.

"i-im so close" you whined, sukuna smirks and flips you around making you lay on your back this time. you whine at your denied orgasm, sukuna just laughs devilishly. "didn't think I would let you come so quickly did you? you thought I would forget about that attitude you gave me earlier? now come and take this cock like the filthy slut you are." he demands as he aligns his cock with your entrance. the way he degrades you just turns you one even more, your pussy getting wetter by the second. without warning he slams into your hole, his second cock now grinding on your puffy clit rapidly. sukuna pushes your legs all the way to your chest, so he could abuse the shit out of your cervix. the amount of pleasure you were receiving was both heavenly and painful. your eyes were filling with tears from all the sensations.

you once again attempt to slow him down by placing a hand on his chest. sukuna grabs both your hands and pins them above your head, he leans in to whisper in your ear "don't run away now, where was the filthy whore I met a while ago? I thought you wanted this as a reward? that's what I thought. now shut up and take this dick." he commands. oh the way he degraded you was so hot. he talked to you like you meant nothing to him. the pleasure you were getting made you shed tears. sukuna scoffs at the sight, despite absolutely loving seeing you with wet glossy eyes. "such a crybaby... be grateful I haven't put both my cocks in you, ungrateful whore" he comments as his thrusts get sloppier but the second, his pants getting raspier. your moans grow in volume, you were so fucked out.

"f-fuck m' so close sukuna!!" you exclaim, as you feel your orgasm approaching, sukuna grunts as he chases his own orgasm along with you. he leans in, whispering in your ear "you like it when I pound into you hm? you're so cock thirsty for me aren't you?" he grunts, "y-yes! sukuna!" you mewl, the sound of slapping skin quickens as you both reach your orgasms. you both let out deep groans, sukuna fills you up with his cum, a string connecting his dick to your cunt as he pulls out. as you try to sit back up, a hand pushes you back down.

"who said I was done?"

[sophswritingthings]

Mizu when she called akemi a brat except we are akemi 😭

Like what if reader was bored cuz it was a very hot very boring day and took mizus glasses and it’s like a game of cat and mouse across the room and when Mizu finally catches reader she says those magic words which make reader all flustered-

pairing: mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): light swearing

a/n: PFTTTT I would steal her glasses just to see her angry because that shit is hot I’m sorry

summary: it’s quite the sunny day, (for japan, anyway) so you steal mizu’s glasses from right off her face.

word count: 472 words / 2,522 characters

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

you eyed mizu from across the way, squinting as the sun blocked your vision.

slowly, you got up, walking toward her. she gazed at you with interest, wanting to know what you were up to.

.. when you quickly as possible, slid her glasses off her face.

“(y/n)!—“ she narrowed her eyes, watching as you made your way across the area. she leapt to her feet, beginning to chase after you.

it wasn’t like you were in public—but she wasn’t going to let you get away with just stealing her glasses and running away.

so, she’d play your game. 

you glanced behind you, giggling as you saw that your lover was now chasing you down.

a little game of cat and mouse, eh?

you had been bored, anyway, just sitting there and staring. you understood mizu needed her relaxation.

but you could easily relax her in.. other ways, that were more fun for the both of you.

your eyes widened, a gasp leaving your lips as you felt her grab you by your shoulders.

she pinned you up against the wall, her forearm gently pressed against your neck to keep you there.

“fucking brat,” mizu narrowed her eyes.

your breathing was heavy, gazing up at her with a little smirk.

“you know you love me,” you said breathily.

“I might,” she huffed. “doesn’t mean you’re not a brat. now, give them back.”

wasn’t like you had much of a choice, in the situation. she had you pinned up against a wall, all her body weight keeping you there.

you shook the glasses in your hand, gesturing for her to take them. she took in a sharp breath, reaching to take them.

you yanked your hand away, giggling as you did so.

“(y/n), I swear to god—“

“kiss me first,” you hiss. “kiss me and you can have them back.”

the offer wasn’t all too bad for her, either.

she placed a hand on your jaw, jerking you forward. her lips crashed onto yours, making you hum in satisfaction. 

“there, happy?” she narrowed her eyes.

“very,” you swung the glasses in your hand, actually handing them to her this time. “maybe I should steal your glasses more often.”

she scoffed, releasing you from your hold against the wall.

“you don’t have to,” she hissed. “you can just ask instead of pissing me off.”

you giggled, “but it’s so much fun making you angry,” you smirked. “It’s hot.”

"is it, now?" she raised an eyebrow at you. she chuckled a little, her hand cupping your chin gently. "maybe I should be angry with you more often then, hm? if you think its so attractive."

your face flushes a little, your eyes locked on hers. you sort of asked for this.

"u-um, yeah," you stammer.

she laughs, letting go of you, "don't do it again."

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

[disneyprincemuke]

where the fun begins, 3 * ls2 (ms47)

while logan can't figure out where he had gone wrong with your relationship, you do.

pairings: frat!logan x reader, college!mick x reader

word count: 6.1k

notes: guys this took me forever and 2 and a half days to write so it's a bit long so i apologise but srsly <3 i got a bit carried away LOL idk if u can tell

(f1 masterlist)

| one | two | three | four |

"i'll say," frederik mutters into your ear, guiding you towards the bar. "you look very comfortable with mick. no drinking games, no body shots..."

you laugh, shaking your head. "yeah... i've come to learn that those really aren't my thing."

"i don't even see you at parties often," he laughs. "but, i'm curious," he looks towards the backyard where mick had walked off to, "what happened between you and logan?"

you raise your eyebrows and glance at lily, bottom lip between your teeth as stare up at the decorated house. "are you sure about this, lily?"

"please?" she hums innocently, turning to you with a smile. "it's a frat party, but oscar invited me. please, please?"

you watch drunk college students stumbling in the front yard and the strobing lights going crazy inside the house. at first glance, it's very overwhelming. it's probably because this is a scene you don't typically indulge in.

"okay," you sigh, laughing airily as lily links arms with you. "you're sure about this oscar guy?"

"yeah," lily says excitedly, helping you manoeuvre through the moving crowd. "are we late or something? why does it look like everyone's leaving already?"

lily knocks on the door and presses her lips together. lily lets go of your arm and fixes her shirt, brushing her fingers through her hair. she turns to you again. "do i look okay?"

"you always do!" you giggle, tapping her shoulder. "if he's a good guy, he will like you regardless. trust me on that one."

the door opens, revealing a guy you know you've seen around in your classes before, but never really knew his name. he sees you first, eyebrows shooting up at your presence on their front porch. "oh, what are you doing here? oh, lily!"

you press your lips into a small smile, pointing at lily. “for her.”

"of course! i'm frederik. you can call me fred," he shrugs. "you're under oscar’s guestlist tonight, right? and you’re lily's plus one?"

"yeah. is he around?" lily asks, craning her neck to peek into the chaos that awaits both of you in the house. "he told me to come at 8, but i saw people are already leaving. are we late?"

"nah, you're just on time," frederik laughs, beckoning for both of you to step into the house. he leads you through the small crowd. there are not as many people as you had expected. "that party's from the other frat next door. our party starts at 8. oscar's just woken up from his nap so i'll leave you guys in the vip area if you don't mind?"

"oh, you're leaving?" you pipe up, turning to him slightly. "why don't you stay with us and guard us?" he slumps his shoulders. "i'd love to. but we're tight on people tonight. i have to be everywhere."

he stops right by a stanchion, sectioning a part of the living room away from the crowd. there isn’t anybody in the said vip area, making you raise your eyebrows. perhaps you’re too early?

you actually have never been to a party, and it’s against your better judgment even to be here in the first place. if it hadn’t been for lily’s insistence to make it out to the party that oscar personally asked her to attend, you wouldn’t be here. either way, a frat party isn’t a place lily should be alone in.

“well, if you guys need any drinks, ollie is at the bar,” frederik smiles. he glances at lily. “you’ve met him, right? he will use the good liquor for you guys.”

“of course,” lily grins, dropping herself on the couch gently. “oscar’s on his way down?”

frederik glances at the stairs. “he should be. he doesn’t take that long to get ready.”

you watch with a frown as frederik walks away with a small wave, eventually disappearing into the house. the house is slowly filling with people and you take a seat next to lily with questions at the top of your head. “why is there a guest list?”

“yeah, the frat doesn’t like letting their parties get too wild so it’s by invite only,” lily explains. “it helps them minimise the chaos a little bit. i think that’s what oscar said.”

“that would be right.” a head makes you turn your head, jumping back at the head that’s popped between you and lily. “you guys are with oscar?”

lily nods. “i’m a friend of his.” she gestures towards you. “this is my plus one.”

“oh, cool,” he grins. “i’m logan. can i get you guys some drinks? we make cocktails, we’ve got beer… you can get it on the rocks too, if you want.”

you shake your head with a small smile. “i don’t drink. thank you, though.”

“i’d like a long island please,” lily smiles sweetly. she drops her head slightly to give you an encouraging smile. “you could get a mojito. it’s like sprite with mint — we can just ask them to put less alcohol in it.”

“do you have just sprite?” you press your lips together with a worried stare at logan. you never really cared what others thought, but you could feel the judgment coming through from the way he turned his head and looked at you in shock.

you didn’t know college students were so cutthroat about the consumption of alcohol.

“really? i could just ask ollie to put in a drop of rum into the mojito,” logan suggests. “but that’s up to you. don’t feel pressured to drink alcohol if you don’t want to.”

you smile politely and nod your head at him. “just a canned sprite will do. thank you.”

you take a deep breath, slotting your laptop and notebook into your bag. heaps of students are already rushing to pour out of the lecture room while you stay behind to wait the crowd out. maybe they’ve got places to be, but you’ve got nowhere to be.

you lean back on the row behind you, watching the crowd slowly die down before you make your way out of the row you were sitting at. in the other aisle, there’s someone still sitting, typing away on his laptop.

as you pass him, he looks up at you with a polite smile, his blue eyes bearing into yours curiously. you return a small smile before shyly turning away and hopping down the stairs.

he’s pretty cute, you’ve got to admit. all semester long — all 3 weeks of it since you started your sophomore year — you always somehow run into that same guy. you’ve come to find out, from his friends screaming it in the campus cafeteria, that his name is mick. but, well, you’re not brave enough to make a first move.

so you walk down the steps with a small grin on your face. you take one last glance at him, still very focused on his screen, before you pull the door open to leave the lecture hall.

“hey!” a figure immediately steps up in front of you when you let go of the door. “hi, i’m- i’m logan. we met at the party last friday? you went with lily?”

your eyebrows shoot up in shock, unsure why or how he’s standing outside here. or how he even recognised you in the first place. the frat house was dim and crowded when he came to offer you and lily drinks. “ah, yes! are you looking for lily? i don’t have many classes with her, but i can call her for you if you’d like.”

“no,” logan grins, shoving his hands into his pockets. “i actually looked for her to find you. i couldn’t find you at the party the other night. is everything okay? did something happen?”

your lips part with an understanding nod. “yeah, i took off early. parties aren’t really my thing,” you explain. “i did have fun for the hour that i did stay, though! i never got to thank you for the sprite that you got me.”

“don’t worry about that. we were hosting, and you guys were someone’s special guests, or so i heard,” he smiles. “so, um…”

you tilt your head and look up at him, slightly confused. what business did this frat boy have with you? had you done something wrong during the party? were you supposed to bid goodbye before leaving the party because it was invitational? “i’m sorry i didn’t say goodbye,” you blurt out of nervousness.

he throws his head back slightly, blinking blankly at your reaction. “what?”

“i’m sorry,” you laugh softly, “i don’t really go to parties, and especially not ones held in a frat.”

“what are you talking about? it’s not about the party,” he laughs. you tilt your head more and furrow your eyebrows at the dimple that makes a brief appearance on his face. he’s a lot cuter in daylight than he was in the neon lights that illuminated the dark living room of their frat house.

“oh. then what are you here for?”

“i was,” he looks away briefly with a small smile, “i was wondering if i could take you out to dinner some time?”

you straighten your back at his request and grip the handles of your bag that’s resting on your shoulder. “pardon?”

logan clears his throat and stands a little straighter. “well, i think you’re really cute. i’d really like to take you out to dinner some time this week. if,” he pauses, waiting to see for any more reactions that would give away your potential answer, “you think i’m also cute?”

“i mean i think you’re cute,” you grin sweetly, dropping your head slightly. you watch as a hopeful smile spreads across his face before an apologetic expression covers yours. “but i reckon i’m not really your type.”

“what do you mean?” his eyebrows furrow and he frowns slightly at your rejection. not to say that he’s never been at the receiving end of being rejected by girls before, but it’s certainly not as common as it used to be when he was in high school.

“i’m not a party girl. seeing as how you were that night at your party, it might be safe to assume that this wouldn’t really work,” you explain slowly. “it’s not a bad thing! i just… i don’t think we would click like that.”

logan continues to tower over you in shock. you sigh. “i’m really very sorry. you are cute–”

“then let me take you out on a date?”

“–but let’s not waste each other’s time.” you take a step to the side. “i’ll see you around, logan. i had fun at the party.”

lily laughs. “oh, come on. logan’s not that bad!”

“i literally watched him go crazy over beer pong!” you explain, throwing your head back in disbelief. you pinch the bridge of your nose at what she’s trying to get at after you told her the story. “i left 45 minutes into the party because the music was too loud!”

oscar sits on your couch, slightly amused at the situation with his arm slung around lily’s shoulders loosely. “he’s alright. he can be a bit much sometimes.”

“oh, you’re not helping your friend here,” lily gasps exasperatedly, smacking oscar lightly. oscar laughs softly, throwing his head back at lily’s will to defend logan through and through. she looks back at you and throws her arms in the air. “what’s the worst that could happen if you go out on one date?”

“i don’t want to waste my time. i have enough going on as is.” you widen your eyes and glance at oscar with pleading eyes, hopeful that he can find the words to get lily off your back. “we’re total opposites! i’m an academic — it’s all i’ve ever known.”

oscar shrugs. “she’s right, you know,” oscar mutters, earning himself a glare from lily. he tilts his hands up into the air. “logan’s not been an academic in a hot minute. he skips classes, he frequents parties a lot, he gets into fights…” he looks at you. “you made the right decision.”

“i know.”

“no,” lily says slightly firmer this time. she sits up slightly and plants her feet on the ground. “what if he straightens his act because of you? i think being in your company would really do logan some good.”

“you want me to let him take me out on a date just so he can justify the school fees he’s paying? are you crazy?”

“not like that! i mean, like, if the date goes well, then i think it would help logan see the brighter side of things,” lily explains with an eye roll. she turns to oscar. “don’t you think so? don’t you want to see logan in classes again?”

oscar squints his eyes, pursing his lips slightly as he looks at lily. you gasp and stomp your foot on the ground. “don’t tell me you’re actually considering this, oscar!”

“it’s a silly idea,” oscar says. you sigh in relief before you turn on your heel, ready to get some rest for your classes tomorrow. “but–” you turn back around in panic at his change of tone. “he’s a good guy in general; just a little… misguided nowadays. he’s a pretty sweet guy.”

“sweet guys wouldn’t skip class and challenge random party attendees to a fight when he’s one of the hosts.”

“true,” oscar points out knowingly, “but if you give him a chance, you’ll see that he’s not as bad as he was that night. i mean, it was a party. everyone gets rowdy sometimes at parties.”

you fold your arms over your chest, staring at them incredulously. there’s no way that they’re making you agree to go on a date with somebody who’s a polar opposite, right? either way, it seems unethical and rude to go out on a date with logan just to hope on the fact that he will get his act together.

“that’s not fair.”

“at least give him a chance,” lily grins, eyebrows raising hopefully. “he’s not as bad as you think he is.”

you walk the busy halls of the campus, trying your best not to bump into anyone as you send your parents a quick text message. you glance up at the lecture hall you’re heading towards and flinch slightly at the figure waiting right by the door.

you sigh softly to yourself, dropping your phone into your bag as you approach the door. “i said no, you know that, right?”

“you didn’t even give me a chance,” logan hums with the sweetest smile he can sport to show you. he extends his hand with a small bouquet and rocks back and forth on his feet. “one date. if you still don’t think we would be good together after that, i’ll leave you alone.”

you stare at the flowers before you lift your eyes to meet his. “logan…”

“one date. no alcohol, no drinks, no parties,” logan suggests. his eyes light up when you look back down at the bouquet. “a proper date. i’ll take you out on a proper date.”

“fine,” you say, taking the bouquet into your hands. you lift it slightly. “thank you for the flowers. i’m busy tonight and tomorrow, how does thursday sound?”

he can’t contain the smile growing on his face. “great! i’ll pick you up at 6?”

you nod, but before you can tell him where to meet you, he’s already jogging away from you. “hey, i haven’t told you where to pick me up!”

“i’m gonna be late to class!” he laughs, waving at you. “i’ll ask lily for your number — i’ll text you tonight i promise!”

you raise an eyebrow at his statement. he’s going to class. you tilt your head with a small smile and glance down at the flowers, grazing your nails over the petals of the lavender. you press your lips together, admittedly trying to calm your racing heart. it’s very thoughtful: the flowers and the waiting for you outside your lecture hall.

logan is lucky that he’s cute, or that simple gesture of waiting for you might have bordered the line of being weird.

you press your lips together and make a sharp turn towards the door again. someone swiftly passes your stiff figure right by the door, pushing the door open that leads into the lecture hall. he steps aside and holds the door open, peeking from behind slightly to beckon you to come in.

it’s mick.

you smile. “thank you.”

he glances down at what you have in your hands. “ah, flowers. lucky guy.”

logan walks next to you in the hallway of your apartment complex, his denim jacket wrapped around you warmly. he sighs with a small smile. “i hope you enjoyed the date, at least. it wasn’t much, but–”

“what?” you laugh, the sound echoing down the hall. “don’t beat yourself up over it. i enjoyed the restaurant and the food. i enjoyed the car ride to get desserts too.”

“i know it’s a little underwhelming,” logan sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “but i really do hope that you enjoyed the date. because i know that i enjoyed myself.”

much to your surprise, the date went very well. you didn’t have a lot in common with logan, but you did click to a certain degree. surprisingly, he did have a pathway he wanted to pursue after graduation, which is why he’s enrolled on the major he’s in right now.

he softly, and hesitantly admitted to you that it’s been difficult to find motivation since the new semester started. you completely understand that.

you stop at your door, then turn to look at him. “don’t overthink it. i enjoyed myself tonight. thank you, logan.”

you’re ready to walk through that door right now and admit to lily that you’ve misjudged logan’s character. despite his tendency to be a bit of a walking menace, oscar is right about him being a sweet guy.

he opened his car door for you in all instances, gave you flowers (despite having given you one just two days ago), held your bag and gave you his jacket despite it being cold outside. you insisted on going dutch with the bill, but he beat you to the cashier to pay for the entire meal.

“do i get to take you out on a second date?” logan raises an eyebrow with a small smile. “i know a place.”

you press your lips together, trying to hold back a smile and a definite answer. you step forward and press a kiss on his cheek, giggling when you see his cheeks flush. “let’s have lunch tomorrow after my morning class,” you say with a pat on his shoulder. “text me when you get back to the frat house.”

he barely has any time to respond before you stumble into your apartment with a hand to your chest. lily, sitting on the couch doing one of her assignments, immediately looks up with wide eyes and a hopeful grin.

you don’t say anything, just shriek and run over to the red head with stories upon stories spilling past your lips.

“is this seat taken?”

you look up and flinch slightly at the pair of green eyes and soft smirk looking down at you. “logan! you aren’t in this class. what are you doing here?”

“i don’t have a class right now,” logan whispers with a small grin. “the library is full, the guys are being rowdy in the house — i’ve got an assignment i need to start on.”

“and you thought my lecture would be the perfect place to get some peace and quiet?”

“yes. and also the fact that you’re here helps.” he starts to put his things on the empty spot next to you. “do you wanna grab some dinner after your class?”

you frown slightly, keeping your eyes trained on the door for your professor to walk in. admittedly, you’re quite scared that logan’s in a class that he’s not supposed to be in.

surely your professor wouldn’t notice a fresh face in a room full of a hundred students, right?

“i’ve got tutoring after my class. it’s tuesday.”

“right. i forgot,” logan whispers. “can i pick you up afterward then?”

“i can’t stay out late. i’ve got class early tomorrow.”

“i know,” logan nods, pressing his lips together into a smile. “just want to see you. let me send you home?”

you laugh sheepishly, turning your head to look at him. you promptly drop your smile when you realise he’s serious. “oh, you’re serious.” he nods with a hopeful smile, repeating his question if you’d let him. you smile and sink into your seat. “sure. that’s very thoughtful. thank you.”

you press your lips together, picking at your nails as you look over the railing to the crowd downstairs. “are you sure about this? i can just go home if you want. i don’t really want to be a bother…”

“no, don’t be silly,” logan smiles, taking a step down. he holds his hand out to you. “it’s a smaller party than the first one you attended. no plus ones this time.”

you hum, pressing your lips to the side. “i’m not really a party person, lo.”

“it’s not a party. it’s a small get-together.” you hesitantly take his hand, letting him lead you down the stairs. “but i guess if you prefer to head home… i can drive you home.”

you take a deep breath and try to count the number of people on the first floor. there’s no way this is considered a small get-together — you lost count after 20. “i’ll stay for a little while… no drinks for me, okay?”

“just a little bit?”

you sigh. “like, a drop.”

“are you guys together yet?” lily giggles, watching you walk out of the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate.

“are you and oscar together yet?” you throw the question back at her, tucking your legs under your body. lily stares at you with wide eyes, lips pursed together at your retort. “exactly. that’s what i thought.”

“but that’s not the same.”

“you’re right — it’s not the same. cause you and oscar actually like each other.”

lily tilts her head. “you still don’t like logan? i thought everything is going well.”

“i do! i already do — i like him a lot, actually,” you sigh. “but i don’t know… we’ve been going out for like 3 weeks… i don’t know what we are.”

lily’s face contorts into something of disbelief. she looks at you. “you guys still haven’t established anything yet?”

you press your lips together. “is it that bad that we haven’t established anything yet? isn’t it like… normal? i mean, we’ve only been seeing each other for 2 months.”

“it’s already been 2 months?” you watch lily sink into the couch and puff her cheeks. “you guys are together more than half the week… have you even held hands yet?”

“of course, we have,” you scoff, slightly offended. despite being closed off yourself and being more on the inactive side, you’ve had your fair shares of relationships. “i’m not a prude — not that it’s a bad thing to be one. but seriously, lily?”

“maybe logan’s more traditional about things like this,” lily mutters, shrugging. she takes a scoop from her tub of ice cream and shoves the spoon into her mouth. “who knows? i’m not his friend.”

“that’s what i’m trying to say. but i don’t know. maybe he just doesn’t like me as much as he thought he would when he first asked me to go on a date,” you shrug, pressing your lips together. “that’s okay. maybe i should ask him tomorrow when we go the pier?”

“should you, though?”

you shrug. “better than living in the dark, right?”

lily presses her lips together. “what about that cute guy in one of your lectures? have you guys interacted again recently?”

you drop your head with a shrug. “not since he saw me with flowers in my hands that one time. he sits really far back nowadays and leaves with the crowd.”

“i told you he had a thing for you,” she says, words muffled from the ice cream in her mouth as she points the spoon directly at you. “you never believe me — i’m like the love expert or something.”

you dart your tongue out and kick her lightly. “because you’re often wrong. oscar is probably the only decent guy you’ve dated.”

she perks up with a proud smile. “i know. he’s so not made to be a frat bro. if it weren’t for logan and the difficulty of finding housing for college, he wouldn’t have been there.”

you breathe out slowly as the wind pushes all of your hair out of your face. you feel logan’s grip around your hand tighten as you take a stroll on the boardwalk of the beach near campus.

since logan had picked you up from your apartment, you’ve had this nagging feeling creeping up on you. it’s one thing to talk about asking him about the status of your relationship, but it’s another to stand in front of him to actually say the words and get an answer. “i want to ask you something if that’s okay.”

“of course,” logan nods, slowing down with his eyebrows furrowed. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, i just don’t know if i should be asking you this at all,” you say softly, turning to face him. you grab his other hand and purse your lips together. “we’ve been going out for a while… lily’s asked me, but i don’t really know what to answer. what are we? like… are we together?”

his reaction is unreadable. you watch as his forehead relaxes, but the way his lips part and the way his eyes stare into yours intensely is telling you a different story. “i… um…”

you smile and squeeze his hands. “that’s okay. you don’t have to put a label; it’s just a question.”

you turn away to continue your walk when logan pulls you back gently to face him. “no, it’s not that i don’t want this to go anywhere — i do. i really like you. but i feel like… we should take this slow, don’t you think so? there’s a lot more we don’t know about each other, and–”

“no need to explain yourself,” you hum, patting his shoulder gently. “we can go slow if you need to. after all, you’ve got tons of assignments to catch up on.”

he laughs. “there’s really too many to count.”

“there’s only too many to count because you keep skipping classes, lo.”

“try it,” oscar laughs, handing you a slice of lime. “lily’s got a plastic bag in case you have to puke.”

you hesitantly take the lime into your hands and raise an eyebrow. “are you guys sure about this? i told you i’m not a drinker.” you lift the cocktail in your hands. “i’m good with my cocktail. shots are daunting.”

liam sighs, shaking his head. “no, mate. you don’t have to drink the tequila if you don’t want to.”

“just try it once,” oscar shrugs. “one shot. the trick is to get a lot of salt to really offset the taste of tequila. then bite on the lime to finish it off.”

logan smiles at you. “do you want me to show you how to do a body shot, babe? it’s easy, and i’ll only pour half for you.”

you laugh, throwing your head back. “um, sure? how do you even–”

lily steps forward. “you need to put the lime in your mouth. and then,” she pauses to take something from the table, “we put the salt on you. is your neck okay?”

“my neck?”

“it’s a body shot,” logan giggles, breath already reeking from all the beer he’d drank from his game of beer pong. “it’s supposed to involve the body in some way.”

you take a deep breath. “i guess.”

you tilt your head back slightly and look into the crowd, bored. if you had the option to sit out this party, you genuinely would. but the frat was hosting again and logan insisted that you make a small appearance for a couple of hours.

or, in his words, he’ll teach you a couple of drinking games for the future. if not for your time in college, at least for the parties to come into your adulthood.

you lean back against the counter as lily swipes your neck with damp fingers, pressing a bit of salt against your skin. you sigh as she positions the lime into your mouth, careful not to bite too hard.

a familiar pair of blue eyes shine in the dark, looking right at you as he enters a kitchen with a friend. he furrows his eyebrows at the sight of you surrounded by a crowd of frat brothers and lily. you scrunch your nose and raise your eyebrows at him, prompting mick to wave at you hesitantly with a confused expression on his face.

which, you can argue, you’re probably having the same thought as he is: what the hell is someone like you doing in a frat party?

he disappears into the crowd, making you sigh to yourself before you feel a pair of lips hovering dangerously close to your ears. “ready, babe?”

you turn your head slightly and grin. “yes. show me how to do a body shot.”

you purse your lips together. “sorry, lo. i’m not really feeling a party tonight. i think i’ll just head back,” you say softly, leaning on the railing that gives you a sneak peek of what kind of party it would be tonight.

in the first place, you’ve got a submission for an assignment on monday night. this weekend is important that you keep free for yourself — you told logan that multiple times. yet he still insisted that you stay over tonight for the party.

“are you sure?” logan sighs, frowning slightly. “can you stay a while? frederik invited the other frat over for a party. they’re mostly upperclassmen. it won’t be that bad tonight.”

but you’re insistent. you’ve still got tons of research to do. “no, i’ve really got to head back tonight. i’m sorry, lo,” you shake your head, walking around logan to head down the steps by yourself. “you don’t have to drive me back if they’re already here. i’ll just call an uber.”

logan tilts his head and chases after you down the steps. he stops a step after you, prompting you to come to a halt. “are you sure, babe? you don’t even have to drink tonight; you can stay in my room and do your research for your paper. you don’t have to go.”

“i’m sure,” you smile slightly. though, you remember a time when it wouldn’t even have to be questioned that you preferred to leave early instead of sticking around for the party. “i’ll just text you tomorrow.”

you shake your head and press your lips together, walking towards the door of the house. you keep your head low, not wanting to receive any questions from frederik or his friends why you’re leaving so soon since the party had just started.

when you get away from the crowd of the house, you’re dialling lily’s phone number to pick you up. when she doesn’t answer, you sigh and try to book an uber for yourself. but, it’s a busy friday night and drivers wouldn’t earn much driving you two blocks out of campus.

you sigh, fully considering the 25-minute walk back to your apartment complex.

“hey, what are you doing out here instead of the party?” a familiar voice approaches you, making you turn around to meet the brightest blue eyes you’ve seen. he says your name in a question to confirm if it’s really you and you respond with a shy nod. “heading home early?”

“yeah,” you laugh airily, glancing down at your phone to see if you’ve gotten any luck with an uber. “i still have research for that one assignment we have due on monday. i wish i could stay.”

“do you need a ride back?” he smiles, tilting his head with a sweet smile. “i’m designated driver tonight, by the way, if you’re concerned about drinking and driving.”

“no,” you laugh, shaking your head. “i don’t want to keep you from the party. i can walk home.”

“it’s really late. are you insane?” he raises an eyebrow and beckons you down the sidewalk where his car is parked. “come on, let me make your life a little easier and drive you home.”

“hey, liam?” you say softly, barely tapping the taller man’s shoulder to get his attention. he stands from his position over the table, filling cups for the next round of beer pong. “sorry.”

“it’s no problem, mate. what’s up?” liam bends down slightly, though continuing to pour beer into the red solo cups, leaning into you to listen to you over the music. “can i help you with something?”

“yeah, um,” you trail off, “have you seen logan? he left me alone like about 10 minutes ago. i haven’t really seen him since. i’m getting pretty worried.”

“oh, i saw him.” ollie appears next to you with a small smile. “i saw him go up to his room about 5 minutes ago. he was on the phone with somebody, i think. it looked really serious, actually, but i don’t know. it’s logan — you never really know.”

liam laughs. “you know where his room is, right? ollie can bring you if you’ve forgotten.”

you give them a thumbs up with a smile. “i can get to his room. thank you.” you pat ollie on the arm. “thank you. prepare me a margarita? i’ll be back down soon with logan.”

you quickly excuse yourself, pushing yourself through the crowd. you jog up the stairs and immediately find logan’s room. well, it’s not that hard; it’s the second door to the left in the long stretch of bedrooms. the door to his room is slightly ajar.

“lo–” you cut yourself when you pop your head in and see that he’s still on the phone.

“will you just listen to me? fuck’s sake?” logan says tiredly. you peek in slightly more. he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees as he grabs his cheeks. “i– i don’t know, okay? i like her– yes, i do. but i still think of you. sometimes.”

you furrow your eyebrows. you never knew about a potential ex-girlfriend that he could still be hung up about. “i’m not leaving her for you. i told you this before — whatever happened 3 months ago, that’s all that will ever be of us.”

you try to do the math in your head. if you’ve been seeing logan for approximately 5 months now, what the hell did he do 3 months ago? well, you suppose you didn’t have a label up until you asked 2 and a half months in. which is fine and realistic — on a technicality.

@cashtons-wife @localwhoore @vroomvroomcircuit @foreveralbon @what-is-happening-helpp @angsthology @urfavnoirette

[wineauntharry]

New Nerves j.b.

guys!! Don’t hate me but a lot of my stuff will prob be short since i’m easing back into writing. I love you all endlessly and i am working through the requests i promise!

Based off of these requests:

“hey! Can you write something where the reader and Joe are in a fairly new relationship and she goes to her first game of his, standing in the family area on the sidelines, and this is their first public outing?

THANK YOU!”

and

“Yay welcome back!! What about a Joe burrow one where you go down to the field to see him right before the game? “

…………

New Nerves

j.b.

“come down i wanna see u :)”

Joe had texted me while I was up sitting in the box with the rest of his family waiting for the game to start. We were enjoying a few drinks dressed in our orange when I excused myself. I snuck out of my seat and made my way towards the door when Joe’s mom asked me where I was headed to.

“Y/N where are you headed to?” she asked.

“Joe is begging for me to come down there so you know I have to before he throws a tantrum.” I replied with a slight giggle.

“That boy is so dramatic. Well, if you stop for a snack, grab me one pretty please.” she asked.

“Will do ma.” I let out quickly before turning back around and heading out. 

My nerves were a little wracked since this was the first time Joe and I were gonna be seen in public as a couple. Sure we had been together since our sophomore year of college, but ever since Joe started his professional career, we kept things private.

 I made my way down the steps past all of the seated fans and went over to the ledge where I saw Joe stretching and talking to his other teammates. I wanted to grab his attention but I knew how important it was for him to warm up. I had been waiting for a few minutes when Ja’Marr had pointed me out to Joe. I saw his head snap and we made eye contact as the widest, cheeky grin flooded his face.

He came jogging over to me like the cutest little kid. Not even noticing the photographers on the field pointing their cameras in our direction.

“Hi baby” he said through a grin.

“Hey honey” I replied as I leaned down over the railing to place a kiss on his forehead.

“No lips?” he questioned with his puppy dog eyes.

I bent back down with a huff to place a soft kiss on his lips. Just as our lips connected I felt both of his arms snake under my armpits as he brought me down over the railing with a swift pull.

“Joseph! Everyone is gonna see us!” I yelled as I was laughing.

“Sorry baby, just missed you a little extra. Plus who cares, you’re with me not them. ” He replied with a warm smile and rosey cheeks to match it.

“You’re crazy” I said as he finally placed my feet on the ground and towered over me with all of his gear on. He was always so handsome.

“Can’t keep my girl a secret anymore.” He replied while placing one of his hands on the small of my back, lightly pushing on it to bring me closer to him. I was admiring how pretty he was when his teammates started yelling for him to head over to their huddle since the game was about to begin.

“Joe, you gotta go, come on.” I said sternly.

He placed a few more sloppy kisses on my lips before he placed his hands back on my hips. I turned around to face the ledge again as he helped me jump up to reach it. I stablelized my footing as I propped myself up over the ledge. I turned around to wish him good luck. 

As he was running off I was blowing him kisses and mouthing ‘i love you’ until he turned around and reached his hudled team. 

As I was making my way up the stairs back to the box I noticed fans with their phones out.

Shit.

Realizing that people had seen us being affectionate for the first time was all I could think about. I always told Joe how worried I was about how mean some people on the internet could be. He always reassured me that I was safe with him. God, he was so convincing.

As I reached the box where the rest of his family was sitting, the worries about social media and pda that had previously flooded my mind were washed away when I realized I forgot the most important thing.

His moms snack

I mean she couldn’t be that mad if I didn’t stop to get myself one, right?

………………..

guys why do i kind of hate this lol somebody please invalidate the negative feelings. ANYWAYS, thank you for the absolutely insane support, i can’t thank you guys enough i am so serious. sorry this is so short, i don’t feel super confident yet. regardless of that I LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU!

xx, kitt

masterlist!

requests!

[cassayeee]

MY LITTLE SECRET (FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER)

warnings: porn with quite a bit of plot (i can never just write a oneshot), emotional sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), virginity loss, slight marking, mentions of killing, death, and suicidal thoughts (this is the hunger games), just be wary fr - minors stay away

notes: so this was a request from @theBridgetopanem on ao3 and, ugh, it's just so cute. love me some soft boy finnick. once again, very quickly edited so sorry for any grammatical mistakes. anywho - make sure to like, reblog, and comment! love u all <3

word count: 9.4k

summary:

No one truly understands the deception of humanity more than those who have the power to take it away. To push innocents against innocents and make sure nothing more than blood and broken souls remains where hope and naivety once stood.

It was a horrible nightmare in your mind – trying to think like them. Trying to survive. And the shadows that followed you out of that arena as people congratulated you for being a victor? Well, they knew what the absence of humanity really brought.

Fear.

OR

Finnick Odair is your mentor for the 70th Hunger Games and you can't help but find comfort in the man who is in your life solely to make sure you don't die.

The 70th Hunger Games, ready to begin.

Your name, reaped.

All hope, lost.

Voices flickered in and out of your consciousness as you made your way up to the stage. Of course, this happens to you in your last year of eligibility, why wouldn’t it? Time sped and slowed as it pleased, having no regard for your ticking thoughts. Nor did it care for your unwillingness to let it pass.

This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening. Why is this happening?

You weren’t a Career. You had no special talents besides swimming and spearfishing. Swimming. How for fucks sake was that going to get you through the Games? News flash: it wouldn’t. Maybe spearfishing? But that was hardly a skill that could contend with previous victors. And it definitely wouldn’t help you against the Careers.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

As you curled into the dark spot floating at the edge of your vision, you barely heard the name of the male tribute announced beside you. Isaac? Ethan? Ian? Why does it matter anyway? You weren’t going to make it out of here. This was it. The ocean was draining, and you were being sucked down with it.

You barely noticed the Peacekeepers usher you off the stage and saying goodbye to your family was now a flicker of a memory. Siblings would never see you again. You would never be able to make them laugh in your family home or try to eat your mother’s insufferable cooking again. You would never be able to brush off fishing duty to go swimming with Annie or visit the town tavern with her again.

Oh, Annie.

Best friends since birth, the two of you were practically inseparable. Many of your other friends and family joked that the two of you must have been a soul split because of how alike you were. You did everything together, but the shining break in this storm was the fact that she wasn’t standing where you were. That your siblings weren’t. If it had to be any of you, you were glad that it was yourself.

But, fuck – you wish it would have been anyone else’s name picked out of the grim bowl.

---

Stepping foot on that train was probably the hardest decision of your life. Not that it was much of a decision, really. If you wouldn’t have gotten on yourself, the Peacekeepers would have gladly thrown you on there themselves.

You couldn’t say that you were too impressed with the interior of it. Honestly, it just looks like the Capitol threw up all over it. Yes, your family home was nicer than most of those in the other Districts due to the wealth of the area, but you didn’t care about all of that. The people made a house a home, and this train was nothing more than a moving coffin.

As your Capitol lapdog, Jorge, showed you and your fellow tribute into the lounge car, a head of bronze hair caught your eye. His arms were spread wide on either side of him as he lounged on the travel sofa – seeming to be as content as a summer’s day. You could almost laugh at the absurdity of it. But, before that mocking gaggle could make its way out of your throat, the man before you turned.

Oh, shit.

Finnick Odair. You needed no introduction of his, everyone in District 4 was aware of him after his victory in the 64th Games. Youngest ever and all that, you had to respect him for making it through. What you couldn’t respect, however, was his enjoyment of his Capitol fame. He appeared on screen at least five times a month at some prestigious party, the arm candy to some Capitol prissy who you really couldn’t bother to care about. Why should you when they laugh and cheer for children to die for their amusement? It was absolutely disgusting. 

Flashing you with a stunning smile, he popped a sugar cube in his mouth as Jorge motioned for the two of you to sit across from him. His sea-green eyes followed your movements as you stiffly sat before him, like a prized pet for sale. Your shoulders were locked tight as you stared back at the man before you. Tanned skin from hours on the coast and beauty that even the old Gods would envy, you couldn’t discount his looks. But you knew those could be deceiving. And anyone who wins the Games knows how to be deceiving.

“Hey, you two,” he began as he looked between you and… Ian? Yeah, let’s go with that. “This isn’t a position I want to see anyone in, but I’m here to help make sure you make it through whatever hellscape of an arena they have planned for you and get you used to the culture of the Capitol.”

You could feel your hands shake as this terror became more real with every word he spoke. He’s my mentor. I have a mentor. I’m really a tribute.

I’m going to die.

Every ill thought you had of Finnick was immediately disposed of. He was a lifeline in this – he knew how to win. And if you had to be deceitful, manipulative, hell, even seductive through this, you’d take whatever advice he had and hold onto it with your life.

Quickly grasping your hands together to try and still them, you showed nothing but vulnerability as you slouched in your seat. You could feel another panic attack coming on, but you shoved it down to deal with later so you could talk with Finnick. You weren’t going to waste a single moment on this train that didn’t provide you with some sort of opportunity to gain skills that would help you make it out of the arena.

Finnick saw how your composure changed as soon as he started talking and his heart broke a bit from the horribleness of this. He meant it when he said that he didn’t want anyone else to be in this position, for the Games to be a reality, but he would be damned if he didn’t make sure that one of you wouldn’t come out a victor. So, the three of you got to work and talked through the whole ride to the Capitol.

---

Finnick was betting on your spearfishing skills to get you through.

“The other tributes will be spread between those who know how to hunt, how to hide, and how to survive. I need you to be all three.” He stated.

The two of you were working together before your training began in the Tribute Center, stealing your last little bit of train time to work on hand-to-hand skills. Ian was off resting since Finnick was already aware of his expertise with tridents. Apparently, the two had known each other prior to all of this. Finnick wasn’t worried about him. No, he was worried about you.

“I’ve never hunted another person before.” You reminded him. “Fish are different.”

He was showing you maneuvers that could be used for deflection at this point. Utilizing the strength of the staff would be crucial, but since the Capitol provided metal ones in the arena, there was no worry about it breaking. Being in the proper position to block vital spots was up to you, though.

“Fish are small targets,” he nailed his trident against your spear, the reverberation racing up your arms. You continued to hold on. “Humans are bigger. More places to aim for.”

“But they can fight back.” You remarked as you readjusted your hold on the spear. “They can kill me just as easily.”

“Then be faster. Be quiet and quick and they won’t know you’re there until the damage is already done.” He urged. Setting his trident against the wall, he stripped off his shirt from the exertion and reached for a bottle of water to rehydrate.

Your mouth watered at the view. He was, in the simplest of terms, gorgeous. Taunt muscles built from years of experience stretched across his expanse as sweat trickled between the valleys of them. His Adam’s apple bobbed in tandem with his swallows and you were entranced by the movement. You don’t know what he did in a past life to be graced with a body like that, but you had to appreciate it if even for this one moment.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the distraction, you grabbed a drink of water as well, taking the time to think of your odds. They’ve been getting better with Finnick’s instruction, but it was your intelligence and timing that would get you to the victor’s circle. Confidence was starting to brew in your veins, and you didn’t want it to go away.

Setting the bottle down, you grabbed your spear once more and took a fighter’s stance with it. Finnick noticed and lifted a well-manicured brow at you.

“I’ve got the defense positions down,” you started. “Now show me how to win.”

---

You tried not to stand out amongst the other tributes as much as you could, in hopes that they would view you as nothing more than some meek and useless girl. Your plan was that if you kept your head down, they wouldn’t view you as a threat. While that could cause some to view you as an easy target, it would also keep the element of surprise tidily tucked in your back pocket.

However, you stuck close to Ian as Finnick urged the two of you to attempt an alliance – granting the ability for at least one person to keep an eye on your blind spots. You weren’t naïve, though. Alliances were unsteady, especially if it came down to saving your own skin over the others. And there was no proof that Ian would even keep his word about meeting in the arena, let alone keeping you alive long enough to hear the first sounds of cannon fire. If you were a betting man, you wouldn’t bet on him.

But he did bring in two more members to your shaky alliance, Della Remfar and Billy Churl from District 10. Not Career-material by a long shot, but they were both highly adept with an array of knife work. And, to your knowledge, both knew the cleanest and quickest ways to stab, slice, and gut something – which could definitely come in handy.

Even after surrounding yourself with the three, you weren’t entirely sold on the idea of putting any sort of trust in them. You didn’t speak of anything personal, nor did you even attempt to learn anything about them. It would be easier this way. There can only be one victor in the end, and the memories of the fallen tributes should be left to be carried on by their own friends and families, not by someone who was an instrument in their death.

And, selfishly, you just didn’t want the chance of actually liking any of them to arise. It would be hard enough to kill strangers – killing friends would probably destroy you.

---

The training scores were being announced as you sat between Finnick and Ian. Nervously, you kept bouncing your leg up and down on the plush seat as you waited for your name to pop up on the screen.

Your show to the Gamemakers may not have been anything extremely special, but you would be damned if your new prowess with a spear would go unnoticed. Finnick’s teachings were nothing short of a blessing, and every time you lifted that metal bar, you had the unrestrained thought of making him proud.

It was strange, to find comfort in a man whose sole purpose in your life was to keep you from dying. He would do all he could to keep sponsors coming your way and leave you with all the knowledge and tricks he gained from his own Games. And you would survive. If you wished hard enough that you would live through it, perhaps you could wish it into existence.

A fool’s thought, but it didn’t stop you from looking up to the night sky every night and doing just that. It wasn’t a prayer, not by a long shot. If there was a God out there, you’d hate them with every fiber of your being for allowing their “children” to do this to one another without fear of repercussion. You were already in a living hell – it couldn’t get much worse than this.

Silencing your mind, you peaked with interest as Ian’s name flashed across the screen along with his score. An 8. That was solid. Enough to show the sponsors he was someone worth rooting for and kept the Careers off his tail for being too much of a threat. But it’s not like you cared that much when your name and picture finally appeared.

From pure desperation and worry soaking your veins, you grabbed Finnick’s hand in an attempt to calm yourself. You couldn’t even look at him, not as your eyes were glued to the screen in front of you. But Finnick looked at you.

He saw how scared you were – not just from the placings, but from the whole event. He couldn’t be surprised – hardly anyone made it through the Games without being completely terrified. Even in his own Games, he was fearful. Petrified, more like. No one wants to die like an animal and, besides the vicious, no one wants to kill another human being like one either. So, tightening his own hand around yours, softly rubbing his thumb on the back, he waited with bated breath for your score.

9. Oh, fuck.

“That puts you right around the Careers,” Finnick whispered to you.

You nodded your head, eyes still staring straight at some unknown point in front of you. Your hand was still wrapped around Finnick’s, neither one of you wanting to let go from the worldly anchor. In truth, you were surprised you had placed that high, and by the slightly jealous façade that rested on Ian’s face, you could tell he wasn’t too happy about it either. But Finnick, he just seemed to watch your facial response to it, ready to help you through.

There was no overwhelming emotion of happiness or disappointment, he just wanted to make sure you were okay. And, after turning your face to drown into his oceanic eyes once more, you were.

---

This was it. The clock was counting down as you and the other tributes stood atop your respective platforms waiting for the blood bath to begin. For humanity to disappear and pure unrestrained carnage to take its place.

Your whole body was shaking. Anxiety and dread were filling you up and overflowing at the top. You wanted to be anywhere but here. You wanted to be dead already to get it over with. You wanted to be with Annie and your family playing on the beach.

You just didn’t want to be here.

So, for a split second, you let your consciousness cover your mind with a memory. Something warm and happy that could perhaps get you through the next minutes or hours or days. And you indulged in it.

“Oh, yeah. My parents took us swimming all the time. For ‘exercise’ and all that, but really, I know they just wanted to spend time as a family whenever we could.”

You and Finnick were lounging in the main sitting area within your deck of the Tribute Center. While he probably should have made his leave already, he wanted to check on you after your training, and, without admitting it, desired to spend time with you.

The two of you were currently sharing memories of your families and friends and life. You don’t quite remember how the conversation happened, but it was just too easy to get lost in the words with him. A bittersweet thought of how you would miss him materialized, but you quickly threw it to the wayside so you could luxuriate in the presence of Finnick Odair.

“My mom was always about making sure that between work on the docks, out on the waves, or just helping with the catches, we prioritized one another. Blood is thicker than water, she would always remind us.” You couldn’t help the bright smile painting your face as you thought about how kind and, sometimes scary, your mother was. She truly loved life and insisted on making sure everyone in your family could see the beauty in it as well, if not a little aggressively.

“She once threatened my younger brother, Kade, that she would take away his slice of chiffon cake if he didn’t go out and play with his friends for a bit.” You disclosed. “She ate it right in front of him when he refused.”

You both laughed at the story, going on to tell him more about your siblings and Annie, who was practically your sister at this point. With each passing story, you grew less enthusiastic. He saw the way you started to deflate from the stories, sadness taking its place due to your current predicament of perhaps never being able to see your loved ones again.

He didn’t want those memories to sour from this, he wanted you to keep them treasured – shrouded in a golden cloud of light and love. With a sense of duty, he moved over from his armchair to join you on the loveseat you were curled into.

Your doe eyes followed his movements, curious as to what he was doing. He sat beside you; stern vulnerability layered on his features. With shrugged eyebrows and a twinkle of some unknown emotion in his eyes, he placed his hand on the side of your face, tenderly holding you in position.

“Don’t let them take this from you.” He softly insisted, fingers warming you where they rested. “They want to break you, to dull you, but don’t let them win.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Before your brain registered that you should reply to him.

“Wh- What?” You stuttered out in a hushed voice, much less of a conversation than you intended, but you were still confused by his words and actions. He continued to look at you, stealing glimpses into your soul through your widened eyes.

“Your memories, your love. The Games are built to destroy you of it all, leaving nothing more than a walking corpse empty of thought and emotion.” He asserted. “But don’t let them win. When you walk out a victor, hold onto what you love most and remember that the Capitol can’t take that. They can try to take your humanity, what makes you, you, but they won’t.”

You were stunned into silence, thoughts running rampant, but one began to overshadow them all.

He thinks I’ll win?

“I know we’ve only truly known each other for a short while, but I’d like to think I’ve become a great judge of character over the years.” He confessed with a small smile. “And when I look at you, I see a genuinely good person. Someone who shouldn’t have been forced into this, who should have lived their life out in peace and bliss but will win because they have something to fight for.”

You didn’t want to speak, to breathe, for fear of stopping his expression. But your eyes encouraged him, so he went on.

“You. Fight for yourself, Y/N L/N. Fight for the memories you hold in your heart. Fight for the love you have to give. Fight for whoever makes your head rush. Fight for the feelings.” He whispered out, only for you. “Just, please, fight. I know you can win. You have the skills, the intelligence, everything. So, fight for everything and nothing at all.”

Silent tears were streaming down your heated cheeks from his honesty. You knew Finnick to be manipulative and cunning when he needed to be, but there was nothing but a boy who wanted to be heard in front of you. What did he have to lie for anyway? You’d be going into that arena either way, friend or not.

Your own smaller hand covered Finnick’s as he continued to hold your cheek. Your lids gently shut as you pushed yourself into the warmth he was offering, staying close to him. He watched you hold the part of himself he presented to you, and decided he should gift just a little bit more.

Lifting his left hand to sit on the other side of your face, he pulled you close to rest his forehead against your own. With shut eyes, the two of you breathed in each other as the intimate moment closed over you.

Even in this short period of time, you’d never felt as close to a person as you did to Finnick. He knew the position you were in, for he had stood there before. He knew your emotions better than you did and encouraged them as a power, not a weakness. He was a light in this dark world, and you’d protect that flame with your life.

Pulling his head back but still staying close, he expressed one last thing. “My secrets, Y/N. I’ll give you all my secrets if you come back to me. If you fight for me. I’ll fight for you every day of my life and it still won’t be enough if you don’t come. Back. To. Me.”

He practically shook with the truth of his words. He wanted for nothing more than time. Time with you. Time to truly learn everything about you. Something in him yearned for you since the moment you had met. Your strength, your smile, your brilliance. He wanted to bathe and drown in it all at once. So, he needed you to win. To dirty yourself as he still is. Then, perhaps, you could both learn how to wear the past together. 

For a short moment, all you could do was look at him. To take him in as he was, no mask atop his face. To see what Finnick Odair looked like when there were no secrets to steal. And then you quickly tucked yourself into his torso as you wrapped your arms around him.

“I’ll fight for you, Finnick.” You declared into his chest. “I’ll fight for more moments like this.”

He hesitated for just a breath before he enveloped his arms around you, holding you tight and taking in your presence. He would make sure that you get anything you need in that arena. And that he’ll be there to pick up any pieces you left behind when you come back to him.

---

Della was dead. Ian was dead. Tributes from all the districts were dead.

The only ones still living were you and Billy, and the clock was ticking away.

Ian stuck true to his word and met you far from the Cornucopia as the two of you ran for your lives. The arena was a swamp – dirty and thick with a putrid smell that you would never forget. But the cypress and tupelo tree bunches gave what cover they could as you deftly made your way through the duckweed covering parts of the watery surface. Della and Billy attempted to steal a supply pack out of the slaughterhouse, but only Billy returned. Sticking close to one another, you made it through your first night.

Finnick also did as he promised and made sure the sponsors gave you anything you needed: spears, bread, ointment for Ian after he ran through a thorn-filled brush and ripped his leg open, even just extra blankets and water bottles – he made sure you were always supplied. His heart was in his mouth every time he saw you on screen, each day fitting you worse than the last. Exertion and fear were already taking their toll on you with mud-caked skin, chapped lips, and hair that was matting faster than a sunset. But none of that mattered as long as you made it to the end.

Ian was the next to go with a slit throat as your group battled head-to-head with the Careers. Two of the four were down before it happened, giving you all a false sense of hope. It was in that second of distraction that the girl from 2 sprinted around and tore Ian’s neck open before you could even blink.

Without even thinking, you launched your spear right into her chest as Billy finished off the District 1 boy. The two of you were unaware that each had defeated a tribute, but as your breathing slowed and you turned toward him, the realization hit you like a train.

I have to kill him.

It was a sickening thought, one you wish you’d never have to think about, but one that was entirely fueled by survival. You made a promise to Finnick that you would return. That you would come back. And even with aching limbs and short breaths, you would fight.

So, fight you did.

Billy started making his way to you as you reached the District 2 girl and yanked the spear from her concaved chest. There was no time for sympathy, no time for feelings. Billy wasn’t your friend. Sure, he may have saved you from the guy from 6 and always made sure that you got your share of food, but he wasn’t your friend. He couldn’t be your friend.

You locked down your thoughts as the two of you met in a patch of hip-deep swamp water. The muck below was forcing your feet to sink lower and gave you little grasp, but you lived in the sandy ocean. You knew how to maneuver well enough to use it to your advantage.

You were smaller than Billy as he towered over you at some number over six feet – a sturdy build for a butcher’s life. Which was a disadvantage for the environment. As you could navigate across the ground without fear of adhering to it, he was stuck, weighted down into the pit of swamp.

As he struggled to turn to follow your movements, his hands were briskly releasing knives your way. Try as you might, you couldn’t miss all of them. One lodged in your upper shoulder as another grazed your cheek, nipping off the tip of your left ear. But he wouldn’t have an infinite number of knives, and you could be patient enough for them to run dry.

And when they did, you advanced. Flittering over to him, you adjusted your stance just as Finnick taught you – bracing your arms apart so they could give and move as needed. You caught him in the side at first, until he grabbed onto the other end of the spear and pulled you toward him. He was stronger than you. If he got his hands on you, he could choke you out or drown you as hastily as he wanted, so you couldn’t let him touch you.

As he hauled you closer and closer to him, you steadied yourself. You’d only have one shot at this, and if you missed, it was all over. Taking a deep breath and focusing on the one moment you would have for this to work, you waited.

Not yet.

He was reaching the end of the spear.

Not yet.

He was loosening his grip on one hand to stretch out toward you.

Not yet.

You could feel the heat of his palm as he began to place it on your good shoulder.

Now.

In a flash, you jumped up and around him, securing yourself on his back and throwing him off balance so he couldn’t lay hold of you. Spear forgotten; you grasped his knife still stuck in your shoulder. With a cry, you yanked it out of yourself and stabbed it into his neck. And you stabbed again. And again. Tears were streaming down your face like a river flooded as you made sure he was well and truly dead.

As his heavy body dropped, you released your death grip but not before you fell into the water with him. You closed your tired eyes as you floated in the combination of blood and sludge. Nothing felt real. You were a victor, and you didn’t feel real. For a moment you could almost see your consciousness floating above you in a haze, like you were the one to die rather than Billy. But as soon as it was there it was gone. Instead, a transporter floated just where you had been, and now it was grabbing the winner of the 70th Hunger Games up into its claws once more.

---

Finnick was the first to greet you with nothing but concern on his face. As everyone else tossed cheers and ‘congratulations’ at you, he held onto you and walked you from the crowd. And he didn’t let go even when you sobbed into his shirt, staining it with tears and blood.

A doctor had to stitch your shoulder and cheek and wrap your bleeding ear, but with the Capitol’s technology, it took less than 2 days to heal. And Finnick never left your side for those days, talking about nonsense and the sponsors and the Games and how your family came to visit but you were unconscious from the medication and everything else he could think of that he couldn’t talk to you about before.

You told him about your heart-wrenching fear at every waking moment and nightmares you would have each night in the arena. Sleep was unwilling to take you, and you hardly wanted it to. Not when the arena croaked and screeched with animals and tributes on the prowl. Nothing but pure survival was in your veins, and that feeling was reluctant to leave you even now.

When you were dismissed from the hospital, he didn’t leave your side then, either. He talked to your family and Annie like they had known each other for a lifetime already. It made you happy watching them together. All the people you loved right in front of you, and you were still alive to witness it.

Even with the dark cloud looming over you, they were still the sun’s rays shining through. Small, but strong enough to keep you going.

---

Weeks after the Games and your victory tour concluded, you were nestled in a small reading nook in your home in Victors’ Village. The Games still haunted you, but you found solace in books. In romantic novels that didn’t have death sentences or tyrannical leaders – just two people who were in love and determined to display that in any way they could.

It was a way for you to escape reality, if even for a fleeting moment. Surrounding yourself with friends and family could only help for so long, and more often than not, being around so many people had you reliving the fight between your group and the Careers. The heaviness of the air and the cacophony of sounds had your stomach turning and chest tightening. Usually, Finnick would notice and quickly relieve you of the event by sheltering you outside.

It was a rather common occurrence, which is why you were happy to be in solitude. You told your family that you’d like to live in the house alone, if only for a couple of months, but they were more than welcome to visit you – which your mother did. A lot. She’d bring attempts at dinners and pies, but you were grateful for her and never discouraged her love. You couldn’t imagine the pain that she went through watching her daughter almost lose her life in the arena, so you entertained all of her antics. Almost every time she visited her eyes would drift to where your shoulder scar lay beneath your clothes, and she always kissed the mark on your cheek before she left as well. The reminders were plain to see.

But your solitude was never truly lonely.

“Hot chocolate?” Your eyes broke from the pages in front of you to look at Finnick, who was now offering the delectable drink to you.

You smiled at him and nodded, shifting your position to reach for the mug of cocoa. He sat beside you, offering more warmth than just that in your hands as he glanced at the book resting in your lap.

“Pride and Prejudice, again?” He smirked. “You have a library full and you’re reading this for, what, the fifth time this month?”

You hit his shoulder with your own as you giggled into your cup. Taking a sip and humming as the warm liquid traveled down your throat, you set your cup aside to face him.

“It’s a wonderful story, what can I say.” You confessed to him.

“And,” He reclined back in his seat as he regarded you. “Highly illegal. I still don’t know how you got your hands on that.” Shaking his head, he took his own drink of the hot chocolate and evaluated you with a raised brow.

“Perks of being a victor, as you should already be aware of.” Your smile vanished. “You get secrets, and I get tales to bury myself in.”

Any trace of playfulness withdrew from his manner. Soft eyes looked into your own as he set his cup aside, reciprocating the action to yours.

“Y/N,” he whispered softly.

Before he could say anymore, you snuggled into him, hurting for the man before you. “I’m sorry, Finnick. I didn’t mean to bring it up, I just– I just can’t understand why they would do that to you.”

Your watery eyes finally traveled back up to his, as he caressed your head with a tender touch. Finnick had finally told you what his days consisted of as a victor – of forced touches and unwanted attention; he was used in the Capitol for his looks and composure. You didn’t take it well, seconds away from marching to President Snow and killing him yourself for putting loving, sweet Finnick through that pain.

It wrecked you even more to know that he dealt with it all for the people he cared about. For his family. For his friends. For you. And that there wasn’t anything you could do to stop it without putting everyone else in danger. The worst that was done to you was parading you around like a show dog on a leash to different events. Perhaps if you weren’t scarred, they would have wanted the same for you, but for once, you could count yourself lucky that Billy hadn’t fully missed.

“Y/N,” he spoke once more as he lifted your chin to gaze down into your eyes. “Please, don’t suffer for me. You know I would do anything to protect you from them, and if this is the cost, then so be it.”

You shook your head as you wiped the tears from your eyes. “You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t have to do anything else for them. Especially not that.”

You couldn’t even say the words out loud, it was so repulsive. It made sense now, why he was always with new and different Capitol citizens at those parties. Why he never looked truly there in the way he handled himself. And it made you want to shove your spear into anyone who would ever try and do that to him again.

“It’s okay, Y/N, really.” He gently smiled at you the way he reserved only for you – with all the love and radiance he could put into it. “I get to spend the rest of my time– the rest of my life with you. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

“Finnick,” you whispered, hardly knowing what to say to him.

He gingerly brushed the hair back from your forehead as he placed a kiss upon it, hushing you. “For you, my love, I would do anything.”

Your body trembled in his hands from the emotion tumbling around inside you. After the Games, it was hard to let yourself get close to him, for the honest fear of losing him. But he was patient. He waited for you and took his time working through the tremors of the Games that still resided within you. It was hard, it still is, to make it through a day without finding yourself back in that arena, but being around him made it easier – more manageable. He was the part of you that kept you afloat and you were hanging on with both hands to make sure he stayed.

You lost yourself in his eyes – green and blue twirling in an intimate dance, the most beautiful you had ever seen. Truly, there was no other place you would rather be than with him. Every ounce of comfort that you felt stemmed from Finnick, and he felt just the same. To part with one another now would be to rip a heart in two, never fitting the pieces to another.

I love him.

It was a scary thought and, really, shouldn’t have shocked you as much as it did. You knew for a long time already that you did but admitting it to yourself was the true challenge. Everyone knew it, hell, Annie would constantly ask you when the two of you would just marry already – she had never seen two people as made for the other until she saw you and Finnick. But you were slow to let that part of yourself go. He already had your heart, but now, you would finally allow yourself to have his.

Tenderly, you reached your hands to cup his face – the slight stubble growing on his cheeks tickling your palms. As not to scare him off, you so slowly pulled his head down to yours. Only an inch apart, your mouths breathed onto one another, painting your lips with his scent.

“Y/N,” he ground out in a whimper.

“Finnick,” you echoed back. “I love you.”

The sharp inhale was the only sign that he had heard your small voice. That, and the urgency at which he bridged the gap between your mouths. A whine escaped from the back of your throat at how soft he was – how his lips molded into your own as if fated to do so. You were already addicted to the feeling.

Finnick wasn’t faring much better. His whole head was fuzzy with love and reverence for you as he pulled you up to sit on his lap, bringing you as close to you as he could. Tenderness soon turned into something more as he began to map out the curves of your body with his hands. As you gasped from his touch, he took the chance to sneak his tongue into your mouth, charting that territory out as well.

Happily returning the favor, you too began exploring the body of the glorious man before you. Tongues twisting, hands moving, both your breaths became labored as the need for even more started hazing both your minds. Pulling away for just a moment, you took your chance.

“Y/N,” he practically growled out as you began to shift your hips over his growing hardness. “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable yet.”

And you knew he meant it. While the two of you had never crossed that line before, you wanted to use more than just your words to show him how much you love him. You wanted to cherish him, to give him all of you.

“I want to.” You pleaded. Then, you quickly pulled away as a thought occurred to you. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about how you might feel about this. Fuck, Finnick, I–”

Before another word could leave your mouth, Finnick covered it with his own, pushing all the love he has to give into you. He coaxed you right back into the kiss, cradling your head close, softly rubbing the flat scar on your ear’s tip. Through a deep breath, he broke the tender instant to glance back at you. Your mind clouded until he spoke.

“Don’t ever think I don’t want you, Y/N,” he reassured. “There is nothing in this world that I want more than you. What happens in the Capitol doesn’t leave me broken, not when you’re still here. And, if you want me, you already have me – I just don’t want you to feel forced into it.”

As he explained his thoughts to you, his hands were delicately rubbing up and down your sides as to console any feelings revolving around your head. He loved you without needing something physical. You were more than enough for him without anything else than just your presence.

“I love you, Finnick Odair,” you confessed for the second time aloud. “And I want to be yours – mind, body, and soul. For as long as you should have me.”

As Finnick’s eyes grew watery from the words torn from your heart, he acknowledged just the same. “I will love you forever, Y/N L/N. And should I die tomorrow or fifty years from now, my thoughts will be filled with you. Only you.”

And with the words spoken and sealed in a lover’s embrace, you sculpted your lips around each other once more. Finnick was slow to undress you, taking the time to truly admire the woman that you were. Removing your top, he trailed his lips from your neck to the scar on your shoulder and drifted further down to your breasts.

You held your breath as you watched him take your nipple into his mouth, suckling and teasing the bud with his tongue. Sighing, you tangled your hands into his hair, urging him to continue his actions. Doing just that, he reached one of his hands up to fondle your untouched breast, coaxing out more whines from you from the feeling.

Unaware, your hips continued to grind down on his lap, searching for some sort of friction for the growing heat in your core. While you had reached highs on your own hands and fingers before, you never touched a man like this – let alone felt the urge to have every part of him in you. And damn it, did you ever want to feel Finnick fucking Odair.

As he switched between ministrations on your nipples, he groaned into you every time you caught on his swelling cock. His head was filled with nothing but the thoughts of you and how he wanted to taste and touch you. How he wanted to tempt out every little noise you could make as you reached your peak over and over again. How he wanted to drown in you.  

Giving into his raging thoughts, he flipped the two of you around so your back lay comfortably on the cushions beneath you. Hot chocolate cooling and book thrown to some corner in the room, it was just you and him. Nothing else mattered.

Wandering down your body once more, he rid you of your pants and undergarments, leaving you bare in the sun. You were a goddess to him. A picture of perfection. He would never get tired of gazing upon you. Even when the two of you had grown old and grey, you would still be the most beautiful thing, sculpted by the poets themselves.

You watched as his eyes traced your body, and you began to grow self-conscious. Before you could even attempt to close yourself off from him, he grabbed onto your thighs and looked deep into your lust-blown eyes.

“Please, don’t hide from me.” He begged you. “You are the most exquisite being, never forget that. I feel like the luckiest man in the world to be able to even glimpse your beauty.”

Sentiments swelling your throat, you nodded up to him and relaxed into his touch. Seeing your newly eased state, he kneeled on the ground as he pulled your legs over his shoulders. Gazing upon your core, a growl emerged from the back of his throat. Your slick heat was practically begging to be filled by him, and who was he to deny such a pretty little thing?

He kissed up the innermost parts of your legs, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most. Before you could issue a complaint to stop teasing, he licked a warm stripe up your pussy, and you gasped. Head thrown back and hands immediately finding purchase in his hair, you were hooked.

He nuzzled his nose into your clit as he began to touch your core with his tongue, forcing out mewls and whines from your mouth. Reaching up his hands, one gripped onto your legs to prevent them from wrapping around his head, while the other spread your lips so he could dive even deeper into you. Flicking and cooing, his tongue continued to taste your slick as he moaned into you from your flavor.

You began rubbing your hips up and down his face as you continued to chase your high. He was too good at this – you’d never last long at this rate.

“Finnick, ahh,” you chanted his name like a choir of angels, and your voice went straight to his cock.

Wanting nothing but his name on your mind, he inserted a finger to begin loosening you up. The slight stretch already elicited a whine of pain from you. His digit was so much longer and thicker than your own, and you had a feeling his length was even more so.

As soon as he felt you relax around one, he slipped in a second. Scissoring around your cunt, he sucked on your clit to keep you slackened. You already felt so full. But as soon as all the discomfort turned to pleasure, you wanted more than just his fingers in you.

“Fuck,” you moaned out. “Finnick, I, shit, I want to feel you.”

He sighed into your pussy at your pleading state. Closing his eyes, he continued slipping his fingers in and out of you, getting you even further toward your orgasm.

“Not yet, love.” He insisted in a gravelly voice. “I want to taste you on my tongue first. You can do that, yeah baby? Want to cum in my mouth? I know you can do it. You’re such a good girl.”

You whined as you shut your eyes and continued stirring your hips on his face. He placed his lips back over your clit and thrust his fingers even faster into your heat. The sound of his knuckles squelching against your wetness was driving him insane, but he wanted to– no, needed to taste your essence before putting his cock into you.

As you felt your climax crawling nearer, your pussy clamped down around Finnick’s fingers, not wanting to let go. Your hips became erratic as you felt the familiar tightening in your lower abdomen – rising from your toes to the tip of your head. Finnick moved and slurped like a man starved, aching for you to lose yourself on him.

With a few more movements and a cry loosened from your lips, you released right into Finnick’s waiting mouth. He cleaned up every last drop, not wanting any to go to waste. You continued to ride out your high as he removed his lips from your bud. Once he felt you tire from your spend, he slipped his fingers out of you.

You watched with hungry eyes as he licked his fingers clean, eyes rolling back as his cock leaked from the wonder of your taste. Moaning as he popped them out of his salivating palate, he quickly moved to rid himself of his shirt. Reaching his arms back behind his neck and tearing the shirt from his torso up around his head, his eyes never left yours.

“I knew you would taste absolutely fucking divine.” He proclaimed to you as he started stripping his pants off. “I bet you feel just as good.”

Gasping, you finally laid eyes on his cock. Thick and girthy, you had no idea how it was supposed to fit in you. While it wasn’t ridiculously long, the stature of it made up more than enough. And as Finnick saw you fixed upon his hardened length, he twitched, which made you whimper up to him.

Bending back down to hover over you, he covered your mouth with his lips, allowing you to taste the salty remains of your own release. Moaning into his mouth, you gripped onto his bronze locks once more, lifting your hips to graze your now swollen clit against him.

He groaned and swiftly grabbed onto your hips to push you down. Backing from the kiss, he asked you one last time, “Are you sure?”

Breathless, you answered. “Yes. Please. I’ve never been surer about anything.”

Staring into your eyes and seeing nothing but certainty, he nodded.

“This is going to hurt, at first.” He stated. “Just try to stay relaxed and I promise you, you’ll start to feel good soon enough.”

Bobbing your head, you dug your nails into his shoulders to brace yourself as he glanced down and began to line himself up to your still-sweating heat. As he pressed the tip into you, you inhaled a sharp breath. Finnick immediately looked up to your face.

“It’s okay. Breathe, my love.” He took his hand and caressed your face. Settling a tender kiss on your lips, you started to breathe normally once again. Taking it as his cue to continue his insertion, he pressed back into you.

Slowly, so achingly slowly, he rocked his length into you. Taking the time to pull back and forth, he was easing you through the tight pain in your cunt. You were biting down on your bottom lip and your eyes were sealed shut from the sting of it.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. “You’re doing so good, baby. Just a little bit more and, shit, I’ll be all the way. God, you’re so tight, fuck.”

Finnick was trying his hardest to go slow for you, but the way that your cunt was compressed around him was like a drug. He wanted more, he wanted to move, but he would never place his own needs above your own. He watched your face for any sign of unordinary discomfort, but he saw none, so he inched further and further until he was fully sheathed into you.

Groaning, he dropped his head into your neck and panted out. As you adjusted to his size, the discomfort subsided. Sighing out as well, you started to lift your hips in your attempt at receiving friction. Finnick moaned and bit down into the softness of your neck.

“Move, Finnick, please.” You whimpered into his ear, already drunk on the feeling of his cock in you. You were so full, practically pushed to the brim, but you wanted more of him. You wanted him to make love to you.

Listening to your words, he dragged his cock through your walls as he moved in and out of you. Feeling your warmth rub against him was nothing short of amazing – there wasn’t anything that would ever compare to the feeling of you.

The two of you moaned in tandem as he thrust a particularly harsh plunge into you. You were scraping his back, leaving red angry lines as you wrapped your legs around his fit waist. Even in your inebriated state, you couldn’t help but admire him. For more than just his handsomeness, Finnick was the most gorgeous thing inside and out, and you couldn’t believe that he was yours. You would do anything for him to smile at you, to give you soft kisses to your temple, to just be.

So, you took hold of his head from where it was leaving marks on your neck, and you clashed your teeth together in a heated kiss. He was quick to reciprocate and grip onto your ass as he continued drilling himself into you, mouth never leaving yours.

You were the one to break the kiss as you leaned back to moan from the feeling.

“Fuck, Finnick. I love you so much.” You were rambling now, high off nothing but the way he was making you melt into his arms. “Please don’t leave me. I couldn’t, ah, live without you. Need you here. Always here. Mmm, my Finnick.”

He continued his movements as he gazed at you, love and lust battling for dominance in his sea-green eyes. “I’ll never let you go, Y/N. You are mine as I am yours. God. I was made to be by your side. Oh, Y/N. To always be with you. Would never leave you. My heart, fuck, is yours forever.”

The two of you were incoherent, rambling sentiments of love and sweet nothings to the other. Both of your climaxes were approaching, wanting to cum at the same time as the other. Skin on skin and sweat dripping upon each other, this was a plea of love, a confessional. Never to leave, always to stay – your hands were tied together as Finnick kissed you softly once more.

In contrast, his hips picked up the pace, as his fingers found your throbbing clit once more, pushing you to reach the top with him. His movements became inconsistent as he grew closer, knowing you were on your way as well by the way you were clenching down on him.

“Come on, baby,” he cooed at you. “Cum with me. You’re so close, love, I can feel it.”

“Yes, yes!” you whined at him. “Wanna cum, wanna cum with you. Ah, almost there, Finnick, don’t stop.”

Moving your hips with him, you both panted as the light grew brighter. He sped his twirling fingers up around your bud, begging you to peak with him. And as the two of you whined and whimpered louder and louder, Finnick thrust hard and deep into you. With this one last push, you both roared a moan as you came in and around the other.

Slowing his motions, Finnick allowed you to ride out your orgasm as he spilled his seed in you. Your legs twitched around his hips as you came down from your high. Head tilted back, you breathed hard and fast as your heart pounded. Finnick wrapped his arms around you as he held you close, still buried inside you.

For just a bit, the two of you stayed like that – together as one. Your pants eventually withdrew and were left with nothing more than the beating of the blood in your veins. He tenderly pulled out of you, leaving you empty of nothing but the soreness in your hips. Rubbing small circles on the aching joints, he kept his head close to yours. He then started kissing all over your face, making you giggle.

Chuckling along with you, he saved you from the attack by pulling away and looking at you with pure love and adoration. Mirroring his visage, you tenderly stroked his cheek as he sighed into your palm.

“I’m going to marry you, Y/N.” It wasn’t a question, but a fact he knew true in his heart.

Your eyes widened at his words, stilling your actions for a moment.

“Not tomorrow,” he laughed at your shocked expression. “Perhaps not a week or month from now, but one day I will. And that day will be the happiest of my life.”

Tears brimmed along your eye line, but it wasn’t sadness blurring your vision. Joy, excitement, and love were making their presence known in this strange way, and you didn’t know how else to respond to his worrisome look except to smile at him. Smile with your heart and soul to the man who was everything to you. And he smiled back the way Finnick Odair only smiles at you: uninhibited and overflowing with fondness.

Nestling into him as he repositioned you both on the seat, you contently sighed into him. This is what you fought for in that arena. This is why you promised that you’d win.

For vulnerable moments like this. For nothing between you and the man you love except the warm skin of your bodies. For the chance to live and not survive. For him.

With those thoughts in your mind, there was only one way you knew how to respond to him: with your truth, not a secret, and not in fear.

“Yes, I will marry you, Finnick Odair.”

[festivalsofmargot]

Gall of a Gryffindor {Sebastian Sallow x GN!Gryffindor!Reader}

Introduction: This one was actually a request!

“Can you write something with a Gryffindor reader? I always see for the other houses but havent seen anything specifically with gryffindor. Something among the lines of a gryffindor he can finally tolerate witty banter like that” - from cloudroomblog

Heads up, I went a bit off script from the game so some dialogue might be different and things may seem a little out of order. So sit back, relax, and have fun with it. 😉

Word Count: ~ 2,900

Warnings: Kissing

Author’s Note: I’m definitely open to requests if anyone wants to throw them my way but no pressure haha. They just might take a while since I only like to work on one story at a time and really let myself head cannon, blasting music to throw myself into it.

Songs (if interested):

So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings - Squirrel Flower Cover

Dark Red - Steve Lacy

When I’m Small - Phantogram

Black Out Days - Phantogram

The castle was endless. You knew you were in for a challenge finding your classes with how large it was, but at that point it was ridiculous. You were convinced new rooms were being added every day to throw you off, which probably was happening if you thought about it.

As you were walking one way, you thought back on the directions you were given, and promptly turned on your heel to go the other way. But then you thought back again and realized you probably weren’t in the right area to begin with. You summoned your field guide and scrambled to look at your map, finger tracing the page to find some sort of route. The look on your face clearly gave away you had no idea where you were going and Sebastian Sallow rolled his eyes at you from afar.

“It would be a Gryffindor who was the late bloomer.” Sebastian cracked and laughed along with some fellow Slytherin students, not caring if you heard, maybe even hoping you heard. He glanced back at you and saw you were no longer fumbling with your field guide, but instead you were looking right at him. You didn’t seem bothered, quite the opposite actually. You were smirking at him like you were amused by the joke too. 

You looked him up and down through your lashes, gave a little hum, and went back on your way. He stopped laughing and swallowed thickly in his throat. He snapped his attention back to his friends and tried join back in on the laughter, but all that came out was a nervous chuckle. He glanced back over his shoulder and watched your form walk away. What was that?

-

He found the two of you had charms class together, and couldn’t help but stare as you walked in. Your hustling around the castle had made your cheeks flushed and given your uniform a disheveled look, robes falling off one shoulder slightly. Observing your state and thinking back on how you looked at him earlier made him shift uneasily in his seat.

Natty had called you over and you went to sit by her side. When you sat down, you gave her a thankful smile and then your eyes roamed to take in the classroom. Your gaze landed on Sebastian and his eyes darted away in hopes you didn’t catch him staring.

I’m just a little curious about you is all, nothing to get your hopes up over. He imagined himself telling you if you had caught him staring. 

Professor Ronen had the class go outside for that day’s accio lesson, putting you on the spot. In your first introduction to the Summoner’s Court board, you furrowed your brows together, fully focused on getting the spell right. Sebastian felt a little flame catch fire in his stomach. You make a cute face when you focus, big deal. He cleared his throat, having felt it suddenly go dry, and kicked at the grass at his feet.

Then Professor Ronen called up Natty to play you in an official game of Summoner’s Court. The way you laughed with her and seemed to have so much fun effortlessly had him rubbing the back of his neck. As the class went on and you were getting invested in the game, you loosened your tie and unbuttoned the top of your shirt a little, revealing a bit of your collar bone. Sebastian’s eyes glazed over, his thoughts taking him somewhere he shouldn’t be going in the middle of class. Oh no. He made himself think of Madam Scribner and that seemed to bring him back. Alright, that’s it. He needed to avoid you at all costs.

-

“Hello Sebastian.” 

Sebastian glanced up from his book to see you smiling at him sweetly, maybe even a little mischievously.

“Hello.” He eyed you with suspicion and tossed his book to the side, the two of you had never spoken outside of class before. Why were you coming up to him then?

“I heard a rumor that you like to go to the restricted section of the library.” You lifted a questioning brow, taking a step closer to him.

He shifted his gaze away from you. “That so?” What was going on with him? A Gryffindor was not making him nervous like this.

“Oh yes. And I was hoping, if it was true, you could take me next time you went.” You took another step towards him, causing him to take a step back and hit his back against the wall. He was trapped. He tried to play off the awkward position as if he had wanted to lean against the wall, folding his arms and looking down to the floor.

“Say it was true... You’d really be okay with breaking the rules? Being a Gryffindor and all.”

“Well, this could be life or death. So, maybe I can break the rules just a little.” And people called him a flirt.

A thrill shot through Sebastian and he finally met your gaze again. You were giving him a look of you in or out? It made him panic slightly, this aura you carried of showing interest yet still having one foot out the door.

“Meet me outside the library tonight. And tell no one.”

You raised your eyebrows slightly at him, then gave a small nod of your head and left without saying anything more. Sebastian released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He hated that he felt a bit exhilarated at the thought of impressing you.

-

Teaching you the disillusionment spell and getting the key to the restricted section went a lot smoother than he thought. It was as if you didn’t need him there at all. He could have told you everything you needed to know and you would have handled it yourself. But in the end, it was best he came along so he could browse the restricted section some more himself.

“What kind of book are you looking for any way?” He asked as the two of you walked along the shelves. Free to talk without having to whisper now that you were passed the prefects, Madam Scribner, and some monitoring ghosts.

“I’ll know it when I see it.” Was all you said, brows furrowed as you carefully looked at each book you passed.

He rolled his eyes at your cryptic answer and went back to inspecting the books himself. Though, the act was actually making him more agitated. He hadn’t realized how often he had been down there until he found he wasn’t stumbling across anything new.

Sighing and looking away from the books, he glanced over to you. There you went, making that face you always did when you were focusing. He thought back to the day he first saw it. Then he started to think about how you loosened your tie and unbuttoned your shirt. His eyes dipped subtly to your chest then, noticing you did the same to your uniform that night too.

“I’m not having any luck here, Sebastian. Is there any more to the restricted section?”

Sebastian darted his eyes away and made it seem like he was thinking intently about your question. Just as he had composed himself and was about to answer, the giant set of armor near the two of you fell apart and crashed to the floor. And out came Peeves.

“Who have we here? Sebastian Sallow and his new little friend, out exploring where they shouldn’t be. Naughty Naughty, you’ll get caughty.” He taunted.

“Peeves, don’t you -” Sebastian warned, but Peeves flew off in the direction of Madam Scribner anyway.

“I’m going to tell! I’m going to tell!” The poltergeist sang.

Sebastian growled. “Blasted Peeves! I got to go stop him or at least get to the librarian with a good excuse for all of this.”

You grabbed his wrist before he could leave. “How do I know you won’t go to the librarian and blame it all on me?”

The feel of your hand was hot on his wrist. “Why would I do that?”

You let go of him and crossed your arms. “Are you telling me you’d take the fall? How very, dare I say, Gryffindor of you that would be.”

“Oh don’t flatter yourself. I like having friends who are in my debt. Now go, good luck in your search.” Casting the disillusionment spell on himself, he was off, the feel of your hand still lingering on his wrist.

-

With one more detention added to his record and a brand new fifth-year now in his debt, Sebastian laid sleepless in his bed that night, his thoughts swirling with you. There was something about you that, though he couldn’t put his finger on it, drew him in like no other. 

Merlin’s sake, you were a Gryffindor. That was usually enough to make him annoyed with someone already. But now? Not only was he tolerating a Gryffindor, he was aching to be with said Gryffindor at all times it seemed. He found himself eager to impress you, standing up a bit straighter whenever you entered the room, and disappointed whenever you weren’t around.

Alright, he’d admit it to himself at least. He seemed to have developed a crush on you. But he didn’t let himself freak out about it too much. Crushes were flimsy, maybe all he needed to do was get you out of his system. After all, the two of you had barely interacted with each other. He might have just put you on a pedestal in his head and needed to bring you back down. But how would he do that? Maybe he could take you on a date without letting you know it was a date? He’d have to disguise your outing as something unromantic. 

Crossed Wands popped into his head. That would be perfect! You had held your own in Defense Against the Dark Arts so it wouldn’t be a shock to invite you. Though he was taking it easy on you, he felt you knew what you were doing with a wand. He could partner up with you for a few rounds, and then who knows? Maybe you’d stumble a bit and embarrass yourself so badly he’d have no choice but to lose his crush on you. He at least hoped you’d knock yourself down a peg or two in his mind.

It was settled then. He’d invite you after class the next day. It was a great plan.

-

Bringing you to Crossed Wands was a horrible plan, and had backfired on him spectacularly. You were a natural duelist, and on top of that the two of you were a dueling dream team. The way you seemed to make it look like a dance made his neck and ears burn with blushes. At one point you had asked if you could compete in a few rounds by yourself, taking on all your opponents with ease. And down he went, falling even more under that spell you seemed to cast on him so effortlessly.

At end of that day’s Crossed Wands session, you ran up to Sebastian and thanked him profusely for inviting you. Your cheeks were flushed and you were glistening in sweat. He felt like he was being tortured.

“Don’t mention it.” His voice was strained. “You’re a natural, it seems.”

It was as if you were on some sort of dueling high. “I’m so eager to learn more spells for this. Do you think you could teach me anything? The faculty is taking their time with me, and I don’t think I can bare to wait.”

He had never seen you so excitable and passionate. He always thought you were coolheaded about things from what he’d seen. Yet, it was only making you more endearing to him.

“I might be able to show you a thing or two.” He tried to avoid eye contact and began thinking about his quick escape out of there. He needed to get away from you fast.

“Sebastian, this was amazing. Glad you weren’t too ashamed to fight alongside a Gryffindor.” You jested. “I think I made you look rather good today, no?”

“Right... Sorry I tease you so much about being a Gryffindor.”

“It’s alright. Maybe I like getting teased by good looking Slytherin boys.” You gave him a quick wink.

Sebastian almost choked. Did he hear you correctly? He tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling hot all of a sudden. “Pardon?”

“Oh relax, I’m just messing with you.” You laughed and playfully pushed him. As you began to walk away, you called back to him, “And don’t forget, I still owe you for the library.”

“How could I forget?” He replied just loud enough for himself to hear. He rubbed at his forehead, annoyed at how the day ended up for him.

-

What in Merlin’s name was he doing? He had become so eager to be alone with you under the guise of “showing you new spells”, that he invited you to the undercroft. Ominis would kill him if he found out. But he couldn’t think of a better place. And watching you make that face when you focused helped put the thought of an angry Ominis to the back of his mind.

“You’re getting it. Seems you got the wand movement down. And don’t forget, the incantation is ‘Confringo’.”

“Confringo!” You recited, and a blast of fire left your wand, setting the nearest candle fixture ablaze. “Ah! Look at that!”

Seeing you master confringo so easily and your excitement over it flustered Sebastian. Then to make things worse, you ran up and threw your arms around him. “Oh, thank you thank you thank you, Sebastian!” Pulling away slightly, you beamed up at him, “This is exactly the kind of spell I want to learn.”

He could only stare back at you. The air felt so thick, he couldn’t speak. Without thinking, he pressed his lips to yours. You were initially taken by surprise. But it didn’t take long for you to register what was happening and start kissing him back.

His arms wrapped around you tighter, hands slowly moving up your back. You opened your mouth slightly, wanting more of him, and he took that opportunity to bite at your bottom lip. The act made you feel light headed in the best way, and you were relieved Sebastian had such a strong and sturdy hold on you.

He walked the two of you back until you were up against one of the pillars in the undercroft, pressing his body more against yours. You could only continue holding him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he held you securely in place. He turned his attention to your neck and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped your lips.

“What's gotten into you?” You asked breathlessly, yet a pleased smile graced your lips.

He pulled away, breathless himself, and couldn’t pull his gaze away from your mouth. “I-I wanted to kiss you is all.” Still holding you in his arms, he leaned in for more and you met him eagerly. His hands moved to your hips where his thumbs began rubbing in small circles. Being with someone like this was uncharted territory for the both of you, but it was thrilling all the same.

One of your hands moved down to grab his tie and pull him closer, the feel of it excited him. His eyes shot wide open realizing where this could lead and he had to pull away. “We have to stop.” He placed his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut.

“What? Why?” You asked as you went after his lips with yours.

He kissed you back briefly, allowing himself to enjoy how soft your lips were just a little longer. But the feeling of his insides constricting reminded him why he needed to pull away again. Be a gentleman, Sallow. It was inappropriate, too soon, and in the undercroft of all places? This couldn’t happen.

He let you go completely and walked a few feet away, rubbing his hand down his face. He glanced back at you as you were straightening out your uniform and he had to look away again. He couldn’t help but relish in the fact that he was the one that caused you to become so disheveled.

“Well, now what do we do?” You asked.

Still unable to look your way, he gave a breathy laugh. “Would you like to go to The Three Broomsticks for a butter beer with me this weekend?”

“You mean on a date?” This was the most unconfident he had ever heard your voice.

“Yes.” He answered, finally able to look at you again. “A date.”

“I would love to.” The two of you stared at each other, smiling sheepishly as if he wasn’t just kissing you senseless against the pillar. Grinning and looking down at your shoes, it hit you. “Oh no, I have to go.” You began speed walking to leave the undercroft. “I promised Poppy I would help her with something.” 

Sebastian wanted to reach out and stop you but he made himself let you go. Before you were out of sight you looked back at him with a soft smile. “Three Broomsticks, don’t forget.” And then you were gone.

He let out a chuckle. “How could I forget?”

[iwas-princess]

I jus got the most perfect request

OK SO BASICALLY LETS SAY RIN AND YN ARE BEST FREINDS THEN RIN SEES THAT YN POSTED SUM LIKE “when his name starts with a r” AND HES LIKE CONFUSED AND THEN WHEN HE ASKS HER AB IT SHES LIKE “rin I want to be YOUR princess” DJDJDKDKSK

stop this is such a beautiful concept

suna rintaro • the one kept secret

“shit, i lost again.” rintaro mumbled to himself, his long fingers tapping his phone screen violently as he fought against some random opponent on his newly downloaded combat app— one he’ll soon forgot about within a month, you were sure.

the delicious smell of a cookie dough candle filled his living room, your insistence of the smelly area finally had him agreeing to let you lend him your favorite candle as a ‘welcoming home present’ after a month of your begging. the sounds of his thumbs thumping against the electronic device filled the naturally darkened room, his black out curtains doing more than enough to keep him satisfied.

suna was so content with the energy he created tonight, his mind occupied with the focus of a fresh game to entertain him and the area looking the exact aesthetic he wanted.

black and white tapestries covered his ivory walls, designs of random gothic art and skeletons crowded the small space, led strips lined the room and lit it up with a red glow— just as he always preferred.

his black shag rug let his bare left foot rest on it as his long leg dangled off of his couch, the other limb sitting on the arm of the sofa comfortably as he finally prepared to play against atsumu, a long awaited match that rintaro desperately tried to level up for as much as he could beforehand to ensure victory.

just as he was about to begin the fight, a notification from snapchat popped on his screen.

subconsciously, his eyes flickered to the top of his screen, catching your name on a story update.

he blinked, contemplating whether he should’ve waited to look and finish the round or leave to see whatever you posted.

deciding that you could’ve waited a few minutes, he clicked the ruby start button and watched in anticipation as atsumu’s character said their signature opening line.

halfway through his match, a loud ping on his phone irrupted the quiet atmosphere of the room causing his eyes to widen at the sudden loud noise and nearly loose to the cocky blonde.

the notification was an imessage from osamu that read ‘dude, have u seen y/n’s story?’

“fuck, the one time i don’t check it right away.” he grumbled to the empty air of his apartment, sighing at he paused the game reluctantly.

‘nah not yet, y?’ he replied.

he stared at the typing dots as the other twin responded, awaiting the answer to his question.

‘go check. like now.’

—

“y/n can i ask you something and i need you to be one hundred percent honest. i’m a judgment free-zone, as you are aware-“

you threw a green grape at him as he nearly started to ramble, a small giggle leaving your mouth as it hit his cheek.

“just spit it out, rin. you know i never keep anything from you.”

he narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously before flicking the discarded grape away from his leg where it landed, causing it to fly your way.

“quit it.” you whined.

he smiled lazily and shrugged, his pale hands tucked into the pockets of his black joggers and fiddling with a vape in one and his phone in the other.

he didn’t want to dance around the question, he really didn’t, and rintaro certainly wasn’t the type to anyway— especially with you.

ever since you two met, you clicked and had been inseparable since. every crush, sexual encounter, breakup, argument, relationship or whatever, was admitted shamelessly with one another every weekend, a slumber party being thrown in celebration of secret spilling.

personal questions were often asked without regard for privacy, and each time you both would tell the other without hesitation, knowing that your answer would be held securely and no judgement would be given.

so this didn’t seem like any different, really. he asked you about crushes whenever he suspected them, and you never felt uncomfortable about it then— certainly you wouldn’t now, right?

except, this time it wasn’t a random boy in your calc class who smelled nice and always glanced your way with a doe eyes look or a girl at the coffee shop that smiled too sweetly at you as she handed you your order— this was rintaro that he suspected you liked.

his eyes locked with yours, trying to sense a spark of interest on your behalf (which he failed at finding.), before speaking.

“do you like me?”

you furrowed your brows at the question, a scoff leaving your lips as you chewed on a grape.

“of course i like you, why do you think i’ve put up with your shit for so long, rinnie? you’re my best friend, i have to like you or else there would be an issue.” you answered, a little dumbfounded that he asked such an obvious question.

why wouldn’t you like him? you spent every weekend at his dirty apartment, gossiping over popcorn and a movie you had no interest in, willingly. in fact, you would even say that these special two days each week made your life so much more worth living, if you had to, of course. but you’d never tell him that.

“not like that, y/n.” rintaro swallowed thickly. “do you have a crush on me?”

the world went silent as the question lingered in the air of his bedroom, your face suddenly pale and breathing seemingly more rapid. your blinks seemed to slow as your eyes trained on the lame action movie he insisted you watch, avoiding his gaze in fear of everything being given away.

after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence and the both of you awkwardly laying in his bed together, you took a deep breath in before answering his question.

“no.”

his brows shot up in surprise for a fleeting moment before they furrowed again, confusion settling on his face.

he was sure that he analyzed everything correctly after your post, going over memories that he flagged as ‘odd occurrences’ with you over the years, even looking over text messages that seemed too flirty.

after collecting plenty enough evidence, he concluded that his best friend, y/n y/l/n, had a fat crush on him for quite some time now.

five years to be exact.

from the moment that you kissed him on new years, to the time you asked him to take your virginity on your nineteenth birthday, suna brushed it off as you just trusting him enough with your body and most sacred moments, never thinking too much about it until recently.

but as he stared at his popcorned ceiling every night since your story, he began to piece everything together— almost everything.

“no?” he repeated, stunned and in disbelief.

you had to be embarrassed and just telling him something to shut him up, hoping that he’d drop it and never bring it up again, right? just as you had with all of your other crushes in high school. maybe you picked up the pattern again, he hoped.

“nope.”

“y/n, i know. i know that you like me and it’s okay, i-i’m not weirded out by it, at all. i think it’s cool that you like-“

“just drop it.”

“no,” he sat up. “we have to talk about this y/n, it’s what we do. you like me, and that’s fine. it won’t change anything between us, i promise. i’ll pretend i don’t even know from now on and-“

“i don’t ‘like’ you, rintaro. i-i’m in love with you, okay? is that what you wanted to hear?” you snapped, your eyes closing as you spoke harshly.

he blinked, dumbfounded at the news.

in love? you were in love with him? for how long? how? why?

why hadn’t you told him? he was your best friend, the one you told practically everything to, even calling him every night to tell him about your day, even when it was the most boring occurrences. this was something huge, surely something you’d tell him if were anyone but him.

so what was so different? it was just rintaro, and he’d love you either way.

“you’re in love with me? are you sure?”

you scoffed, shaking your head in annoyance with the jet haired man beside you. you could feel the unpleasant sensation of tears building and the feeling made you want to curl under his oak bedframe and bawl until you couldn’t produce anymore tears.

“yes. i’m absolutely sure, unfortunately.” you grumbled back.

“oh.”

the new found information took a bit to fully soak into his brain, and once it had he was full of questions.

“why?” he asked first, not being a man of many words as usual.

“because, rintaro,” you sighed, finally accepting that this was the conversation of tonight as you kept your gaze on the boring movie before you began to speak thoughtfully. “you’re all i’ve ever wanted in a boyfriend. the way you talk about treating your future significant others is exactly what i want, and i guess at first the idea of it all made me develop a crush. then we started hanging out more and you began doing sweet things for me and got more attractive, i just fell? i don’t know how to explain it exactly but all i know is that you’re so perfect and i’m not. we would never work, and i’ve excepted that-“

his lips crashed with yours suddenly, taking your breath away as he did so. the unfamiliar yet wonderful feeling of his plush lips molding with yours as if he had done this a million times before caused a tear to roll down you cheek in bliss.

this was all you ever wanted, all you ever dreamed of and it wad finally happening without you even having to ask him first.

he pulled away just as your tongue grazed his bottom lip, attempting to deepen the kiss.

you nearly frowned at the denial, fearful that he began to regret his actions.

but just as your lips were about to downturn, his slender finger pressed against them.

“i’ve wanted to do that every since you baked me those pot brownies.” he admitted, breathless and face flushed.

your eyed widened at his confession, cheeks heating and world spinning around you as you recalled that night.

“but, rinnie, that was two years ago-“

“i know.”

“why didn’t you kiss me before tonight then?”

his eyes flickered to your lips, watching the plump skin part as you breathed nervously— awaiting his response.

“i’m not sure. i thought about it, every night- but i just couldn’t risk scaring you off. you’re my best friend, y/n; i can’t live without you. ever.” his voice was softer than you’ve ever heard it, and held as much emotion as he could express in a sentence without crying.

it was true, he had always wanted to kiss you until your lips were swollen and you were giggling with butterflies in your stomach. maybe, he realized in this past few minutes, he loved you too.

he was sure you were the reason he never dated any of the pretty girls that gave him their numbers, he had been pretty admin about that for some time now. but, he only thought that it was because you were the only girl he needed in his life for now, you were enough to keep him happy until you got a boyfriend of you own.

but, maybe it was something deeper now.

“then you don’t have to.” you whispered.

with that, he kissed you once more, but this time deepening the kiss himself.

the kiss held unspoken passion and wordless love exchanges, all of the pent up emotions healthily expressed themselves with each mold of your lips.

after a few minutes, he pulled away to catch his breath and to look at your worked up state for the first time.

the room filled with the sound small heavy breaths, hearts thumping nervously against both of your chests, desperate to touch each other finally. you both laid in his bed, trying to catch your breaths and register everything that had happened within such short period of time.

“y/n? can i ask you something?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

you hummed in agreement, still breathless and in slight shock of his confessions.

“what was it exactly about how i wanted to love my girlfriends that drew you in?” he asked, a small smirk threatening to sprawl on his face.

you evened your breath finally, reaching up to cup his face as you began to speak.

“the whole princess treatment plan you had, everything you said that you wanted to do with her; like driving her everywhere and carrying her in the apartment everyday after trips, stuff like that. why?”

“wanna be my princess?” he asked bluntly.

a large smile spread across your face at his question, your heart thumping rapidly against your ribs.

you were already so in love with this man but you were certain that he couldn’t have asked you out any more perfectly.

“i would love to be your princess.”

[pricelessemotion]

Starstruck and Metal | E.M.

Summary: [4.3k] you meet eddie for the first time. it doesn't go quite like you expected.

Pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!music journalist!reader

Warnings: none!

Notes: huge thank u to my bestie chuck for beta reading 🫶 also if you solve the crossword hint i love u

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InStereo magazine was not The Rolling Stones, but it was a start. The modest music magazine had a humble following, enough to earn some hums of recognition whenever someone made the mistake of asking what you did for a living. Most days, it’s great. You relish in the joy of working in a field some people only dream of entering. The leap from column writer to main article was a large one, but you insisted that you were ready. Your first assignment as a music journalist and of course you got stuck with Eddie fucking Munson. 

Any self-respecting music journalist, anyone with some skin in the game would have laughed in the face of their editor. But instead, you smiled. You nodded enthusiastically, mimicking the bobblehead that has since been removed from your desk. When you decided to become a music journalist, you wanted to write about people who were changing the field. Instead, you were being tasked with writing some puff piece being used to save a wannabe rock star’s reputation. God forbid you gain the reputation of being a difficult woman–in a male-dominated industry no less–by turning down such a great opportunity.  

Even if that opportunity included spending a day with Eddie fucking Munson. 

You paid out of pocket for the cassette of Corroded Coffin’s debut album that was currently underscoring your drive to West Hollywood. You refused to meet the frontman without having listened to their music beforehand. They were good. A little rough around the edges, but it was to be expected. Outside of the occasional headlines, you hadn’t heard much about Eddie or his band. Corroded Coffin was making ripples, not waves. Of course, no one really cared about the music when they could be reading about who and what their lead vocalist was doing. 

Still, you find yourself parking outside of a humble ranch-style home in a neighborhood full of similar housing that likely cost a fortune to live in. The modest proceeds from Corroded Coffin’s tour have obviously paid off, considering that nice area and affordable don’t usually exist in the same sentence when talking about LA housing. The June sun is beating down on the empty street, and you’re thankful that you decided to wear a T-shirt and jeans. You tell yourself that the sweat collecting on your brow is from the heat and not nerves. 

Double-checking that you have the right address, you slam the door shut on your sedan and take a deep breath. The air feels cleaner here, less smoggy. You’re not sure if it’s because of the altitude or the tax bracket of the people who live here. Probably both. You reach into your purse and feel around for what you already know is inside. Pen. Notepad. Tape recorder. The holy trinity for a music journalist. 

There were very few topics that Eddie wasn’t willing to talk about. You guess that when you’ve had your insides strewn across the pavement for everyone to see, you don’t bother trying to uphold any semblance of mystique. Beginning the daunting trek toward your assignment, you remind yourself of two things:

1) Don’t ask about his father 

2) Don’t ask about what happened in Hawkins, Indiana in 1986

The first rule seemed simple enough. As far as the public was concerned, Eddie Munson came to Hawkins at the age of 12 to live with his Uncle Wayne like how a fully formed Venus sprang up from sea foam. He wasn’t and then he was. End of story. The fact that Eddie’s management went out of the way to make sure his father wasn’t brought up only made you more curious. 

The second rule was a little harder to accept. Anyone who knew anything about Eddie Munson wanted to know about 1986. Despite the fact that his highly publicized murder charges and subsequent exoneration are part of what caused Corroded Coffin to skyrocket to fame, he’s remained very tight-lipped about the whole situation. He plays off every question about it in interviews with a smirk and a sly comment. Just charming enough to get away without answering. Just vague enough to keep people guessing. Maybe his publicist wasn’t such a waste after all. 

Eddie Munson opens the door a few moments after you ring the bell. Using a ringed hand to shield his eyes from the midday sun, he squints at you. A pair of sweatpants hang low on his hips. He has a severe case of bedhead despite the fact that the time on your watch indicates that it’s nearly two in the afternoon. The confusion that draws his brows together also indicates that he has absolutely no idea who you are. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you state your name and purpose before realization graces his features. 

“It’s you! Shit, yeah! You’re here for the– the thing!” He tosses a careless look over both of his shoulders before widening the opening. “Come on in.”

Eddie closes the door behind you and rushes down the hallway in order to put some real clothes on, leaving you standing in the empty living room. The inside is surprisingly clean for someone who’s gained the reputation of being a hot mess. It smells like cigarettes, weed, and lemon pledge. The lemon scent is strongest as if someone was trying–and failing–to use it to cover up the previous two. A record player is tucked into a corner, the vinyl still spinning. A line of electric guitars is propped up against the back wall, each of them no doubt costing more than your monthly rent. One of the stands is noticeably empty and you glance to your left to see a beat-up acoustic resting on the couch. On the coffee table, there are piles and piles of scrap sheets of paper. For most of them, the handwriting is too illegible to read or it’s been crossed out. Eddie seems to write lyrics like he lives his life: fast and all over the place.

Stepping closer, something along the upper corner catches your eye. Slyly lifting up a pile of paper, being sure not to disturb the configuration, you find that your suspicions are correct. Eddie received the same copy of Sub Rosa as you did. Obviously, it didn’t go over well. He’s used a pen to black out his eyes. Much to your amusement, you see he’s also drawn horns and a tail. The hand that’s flipping off the camera is illustrated to be holding a pitchfork. 

That’s not the full extent of Eddie’s doodling, though. On the bottom right-hand corner of the magazine, there’s a smaller picture of him standing next to a certain brown-eyed beauty. You’re quick to note that he’s drawn a crude halo and angel wings on his long-legged companion. They’ve been scribbled out as an afterthought, making the halo look more like a crown of thorns. 

So, you think to yourself, he’s a little immature. You can work with immaturity. Immaturity means that he won’t be as guarded as some of the other celebrities your coworkers have had the misery of meeting. In fact, from what little you know about Eddie, you wonder if he even has any guard at all. He did leave you alone here with stacks of potential songs for his band’s next album. If you were a better journalist and a worse person, you would probably take the time to decipher his chicken scratch and see if you could glean any insights into his creative process. But you don’t. Instead, you release the stack of papers and wait. 

For a moment, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You’ve never been inside of a famous person’s house before. You’re not sure if you should sit down and make yourself comfortable or if Eddie has something else planned for the two of you to do. The specifics of your assignment were intentionally vague, most likely to accommodate Eddie’s spontaneity. 

Venturing further into the living room, you come to stand in front of a shelf. Brushing your fingers across the collection of vinyl, you tilt your head to read the names along the spines. There are the usual suspects–Dio, Metallica, and Judas Priest–but what surprises you is that, in the midst of all the metal and hard rock, there’s an array of old-school country music. At the end of the lineup is the most surprising one of them all; Sentimentally Yours by Patsy Cline. It’s exceedingly worn, cracks and creases litter the empty sleeve. If you were a betting woman, you would say that the record is currently on the player across the room.

A muffled crash followed by a string of curse words breaks you out of your reverie. Eddie opens the bedroom door with the finesse of someone who is obviously used to being the center of attention. He’s traded his sweatpants and tank top for a pair of ripped black jeans and a v-neck. It felt reassuring to know that you hadn’t underdressed for the occasion. 

It also gives you a moment to drink in the blinding light that was Eddie Munson. He’s leaner in person. Though he always looked lithe in every photograph you saw of him, his frame seemed more imposing and large. Maybe all the stars just look that way when they’re so high above you. 

He was taller, too. The boots on his feet surely aided in that, given that the soles were at least an inch thick. Still, you didn’t anticipate how much you would have to tilt your head up just to look him in the eyes. 

There, standing in Eddie Munson’s rented living room, you realize something; You’re absolutely starstruck. 

Although you had turned up your nose at the prospect of interviewing him and regarded his reputation with the same disdain you reserved for bad drivers and shitty landlords, you were still a person after all. 

With all of the stars around, it’s easy to think of Los Angeles as the center of the universe. But you are not a star or anything even close to it. You’re some space debris, hopelessly floating and waiting for something bigger to come around and influence you with its gravitational pull. 

Eddie is a heavenly body. You can’t help being pulled into his orbit. 

“So, I see you’ve found my collection.” His voice is still rough with sleep. The sound makes you weak in the knees. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.” You mumble, tucking Patsy Cline back into the shelf. “You’ve got some really good stuff here.”

“Don’t worry about it. Actually, that reminds me, I have something for you.” He swiftly turns and stalks back towards what seems to be his bedroom, motioning for you to follow him. 

The blood rushes out of your cheeks. The terms of your interview suggested that you would have a lot of access, but this was different. This was up close and personal. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own because while you’re still wrapped up in the fact that you’re gonna see Eddie Munson’s bedroom, you’re already following him down the hallway and through the open door. 

It’s about as messy as you would expect. The furniture is all pale wood and earth tones, fitting the mid-century modern stylings of the rest of the house. You suspect that Eddie took the time to clean up a little while you were rifling through the stacks of paper. The bed is haphazardly made. There’s an ashtray on his bedside table, filled with the remains of a few cigarettes. 

“I’m not supposed to smoke inside. Shh.” He brings his index finger to his mouth, pink lips barely brushing the skull ring he’s wearing. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You let out an airy laugh. Being reprimanded for smoking inside is the least of Eddie’s worries and you both know it. 

Eddie’s nimble fingers skim the top of the dresser, brushing aside even more sheets of scrap paper. A couple of guitar picks plummet to the floor, but he pays no mind. 

“I heard that metal isn’t usually your thing.” He remarks, still sifting through the clutter. 

That much is true. While you dabbled in a little bit of everything, not only as part of your job but also as part of your interest in music, metal wasn’t usually the genre you gravitated towards. In fact, the most metal album that you had listened to recently was written and produced by the man standing in front of you. 

“It’s not, but I’m open to everything.”

“Aha! Here it is.” Eddie holds up the cassette like it’s the key to the universe. Handing it to you, you can see that the writing on the sides is reminiscent of what you saw in the living room, though slightly neater. You’re familiar with some of the bands listed, but the songs don’t ring a bell. “I thought I would broaden your musical horizons.”

You gawk at him. For someone whose job is about words, you can’t find any. He took the time to make you a mixtape? 

“Track five is a personal favorite.” Eddie says, leaning towards you and tapping the tracklist, obviously unshaken by your inability to form a coherent thought. 

“Thanks. I’ll give it a listen.” You manage to choke out, tucking the cassette into the front pocket of your purse. 

Looking around the room, you see that there’s a battered copy of The Lord of the Rings on his bedside table. The corners are frayed, and you’re certain that you could accidentally tear the cover off of the paperback if you’re not careful. Cautiously, you trace the spine with your finger, waiting for Eddie to say something. To tell you that it’s the one thing that’s off limits. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching you. Opening it, you can see Property of Eddie A. Munson written underneath the title in a childish scrawl. 

“You like books? I mean–you’re a writer, so of course you like books–I mean, have you read that one?” Eddie is visibly flustered, the words coming out of his mouth at an alarming rate. It almost makes up for the way he rendered you speechless moments ago. 

“I’m more of a Dune girl myself. But, I love The Lord of the Rings. My dad used to read it to me before bed every night.”

“Yeah?” A small smile tugs at his lips before he practically whispers his next words. “Mine too.” 

A flash of something you can’t quite decipher crosses Eddie’s face. 

“Right! Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?” He shuffles out of the room like his life depends on it. You’re still reeling at the fact that he brought up his dad unprompted. Keeping a brisk pace, you put the book down and follow him into the kitchen.

“We have…” He trails off, opening the door to the refrigerator. “Nothing.”

He shuts the refrigerator and dashes to the table by the front door. He mumbles to himself before grabbing a few things, shrugging on a jacket, and finally turning to face you again. A pair of sunglasses covers the half of his face that isn’t plastered with a mischievous grin. From the tips of his fingers hangs a set of car keys.

“You hungry?”

–

You should’ve known that Eddie Munson would try to kill you within 20 minutes of meeting him. Lifting up the garage door, he reveals that the car keys were in fact, not car keys but keys to a motorcycle. The vehicle in question is an absolutely stunning deathtrap. It shines so beautifully that you can see your terrified face in the warped reflection. 

Putting his helmet on, Eddie straddles the bike and looks at you. 

“C’mon.” Eddie smiles wolfishly, tilting the spare helmet towards you. “I’m a safe driver. Promise.”

You’re still standing frozen. His wolfish grin melts into something more patient.

“Hey, if you don’t want to take the motorcycle, just say the word. I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.” 

Despite the sincerity in his voice, you can’t help but take the words as a challenge. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” You profess, though the shake in your voice is evident. Grabbing the helmet out of his hands, you ignore the way your face heats up when your fingers brush.

Eddie takes gross advantage of California’s lane-splitting laws, leaving you clinging to his leather-draped torso for dear life. Outside from the occasional shout of assurance that you can’t understand, the ride is quiet but for the roar of the bike and the wind in your ears. You’re vacillating between being absolutely terrified of crashing and secretly relieved at the fact that you didn’t have to make small talk on the drive from his place to wherever he was taking you. 

You were very close to liking Eddie Munson. Now, you were sure that he was sent as some kind of karmic punishment.

“Parking in L.A. is always a pain. That’s why I love this baby,” He gingerly pats the handles as he kicks the parking brake down. “She can fit basically anywhere.”

You hum in agreement, mostly just happy to have made it to your destination in one piece. While Eddie hops off the bike with ease, you have a little more trouble. Swinging your leg over, your toe catches on the fuel tank, causing you to stumble and nearly fall to the ground. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Eddie is biting back a smile. He offers a calloused hand out to you. You brush it away out of embarrassment, planting both feet firmly on the ground and taking in your surroundings. 

You had expected Eddie to take you to one of L.A.’s finer dining venues. Somewhere with fancy mood lighting and clientele with pockets so deep that they don’t even bother to put the prices on the menu. His management was footing the bill, after all. 

The building that sits before you is none of those things. The diner is old and slightly dilapidated. Graffiti mars the stucco that hasn’t already crumbled away. The neon sign that says Zazie’s! blinks drowsily, more of an eyesore than eye-catching. 

Eddie opens the door for you. As the bell above it jingles, you’re hit with a rush of conditioned air and canned nostalgia. The walls are covered in artifacts from a bygone era of poodle skirts and letterman jackets. A lonely jukebox sits in the corner, playing a soft hum to a Billie Holiday song you have long forgotten the name of. 

A plump woman sits behind the counter doing the crossword in the newspaper. Likely, the same one you were doing that morning. A thoughtful look is etched into her soft features, and you wonder if she’s also stuck on 57-down: Idle during the heist. The ten-letter space confounded you so much that you were almost late. Luckily, it doesn’t seem like Eddie is the type of person to care too much about punctuality.  At the sound of the bell, she looks up, squints, and smiles. 

“Is that you, Toto?” The glasses that sit on the tip of her nose are attached to a chain around her neck. She lets them fall to her chest, her voice bright and amiable. 

“You know it is, Dorothy!” Eddie gushed, an award-winning smile back on his face. 

They fall into easy conversation, making it obvious that he’s a regular here. You keep glancing at him trying to find hints of ingenuity but there are none. Eddie regards the woman with the warmth and respect that you would expect from a boy scout, not a rockstar. 

Sliding into a booth, Dorothy hands you both a menu and leaves to make a fresh pot of coffee. 

“You have to try the french toast, it’s divine.” Eddie barely steals a look at the laminated folder before folding it back up and putting it down on the table. 

“I’ve never really been a french toast person. I don’t know if I wanna risk it.”

Eddie gives you a pointed look, sunglasses slipping down the slope of his nose. “You rode a motorcycle. How much more risky is a plate of french toast?”

“Maybe that was all the risk-taking I had in me for one day.” You force yourself to shrug noncommittally. You don’t know why breakfast food is the hill you’ve chosen to die on, but you’re going down swinging.

“Well, you already trusted me with your life.” Eddie takes the sunglasses off and tucks his fist under his chin, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. “Think you can trust me with this?”

Suddenly, all of the fight in you disappears. There’s that sincerity in his voice again. You realize then that the best and worst thing about Eddie Munson is how genuine he always sounds.  

“Yeah, I do.”

The smile on his face is so bright that you feel compelled to look away. Eddie orders for both of you. It’s enough food to feed a small army, but it seems that Dorothy is used to it because she leaves the table with a wink and says if y’all need anything just holler! 

“Do you mind?” You say, pulling out the notepad and pen from your purse. 

Eddie freezes for a fraction of a second. It’s almost imperceptible. Almost. In the small amount of time you’ve known him, it has become abundantly clear that Eddie wears his heart on his sleeve. Recovering quickly, he gives you the go-ahead and smiles. For the first time today, his grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“So,” You begin, clicking the button on your ballpoint. “I have to ask. Toto?”

Eddie barks out a laugh. He goes on a whole spiel about how he was having a terrible day and walked into the diner feeling homesick and hungry. When he first came to L.A. he felt like Dorothy stepping into the technicolor world of Oz. Once the novelty wore off, he found himself missing when the world used to be so black and white. Upon telling the wise waitress, aptly named Dorothy, she lovingly told him, Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore. The nickname stuck ever since.

The story almost sounds rehearsed. A perfect sound bite that shows how you can take the boy out of the Midwest, but you can’t take the Midwest out of the boy. And yet, you feel inclined to believe him. Eddie just seems to have that effect on people. 

The food finally arrives and you’re amazed to find that Eddie’s eyes are not bigger than his stomach. He talks about music and his band in between bites of pancakes and hashbrowns, both of them drowned in an inch of syrup. He speaks of his friends back in Indiana with a certain fondness, but you can’t help but notice how avoids naming his hometown. He also never refers to Hawkins as back home, instead saying where I’m from.

Conversation between the two of you flows as easily as the never-ending coffee from Dorothy’s pot. It’s almost too easy to forget that this is an interview. Remembering yourself, you take a moment to ask Eddie one of the harder-hitting questions you have in your back pocket.

“What about Evelyn Chau?”

Eddie winces. The open book that was sitting before you shuts tight with a resilient slam. The mouthful of pancakes and syrup seems to turn to sludge as his chewing slows. Despite having no regard for table manners earlier, he points at his lips and holds up a finger to indicate that he needs a minute to swallow. 

After taking a sip of coffee and wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, he slouches in his seat and crosses his arms defensively. 

“What about Evelyn Chau?” He repeats your question back to you but with an unmistakable air of forced nonchalance. 

You want to crumble under his pointed gaze, but you don’t. You steel yourself with the reminder that asking uncomfortable questions is part of your job description. Besides, it would raise many more alarms if you didn’t ask about the raven-haired model spotted painting the town with him than if you did. 

“Everyone wants to know if you’re together.”

“Everyone.” He exaggerates the word, using his index finger to trace the lip of his coffee cup. “Does that include you?”

The smirk on his face indicates that he’s either messing with you or flirting with you. Maybe both. 

“Well,” you demure. “are you?”

“Evie is just a friend.” Eddie’s still perfectly composed, but the familiarity with which he says her nickname betrays him. His face twitches when he catches his slip-up. “A really close friend.”

It’s already too late. He couldn’t convince you that she was just a friend if he tried. A flash of a crossed-out halo and crooked angel wings comes to mind. 

You’re about to ask him another question, but Dorothy and her impeccable timing interrupts the moment by placing the check on the table. Eddie throws down a few bills from an old leather wallet, while you’re trying to figure out how you can spin a two-hour diner date into an entire article. 

Eddie stretches as he stands up, the hem of his black v-neck raises to expose a tattoo on his right hip that snakes down further than you’re supposed to look. On the other side, you catch a muddled array of purple and red scar tissue. Averting your eyes, you look up and are met with a stony gaze. He caught you staring.

“What do you say we get outta here?”

Because you’re a very stupid, stupid woman, you agree.

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

taglist: @twisted-wonderland-of-wren

[20th-century-bitch]

House of Leaves: The Perception Theory

People apparently liked my last post, so this is another House of Leaves Theory I posted on reddit

Do you know when you first enter a new place, like maybe a new video game or a town you’ve never been to before, and you are in awe of the sheer massiveness of the place. And then over time, as you become more familiar with it, it shrinks down to a manageable size? All of that happened just within your head.

Hi everyone. Some in my last post suggested I write about some of the explanations I have for the “docility problem,” or “why does the house start out dormant and become more aggressive over time?” This is something that I’ve been brewing in my head for a while: The Perception Theory.

The Perception Theory states that the house is a sort of distorted mirror. Anything the inhabitants believe about the house is reflected and becomes true. This is not only about conscious perception but memory as well. Like I pointed out in the opening, new places feel larger. To the Navidsons, the house was a place to be conquered and controlled even before the supernatural events begin. They believed the house was larger, so it became larger - the first hallway. When first moving into a new house, it’s normal to discover new areas and rooms that you didn’t find or forgot about until after a while of living there. The family wasn’t consciously aware of every facet of the house - and were away during this time - and this created a “hole” that the house filled with a pitch black hallway.

It is to be noted that this “perception” element only affects humans. Hillary and Malory (if you forgot, I don’t blame you, but they were the family cat and dog) were completely unaffected by the house, and the motion activated cameras were not triggered by the first Hallway appearing. It’s something innate within us that causes this effect. Curiosity, imagination, higher order thinking, possibly.

This becomes the basis for a snowball effect. Now that the Navidsons’ perceptions of the house were skewed by this new discovery, the whole house grew by 5/16”, then there was the bookcase event, and then the echo chapters. As humans, we can use echo as a way to gauge how large a space is. When the Navidsons first hear an echo within their house, again, the perception is altered. Larger and larger the home grows… that’s until the second Hallway manifests. Again, it is a freezing cold area with absolutely no discernible features. An uncanny mix of a familiar hallway with something extremely alien and empty.

It reminds me of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Some have pointed out that the rooms at the end of the film that Dave resides in are as if an alien with a superficial knowledge of humans tried to build a “zoo” for them. It’s familiar, it’s human, but everything is in the wrong place. The lights are on the floor and all the furniture placement seems off. Rooms are mirrored and even time is warped. In House of Leaves, the labyrinth is like an entity tried to extrude a house without knowing what makes a house… a house. The inhabitants’ perceptions made it larger, but because they didn’t know what they would find so it manifests as nothing, void, the bare minimum.

It should be noted that there are two kinds of “furniture” within the house, doors and banisters. That significance is unknown to me.

The Perception Theory also explains why the exploration team’s supply cashes are destroyed. Halloway brings a gun, anticipating a monster or some kind of enemy within the halls. This causes scratch marks to appear on the neon signs and caches. They were destroyed because the team expected to find them destroyed. The buttons on their shirts disappear not because they were arbitrarily consumed, but because they were not being kept track of. u/kingshaux pointed out something else that was interesting:

Notice how the House only really starts acting like Holloway’s enemy as soon as he starts seeing/treating it like one, almost as if it’s offended/defensive, like a person.

The house reflected Holloway’s hostility onto himself, becoming aggressive towards him but also (attempting to) protect Wax and Jed in the door shutting scene. Holloway expected to be attacked and killed by a monster, but the real monster was him, being reflected back by the house. The teamed exploration occurred at the same time the place outside the hallways started to be referred to with terms aligning with a war. Bases, fronts, attacks, SOS, outposts… the inhabitants’ intentions went from exploration to war. After they find Holloway’s suicide tape, the house tries to consume everyone like it did Holloway. It’s now an enemy in their minds.

The spiral staircase scenes are a major point of the Perception Theory. First of all, it appears that they go down forever, so they go down for a very very long distance. It takes the team days to reach the bottom. But now they they’ve confirmed that there is, in fact, a bottom to it, it takes Navidson 5 minutes to walk down it. Because the perception that it was bottomless changed, the distance changed as well.

So why does the distance stretch so far when Navy tries to leave? Not only does it stretch to an absurdly large size, it’s also a metaphorical distance, as he becomes more and more distant from Karen and his family. Because his connection to the outside is waning. He is mentally consumed by the house at this point, ignoring his wife’s wishes to enter inside (even though it was to save the team, Navidson wanted to go back anyway) the Hallways. But Navidson’s determination wins, as he climbs to bridge that distance even if it might be in vain. He makes it back to Tom. He makes it back to Karen.

This leaves some questions. If Karen’s perception of the house was so fearful, how does she save Navidson in the end? If we assume the colonials weren’t expecting to find anything in the area, why did they find stairs? How did it consume Karen’s Feng Shui and/or did she forget about it? Where does the cat go? Why can the house only manifest doors and hallways?

I get that that’s kind of a lot of loose ends but I didn’t want to make this post too long. Thanks for reading and tell me your ideas.

[worldsewage]

Kingyoto 6, 10, 11, 23, 30, GO (is this what we mean by ask game am I doing this right) (also this is all from the surface tier 0 my brain got overloaded with information when i tried reading the rest)

6. Living situation; where do they live? How did they end up there?

Kingyoto lives in an extremely cheap apartment area outside of Inkopolis, sort of in an awkward area at the outskirts of the city, close enough to Inkopolis to get there in an 30 minute drive, but not far enough to be in the Calamari County / Farmland region at the far east… one day I’ll redo my Homerun Map so this makes more sense hehe. The area he lives in already has a few salmonids in the apartment, so it’s designed for semi-aquatic gill having water-folk. So he doesn’t need to install any new beds and stuff. The water pressure is high, has one of the tank beds, has a few humidifiers… etc..,

I think Fido has definitely almost accidentally killed himself in this shower before since the water pressure is high, there’s a large crank in the shower you can switch to turn the water into a fine mist so it’s not heavy water, this is a requirement of houses in Inkling Heavy Areas.

10. Any hobbies? Where did they begin?

Plant life botany and assembling terrariums + tanks. It just in general makes him happier, and since he loves to cook he likes to use his tanks to cultivate richer plantlife and veggies. They spruce up the place and he likes having something to look after or he’ll get pretty depressed.

11. What do their hobbies mean to them?

It’s in a way a taste of home away from home, sure it’s not exclusively a Salmonid Thing— but the humid-heavy environments, maintaining temperature, it kind of reminds him of the shoddy always-breaking house he grew up in that was always leaky and had tubes that were clogged. He likes to take care of these little pain-in-the-ass set ups because he likes to feel a sense of control in what he sees as a mini-household. And his shrimps need him.

23. Do they have a daily routine? Do they enjoy it, did they choose it?

For sure, he’s got a calendar, work, chores, errands, repeat. It’s not really the life he ever intended to want but he’s never really had big plans for himself. He likes it, I think, I don’t think he ever tries to think too hard about it 😭…he stays active and does what makes him happy, he’s not a pastry chef or whatever he dreamed of as a kid but it works.

30. Are they easily amused? Or is it a lost cause trying to entertain them?

FOR SURE ME THINKS. I mean Yes as in hes easy to please and if you crack even like a SEMBLANCE of a joke he’ll start snickering. People usually don’t talk to him since he’s a Salmonid living in Inkopolis so his existence is seen as a “sore subject”, but I think if anyone’s nice to him or gets a little silly he’d get giddy and sort of have an overreaction and would later apologize for it like a weirdo…. What are u doing Kingyoto… you are Alive and with EMOTIONS.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

'El Partido de Beisbol'

wouldn't it be fucked up if i watched it and then a little man comes out onto the field who looks just like me and He comes over and fucks me on the greens (and i can feel that They are safe, unlike how i intimately know them to be), and i watch, in the most out of body experience of my life, myself get fucked, years ago, but in my current form, on a televised event, on my tv? He gave me His cap when We finished.

i make a post discussing how weird it is that not only did They have sex in a crowded public area, but it was also filmed and not cut from the final cut of the game. and that the guy looked just like me. isn't that so weird? why don't we talk about this more?

and i get a reply that says, 'i watched it too, but the guy was me.'

and another that says, 'i just watched and holy shit!!! that guy looked just like me!!!'

and another that says, 'no way,' followed an hour later with, 'oh my g-d. y are u right?'

wouldn't that be fucked up?

one day, miraculously, i meet Him. Him and i are alone Together in a place that looks, despite everything, like my childhood home, if i squint.

i ask Him about the footage of Us fucking and He grins at me like the Cheshire Cat and coyly sneers, 'I have no idea what you're talking about, little man.' He pulls the cap (the same one, team and all,) out of His pocket and puts it on my head for me.

He kisses me and leans me back down onto the floor, pinning my hands above my head.

'who do you think you are?' He asks, stilling His movements, hovering over me.

'i am the little man.'

'and who am I?' He asks, grinning again in a way that makes me want to lick His teeth.

'You are the Player. You are the Game.'

'no,' He says, pausing to lick His teeth. 'You are also the Game. I am Everything.'

'are You G-d?'

'if you wish to call Me That.'

'i do wish. but what about the others? why could they see themselves?'

'why do you think this is your home?'

'because it looks like it. that doesn't answer my question. not really.'

'because I will it to be so.'

'but why did You will it to be so? why make all of us see it? why not just me, if You wanted this?'

He laughs loudly.

'why do you want Me?' He asks.

'You control me. pleasure. chemicals in my brain.'

'close enough. I know (love) how jealous you get.'

He begins fucking me. i writhe around and feel the grass all around me again. my heart picks up its pace for the billionth time and only then do i begin to sweat.

'you've already proven yourself,' He says, suddenly reassuring.

'have i?' tears prick my eyes.

'of course, My, My—' His voice seems to cut out totally, lips moving to spell out the one word He means to say, but doesn't. For me. To put me at ease. He wouldn't let you all know. His voice returns, 'I am protecting you.'

'thank You. thank You, G-d. G-d. G-d.'

i orgasm or something akin to it but stronger, feeling my entire body convulse with the sheer force of it, like getting struck by lightning.

'be watchful, My, My—' the cut off again. 'I am Everywhere.'

'like El Partido de Beisbol.'

He laughs, less like a bell and more like a gong.

'of course! you already know. I will it to be so.'

His body dissipates into the air, His Cheshire Cat smile remaining a few moments longer than the Rest of Him.

'wouldn't that be fucked up?' i ask you again.

[ohgodimafraud]

Weaponized Incompetence

hi guys i started watching the devil is a p@rt t!mer the other day and im obsessed

i hope u enjoy

dust allergy, luc//ifer (urush//ihara)

“ihSChh!” 

Alciel turns to face the disturbance and has to actually angle his gaze downwards when he remembers how short Lucifer is. The hikikomori is idly rubbing his nose, feather duster trailing on the floor in his other hand. “You’re supposed to be cleaning, Urushihara.” he chastises.

“I think I’m allergic to dust.” He frowns.

Alciel’s eye twitches at the excuse. “You’re always trying to get out of doing anything! It’s disgraceful. Maou-sama deserves to come home to a clean castle. It’s bad enough he’s providing for us!” He wrings out his lord’s durable whitey-tighties over the sink. “It’s the very least you can do.”

“The least I can do is nothing.”

“Oh, you’ve already done something!”

Lucifer weighs his options with a sigh. There’s no way Alciel will let him enjoy himself in peace until the chores are done, not with how worked up he’d been all day after a few cracks from Emi about his housekeeping coupled with seeing the charges to their bank account—so he’d ordered a few online games, sue him. “But it’s—”

“And when you’re done dusting, you can vacuum.”

“I can’t do it like you. I’ll probably make a bigger mess—”

“Enough!” Alciel clips damp clothes to the clothesline and whips his head around and bears his fangs. “Hurry up! He’ll be home in a half hour.”

Lucifer grimaces at the dust coating the feathers. Most of it had remained from 

previous usage. It darkened them so much that they almost match his wings in terms of color. This has been a pointless waste of his time; he’s sure this isn’t doing much other than taking dust from one area and moving it to a new one. “hH’KxSHh!” Even thinking about it is apparently enough to make him sneeze again. “It’s filthy,” he complains.

“Go shake it outside!” Alciel yells, pointing at the door. 

The nerve of this guy. Outside? In the sun? Where there could be people? 

Fine. 

He sighs and reconciles with himself. After this, he’ll play his new PC games. He has

animals to take care of. Trees to plant. Lands to reign over. Soon enough, Alciel will be too busy fawning over Satan for him to be up his ass. It’ll only be another hour maximum. 

He shields his eyes from the sun, even though there’s decent cloud coverage and the temperature outside is almost identical to the one inside the Devil’s Castle. As he shakes out the duster, his eyes begin to water and thus confirm his suspicions. He tries to hold his breath, but he has a feeling it’s too late if the burning itch spreading through his nasal passages is any indication.

“hih’ISCHh! Hehh…hhihtcshh’ih!” Curse this human body. This is terrible. He has to sniffle to keep his nose from running but it has the unpleasant side effect of making the tickle reignite. He scrubs his nose against his shoulder and beats the duster on the rail again. The fallen archangel is no match for the angry cloud of dust that wafts in front of his face. “Tschh! KSChh! heh’ihSCh! h’EDtSZCHhh!” 

This is miserable.

He heads back in, head bent from the dizziness following the intensity of the sneezing fit. Even through the budding congestion, he can smell the concoction of chemicals Alciel has started using to clean the kitchen sink in the minute it's taken him to accomplish his task

“Hey, you’re not combi’ding bleach and ammbo’dia, are you?” 

“What?” 

Lucifer points at the various bottles on the countertop rather than attempt to repeat himself. 

“Of course I’m not! I would never be so careless!” Alciel yells back, double checking the labels anyway. “See? They’re all—”

“HhGHT-! Tschhiew…!”  

Alciel frowns at the intensity of the poorly restrained sneeze. “Why don’t you switch to vacuuming?” 

Lucifer sniffles and hands Alciel the feather duster. Hop off my dick, he thinks with another sniffle. They have no tissues thanks to Alciel’s “budgeting,” so he heads off to grab some toilet paper. 

“Where are you going?”

“Are you kiddi’gg?” he mutters, stifling another sneeze before closing the bathroom door behind him. He blows his nose and is disgusted by how much toilet paper he has to go through before he can breathe through his nose again. And even then…

“Ihh’Khshhh! Huhh…” He coughs dryly into the folded up toilet paper before blowing his nose again. Maybe if he’s quiet enough in here, Alciel will forget about him. He sits himself against the wall furthest from the toilet and tries to breathe evenly so he doesn't trigger another sneeze. He rests his head between his knees and cups clean toilet paper over his nose and tries to get some relief from the worsening sinus pressure. Might as well let his nose run freely instead of attempting to blow it every thirty seconds. 

What a pain. He almost wishes they’d have unwanted company just to get Alciel off his back. Too bad he hadn’t brought the laptop in here with him. With it, he’d probably be able to stay here for at least three days. 

“Urushihara! Stop slacking off!” 

“I’mb sorry my health is—h’KSCHh’hiu! Ugh. Of n’doh co’dcernd to you.”

“I can’t understand what you're saying. Open this door!”

Lucifer’s head feels like it’s pounding as if Alciel’s first has been banging directly against his temple rather than on the door. He has no choice but to oblige. “If I vaccuumb, will you leave mbe alonde?”

Alciel gives him a once over. “Are you crying?”

Lucifer scowls and pushes past him, easily dodging the retaliatory shove aimed in his direction. He grabs the vacuum and finds the switch, and—the bag is full. “What a pain,” he bemoans. “You used it last, Alciel!”

“Call me Ashiya!”

“It’s just us,” he mutters, sniffling again. “Can’t you switch this out?”

“I have dinner on the stove!”

Lucifer shudders at the thought of having udon yet again. If he suggests ordering out, he knows it’ll just result in more headache, so he kneels down to replace the bag. There are only so many buttons on the thing, it’s obviously the one in the middle. He’s a whiz with technology. A natural. As is expected of a NEET. This should be—

Poof.

Yeah, no he fucked up. 

The bag spills everywhere and Alciel shrieks at the mess.  It’s all over Lucifer’s face, and he doesn’t have time to get a single word out before he's overcome with a sneezing fit. “Heh’edzshhu! Kxsch! Tchh’ih-tschh!-tschh! h’KSCHhh!” 

“If you didn’t know how, you should’ve asked,“ Alciel lectures.

He holds up his hand to wave him off, unable to do much else other than try to get a breath in between the rapid sneezes. “hih’hHdtSChh! Ih’tchh!-kschh! Huhh!- hhihIHTShh!”

“Oh wow,” he says, tone changing abruptly, “You’re really allergic.”

Lucifer manages to shoot him a death glare with the two seconds he’s able to keep his eyes open before he jerks forward with another sneeze. Of course the earlier torture hadn’t been enough. “hehhySChh’ih!” he sneezes, voice cracking in desperation halfway through.

“Here, go wash your face, I’ll clean this up,” Alciel says, managing to sound guilty rather than amused. 

The barrage of sneezing relents enough to let him get up to run to the bathroom. The floor hadn’t been particularly dirty before he’d attempted to vacuum, but it certainly is now. 

“Hehdt’SCHH! Huhh..”

He flushes his eyes with water and then washes his face, the curtain of bangs in front of his eye getting dampened in the process. He buries his face in the nearby washcloth and immediately sneezes again. His throat is starting to become sore from it all, too. But something tells him his suffering will not be in vain. There’s no way they’ll pester him to clean again after this.

“Welcome home, My Lord!”

Lucifer steps out of the bathroom to see Alciel back over the stove. It’s alarming how adept he’s gotten at these chores. It doesn’t even make sense for him to need help. The floor is spotless again like nothing had happened.

“MgRonalds is doing an employee of the month program, and it comes with a bonus!” The Former Demon King and current part-time MgRonalds employee announces. If Lucifer weren’t so distracted right now, his ears would prick up at the word bonus almost as much as Alciel’s do. He starts to praise the endeavor when Lucifer’s nose betrays him again. It doesn’t matter that the allergen is long gone, the damage has already been done.

“hgSChh!”

“—just know you’ll be able to—”

“ihhtSChhiu!”

“—and hard work—”

“ihh’tSChh! KXSch!-tschh! Ihshh!”

“Are you okay, Urushihara?” 

Lucifer gives him a lackluster thumbs-up before sneezing again. Satan takes a few steps forward and brings the back of his knuckles to the exposed part of Lucifer’s forehead. The urge to sneeze that’d been building recedes from the suddenness of the gesture, leaving his nose twitching in annoyance. 

“He’s allergic to housework,” Alciel explains.

“Allergic to duh-dust.” Lucifer sniffles indignantly. “And ih’KSCHh! -a’dd guess what he made me do?” He at least manages to cover the sneeze in time, though his shirt is starting to look patchy with different portions of it darkened with spray. 

Satan pats his head. “And yet, you did it anyway. Thank you for helping.”

“I’mb older thand you,” Lucifer hisses under his breath.

“From now on…I will do the dusting!”

“No, Sire!” Alciel protests,  “It is my job to keep up with the housework. I will ensure it gets done!”

It’s so tacky. Lucifer walks away as they have a heated moment and returns to his place in front of the computer. His nose may be beyond fucked, but even he can smell the burning from the kitchen.

“Oh no! It’s my fault, I got distracted!”

“It’s okay, we’ll figure something else out. Or I’m sure it tastes…umm…”

“I’mb orderi’gg a pizza!” he says hoarsely. And for once, nobody protests.

[ferniforest]

Hi Ferni!!

Do you have information about sky:cotl you're willing to share?

I had the game, but it confused me and I didn't really know how to play it, but it seems like a ton of people really enjoy it :')

Hey Plum!

Sky is a really fun and beautiful game, but it is definitely a little confusing at first! Here's some general info, hopefully some of it will help you out! Feel free to read as much or little as you want :D

✧Physically playing the game

Sky's available on most devices, but recently they officially launched pc. I've only played the phone version for about 5 mins, but I think the computer is generally easier to navigate/control.

✧Goal

The goal of the game is to pass through the seven realms and their temples, and bring your light to the end. To avoid spoilers I won't go into the details, but the "end" of the game, is actually just the beginning. So don't feel like you have to figure out everything your first time through! There are many, many areas that branch off the main path, but the main storyline is almost always a straight shot :D If you get lost, you can honk and it should show you which way to go!

Example of honking to reveal the path

(I swear im not giving you sass, she just decided to squint when i took the picture😅)

✧Spirits

In order to gain new expressions (emotes) you find lost spirits and follow their memories. This is technically optional to the main storyline, but helpful for communication. You can also gain cosmetics from spirits, such as their cape, hair, instrument and more! These cost candles or hearts.

If you ever have trouble finding spirits, there's a button in the menu that will basically put a lil thing above you saying: "hey! I need help finding spirits, help me if you're able" and other players can guide you by holding your hand :D

✧Wax/candles

Candles are the main currency of Sky, you make them by igniting red candles throughout the realms/burning darkness plants and collecting the wax. Placed white candles do not give you wax, they are purely for interaction.

✧Winged Light

These are how you power your cape! Winged light is attained from children of light (the really bright glowy guys) The more winged light you find, the further you'll be able to fly without needing to recharge your cape!

✧Cape/Flight/Light

Flying can be a little tricky at first, but just keep practicing! You and cape are made of light, so in order to recharge you need to stand near another source of warmth or light such as: Candles, butterflies, other players, or clouds. This also means that if you stand in the rain or oil too long, your light will go out!

✧Other players

Players will remain grey shadows until you light eachother, then you'll be able to see eachother's cosmetics and such! Using candles you can befriend other players.

(Stranger before and after lighting them)

Looking back on all this- it might be more confusing than helpful XD I added links to the wiki pages for some topics in the ✧headings if you want more precise info :3 (+ the Getting Started page if u want that)

In summary, Sky is a game for making connections, exploring beautiful places, and letting your little light shine.

And if you ever want to play with me i would love love LOVE to, just lmk!

[belit0]

Hey!! So i saw that u started writing again, so if u dont mind writing something like a knife kink + dumbification for indra and madara?? Tysm<33

Ohmygawwd I had this request since the previous time I said I would come back (and then, I didn't)

Im so sorry it took me so long :,( but its finally here!

Never wrote knife play before, so I'm not sure how accurate this is, I did some investigation for it but well, I had to try :)

TW: Knife play, dumbification Pairing: Uchiha Madara / reader - Otsutsuki Indra / reader NSFW

Indra

- Cruelly fine patience. Indra enjoys seeing you tied up and with no hope of escape, completely restrained by hand and foot. It's a situation he'll often put you in because nothing manages to get his cock harder than that image.

- He will use satin straps, powerfully unbreakable but soft against your skin, as he enjoys watching you fight against your bonds, seeming eager to escape from him. It's the power play that drives this man's arousal.

- Indra will pace from one side of the room to the other, ignoring you completely as he discards his clothing, keeping only his pants on.

- You know he's doing it to torture your mind in every possible way, pushing you to your limit without even taking his underwear off. It infuriates and turns you on in equal measure.

- "You won't believe how dumb you'll look after everything I'll do to you (Y/N)."

- When he finally decides to pay you attention, he walks over to the bed with his favorite dagger clutched firmly in hand. It's small, but it's not blunt, something he constantly reminds you as to keep you completely still for his touch.

- "You know how this works (Y/N). You'll have to choose not to move an inch in the face of everything I'll do to you. If you don't, I’ll pierce you right through with the knife."

- As he whispers those words in your ear, he drags the blunt side of the knife across your body, starting from your neck and working his way down to your pelvis, stopping at your nipples to poke them with the cold metal tip.

- The dagger leaves a long red mark where the skin was tenderized by its touch, which Indra mimics with his tongue as he moves down to your groin.

- Just when you think his mouth will land on your apex, he spits harshly to lubricate the area and moves up again, until he is at eye level with you. With one hand, he lightly touches you, slowly working his way up to watch you writhe in pleasure beneath him. With the other, he holds the knife against your throat.

- "My stupid little bitch won't move because she knows she shouldn't. You don't want to get cut, do you, silly?", "Don't look away, or I'll have to start again just as you're about to finish."

- The cold metal against your throat and the precise deliveries of Indra's digits are all it takes to make a mess of you under his hands, and just as your first orgasm begins to wane, he penetrates you without warning, taking overstimulation to a new level.

Madara

- With this man, the situation is somewhat different. It's not the fear he enjoys seeing in your eyes, but the anticipation, the uncertainty, knowing he has you in his clutches and can take you wherever he wants.

- He always keeps his dagger in the freezer, leaving it completely frozen for when it's time to play with you. He loves to involve temperature changes and physical sensations in your intimate moments, always finding a new variation on how to push you to your limit.

- He will not tie you down, for he chooses to trust the fact that you understand you must not move, and if you become uncomfortable with boundaries, he knows you will let him know before risking a knife cut.

- Your hands slip through his hair, tied in a bun so as not to get in the way of the game, and trail down his back, leaving marks that soon turn red on his white skin with your fingernails. He gives you the freedom to move as you please, for he knows you are at his disposal and will obey his directions.

- "I'm going to fuck you silly until you don't even know how to say your name, (Y/N)." "Show me that stupid little face of yours, show me how you'll cry for me."

- He concentrates on conditioning you with gentle touches and caresses, getting you wet and ready for the show. He will take his time undressing you, stripping off your clothes, and tearing your underwear with the edge of the dagger.

- He uses a piece of fabric to blindfold you and begins to play with the sensations the cold metal produces on your skin. He scrapes your abdomen as if buttering a loaf of bread, and gently pricks your flesh with the tip of the knife until he reaches your legs.

- "Is my little dummy ready to be fucked?" "Tell me how you want me to screw you this time, (Y/N)."

- He won't come in contact with your pussy until he feels you physically ready. He needs to see you dripping with need before he'll get down to work. Your body's desperation and the fact that you can't see anything he does with you, how confident you are that he won't hurt you, bewitches him.

- He places the dagger just above your pubis, and at that exact moment, he decides to stop torturing you and fuck you with abandon.