#that’s the name until we come up with a better one

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter three | formula one imagine

chapter three: home away from home

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

back in monaco for the first time after the crash, y/n reckons with ghosts from the past and the uncertain future.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | PART ONE | PART TWO

despite the hefty price tag of the cat carrier, brando looks less than impressed. y/n continued to try and coax him in with a treat but the cat was suspicious to say the least.

“please get in the carrier brando,” she waved the treat in his face again, “we’re going to see max! you love max and you don’t mind kimi, yeah? remember them? we just have a short 16 hour drive because your lordship doesn’t like planes so can we please get in the carrier?”

brando bit into the treat and slowly made his way into the carrier looking sorry for himself. the biggest and final chore was now done with minimal guilt, she would take that. y/n wasn’t moving to monaco - no, she prided herself on being one of the only drivers to not make that jump, but she also didn’t exactly know when she was coming back.

there was less than a month until car launches and tests and max insisted on hosting some team-bonding sessions for her and kimi. it was probably just an excuse to see her before she is ‘tainted by mercedes’, but y/n found herself excited to see the dutchman again.

the suitcases were by the door and the plants had been watered, it was now or never. crossing the boundary of her front door, it dawned on y/n that her life was changing again. there wasn’t quite the excitement she had leading up to her first race in formula one, but she could feel the butterflies threatening to return.

the door clicked shut and the next phase started. in the lobby of her building, y/n approached the front desk.

“hi frank,” y/n said to the concierge, “i’m going away for a little while so could you keep all of my mail together for me?”

the older man smiled up at her. frank had been working at this building since y/n first moved in. he had tried to hide that he was a formula one fan but wasn’t quite successful. he had stuttered when she had turned up one evening, cap low on her head and oversized sunglasses despite the darkness.

“miss y/ln, would you like me to help you with your bags?”

y/n had frozen when frank said her name. frank had taken his hat off, trying to sort out the salt and pepper freckled hair on his head.

“i’m so sorry miss y/ln, that was unprofessional of me. as you now know, i am aware of who you are, i hope this does not make you uncomfortable. we will do anything you need to be comfortable here.”

y/n had also taken off her hat and looked frank in the eye. she deemed him sincere and allowed herself two minutes of respite from her burning anger. “no worries,” she looks down at his name tag, “frank. i would love some help, maybe on a better day i can sign something for you? other than these bags, i’d really love if this being my home was just something we keep between us.”

frank mock saluted and started grabbing bags.

“you won’t be gone forever will you, miss y/ln?” frank asked, pulling y/n back. the older man looked uncharacteristically worried.

“and miss our scintillating conversations? i would never! i assume you’ve heard i’ve taken the job with kimi? i’m going to do some ‘team-bonding’ with him in monaco and then i’ll be back”

frank took one of her suitcases, helping her to the garage.

“monaco you say? you wouldn’t be staying with the handsome dutchman by any chance,” frank said, raising an eyebrow in question.

“i might be?” y/n opened the door of her pink cadillac, “was it you who let him and kimi up without my permission, frank?”

“guilty as charged ma’am, but they were there with good purpose so i just had to”

frank continued loading the car with her suitcases, opening the back door and securing brando’s carrier in place.

“he also gave me a signed pair of race gloves, sorry!”

y/n exclaimed as she shut the door of the car. “i knew he was bribing you! but yes, i guess i am glad you let them up - for now.”

frank pulled y/n in for a hug. she let it linger before clearing her throat and pulling back.

“i know i’m just an old man, but it’s nice to see you excited about something again. you came to me three years ago a broken girl with a constant face like thunder,” frank pinched her cheek, “but here you are, ready to conquer the world again. i am proud of you. but don’t get too lost in your new role to not see what’s right in front of you.”

y/n was confused. frank continued, “the crash took a lot from you, but it did not make you unloveable. give people a chance.”

the older man stepped back and gave her a wave.

“make sure you make enough stops and get some sleep, it’s a long drive to monaco. say hi to max for me.”

frank turned and made his way back into the building. y/n sighed and climbed into her car. the pink cadillac was hardly subtle but she had banished all of her other cars to a different garage three years again so it would simply have to do.

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yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, kimiantonelli and 11,304,788 others

yourusername: sixteen hour road trip ahead of us, i hope brando is ready to get real acquainted with taylor swift's discography

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user1: she’s so cute

user2: it’s the pink caddy!!!

user3: y/n is back in formula one and is driving the pink cadillac - never kill yourself

charles_leclerc: okay miss active on instagram

yourusername: had to come back and steal all the likes from you obviously

charles_leclerc: oh yes please remind me how you still have double the followers i do when you haven’t posted in three years?

yourusername: idk sounds like you have a skill issue to me

charles_leclerc: sixteen hours and you’re back on my stomping ground… watch it missy

yourusername: i will watch

yourusername: because i know you and you will grovel

charles_leclerc: maybe…

charles_leclerc: i’ve missed you, sue me!

yourusername: i just might!

charles_leclerc: wait-!

user4: all these reunions are making me sappy

user5: i’m stuck on the fact that y/n is driving all the way to monaco?

yourusername: brando doesn’t like flying 😕

user6: oh to be a high maintenance cat of a rich person

maxverstappen1: jimmy and sassy are eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: awwww i’ve missed them

maxverstappen1: i was talking to brando…

yourusername: rightttttt

maxverstappen1: but i am eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: as you should be

maxverstappen1: i stocked up on all your weird english biscuits and everything

yourusername: you’re too precious

user7: oh to have a bond like theirs

user8: i fear it’s a trauma bond

user9: it’s still cute!

kimiantonelli: can’t wait to get started miss y/ln

yourusername: please call me y/n kimi you’re making me feel so old

kimiantonelli: oki

kimiantonelli: miss y/ln what kind of pasta do you like

kimiantonelli: *y/n what kind of pasta do you like

olliebearman: you are such a failure omg

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the road was quiet, with taylor swift’s voice filling the silence. y/n had exhausted the conversation with brando, who was tuckered out in the backseat. by now the pair we deep into france, y/n had stopped being able to translate the road signs many miles ago.

the thought of returning to monaco was daunting. there would be ghosts around every corner and memories that y/n wasn’t sure she was ready to confront. y/n wasn’t even sure which drivers even lived in the principality any more - however, she knew that her former teammate did.

lando norris was a bit of an enigma in y/n’s life. there were early growing pains in their friendship? work relationship? but as the 2021 season rolled around, she thought they had finally been ironed out. the gap was slim, but lando had outscored her in 2020, so his ego was still intact and that made him a little more enjoyable to be around.

y/n wasn’t sure who or what had pushed lando over the edge of accepting her as a teammate and not just a mere annoyance, but january 2021 was night and day from her rookie season. y/n had a sneaking suspicion that lando had been subject of some heated PR meetings over the christmas break, but as long as she wasn’t in them, she didn’t really care.

suddenly there was a shift in the atmosphere. lando spoke to her outside of meetings, in between video takes and checked in over the breaks. suddenly lando knew the name of her friends, where she had gone on holiday and her favourite food. y/n didn’t think much of it at the time. but then came everything else.

july 2021.

y/n didn’t tend to spend long on social media, why open herself up to the opinions of stupid people just because they were loud? one morning, a sunny one in monaco, y/n received a flurry of texts from her trainer luca. ripped from her yoga session on max’s balcony, y/n checked her texts.

luca: is there other strenuous activities i need to be aware of?

luca: tiktok.com/userlandonorris/reposts

luca: if this is a thing, should jon and i coordinate training plans?

huh?

y/n clicked the link and was taken to lando’s tiktok page. she felt like an old woman trying to navigate the app but finally found the reposts. the first few she saw were edits of herself? and then a couple talking about “finally being understood by that person” and some other more charged in nature.

what the fuck. there wasn’t a normal day in this team it seemed. y/n pulled back the door and went to find max. the dutchman was tucked into bed, still sore from silverstone just two weeks earlier.

“have you seen this shit?” y/n said, shoving her phone in max’s face, “i mean what does this even mean? 69? i didn’t even know lando could count that high?”

“i think he’s referencing sex, y/n”

“i know he’s referencing sex idiot! why is he referencing having sex with me?!”

“i don’t know, you’re the dumbass who joined that team - he’s probably trying to like get you on side after the shit he pulled in austria and is doing it in classic dumbass lando fashion.”

austria had been eventful. both lando and y/n had somewhat slow starts to the season, with just one podium to their names by the time they pulled up to the red bull ring. the two papaya cars lined up fourth and fifth on the grid, with y/n managing to edge in front of her teammate, which meant the two were subjected to the word teamwork 72 times in a 45 minute meeting (y/n had counted).

when the lights went out, y/n got the jump on the ferrari of sainz ahead of her, wrestling her way past the spaniard and up into third. with cleaner air, max had already wrangled a healthy three second gap back to her and was hunting down lewis, so she focused on keeping the prancing horse behind her. as they approached the steep incline, carlos jerked out to the right and tried his luck up the inside. the spaniard was heavy on his brakes, burning up his tyres as he missed the apex and shunted his front wing into y/n’s front right tyre.

the contact didn’t manage to cause a puncture or any terminal body damage, but the push had made way for carlos, lando and charles to slide past her as she strained to keep her mclaren from going into the gravel trap.

“what the hell was that?” y/n asked down the radio, keeping her eyes focused on charles’ ferrari down the road. “do i have any damage?”

“no damage that we can see. hang back for a couple of laps, the ferraris are eating their tyres and will fall back to you.” jude, her usually cool race engineer, had a bite to his voice.

taking the corner as tight as she could y/n barked back, “surely he has to give that place back? he forced me off the track?!” y/n was practically vibrating, with anger or from the force on her tyres, she wasn’t sure yet. “just keep your head down, we’ll get back to you,” hugo replied.

the ferrari of charles was getting further and further down the road. “hugo their tyres aren’t falling off, can i hunt them down yet? what about this penalty?” it was like talking to a brick wall as the pit wall didn’t reply. y/n bit down the urge to swear up a storm and put her foot down with renewed vigour.

by the next lap y/n had managed to battle her way into charles’ drs and was priming her tyres for a late move further down the track. charles tried to cut off the slip stream and predict which side y/n might choose, but it wasn’t enough as the mclaren breezed past charles before they even hit the apex.

unbeknownst to y/n the silence from hugo was indicative of the larger argument happening on the pit wall. despite putting massive flatspots on his tyres, lando had yet to make his way past sainz’s ferrari. will, lando’s race engineer, was deep in discussion with him over the radio (which would’ve made quite entertaining viewing for y/n after the fact if it didn’t concern her so deeply).

“lando we are confident that sainz will get a penalty. y/n has cleared charles, we need you to back sainz into y/n so she can overtake. when she does we want you to give the position back.”

and if that wasn’t the sentence that summoned the shitstorm.

“why should i give the position back? i did nothing wrong?”

lando kept his foot down and increased the gap between himself and sainz. will’s voice rang out on the radio again,

“lando. sainz pushed y/n off track and you all gained positions, the right thing to do is to give the position back.”

that was a red flag to a raging lando. he let off a spiel that had made the post-race debrief and all media duties torture for the pair of them.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

there was silence on the mclaren radio for a few moments. there was even silence on the broadcasts. no one quite knew what to say to that.

y/n had closed in on sainz, hundredths away from being in the spaniard’s drs range. her radio finally crackled back to life, “y/n you have full permission to use your tyres, we aim to pit soon. you are free to race with lando.”

excuse me? on one hand y/n was glad, there had been a couple awkward moments already this season where she had been told to hold position and not fight. however, that was her position, lost through no fault of her own?

“i am free to race? he should give me that position!”

“you are free to race. head down and clear sainz before we discuss again.”

this was bullshit. she knew it, hugo knew it, zak brown knew it, the broadcast team knew it and deep down lando knew it too. sainz was an easy pass for y/n in the end as she pipped him on the start finish straight. lando had a three second advantage which meant that y/n had some free air to cool down her tyres and get ready to fight her teammate. she would be clean but she was finishing on that podium whether he liked it or not.

within two laps y/n had completely dropped sainz and was breathing down the neck of lando. she was within his drs range as they rounded the final corner but before she could launch an attack lando swerved into the pit lane. that was an early stop? y/n quietly thought to herself that it seemed all too convenient that he was called into pit just as she was about to catch him… not that it really bothered her all too much, the over cut was more powerful at austria, so if she kept her good pace, she should come back out in front of her teammate.

many laps later and a late pit stop for y/n, the younger mclaren driver proudly picked up her second podium of the season. she hauled herself out of the car in parc ferme and immediately embraced max who had once again managed to win his quasi home race, catching lewis with ten laps to go.

once she had been weighed, y/n made her way to the interviews, glad to see it would be jenson conducting them - he always gave her nice questions.

“up first we have our third place finisher, the incomparable y/n y/ln! what a stint on those mediums, i thought for a second you were going to go all the way on them!” jenson said with a wide grin.

“thank you jenson! yeah… after the first lap i thought my race was pretty screwed… the fia took their time with carlos’ penalty so i had to regain my positions myself… but i think all in all it was a good race i’m glad to being going into my home race on the high of a podium and i’ll be looking to do even better there!”

jenson smiled at her but started to pick at his nails, a telltale sign he was going to have to ask a question he didn’t want to ask. “not to bring you down after a great race, but i must ask, what do you make of lando’s comments on the radio?”

y/n was puzzled, and her face showed that much. she started stuttering and shrugging. one of the production assistants behind jenson passed her a phone and pressed play. y/n held the phone up to her ear and felt the words rush over her.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

oh. okay. y/n knew she needed to take a couple breaths before she responded or she would say something she would regret. people would probably forget about lando’s comments by next week but if she said something like that she’d be stuck with the brat label for the rest of her career.

“that’s disappointing for sure to hear. third and fourth is a good result for the team and it ended how it should’ve. we’ll discuss this with the team but for right now i’m going to celebrate my podium and drink some champagne!”

jenson gave her a nod to say she did well and beckoned over lewis. y/n walked back to the side of the podium pen and slid in next to max.

“who the fuck does he think he is saying that? i’m being serious, someones got to knock some sense into him,” max said under his breath, aware cameras were still on them.

“i know, it’s bullshit, but i doubt they’ll say anything severe to him.”

just as y/n was making peace with the fact there would be no severe consequences for lando, her and max turned to see the man himself in the media pen. intrigued, both listened in on his interview.

“it sounds bad on the radio, yes. but i stand by the message, maybe not the delivery. this is formula one and y/n needs to know that you can’t just bat your eyelashes and be let by.” lando’s PR handler cuts the interview there and drags him back towards the mclaren garage, barely concealing her anger on her face.

“well, well, well.”

max groaned from under the blanket he had wrapped over his head, snapping y/n out of it.

“yes he was a massive knob in austria, as per usual, but i don’t understand how implying he’s sleeping with me makes it any better? it makes it look so much worse!”

“can you stop bothering me about it i think you just retriggered my concussion.”

“i don’t think that’s a thing, max,” y/n said and then her phone chimed, “speak of the devil, he’s asked if we can go for some lunch to ‘discuss the season’ whatever the fuck that means”

“good leave me alone”

“we’re going to luigi’s do you want me to get you some carpaccio to go?”

“i actually take it back, i love you - yes.”

y/n refilled his water and got his painkillers from the kitchen before she slipped on her shoes and made her way out of the complex. this is what was confusing about lando. he was more than happy to berate her on the radio but then would set up meetings like this like nothing had happened. usually y/n could write it off as a heat of the moment thing - she had once called mick an ‘incompetent cunt with shit hair’ on the radio so she definitely understood it. but it never stopped there, media duties were the death of lando and y/n was interested to see how he aimed to worm his way out of this one.

luigi’s was surprisingly busy for a tuesday afternoon but y/n spotted lando easily with his big jumper in the july heat. lando didn’t stand up to greet her so y/n just sat down as soon as she got to the table.

“do you know what you want to order?” lando snapped the menu shut and looked over to her.

“i’m doing well lando, thanks for asking,” y/n muttered sarcastically, “i’m just going to get some of the salmon, it’s good here.”

the waiter turned up just as she put the menu down and y/n ordered the salmon, a juice and the carpaccio to go. lando had ordered some chicken salad and a water. once the waiter had left he hissed at y/n, “did you order that on purpose?”

“what?”

“the salmon.”

“are you allergic or?”

“no?”

“then what’s the big deal? i like salmon, it’s good for you.”

“i hate fish. everyone knows i hate fish. i invited you here to sort things out and you’re already starting with the mind games.”

y/n’s mouth fell open. he was actually being serious.

“you know not everything is about you right? salmon is in my meal plan and they cook it nicely here. i don’t think about you in everything i do.”

lando huffed, whispering a ‘that i’m sure of’ to himself. this was so childish, and y/n was very to let lando know that. “do you want to repeat yourself lando? or are you going to continue to be a child?”

lando was taken aback, “me being a child? says you! i wanted to talk this out after silverstone like we planned? you were going to come to see my family and everything. they were so excited to meet you, especially my sisters. but no, you let me, let us down!”

y/n actually laughed in disbelief. “i told you i was sorry about silverstone and i was, but max needed me and in that moment he was who i had to be with.”

“it’s always max, isn’t it?”

“he was airlifted to the hospital lando, i’m sure he would’ve preferred me hang out with your family than have to do that again.”

lando had started to rip apart the napkins, a sign he was desperately trying to regulate himself.

“you always choose him! you choose him then, you only stay at his when you’re in monaco - you’re even picking up food for him on our date!”

“our date? are you kidding me? i’m going to ignore that,” y/n took a sip of water,” and for max? i care about him deeply and he was in hospital after a very dangerous crash!”

“then why don’t you care about me? huh?” lando was getting choked up, “you’ve never been there for me when i’ve crashed?”

now y/n was even more confused. lando had wanted her to be there for him when he had crashed but also couldn’t stand to be around her longer than necessary until this season. this boy was such a headfuck.

“you fucking hated me last season lando. and the way you’re acting here and how you acted in austria don’t really tell me that you like me any more.”

lando huffed and crossed his arms like a child. y/n continued, “this is what i don’t get with you. you can’t stand me all last season, literally refusing to call me by my name, only calling me rookie and running from meetings as soon as you can but now, now! i need to be there for your every need. now you can repost dumb tiktoks and fuel rumours about us?”

“they told me we needed to look closer!”

“so you decided to tell the world we’re fucking?”

“i didn’t say that!”

“you basically did, i saw the reposts. and for your information i would never fuck you in a million years.”

“no, that’s for max only isn’t it?”

“what is you people’s fucking obsession with thinking i am sleeping with someone on the grid? is it that inconceivable that i might be able to exist around my fellow drivers without trying to sleep with them?”

“well you should stop acting like you are then!”

y/n stood up abruptly, scraping the chair across the floor. she hastily grabbed her stuff and slotted her sunglasses back.

“you can send me what i owe for the lunch, i don’t feel like sitting here and being berated because you can’t handle this season. you know who actually has something to be stressed about, the guy actually in the title battle, who is in bed still recovering from a crash. so goodbye lando, i’m going to go take care of my friend who actually cares about me and can talk to me without belittling me.”

she sweeped out of the restaurant, the waiter at the entrance saw her coming and passed her the carpaccio. the heat of monaco was sweltering but the drama between her and her teammate was heating up even more.

present.

y/n was still none the wiser about how she felt about lando, even all these years later. something inside of her wanted to reach out to him, reassure him that he was good enough, especially after how 2024 had panned out, but then the memories of their time together at mclaren come flooding back and she feels content with her silence.

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texts between y/n y/ln (bold) and charles leclerc (italics)

little birdy told me you’re back in monaco

by little birdy i mean your instagram post

omg have you considered a career switch to being a detective?

you’re mean

anyway!

cocktail night at mine tonight

i guess you can bring your losers too

yes that includes ollie before kimi asks

wow that’s a big assumption that i’m going to say yes

drinking on my dime? when have you ever said no?

you have a good point

i’ll be there at 8 - losers in tow

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“we get to go to a cocktail night at charles? oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

kimi squealed down the phone to y/n, “hold on let me tell ollie, we’ve got to get ready!”

y/n could hear him shuffling through their shared flat, “it doesn’t start for another like three hours kimi!”

the two boys had started excitedly discussing outfits and which cocktails are the ‘cool’ ones.

“we’ll swing by yours at 7:45, be ready we won’t wait.”

y/n hung up and turned to max smiling, they were so cute. the two of them had been curled up on the couch with the cats for the majority of the afternoon as y/n was catching up on sleep. the brit turned to max,

“oh i forgot to tell you,” max perked up, “guess who came to my apartment after the GQ thing?”

max shrugged, throwing a toy for jimmy.

“lewis.”

“hamilton?”

“yeah!”

max’s eyes sharpened, “why would he be at yours?”

“wouldn’t you know? you’re the one who gave him my address,” y/n replied, trying to make eye contact with max who was avoiding her gaze.

“yeah i thought he was going to send you like condolence flowers or something not show up unannounced?”

both of them had sat up at this point. brando was sat between them, looking between them confused.

“he showed up and complimented my dress. i asked him if he was sad he missed me at mercedes and he like proper leaned in and asked what i could possibly teach him? kissed my hand and left. it was weird.”

y/n laughed as she recounted the story but max wasn’t laughing.

“it’s funny max, you’re meant to laugh.”

max forces out a sarcastic laugh.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing. i just think it’s weird. food for thought.”

“don’t worry he won’t replace you. you’ll always be my favourite.”

max smiled at that. he piled on top of her, with brando squished in the middle.

“you’ll always stay at mine in monaco right? i’ll always be your best friend on the grid?”

“always,” y/n said, tucking one of max’s hairs behind his ear, “beside where else would i stay? in kimi and ollie’s bachelor pad? i’d rather die”

max let out a laugh and let his head fall on y/n’s chest, her hands immediately tangling in his hair.

“i’m sorry for that. i just love you and our bond, i get jealous that mr seven titles might steal you away.”

“away from you? they’d have to take me kicking and screaming. you’re the only one who had my address, you’re the only one i spoke to in the three years. don’t think i’ll ever not have you first.”

the cocktail party was nearing, but the pair were content to stay tangled on the couch, with a grumpy brando tucked in between them. outside of the apartment, the ghosts of monaco still lingered. maybe it was a good thing charles had a weird obsession with cocktails and his at home bar, y/n could use some liquid courage tonight.

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charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, pierregasly and 2,304,667 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: it’s been three years and she still can’t mix drinks.

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user1: war is officially over

user2: i hope nothing bad happened between them but it is stuck in my mind that they didn’t talk in the three years

user3: i’m hoping she just flat out wasn’t speaking to anyone but max and charles did nothing bad

user4: his tribute post is still up which others can’t say so

kimiantonelli: i think her drinks are just right!

yourusername: i think we’re gonna work so well together

kimiantonelli: i think so toooooooooo

olliebearman: he’s just really drunk?

yourusername: so he’s not always like this?

olliebearman: loud? not really. but hanging off every word you say? yeah that’s pretty normal

user5: oh how i’ve missed my beautiful wife

user6: lando’s beautiful wife

user7: nuh uh george’s

user8: what about the guy who actually posted it

user9: i actually think you all should kill yourselves!

yourusername: i’m really not that bad you just have bad tolerance

charles_leclerc: i have measuring tools right there and you insist on doing the ‘y/n pour’

yourusername: does the ‘y/n pour’ get the party started or not?

pierregasly: yes because everyone is pissed by 9pm

yourusername: is that not the aim of a party

charles_leclerc: this is a sophisticated soiree - i even bought olives for this

yourusername: oh please

maxverstappen1: i think it would be funnier to watch everyone drunk stumbling around y/n

charles_leclerc: okay well we’d all be a bit more chill if you didn’t gatekeep her for three years

maxverstappen1: don’t care 😛

user10: max is the level of unbothered i need to be right now

user11: he’s on necks even in the off season

user12: so who else is to come?

user13: please please please let the brits be there i need my dose of y/nlando

user14: they're meant to be i swear

user15: oh my sweet summer child

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

fin.

note: enjoy my quick updates while you can i am back at my big girl job tomorrow :((((( but i will try to keep up with this pace where i can!

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998 @xsilkesworld @justaf1girl @daddyslittlevillain @evans-dejong @abq654 @elizamoe133 @wierdflowerpower @t1nkerbel1 @okcurran @raizelchrysanderoctavius @skepvids @multilovebot @fernandoalonso14 @jules-kup-172 @m4xgirlie @rorabelle15 @minkyungseokie @formula1-motogpfan @peterholland04 @miureiz @freyathehuntress @lighttsoutlewis @aleatorio1234 @chaosandevelyn

[gothicfied]

Thanos / Player 230 Headcanons

Paring: Thanos / Player 230 x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying and gunshots (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, although this is probably buns (my first time writing something like this, I'm sorry, people😔🙏)

જ⁀➴ In his mind, you were this little lamb who needed his protection. Even if you proved yourself to be capable of surviving on your own, Thanos was set on dragging you with him, insisting that it'd be better if you would just stick with his group (much to your and also Nam-gyus annoyance). And, considering he was ready to sacrifice other peoples lives for this prize money, you were scared to refuse him.

જ⁀➴ At some point, you found it endearing how much he seemed to care for you. His cheesy raps about you, his pet names - 'baby', 'princess', 'sweetheart' - the way he was actually putting in the effort to get you through the games, ready to sacrifice a 'friend' (poor Gyeong-su).. you couldn't help but relish the affection he was showing you.

જ⁀➴ It was nice feeling something other than fear and dread, so you couldn't help but entertain Thanos' feelings. Perhaps you weren't just entertaining them? It was hard to ignore the growing connection between you two. Especially when he seemed to open up more and more, especially after lights out.

જ⁀➴ When the drugs wore off, Thanos was actually nice to talk to. At night, he'd come and sit on your bed, comforting you if you were scared (which you very obviously were). Draping an arm around your shoulders, he'd listen to every worry, thought and wish you have and would just stay quiet for those moments (which was very rare and made you appreciate these moments even more).

જ⁀➴ For some reason, you two understand each other. Sure, when high, Thanos was insufferable, loud and annoying and would do every stupid thing imaginable just to impress you. He'd play risky during the games, just to never shut up about how he survived it and how 'he would never die and leave you alone'. After that, the moments where he seemed to be vulnerable meant that much more to you.

જ⁀➴ Thanos' confidence is unwavering. He'd be relentless and would chase after you, regardless if you wanted it or not. In his opinion, you two were the most perfect match and he'd do anything to be able to call you his. Your beauty, your determination and the way you carried yourself simply mesmerized him.

જ⁀➴ After every game you two survived, he'd pull you close to him, tightly wrapping his arms around you and hug you until you couldn't properly breath anymore. "I'm so happy you made it out alive, princess. God, I couldn't imagine what I would do without you in here!"

જ⁀➴ Even with you there with him, Thanos needs that prize money. Would he sacrifice you for it? Never in a million years. Does he still pressure you into voting to continue? Yes, absolutely.

"Come on, baby! Just one more game, I promise." He snakes his arms around your waist, leaning down while talking, "you know I'll protect you. And with the money, we can build a new, happy lives together. What do you say?"

જ⁀➴ Seeing you scared expression while loud gunshots filled the room during the mingle game does something to him, though. Thanos' eyes bore into yours, making you look away quickly. He needs that money, he knows you do, too. But seeing you so distraught might actually make hin change his mind about wanting to continue. After all, he's completely head over heels for you and he'd do everything not to lose you.

[noxitsnox]

if we get too closе, would it be okay?

hyun-ju x gn!reader - highschool au

summery: hyun-ju came out to her- now ex- girlfriend who spread the rumor around the whole school.

tags: trans/homophobia (the word tr**ny is used one (1) time), bullying, hurt/comfort, lots of fluff i promise, let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: i am obsessed it's not fair. this is pre-t but i'm still going to use she/her pronouns for hyun-ju <3 also english is not my first language and this isn't proof read, so i apologize for any mistake. @exactlyinfp

hyun-ju didn't want to go to school that day. her girlfriend, ex girlfriend now, broke up with her just because she trusted her, because she didn't want to hide anymore and she believed that her girlfriend of almost two years would understand. but she didn't. she called her all kind of names and blocked her everywhere.

she hoped this was where it ended. that they could just ignore each other and keep living life as it is. it would have been so much easier that way. but the moment she entered the school hallway she knew something happened. the looks she was getting were strange, full of hate. definitely not the looks you receive when you just broke up. she tried to ignore it and walked to her class with her head down.

it was early. a lot of time passed before some of her classmates entered the room. maybe it was better if they stayed outside. their chatter died down as soon as they saw her. one of them, who was seated next to her, took his desk and dragged it as far away from her as possible. “you're sick”, he said under his breath. “stay away from me.”

she stayed silent as the realization hit her. if he knew, everyone else did too. fighting tears, she forced herself to keep cool.

slowly people filled the room. everyone ignored her, even her so called friends looked at her with disgust. only y/n seemed to be acting as if nothing happened. maybe they didn't know about it yet. they’ll turn their back to you like everyone else, she thought.

“oh hyun-ju, how are you?”

y/n waited for an answer that never arrived. so, with a sad smile, they spoke again. “it's fine. you don't have to talk with me. you have my number in case you change your mind.”

———

for the rest of the week she ignored everyone. she was barely alive.

every morning she entered school feeling like a criminal. her locker in the changing rooms was filled with insults. some guys even tried to push her on the ground. that was the only moment she reacted. she could ignore words, but physical aggression was were she drew the line.

every night she cried herself to sleep, wishing she had someone on her side, someone to talk to. her family didn't know about what was happening in school and she hoped for it to stay that way or she wouldn't even have a home anymore.

it was on saturday afternoon that she lost it. she was out, getting some groceries for her mother at the local market, and she saw her ex with her friends. she tried to hide before they could notice her, but she wasn't fast enough.

"oh god, isn't that that tranny you used to date?", one said pointing at her.

"don't say that out loud, please. what will people think of me?"

hyun-ju ran away without even taking food from the market stall. she kept running until their voice became indistinguishable echoes.

she sat on the side walk and took out her phone, looking for y/n contact. she started crying, the tears blurring her vision.

their words came back to her. you have my number in case you change your mind. were they serious? she hesitantly called them, hoping for the best.

y/n didn't take long to answer and for that she was grateful.

"hey, you called!"

"i- yes... listen can you, can you come here?"

"oh hyun-ju, you're crying? is everything okay?"

"i don't even know anymore. please, just come here." and with that she hung up the phone, quickly shared the position with them.

she hugged her knees as she waited.

———

y/n was happy that hyun-ju called, even if the situation wasn't ideal. even though they weren't intimate, they cared about her and it made them sad to see her suffer. especially if she was being ridiculed for something beyond her control.

y/n tried to get to her as fast as possible. they went out in their sweats without bothering to put on something nicer. they didn't like the idea of hyun-ju seeing them in that state, but they also realized that they had to put vanity aside at the moment.

as soon as she saw y/n she got up and hugged. they remained in that position for a while. hyun-ju cried and cried while y/n rubbed her back, doing what they could to comfort her.

"sorry... i don't know why i did that", she said as she let go of them.

"you don't have to apologize. do you feel better now?"

"i do, thanks."

an awkward silence fell until y/n suggested they start walking with a wave of their hand, "do you wanna talk about what's happening?"

"i just want to forget about it. can we talk about something else?"

"oh sure", y/n looked at her and smiled. "do you wanna hear about this manga i'm reading?"

a/n: i realize that for an xreader the reader is barely there 😬 sorry. let me now if you liked it!!

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 10.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 2k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, infidelity, flirting, kissing/making out, there is trouble everywhere quite frankly…. gonna dip once i post bcos i know this is bad but there’s def another future 0.5 chapter that might be worse

⇢ POSTDOC | YR 2.5

"Babe." Iseul whines a bit, making San mimic her pout before tapping her nose.

"Love. How about I take you out this weekend to make up for it? We can go somewhere, just us two."

"Okay, but it'd be better if you could do that and come hang out tonight, too." 

"I'll try."

"San." 

"I'll try." He chuckles. "I should really finish up behavior tonight and that review for the paper we're working on. I'm already behind."

"Who said? You still have time."

"I have to get this done by next week." He gives her a sympathetic smile before placing a kiss on her forehead. 

"Next week."

"I'll try and get it done so I can hang out with you two, k?" He cups her cheeks. She can't help but continue to pout and cross her arms, even when he kisses her on the tip of her nose and on the lips. Part of her continues to have a soft spot for her man, the love of her life. 

Part of her wants to continue being supportive because she loves seeing San excel in his craft, she loves being by his side throughout all his achievements and vice versa. She feels like together, they can conquer the world together— be unstoppable, reach the top.

The other half, maybe more than half at this point, is sad. Empty. She longs for the man she fell in love with, she longs for his company. His time. His effort. 

His kisses, his cuddles. Everything.

Iseul never thought the lines would blur.

"Okay?" San repeats, causing Iseul to return her full attention on him. She gives him a small smile and nod, San's thumbs caressing her cheeks. "Better." He subtly bites his lip before caressing her chin. "C'mere." He leans forward to peck her lips again, and again.

And again.

Before they're both standing near her car, kissing under the late afternoon sun. Iseul tugs on San's shirt, deepening the kiss as she pulls him closer. He softly groans against her lips, Iseul's hand slowly traveling down to his belt. 

"Baby." He pulls back and chuckles. 

"We can be quick." She chases after his lips and presses small, repeated kisses against them before he's gently prying her off and shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, baby. I gotta go." She whines again before he's kissing her one last time on the lips and forehead. "You can have me all you want later tonight. And tomorrow. And the weekend."

"Ugh. I hope you know how much I'm sacrificing so you can hurry and finish." He laughs.

"I love you."

"Love you, too." She sighs, watching as San waves before doing a light jog back to the building. She slips into her car and connects a call to the bluetooth just as she pulls out of the parking spot.

"Yo!" Yunho answers the call almost immediately.

"Hey. What can I bring to your place for tonight?"

"Hm. Soju? I think I'm almost out." Yunho hums. "Chips and any other snacks."

"Okay, so everything? What do you even have at home?"

"Me, myself and I." Iseul laughs. 

"Uh. So much for inviting us over when you don't even have anything ready."

"I'll whip something up, don't worry! Why the doubting?"

"Alright, boss. Counting on you then."

"You know what else I need?"

"What, Yunho?" He chuckles.

"You." It’s meant to be a lighthearted joke; nothing more, nothing less. But, it does something to Iseul and Yunho knows it well enough by this point.

"You're so sappy. Quit it." She blushes to herself, biting her bottom lip even though she playfully scolds him.

"Nah. It's kinda fun seeing you all flustered."

"Hate you."

"Sad. I don't." She shakes her head and smiles. "Sliding through soon?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna freshen up and change at the house first after grabbing groceries."

"San is coming?"

"He said he'll try and wrap up quick so he can join."

"Ah, okay." Yunho sighs a bit. It's been awhile since he's been able to hang out with his bestfriend, but he understands how important his work is right now. He tries to be, at least. He knows how it all goes. 

He just wishes San would give himself more time to relax. Enjoy life a little bit, just like he used to.

"I'll see you in a bit then."

"Mhm. I'll text you when I'm on the way."

"How exciting."

"Shut up." She ends the call. Suddenly, those dark, sad feelings she felt earlier are gone. Suddenly, she's happy. She feels a bit giddy. Excited.

Iseul isn't really sure when the line started to blur. 

But somehow, they're here and Yunho isn't sure how they'll go back and undo whatever they've created between each other. He knows this shouldn’t even be a thing. He should feel like some sort of last resort, a rebound— like he's the cushion that keeps Iseul company solely because San isn't around. Yunho knows there shouldn't be much to it.

So, why is there more to it?

It must have been all the kick-its with friends, all the lunches and casual dinners. It must have been the exchanged texts with stupid [but silly] memes or tweets the other would appreciate. It must have been the calls just to check in with each other. It must have been the subtle, lingering looks. 

Accidentally brushing hands.

Teasing and poking fun at each other.

Flirty undertones.

Saying shit to make the other smile or laugh.

San would have just assumed they were being normal around each other. They had always been close anyway, but he says that because he doesn't catch the small acts in between. 

The very small, but clear and intentional acts.

For a minute, Iseul thought it was a phase because Yunho was there like he had always been. But then, the feelings and the thoughts stayed for longer than a phase; piled up over weeks and weeks.

Until she realized what it meant.

So, she tried to distract herself and force herself to understand that it was truly just a phase. When San was around, she'd affectionately hug him. Kiss him. Cuddle him. Pull him to bed and make him cum over and over again to feel satisfied, to feel like she was still wanted by her man.

His moans and the loud calls of her name the only thing granting that satisfaction. Even though, could she say the affection behind it was genuine?

Clear, intentional?

Who's to say?

Especially when she's happily skipping down the aisles in the grocery store, grabbing the soju that both she and Yunho like; the one that San doesn't really like as much but he'll deal and make do. Especially when she's throwing on a form-fitting zip-up and leggings, trying to come off as comfy, but alluring. Especially when she sprays her perfume and dabs on a bit of lip gloss for a lazy kick-it that’s staying behind doors and enclosed walls.

Especially when she walks through the door to greet Yunho with a big hug— one that has him swinging her around before they plop onto the living room floor and get started on the drunk, scary indie movie and short film marathon the three agreed to do as a way of de-stressing.

Especially when Iseul gets the dreaded but expected text from San, and she can't help but welcome back the same feelings of emptiness and disappointment from earlier.

san: running behind. i don't think i'll make it, love. i'm sorry. tell yunho i’m sorry, too.

san: i'll be home tonight - i'll make it up to you. this weekend, too. 😘 i'm all yours.

"He's not coming." Iseul says, taking another huge swig from their third soju bottle of the night, making Yunho nod silently.

"I'm sorry—"

"It's fine, don't be such a debbie downer." She laughs, playfully punching him on the bicep. Yunho catches her hand in his when she attempts to pinch him the second time around, making her pout in return. "Ouch!"

"Says you who was just about to punch me on the bicep, meanie." She giggles when he lets go of her hand. "I'll let it go. At least you're laughing and smiling."

"Yeah." She looks up at him. "You surely do make me laugh and smile."

"Good or bad way?"

"Good. How could that be a bad thing?"

"I don't know, you could just think I'm stupid." She snorts.

"Never."

"Well, good." Yunho smiles. "I like it when you laugh and smile."

"I like it when you make me laugh and smile, Yunho."

"Yeah?" He drunkly rests his cheek on the palm of his hand, elbow on the surface of the table. "What else do you like, Iseul?"

"A lot of things."

"Mhm." He hums in a sing-song tone before leaning closer to tease her a bit. "What are a lot of things? Name a few."

"Yogurt soju, melon bread, being in bed after a long day and letting the sheets engulf me. Reading in a hot bath with candles lit up. To name a few." She leans forward to match him. "I don't think I can say anything else."

"Why not?"

"Because other things could be bad for me."

"In what way specifically?"

"Just cause." Her voice is barely above a whisper, lips only inches away from Yunho's.

"Just cause? How bad could it be?" She subtly shrugs before her eyes are dipping down to his lips, back up to his eyes. 

"Dunno. You tell me." She distractedly says. 

"What if.. maybe.. it isn't a necessarily a bad thing at all?" There's a thick silence in the air, but no one wants to address the tension, the elephant in the room. So, after a few minutes of said silence, Iseul leans forward and just kisses him— somehow thinking it could address the tension or whatever elephant is hiding in the room.

And at first, it shocks Yunho.

He freezes because he knows this shouldn't have happened. It fucking shouldn't have happened and he should’ve put a stop to it ASAP. Because Iseul was San's and vice versa, they made vows and devoted their lives to each other in front of him, and they were good together.

Yunho isn't really sure when the line started to blur. 

But then, he finds himself chasing after her lips to kiss her again, and again— until things can't be stopped and San's texts are going unanswered while Iseul's phone sits on the coffee table and vibrates away.

Her and Yunho are no longer sitting around watching the short film that's on. It eventually plays a random video next because no one is paying attention to what’s happening in the background. Empty soju bottles are spread across the surface of the table, along with open bags of chips and empty bowls. TV serving its purpose as background noise, almost fighting with the loud kisses and subtle moans leaving their lips while Iseul continues to make a place for herself on Yunho’s lap.

Meanwhile, San tucks his phone into his pocket, shrugging off the entire thing after he had sent her a few more follow up texts with all his ideas on how to make up for tonight. And tomorrow. And the weekend. He felt bad, but he was genuinely excited to do things with Iseul. To take her out on dates, travel near and far with her just to be alone. Rekindle the flame. Bring back that love, passion, that had been slowly dying because of his own fault. 

It wasn't entirely uncommon for Iseul to let texts go unanswered, but he was only worried because he knew that initial 'sorry can't make it' text upset her. She was probably trying to distract herself and lean on Yunho. Which, San can't help but think that Yunho does a way better job of being there for her than he actually does as her husband. It kinda aches him to think about it, and he's not sure how to navigate his own feelings when he keeps replaying that bar scene in his head.

For San, there’s no use in figuring this out because he knows they're good friends. They get along well, and he should be glad that they do. There isn’t anything to worry about despite his mixed feelings and confusing thoughts.

But for Iseul and Yunho, there’s no use in figuring out when this all happened, why this all happened— because everything has become perfectly clear and defined. 

The small acts gone unnoticed no longer small and unable to be hidden.

Clear, intentional.

Now, the lines are no longer blurred.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme

[insomniadreamzz]

OK OK OK FOLLOWING THE PREGNANCY STORYLINE LETS IMAGINE ISHA IS HERE A CUTE FLUFFY THING WITH EITHER ISHA MEETING THE BABY OR FINDING OUT READER IS PREGNANT AND THAT SHES GONNA BE A BIG SIS

Our family

Jinx x Fem!Reader ft. Isha (plus a little bonus with Sevika)

Fluff

A continuation from the fic „My Everything“ https://www.tumblr.com/insomniadreamzz/772011828255621120/hey-how-are-you-i-wanted-to-request-gp-jinx-x

You still remember when Isha found out she gonna be a big sister, the way her eyes were literally glowing with happiness. Isha was mute but she expressed her happiness clearly, already doing little doodles of her and her sister together with you and Jinx. The way she put her little head on your baby bump to feel her sister kick, it was just too cute.

Jinx already set up some stuff for the little one, making sure youre gonna have everything you needed when the baby will arrive and soon it happened.

You can still remember how Jinx held your hand and never left your side. Singed, the only doctor here in Zaun also made an appearance to make sure everything went well. He wasn’t used to be part of something like that very often but he was glad he could help you out in that situation. Jinx kisses on your forehead and the way she encouraged you during that hard time, it was still stuck in your head how gentle and loving she can be and then it happened. When you first heard your little one cry, both of you shed tears of happiness, feeling relieved that everything went good. It was a little girl.

When you both got back home after that, Jinx immediately ushered you to bed, figuring you must be tired as you had your newborn in your arms, Jinx never leaving your side.

„Look how cute she is…our little one…“ She cooed, holding you close as she admired your daughter, making you smile so happily. „Of course she is, she is ours.“ You mentioned, looking into your girlfriend’s eyes. „What should we name her?“ You asked and Jinx already got an idea, something that she was thinking about for a longer time now since she knew you are pregnant.

„Powder.“ Jinx said, making your eyes widen in confusion, knowing it was Jinx‘s actual name. „Powder?“ You asked, Jinx nodding in response. „Yes. I want to have a good connection to that name now. Every time I hear it I have to think about myself when I was younger and…certain things happened but I want to forget that. I want to be happy hearing the name Powder and not feel triggered anymore by that name. She will be a better Powder, not like me. I am Jinx now, Powder died in me but we can make her be a better Powder than I was.“ You heard her voice crack a little, seeing little tears running down her cheeks. This really meant a lot to Jinx, you knew it. „Then she will be Powder.“ You agreed with her, using your free hand to caress her back gently, getting back her attention towards you. „Thank you my love.“ She said before placing a little kiss on your lips.

The moment got interrupted by little footsteps, it was Isha who curiously walked up to you, Jinx shifting to make space for Isha between you both. „Isha! Come here, say hello to your little sister.“ Jinx said, letting the girl slip beside you as she looked at the little one with wide happy eyes, her small hand gently touching Powder as if welcoming her.

„Now you are a big sister. You can show her everything when she gets a little bigger, cool right?“ You said, Isha nodding at your words, feeling really happy to be a big sister now plus she was excited to have someone to play with in the future as well.

You talked a little more this evening until all of you just fell asleep. Powder on your chest and Isha sleeping between you and Jinx, all cuddled up in one bed. It was a very peaceful moment. Jinx slept for the first time very happily and calm, the voices in her head not bothering her at all. She was truly happy for the first time and she won’t let anyone destroy this happy life she had.

The next morning Sevika was on her way to Jinx’s hideout, it’s been a while since she showed up, probably hanging around in the Last Drop or doing her usual work. Sevika knew Jinx from when Silco took her with him so she felt like she had to look for her every now and then, making sure Jinx was alright.

„Jinx where the fuck are-…“ She started but stopped immediately in her tracks as she saw Jinx holding a baby while you and Isha were still sleeping cuddled up together. „Where did that baby come from?“ She asked with a raised eyebrow, not trusting this situation for now.

„That’s my daughter which came right out of my girlfriend if you want to know.“ Jinx replied with her usual sassy behavior. Sevika didn’t want to know any more details, shaking it off as she stepped closer to Jinx, having a closer look at the baby. „That’s…really yours?“ She asked again, being a little bit shocked, Jinx nodding in response. „Yep! Does auntie Sevika want to say hello to little Powder? Or are you gonna chicken out?“ Obviously Jinx had to tease Sevika but the older woman didn’t let her make her annoyed as she just nodded. Jinx helped Sevika to hold Powder with her arm, the baby looking even smaller in her strong arm. „There you go.“

Sevika stared at the baby with a unusual soft gaze. „Aw…did you just say auntie Sevika?“ She asked to be sure. „Of course! You’re the only one left who’s like a family to me after Silco died.“ Jinx became soft as she said that, thinking it was about time to speak the truth to Sevika, making the other womans eyes water a little. „Silco would be so happy and proud of you Jinx.“ Sevika mentioned, making Jinx almost cry but she held back her tears. Instead a little tear rolled down Sevika‘s cheek. „Are you crying?“ Jinx tilted her head as she gazed at Sevika who just shook her head. „No I am not.“ She said, making Jinx chuckle in response. „Damn you are a bad liar.“

And with that both started chuckling.

[imaginariumwanderer]

Silly voting time

The writers know what they were doing when they made this sm's quote. They know.

Alright, it's most likely one of the first 2 options, but it'll be fun if they (the writers) managed to surprise me somehow. It would be fun to hear other's theories too, if anyone have any. The more outlandish the better

If sm really was preferring to pv here, it would have some scary implications. Adjectives aside since we all know sm is more often than not sarcastic when it comes to praises. I can see this line being used for a "Shadow Milk is the Light of Truth" type of reveal, followed by pv’s breakdown upon learning sm’s manipulation of pv and general meddling with his life goes way deeper than he realized

Moving onto something I'm even more curious about. New plot macguffin just dropped

I love how this Binding ritual got name dropped several time and yet we have not a slighest of hint on what it’s about. The most we can gleam from the website is 1. It can stop the Beasts, that's why Gingergang is searching for it in the first place and 2. It’s a super secret ritual with infomation about it maybe existing inside the Tower

Interestingly it’s called a Binding Ritual and is may or may not an entire different thing from the Beast’s sealing. This and the fact that the Silver Tree was around before the Beasts’s “corruption” got me raising my eyebrow at the Witches. They sure got a lot of preparations set up for when their creations goes against their designs hmm...

I still got tons of little crack theories and speculations in me along with one big serious theory regarding all le patterns✨ I've noticed in all the current EPs, but I'm tryna wait it out until more trailers come up to go full on tinfoil hat mode. That is to say I am lapping up all the information that Devsis drip feed to us like a greedy dog everything is so vague it's killing me

[angstywaifu]

Not Enough - Liam Mairi

Request: Would you maybe do a soft smut slash angst with liam where reader gets hurt in a challenge and storms off belittling herself and getting so down because her parents would have expected more from her and it all comes to a head when liam runs after her and she blows up on him screaming about how stupid she is and how she isn't enough and liam like shuts her up by kissing her and showing her that she is enough and how amazing she is - @elliot-rain

Masterlist | Support Me

The impact of landing on the mat runs through me as I lie there stunned, the pain in my leg barely noticeable. Shit. They were going to be disappointed me if they found out I got hurt and lost. I could already hear the lecture in my head.

”How could you lose?”

”You could do so much better.”

”You have a family name and reputation to uphold.”

I push myself up as best I can, ignoring the hand my opponent holds out to me. I couldn’t show weakness. I needed to be strong, even as my leg screamed at me to take the help. I limp off the mat, the crowd of riders parting to let me through.

”You ok?” Violet asks as I pass her.

I stop and turn to look at her, doing my best to hide my grimace. “Yeah, just going to go rest for a bit. I’ll be good.”

She purses her lips, but eventually nods at me. She clearly sees through me. She always does when one of us gets hurt. She knows what pain is like better than any of us, so it’s hard to hide from her when we are in pain. Before she can stop me, I turn around and do my best to walk out of the room. Now my challenge was done, I didn’t technically need to stay, meaning I had at least an hour till my next class. An hour to think over my mistakes, to explain them to my parents once they found out and no doubt demanded to see me somehow. For any other rider, losing on the mat would just be a bad day or their opponent just being better than them. But that wasn’t an option for me. My entire life I was taught to be perfect. No mistakes, no errors. Mistakes were punished, a lesson that they were not to be made again. I had a legacy to uphold.

I’m too lost in my thoughts to hear the rushed footsteps behind me until movement out of the corner of my eye startles me, causing me to jump and aggravate my leg, a pained hiss escaping my lips through gritted teeth.

”Shit, what happened?” Liam asks hurriedly as his eyes scan over me, his hands resting on my arms as he steadies me.

”A mistake, that's what happened.” I say as I avert my eyes from his.

I see him furrow his brow out of the corner of my eye, clearly confused at my words. “Mistake? Things happen all the time in challenges. It was nothing. You’ll come back better and stronger next week.”

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut as tears threaten to break free as my emotions bubble over the edge. “To me it’s not nothing” I mutter out, part of me hoping he doesn’t hear, but I know he does.

”It is nothing Y/N. No one in there is going to care you lost a challenge. It happens.” He almost pleads to me, and I know if I open my eyes his blue eyes will be soft and caring.

”It’s not the people in there I’m worried about.” I say as I open my eyes, a tear rolling down one of my cheeks.

Liam reaches out to wipe it away, but I knock his hand away before limping over to one of the few cut outs in the wall, looking out into the empty Rotunda.

”I come from a family where I have certain expectations to meet. An image to live up to. Nothing but the best is tolerated. Anything less than perfect is….”

”Is what?” Liam's voice soft but demanding from behind me.

”Punished.” I say as I look at him over my shoulder, watching the colour from his face drain. “Anything less than perfect, than one hundred percent isn’t tolerated.”

”You’re safe here, they can’t pun-”

”Yes they can!” I yell as I turn on Liam, wincing as my leg protests at the sudden movement. “I am not safe behind these walls. They provide no protection from what they will do if they find out how stupid I was to let myself lose! They provide no protection from being told I am not good enough. That if anything I do is less than perfect will never be enough. I’m not en-”

Liam’s lips crash against mine, cutting off my frantic words. The heat of his kiss swallows the air from my lungs, silencing every self-deprecating thought spiralling in my mind. For a moment, I’m too stunned to move, too caught off guard to process what’s happening. But then the warmth of his hands, one cupping my cheek and the other steadying my trembling arm, grounds me.

The world falls away—the walls, the fear, the doubts—all of it fades into the background. All I can focus on is him: the way his touch feels steady, the way his kiss feels like a promise, fierce yet tender, as if he’s trying to piece me back together with every brush of his lips.

When he pulls back, his forehead presses against mine, and his breath fans across my face. His hands don’t leave me; instead, they grip tighter, as if afraid I’ll shatter the moment he lets go.

“You’re enough,” he says softly, his voice rough but resolute. “You’ve always been enough. Stop doubting yourself, because I won’t let you tear yourself apart anymore.”

I blink up at him, my chest heaving from more than just the kiss. “Liam, I—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice firm now. “Listen to me. You are stronger than you think. You’ve faced so much, and you’re still standing. You are more than good enough, and no one—no one—gets to make you feel otherwise. Not even you.”

Tears sting my eyes, but for once, they’re not from pain or frustration. They’re from the raw, unrelenting belief in his voice, in his gaze as he looks at me like I’m worth fighting for.

“I’m scared,” I whisper, my voice breaking.

“I know,” he says, his thumb brushing a stray tear from my cheek. “But you don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Something inside me shifts, loosens, as his words sink in. For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight pressing on my chest lightens, just a little. And for now, that’s enough.

[read-write-thrive]

Charles Rowland Week Day One — Cricket Bat/The Brawn

There were a lot of unexpected downsides to being a ghost. Sure, he got a best mate and a “life” he loved out of dying, but it wasn’t all sunshine rainbows and ice cream. And not just the major things like being chased or attacked on cases, neither! Small things were just as bad, especially when they snuck up on you

Take the mirror thing, for example. It’s really not an issue, right? Charles wasn’t vain or anything, he didn’t need to see himself in the mirror constantly. But you don’t realise how much you look in the mirror until it’s gone, really. All of a sudden your only perceptions of yourself is what you can see looking down and what you can remember. Charles had done his best to not think about it at all, but was rather suddenly confronted with his image issues about a year into being dead.

Well, “suddenly” isn’t quite right. Truth is, they’d just found a place to call theirs and were set on fixing it up. They hadn’t settled on a name for their detective agency yet, but they were getting there. At the moment all they were doing was cleaning the space as best they could to try and make it feel more homey.

You see, the place was, looking back, their reward for their first case. They’d taken to wandering London, just seeing the sights really, when recently they noticed the building. In slight disrepair, sure, but the weirder part was the poltergeist wreaking havoc on anyone who came near it. The living (un?)consciously avoided the place, but the boys hadn’t heard the gossip and were the next victims to its destruction. They couldn’t be killed, of course, but they could still be thrown about (and injured, apparently! Blasted iron—).

Edwin had already picked up a magical tome on their travels (which he’d then casually carried in his overcoat—Charles, who was still struggling to reimagine his clothing, was only a little jealous, he swore) and was thankfully able to use it to banish the poltergeist. They both took a hit or two, but Charles had realised early on that he needed to take the attention off Edwin in order for him to actually use magic. Charles had quickly rallied against the poltergeist, distracting it and taking the rest of the blows that came with that. Well, he’d tried to tackle the poltergeist first, get on the offense and all that, but that hadn’t gone well. So then he just took the hits until Edwin did his job.

Edwin, for whatever reason, had been right pissed about it in the days since. He kept his sentences short, kept his nose in that bloody book, and was overall being a cranky bastard. Charles was still sore from the fight (how ridiculous that ghosts could even be sore) and was frankly fed up with it. Time to tackle it head-on.

Though he could’ve taken the empty chair on the other side of the desk, Charles decided that being up close and personal was better for this talk. He marched up to the desk and sat on the ledge of it, arms crossed and looking down at Edwin, feet nudging the base of his chair.

Edwin didn’t even look up from the book, “Yes, Charles?”

Charles carefully took the book (bookmarked it, naturally, he wasn’t a monster) and set it aside as he spoke, “We need to have a chat, mate. Now, if you’ve got the time.”

Edwin let the book be taken, though his (stupidly broad, how does a sixteen year old even get built like that?? too fit for his own good and he doesn’t even know it, the wanker) shoulders remained tense. He quirked an eyebrow as he looked up at Charles, “Since you’ve taken my reading, I suddenly have the time. What is it you wish to speak about?”

Charles used his hand to motion at Edwin’s face, “All this. I get that you’re angry with me, though I have no clue why, but I need you to come out and say it, yeah? I’m not a mind reader.”

Sighing, Edwin properly faced Charles, “Fine. If that would please you. I am unhappy with how you handled our encounter with the poltergeist, and I was hoping you would apologise for it. I see that will not be happening.”

“Apologise?” Charles questioned, bewildered, “What the bloody hell did I do? I distracted the thing while you used your fancy magic to get rid of it!”

Edwin remained unimpressed, “I can handle myself, Charles. Your display of… masochism, shall we say— was unwarranted and reckless. We had no way of knowing what the poltergeist could do.”

“And? What, I was just supposed to let the thing do equal damage to both of us? Or let you take all the hits? You’re the one with the bloody book, mate, least I could do was give you time to read it.” Charles huffed.

“And yet your soul is less tempered than mine, so it is extremely likely that you will succumb to injuries at a faster rate.” Edwin snapped back, hands steepled in front of him as if this were all just obvious facts.

Bewildered, Charles tried to clarify, “What are you saying? I can’t take the same damage as you? Seriously?”

Edwin’s eyes, usually steadfast in maintaining eye contact, flickered down Charles’s form, then back up to his face.

Charles knew what that meant. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten looks like that, in conversations like these. Every time he tried out for a sport, every time he tried to stand up to his dad, every time he tried to keep up with his mates. Charles knew he was twiggy, alright? He didn’t put on muscle like the other lads did even doing the same sports and eating the same school-provided meals. Hell, even when he tried going above and beyond in eating meat and lifting weights all he did was get lean, not properly muscley. A fact which everybody noticed.

As a result, he’d get these looks. Right rude looks. As if it was funny to think of him being strong or holding his own in scraps. There were a few times his mates would egg him on to fight some other bloke twice his size to try and embarrass him. Maybe it wasn’t so harmless, looking back, but Charles usually scraped by by changing it into a race or just talking his way out of it. He knew they wanted to see him take a beating, even if they framed it as him “proving” that he was stronger than he looked. They’d give him that same look every single bloody time, as if he had to be bluffing and they were thrilled to call him out on it.

This was made all the worse by his dad of course—his dad who outright laughed in his face any time he tried to stand up or fight back. His dad who left just enough visible bruises and scars to make it seem like Charles was out fighting every break and losing every single one of ‘em. The teachers took it as another sign of Charles being no-good and brushed off any time he wanted to get treatment or lenience for the injuries. The other boys would laugh at the bruises and such, asking what Charles did to piss off his foe. Asking why he kept fighting if he was so obviously always going to lose. Just look at him—how would a scraggy thing like him ever win a fight?

So yeah, maybe Charles was a bit defensive about how he looked and how strong he was. It was all the worse by the mirror thing—was he skinnier dead? How would he ever know for sure? To top it all off, he’s dead. Not exactly like there’s a gym for ghosts, is there? Well, not that they knew of yet at least. And with his luck, a ghost gym wouldn’t do anything either.

Point is, Charles was practically stuck in this stupid thin appearance for the rest of his ghostly days. And he hated it. He hated it every time he went to check a mirror and saw nothing, forcing himself to rely on his memory. He hated it every time he struggled to manifest better clothes—Edwin kept telling him to just visualise, right, but how was he supposed to do that when he’d avoided visualising himself at all for years? What if he made it worse by visualising? Maybe he was a bit bigger since dying! Some unconscious thing helping him out or some shite. He didn’t want to risk making himself any skinnier!

It was ridiculous, all of it. But Charles was not about to take that same bullshit from someone he thought was better than all that.

“What, I’m too skin and bones for ya? Too weak? C’mon, tell me. I can take it.” He really couldn’t, truth be told, but he was ready to bluff his way through the hurt like always.

Edwin’s face scrunched up, “What the devils are you talking about? We’re ghosts, Charles, our appearances are entirely subjective. Not to mention they have little very bearing on this situation.”

Now it was again Charles’s turn to be confused, though he was still hunched up on the defensive, “Then what? What is it?”

“I do not want to see you hurt, alright?” Edwin snapped, “We do not know how to fix any injuries you might have sustained and you were completely defenceless! I was trying to focus on locating and performing the proper spell and there you were, ready to be obliterated in front of my very eyes!”

Charles gave a slightly relieved sigh. Edwin looked displeased at this, but Charles started speaking before Edwin had a chance to continue, “You’re mad at me because I scared you, is that it? Mate, I’m perfectly fine! We got that fucker out of here and I’m perfectly a-ok! Here I was thinking I’d properly mucked something up—“

“I am serious, Charles—“

“So am I!” Charles planted his hands on Edwin’s shoulders, forcing complete eye contact, “Look, as soon as we can, we’ll get our hands on some weapons for me to use alongside your fancy magic books. Hell, maybe you can make me one for all we know on magic!”

Edwin again went to reply, but Charles wasn’t finished.

“I’m flattered you care, and thank you for looking out for me, but I promise I’m stronger than I look. Get me a bat or something and, with you and your magic, I’m happy to take on any future baddies we come across, yeah?”

Edwin sighed again, but it was clear his icy demeanour was melting, “I suppose we can have that be our next move, now that we have a headquarters for ourselves.”

Charles all but cheered, ecstatic to have actually resolved their little spat, “That’s the spirit! I’ll be the brawns, you be the brains, and our Ghostbusters agency will be brills!”

“For the hundredth time, Charles, we are not naming our detective agency after some film!…”

—

Day one of @charles-rowland-week in the books! I make no promises to have something for every day/prompt bc my life is a mess (as per usual) but I wanted to at least do one :) hope y’all enjoyed it !!

[nonphoto-blue]

Lucky Lucky ꕤ Cho Hyun-ju x Reader [1/?]

Read on AO3 Masterlist Summary: After your previous manager runs away to America with the funds meant to kickstart your debut, your band 4tune is left to pick up the pieces in an impending scandal. The new manager, Cho Hyun-ju, says she’ll do everything to ensure your debut is successful, but it’s a long road until she gains your trust, especially when her own secrets come to light. Or, the kpop/krock/band AU no one asked for.

Warnings: Slowwwww burn. Kind of an inherent power imbalance but reader isn't taking bs from anyone, and reader is 20+. Reader is AFAB and uses she/her. She's implied to be Korean/from South Korea but no physical description is used.

A/N: So I've had the horrible idea of a kpop au for Squid Game since the first season came out. Originally I'd thought of a Sangwoo x Reader fic but it felt in bad taste at the time. Season 2 came out and I can't stop thinking about Hyun-ju so uh. You're getting this.

Five years. You’ve been in trainee hell for five years, learning the ins and outs of PR, songwriting, language, appearances, how to fucking smile at a camera when all you wanted to do was sing and play guitar and look out at a crowd with more people than you can count on your hands. All for your dreams to be stolen away, packed up in bags and expedite-shipped to the United States. 

If you could go back in time to tell your past self to save herself the trouble and give up music altogether, you’d consider it. Or at least tell her to flip off the agency scout the second he approaches. Sure, you’d still be busking on the street, but you’d be spared this bullshit and continue life with hope still. You don’t want to be an idol. You want to be– you are a musician, and the evidence was going to be your debut.

Your band, 4tune, is slated to record your debut in a month, and begin promotions just a couple months from now, but thanks to your no-good-money-stealing-piece-of-shit ex-manager, the money set aside for appearances and advertising is no longer in the company’s bank account. With grim faces, you, your bandmates, and a few members of the company higher ups gather around a table in an emergency meeting.

“It’s ridiculous,” Se-mi crosses her arms across her chest, huffing her bangs out of her eyes. “What a coward.” She stands, crossing to a floor-length window and staring at the skyline of Mapo-gu, disbelief written on her face. 

Your mouth forms a thin line. “Who just… takes the money and runs? How was he allowed to take all of it anyway?”

“That’s all we know,” the CEO, Hwang In-ho, murmurs. He laces his fingers together and scans the rest of the band’s faces as you take in the not-quite-death-sentence he delivered your group. “We’ve got the police in South Korea and the United States investigating, but they haven’t found him yet.”

“So what does this mean for 4tune? I mean, are we… still going to debut?” Young-mi asks. 

“We don’t have a manager, we don’t have money, we don’t have a debut.” Jun-hee puts a hand on her forehead, closing her eyes in exasperation. 

“Actually,” In-ho raises a finger. “We do have a new manager for you. She couldn’t make this meeting, but she’s coming up from Busan after lunch. You’ll meet her tonight or tomorrow.” He leans forward in his seat, and rests both arms on the table in front of him. “Rest assured, you will debut.”

You can’t help but feel your lips curl into a sneer. A new manager? Who’s to say this one won’t make off with whatever scraps of money are left? You hear Se-mi scoff from the window, her thoughts echoing your own. Jun-hee looks hesitant, but Young-mi looks up at In-ho with hope.

“What’s her name? What’s she like?”

“Cho Hyun-ju. She’s an old acquaintance.” Looking over the group’s faces, In-ho stands, and begins to make his way to the meeting room door. “I’ve known her for a long time. She’s a good person.” Hardly glowing praise, but you suppose anyone would be better than the ex-manager. The other company members follow In-ho out of the room, meeting adjourned, leaving just your group members with their thoughts.

Your gaze lingers on the frosted glass door they left from. “Great. A manager, but no money. She can drive us around and shit, but we have nowhere to go. What’s the point?” Your words are bitter, spat in sorrowful resignation. 

Young-mi, ever the optimist, takes your hand in her’s. “Let’s give her a chance. In-ho sajangnim vouched for her, I say we see how she clicks with us before giving up on her.” She smiles meekly at the other members. None of you share her optimism, but with a shared side eye, the rest of you begrudgingly hear Young-mi out and agree.

“Fine,” you offer. “But if she does anything remotely shady I’m clawing my way out of this contract.” ꕤ

Despite the sudden wrench in 4tune’s future plans, you all have a schedule to uphold, so you go through the motions as if nothing was wrong. After a short break for lunch, language classes, pose training, you finally make it to the only part of training that doesn’t feel like a chore: rehearsal as a whole band. 

The rehearsal space is intimate; a small room with warm wood-panel flooring and a three-person couch in the corner. Se-mi’s drum kit is already set up on the drum rug, as is Young-mi’s keyboard and three amps, one for Young-mi’s bass, one for Jun-hee’s guitar, and one for yours, as well as a vocal mic on a long arm. Stepping into the space brings an energy you thought would be lost following this morning’s bad news, and you place your guitar’s hard case down with a determined vigor.

You unlatch the case, and pull out your guitar, a Fender Lite Ash Telecaster. The strap rests perfectly on your shoulder, the neck fitting perfectly in your left hand, a guitar pick in your right. The quarter-inch cable plugs into your guitar with a satisfying click and the amp hums to life when you switch it on. You set upon tuning your guitar, but it doesn’t take much adjustment for any member of the band, and soon your group is playing the first notes of what will be your title track for your debut.

It’s an upbeat song, and the lyrics are inherently hopeful and optimistic. You feel the stress pouring out of you as you hear how well the band plays together. From the wailing of Jun-hee’s guitar, to the machine-like precision of Se-mi’s drumming, to the effortless jumping from keys to bass by Young-mi, pride fills your heart knowing that you’re collaborating, and creating something beautiful in spite of everything going wrong.

You play rhythm guitar and sing. Closing your eyes, you pour your heart and soul into the high-energy chorus, the softer verses, and everything in between. As the outro plays out and you all play your final notes, a soft applause that crescendos into a quick flurry of claps breaks through your reverie. 

You hadn’t noticed when she came in, but at the door stands an unfamiliar woman. She’s tall, and seems a bit younger than In-ho. Her hair is cut at her shoulders with blunt bangs reaching her eyebrows. She’s dressed well, and she’s not standing timidly per-se, but there’s an awkwardness to how she holds herself, like she’s unsure if she’s allowed in this space.

“I’m sorry,” she smiles at the band. “I was told you were in this practice room and I heard you playing. You all sound amazing.”

Young-mi smiles back. “You must be the new manager! It’s nice to meet you! I’m-”

“Young-mi, right?” Young-mi nods. The woman turns to the drumset, “You’re Se-mi,” to the lead guitarist, “and Jun-hee,” and then she turns to you, and says your name so tenderly, so kindly, every fiber of your being is shouting at you to give her a chance. “And yes, I’m Cho Hyun-ju, your new manager.” ꕤ

Rehearsal stagnates after Hyun-ju’s arrival as the band seems more interested in the new arrival than playing, but you keep your guitar plugged in and guitar strap on. Young-mi puts down her bass and steps away from her keyboard to approach Hyun-ju immediately, Jun-hee following soon after. You pluck out a few notes here and there, trying to at least try to get through your part of the next song, but after Se-mi stands up from her drumset, you give up trying to continue rehearsal.

Hyun-ju seated herself on the couch in the corner. Jun-hee and Se-mi stand in front of her, and Young-mi sits beside her. “I’m excited to work with you all,” Hyun-ju half-bows in her seat. “You sounded amazing playing just now, your debut will be a hit, I can just feel it.”

“We’re happy to have you here too. I’m sure you’ve heard but our last manager flaked out on us.” Se-mi explains. Hyun-ju hums a condolence, eyes casting down to the ground. “We’re almost ready to record our album, so I’m sure you’ll have a lot to do coming up.”

You clear your throat, walking over to the group. “What experience do you have managing?” You don’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does. It’s supposed to be a light conversation about her work history, not an interrogation into her credentials. Hyun-ju’s face falters at the stern tone, and you kick yourself internally.

“Managing specifically, I've done most of the tasks individually before. That is, things like schedule management and driving and the like. I do have experience in the music and idol industry outside of management.”

You try to school your expression, you really do, and you pull your lips into a not-quite-smile that ends up looking more like a grimace. “Well then,” you push out, “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

[kiame-sama]

Hey, question. How many requests are we able to send in before you get annoyed with us? I'm not talking about sending in two three requests a day, but like, how many a week? Obviously, not every request, complement, or drabble is going to get a reply - as is expected of any blog, but especially one of this quality - so waiting until a response isn't the move. In theory, since I am an anon, if I didn't announce my presence, you would have no idea it was me popping up in your inbox with frequency, but since I'm named, not telling you it's me would feel... scummy and disrespectful. So, yeah. How many things can we send to your inbox before you go from, "Oh, it's them!"(/pos) to "Oh... it's them."(/neg). ~Wolf-non

That depends.

If they are different in nature from one another (ie. One request about harpies, and one request about Divus) I usually go "oh yeah, it's this person! Alright, you go funky lil anon." But if they are the same over and over with only slight variation (ie. I WANT PENGUIN SIRENS and CAN YOU MAKE ONE OF THE GUYS A PENGUIN BECAUSE I LOVE PENGUINS SO MUCH??? and I WANT TO BE A PENGUIN, SO YOU NEED TO MAKE THE HUMAN A PENGUIN FOR ME BECAUSE I WANT IT) I will get annoyed and angry and will be tempted to share the horrific facts about said animal that I know just to make them be quiet and stop messaging me about that topic.

This is unfortunate because anyone else who sends in a request that has the same topic (since I can't tell between anons that don't identify themselves) will suffer the same punishment even if they were not the problem because they are similar enough requests to the problem anon. (Hence why I refuse to take any hxh requests involving Kurapika because one person thought it a good idea to spam me with almost identical requests repeatedly about Kurapika, now I just dislike writing for the character due to their actions.)

(Person who keeps demanding I make one of the guys (WHO I HAVE ALREADY DECIDED SPECIES FOR) into a penguin simply because you are obsessed with penguins and continuously demand more penguins in MY writing, I will come UNGLUED and you will be blocked. My patience has set limits and you are exceeding them very quickly.)

I also have an unfortunate tendency to just delete any request similar to the one that angered me and avoiding what they want rather petulantly due to my irritation. In example of the penguin anon that won't leave me the hell alone about penguins, I will not be adding a penguin character or anything to do with penguins until they stop annoying the hell out of me with their demands for penguins. I am not a pet that does tricks when you scream and demand, I will block nuisances who see it fit to prod at me for their own amusement.

I can block on anon and will do so if annoyed enough. I will not be hearing any "please unblock me, I didn't mean to make you angry!" After 5+ near identical requests about the same thing over and over or demands that I adhere to what they want in my writing.

That's not to say I don't understand when Internet connection is shoddy and can send the same request 3 times due to unstable network, but 5 is excessive and the person better have a good explanation for why they saw fit to send it 5 times. I also like suggestions and ideas about going forward, but I LOATHE demands. A good part of my AuHD has extreme issue with Demands and Commands, especially from people I don't know/respect as an authority.

[haileycantcometothephonern]

Scars

Spencer x fem!reader

Prequel fic to this part (but can be read alone)

CW: pregnancy, kidnapping, torture, angst, also a little bit fluff. (not proofread)

___________________________________

18 months ago

You felt the kicks before you felt the warm sun rays waking you up from your deep sleep. Your baby has been quite excited, you can tell. She is keen to meet her mom and dad, it seems. You open your eyes slowly and crack a smile at your very pregnant belly.

Sydney. That's what you both decided her name would be. Such a pretty name really. You immediately got up to make yourself some breakfast as your daughter isn't so calm when she starts to get hungry.

You then remember the absence of your husband. You really hoped he would be here before next week, as that's when your due date was and your daughter might come out any moment now. You didn't want Spencer to miss such a pivotal moment of your child's birth. You knew how much he looked forward to it.

As you make yourself some breakfast filled with all kinds of nutrients, your mind goes through all of your pregnancy journey. Spencer and you have always wanted to start a family and you were blessed with your angel a few months ago. You were both equally excited about the new edition to your family and made sure to do thorough research about how to ensure that she's safe and healthy.

Spencer was also very present these past few months, putting his foot down when he is needed here by you or your daughter. You really appreciated his support throughout your pregnancy but since a few weeks he has been quite busy. You understood that he can't keep putting off work to stay with you, but you also wanted him to do that for you. Maybe it was selfish, but you were also on the verge of giving birth to an entire human and you wanted your husband there to support you.

You thought back to the call with Spencer last night as you had your breakfast and wondered when you'll get another update from him. You eventually realized that you're focusing on him too much and he must just be really busy saving lives, so you ended up watching some movie on the TV.

Ring. Ring.

You were jolted awake from your morning nap by your phone's ringtone. You immediately hoped that it was Spencer calling to tell you that he's home bound.

"Hello"

"Hey, baby! How are both of my girls doing?" Spencer sounded tired.

"We're doing good, would do better if you're here with us though." You pouted.

"I know, love. I'm already on the jet, and wanted to check on both of you before we started. Will be there by evening." He sighed into the phone and you can feel him physically relax his shoulders. The case must have been a tough one, well tougher than usual anyway.

"Oh that's great news. I'll start on dinner soon. Love you baby, say love you to papa syd." You tried to make Spencer feel a bit less stressed and you honestly felt really glad that he'll be home soon.

"I love you both, stay safe until i get home." Spencer parroted back, and you can hear the caution in his voice.

You suddenly remembered that you forgot to inform about your doctor's call last night.

"Uh Spence, Dr. Min just called me yesterday. She wanted to see us tomorrow, I told her that I'll let her know if we can after I spoke to you today."

"What did she want to talk about? Is everything alright? Are you okay? Is Sydney okay?" He immediately questioned with worry.

"Yes, yes, we are completely alright. And Dr.Min did not tell me what it was about as she had some emergency and ended the call urgently. But I'm sure it's nothing serious." You said with a doubtful tone, you didn't want him to overthink it during the whole ride.

"It's okay, baby. I'll call Dr.Min, and ask her what it's about. Just take care." Spencer tried to reassure you and ended the call as the pilot was ready for take off.

You ended up taking another nap while snacking on some fruit platter as you were still full from your breakfast when you were once again woken up by a knock this time.

You checked who it was through the peephole first, Spencer instilled this cautiousness in you. It was just some delivery guy, maybe it was the new blanket you ordered three days ago for Sydney.

You excitedly open the door and were about to take your order when the delivery guy is pushed aside and you are being dragged out of your house by two really burly men. You wanted to scream, but they had their guns pointed straight at your belly. You gulped and cooperated with them.

"What do you guys want?" You tried not to sound so scared.

"Your husband knows what we want. Don't worry you'll get out of this unscathed if he listens to our demands." One of them replied and pushed you into a black jeep.

After that your memory goes pretty hazy, as you assume that they drugged you. You regain consciousness after a while, you don't know how long it's been but it was darker outside. You can see that through the only basement window in the room that you were held in. Yep, that's definitely a basement that you were in. You weren't scared as you had complete trust in your husband and his colleagues. You trusted them to save you and your baby.

You then heard some voices from outside the door. You remembered one of the voices was the man who brought you here. Just as you were about to concentrate on what they were talking about, the door to the room opened. In walked the two men who kidnapped you.

"Dr. Reid, as promised. Your wife is here, unscathed. Just get us that plane, our money, and Jason. We'll be out of your hair." He screamed into the phone, you assume Spencer is on the other side of.

"No I'm not going to do anything until you let me talk to her." Spencer tried to sound as neutral as he can, but even you can sense the fear in his voice.

"Alright, suit yourself." The kidnapper placed the phone near your ear. "Speak."

"Hello, Spence?"

You could hear the relief in his voice when he asks you to stay strong like you always do and that he'll be there to get you soon.

"Everything will be alright, baby. I'll be there."

And you believed him. Because why wouldn't you. You believed him with your whole being. You believed him. You made that choice. You let him deceive you. You let him deceive not just you, but also your daughter.

Spencer wasn't there. He wasn't there to save you. He wasn't there to save Sydney. He wasn't there when they cut you. When they left bleeding to your death. When they left Sydney to die with her mom. You still don't have complete memory of what happened after the call.

BAU unlike every other time, failed to deliver on their promise and failed to save you or Sydney. The kidnappers tried to get what they wanted by harming you, thinking that'll motivate the BAU to submit to their demands. But this time, the kidnappers were wrong.

Spencer found you that night, almost at the verge of dying. His heart stopped at the sight of you. Multiple cuts on your arms and your collarbone. One large gash on both of your wrists, blood flowing out uncontrollably. If only they were a bit faster, if only Hotch would have agreed to their demands. He knew that he couldn't blame anyone else but himself for what happened that night. He stayed by your side at the hospital until you regained your consciousness.

"Spence, What happened? Where am I? Where's Sydney?" Your frantic voice woke him up from his seat beside your bed. He looked like he'd been through some kind of apocalypse, maybe he was. His hair unwashed and disheveled. His beard, unshaven. His eyes, sunken, surrounded by pigmentation. He looked like he was crying non-stop.

Your thoughts immediately went back to that night.

"Sydney. Where's Sydney, Spencer?" You asked cautiously.

He looked like he was on the verge of tears and held your hands. His lips opened and closed, and tears started streaming down his cheeks.

"No, no, no. It can't be. No, not her. Spence." You were beyond frantic now. The tears came first.

You didn't want to believe that she was no more. Your love, your angel, your baby. Your Sydney.

You sobbed and sobbed and hiccups echoing off the hospital walls. Throughout it all Spencer held you, letting you express your grief. He had his time, although he thought no time could heal this wound. He wanted so badly to redo everything.

The BAU had all visited you and him, offering their condolences. Hotch showed up too, expressing his regret and guilt. Spencer assured him that he doesn't hold anything against him. You didn't reply to anyone. Not him, not his mom, not your parents, nor your friends. You didn't have anything else to say. You didn't know what one says when they feel like their soul has been snatched away. Their voice had been hijacked. Only thing you can know and feel for sure was the ache in your heart and the emptiness in your womb.

Days passed away before you knew it and it was finally time to go home. Spencer packed everything up from your hospital room and called out to you.

"(Y/N), It's time to go home baby." He whispered slowly placing his hand on your shoulder.

You looked away from the windows and towards him. Yes, nobody is at fault except Spencer. It was him who promised to keep you and your baby safe. But he was nowhere to be found on the day you actually needed him. He was the one who caused all of this. Your brain, filled with grief couldn't decipher what it was thinking or where your thoughts are taking you. You knew only one thing for sure, you wanted to hurt someone. You wanted him to hurt.

"Spencer you killed her. You killed my baby." Your voice was barely a whisper, you almost thought he didn't hear you. But the way his eyes dulled and filled with guilt showed you that he did hear it.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby." He said, he sounded wracked with guilt. He started sobbing.

That was the first time in a few days you felt some kind of sick relief. A part of you ached at seeing him like that. But the sick satisfaction over took every other feeling.

"Spencer, I'm going to hurt you until I can find peace. I promise, and I don't break them like you do." Your voice was filled with vitriol. Spencer never even imagined that you could look at him with such hatred in your eyes, but he was proved wrong today.

He knew he was going to be blamed for everything. And he blamed himself too. He was okay with taking everything from you, because he knew behind all that hatred and vitriol, there was love. So he was willing to be your punching bag for however long you want him to be.

You realized that Spencer was going to accept it. And you knew you were just getting started. Maybe this will end up hurting you both, but you felt like that's what the two of you deserved in the end. For failing to save her. Your Sydney.

_______________________________________

a/n: Not that satisfied with how this turned out, wanted to write fluff but it turned out into angst 😭😭. anyways i'm thinking of writing a fluff series next and maybe an angst one too. deleted one on my old blog, want to restart it.

[ilguna]

☼ neck in neck (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; he just can’t seem to accept the fact that you’re better than him. so now, to defend himself, he’s calling you a copycat in the capitol because of this stupid tattoo. when really, it has a deeper meaning.

warnings; swearing, alcohol consumption, vague threats to violence.

wc; 4.7k

notes; i talk about snow in a """good""" light bc there is no prostitution, not that you can tell in this imagine but still lol.

--

“Ugh, I just love the cocktails here!” Cashmere shouts over the music with a grin on her face. She’s leaned in close enough for you to smell the alcohol on her breath, but she’s trying to make sure you can hear her. “They’re intoxicating!”

“Do they have anything strong?” You ask back, squinting at the liquor they have behind the counter. 

“It’s the Victory Spot!” She laughs, “Of course they do.” 

Cashmere stands on her tiptoes, even though she’s tall and there’s no need to make herself bigger, but then she leans on the counter. She reaches over, grabs a laminated paper, and then sets it down in front of you.

It’s a menu.

You squint through the darkness, reading the long list of finely printed drinks, until you find one that’s going to get the night started on the right foot. You place your finger beneath the name, and then look up to find the nearest bartender. Only, there’s already one hovering over you and Cashmere, she’s just waiting for you to order.

“I’ll take the carnivore.” You smile. “Will you add an extra shot? I don’t care which liquor.”

The bartender raises her eyebrows. “Are you sure? It’s pretty strong.”

“(Y/n) has a high tolerance.” Cashmere chips in, “You won’t be killing her.”

She closes her eyes, shaking her head as she backs off the counter. “If there is a funeral, don’t invite me.”

You let out a laugh, turning to face Cashmere while the drink is made. “So, what’s new in the world of District One?”

“The usual shit.” She rolls her eyes. “The mentors before Gloss and I are complaining about the lack of victors in our district recently. And they’re blaming it on our mentoring style, but none of them want to take over.” She shrugs. “Apparently we have appearances to upkeep.”

“There’s been a streak lately.” You wave your hand. “Since I won it’s been nothing but districts that haven’t seen a victor in a good couple years.”

“And I see nothing wrong with that.” Cashmere shrugs.

“Agreed.” You murmur, watching the pattern of flashing lights.

While the Hunger Games are supposed to be a competition between the districts, you’re not selfish enough to be disappointed that other districts are taking home their children. There’s plenty of anger to go around, of course, but it’s not aimed at the mentors around you. It’s directed at the Capitol.

“Here’s your cup of death.” A voice says behind you. 

You glance over your shoulder first to look at the drink the bartender has just made you, a smile coming over your face when you see the dark red color. You pull out your metal card that’s provided by the Capitol for your monthly allowance. Except, it’s pretty much useless in District Two because everything is handled in cash, but you can’t use cash here because they think it's dirty. 

And it’s outdated.

She takes the card from your fingers, and you watch as a brief wave of impression crosses her face, something you’re not unfamiliar to. The heavier the card, the wealthier you are. It’s not super common for Capitol citizens to have such a luxury.

You lift the glass, watching the cubes of ice dance inside. As soon as the liquor hits your tongue, you know you don't need another drink tonight. This will be enough to get you loose, but not inebriated enough to not get back to the Tribute Center. 

You take a larger sip, the bartender slides the card back to you.

“Taxi services are listed by the door.” She points to where you entered from.

“I like to walk.” You wink at her, and then you look at Cashmere. “Where to?”

“This way.” She cocks her head to the side, walking into the crowd of people. 

You follow behind her, not really paying attention to the bodies, or those who bump into you. There’s even a few hands that caress at your skin, desperate for the attention that you’ll never give. Not without a price, at least.

There’s a few high tops that are open on this side of the room. Cashmere chooses the one pressed against the wall, allowing you to pick your chair first. Out of habit, you slide onto the one that allows you to get a clear look at the door, in case anything were to happen. And since Cashmere has no preference, she happily slides into the seat across from you.

“Okay, I’m ready.” She says, swirling her glittery drink. “What has Finnick been saying about you this year?”

“We haven’t even been in the Capitol for three days and he’s been calling me names to all my regular sponsors.” You press your lips together. “I’ve been building up this clientele for years, I can’t afford to lose them, if I actually want to have a chance this year. He knows this.”

“He’s just upset because he thinks you’re taking his mentoring style, right?” She asks.

You let out a breath of air. “You mean the mentoring style that the Career districts have been doing since the beginning?” You ask back. “The original Career districts?”

She makes a face. “I still don’t understand how they’re a part of the pack.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I don’t see how fish can be that great of a luxury but I’m not the one who lives here.” You raise your hands defensively. “All the times I’ve had it, it tastes as good as it smells.”

Cashmere smiles.

“Anyway, besides him calling me names, he’s also telling them that I don’t keep my promises and I never had. That’s why I haven’t been able to bring a tribute home.” You nod. “Because I’m just one big fraud—a scam artist. A wannabe.”

“A wannabe?” Cashmere repeats.

“That’s what I was told by one of the richer women.” You smile. bitterly “And then she went right back to ignoring me. I can’t talk sense into any of them now. It’s like they wanted to give me an explanation, just so they could stonewall me.”

You take a drink of the carnivore, getting a little enjoyment from the burn in your throat as it goes down.

“I would try, but we both know how that would end.”

“Yeah, there’s no point in getting us both blacklisted in the Capitol.” You agree. “I wish there was something I could do about it.”

“You could confront him.” Cashmere suggests with a shrug, taking a sip of her drink. “Set things straight.”

You snort, “The only way I know how to do that is with my fists, and something tells me that won’t go over well with President Snow.”

“Your fists?”

“Actions speak louder than words.” You smirk.

She shakes her head, staring down at the table for a couple of seconds. “Do you think roughing him up would actually work?”

“Are you kidding? I’d probably get crucified.” You sit back in your chair. “He’ll always be the Capitol favorite, I’m just a close second.” 

“Guess you’ll have to have a heart-to-heart with him.”

You mock a gag, pressing a fist to your mouth. “You think he has a heart? He’s knowingly taking sponsors away from innocent teenagers.”

“Innocent.” She laughs. “Our tributes are hardly that.”

“They are until they get their hands bloody.” You tell her. “They’re still children.”

For the next hour, you talk to Cashmere about your tributes becoming allies, their strengths and weaknesses, and the likeliness that they’ll end up pairing with the Four tributes—whether you like it or not. At the rate they’re currently going, they haven’t shown any interest in Finnick’s tributes, but that doesn’t mean they won’t change their minds later on.

Cashmere then offers to talk to her sponsors about teaming up with you, at least until your situation is sorted. You take her up on it, except you ask her not to go through with anything just yet. If it’s possible, you’d like to continue to use the people you’ve gotten to know these past couple years.

Which means that you need to have a conversation with Finnick at the first given chance.

The night ends early when one of the bartenders approaches your table and tells you that Cashmere’s escort is calling around to see where she’s at. As an apology for interrupting your conversation, he drops off two shots and then goes back to the bar.

Cashmere rolls her eyes, sliding off her seat. “I should get back, he’s been up my ass lately about making sure I’m present for mentoring. As if Gloss doesn’t attend everything.” She motions to the shots on the table. “Take mine for me, will you? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” You wave her off, she gives you a cheeky smile.

You watch her disappear into the sea of bodies, before you turn to the shots. With a shake of your head, you throw back the liquor, one after the other. You arrange the glasses neatly on the table before getting to your feet, straightening out your skirt.

It can’t be any later than midnight, and the place seems like it’s packed from wall to wall. You carefully navigate your way to the bar, figuring it’ll be easy to leave from there. The bartender that served you the carnivore earlier gives you a wave on your way out, and you lift your hand as a courtesy.

As soon as you step on to the colorful Capitol street, the warm July air kisses your skin, cooling you down. You stare down the block for a couple of seconds, enjoying the peace, before you have to go back to the Tribute Center and deal with your own version of crazy. 

You’re so sick of being bossed around by your escort, but you were warned by one of the stylists that if you keep intentionally screwing with her, then you were going to get in trouble. Apparently she’s already started the process of getting in contact with Snow, and she’s just waiting for an excuse to tell him everything.

You’re not really afraid of what will happen if she does tattle on you to the President, you think he would get your side of the story first before making any final decisions. It’s the fact that she’ll be smug after that’s making you hesitate. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction. 

After a minute or so, you turn to continue down the street, heading in the direction of the Tribute Center. It’s not that long of a walk, you’ll be there in less than fifteen minutes. Despite this, you’re sure that Cashmere will still call a taxi to get home, she was wearing a nice pair of heels.

You really don’t know what to do about this situation with Finnick. As nice as it would be to pull him aside and talk your feelings out, you’re not that type of person. When you suggested settling the situation with your hands, you were only partially kidding.

After everything he’s done to you these past couple of years, it would be well deserved. He’s got his head so far up his ass that he thinks you’re following his every move. When in reality, you’re just using the strategies that are being taught to you by the mentors in the past.

Lyme, especially.

If you do decide to throw him around, he has it coming, so you won’t entirely feel bad about it. The only issue is that you come from a family where fighting your problems out is the usual. He won’t be able to defend himself as easily. 

You’ll have to deal with the repercussions, though. Finnick is a Capitol favorite, he gets everything he wants from his team, and sometimes even the President. If you so much as leave a bruise on his golden skin, you’ll bet that they’ll have you replaced in the Capitol forever. You won’t be welcome back, and you’re not sure if you’re willing to give that up just yet.

Either way, you’ll have to figure it out soon. Preferably without the help of that idiot they sent you here with. If they were trying to piss you off, they did a great job of it. He’s notorious for leaving all the work to the female mentors so he can do all the schmoozing, but as soon as he heard of what was happening with the sponsors, he holed himself up in his room. 

Hopefully he stays there.

You take a shortcut through an alley that should lead you right to the front doors of the Tribute Center. The streets of the Capitol are safe, you never have to worry about some creep hanging around, only the workers of the shops. Even then, they’re not really that intrusive, they just want to get through the night so they can go home.

There’s no one here except for you.

About halfway through the alley, it gets incredibly dark because of a light that’s out above one of the doors. This doesn’t bother you, all you do is keep your eyes on the ground to avoid stepping on any trash that might have gotten flung by accident.

A sharp pain seizes your left forearm, so sudden and unexpected that you think someone has just stabbed you. Without a second thought, you throw your entire body into a punch behind you, but it catches nothing. Your momentum works against you, bringing you down to the pavement.

You collapse in a puddle of what you can only imagine is garbage juice. The little care you have for the integrity of your clothes is gone the moment the pain spreads in two different directions, the feeling of pins and needles stabbing at your arm. You clutch your skin in a tight grip, squeezing your eyes closed and rocking, wishing it would stop.

And it does.

You sit for a minute, taking some deep breaths while you carefully look over your arm, needing to know what happened. It doesn’t look like anything has changed, but there is a smudge of dirt that’s being stubborn. You leave it for now, you’ll scrub it off in the shower when you get back to the Two apartment.

As soon as you get back to your feet, your skirt suctions to your skin, as well as your nice shirt, which is most definitely ruined now. You let out an annoyed sigh, as you continue through the alley and back onto the main sidewalk. A street light illuminates where you stand, allowing you to get a clear look at your arm.

You hold it out, expecting to see mud, but you’re met with something much more permanent—a tattoo. What you had thought to be a mess of dirt on your arm, is actually a freshly carved tattoo, just beneath the inside of your elbow. You press your lips together at the sight of your irritated skin.

You have a soulmate, and either they can afford to get a tattoo in the districts, or they’re somewhere here in the Capitol. And judging by the handiwork, you think it’s the latter.

Before you can even give yourself a moment to wonder who might be on the other side of it, your feet begin to move. Right now, you need to get this cleaned if you don’t want it to get infected. You’ll have plenty of time to figure out who you’re meant to be with when you wake up tomorrow.

—

Copycat.

It’s what you’ve been called all day. From the moment you woke up and walked out of your bedroom, to just five minutes ago in the sponsorship room surrounded by Capitol people. It’s driving you up the wall, and it’s because of the mark on your arm.

“Copycat,” Hannes—your fellow District Two mentor—said as soon as his eyes found the tattoo on your arm. “Did you really get that last night?”

“Yes and no.” You told him, dragging your feet to the dining room table, where breakfast had been recently served. “Copycat?”

He raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. “What do you mean? Did you get it this morning?”

“No, I’ve been sleeping since I came back from the Victory Spot with Cashmere.”

Hannes squinted at you, not at all convinced. “You’re not a very good liar. Where’d you get it?”

“I’m not lying.” You told him. “I got it in an alleyway.”

He sputtered out a laugh, coming up the steps to get a closer look. “You got that in an alleyway? Who’d you have to pay to get that sort of intel?”

“What are you talking about?” You stared at him. “Intel on what?”

Hannes elongated his neck a little bit, trying to decipher if you were fucking with him or not, but you weren’t.

After a long pause, he said: “Finnick, obviously.”

“Hannes, what about Finnick?”

“He got the same exact tattoo last night. I was with him and Gloss at the tattoo shop on the corner. The one down the road from Sugar and Spice.”

In that moment, you felt all the blood run from your face, the expression on your face dropping completely. Finnick. Finnick got the same exact tattoo last night? Finnick is the one that you’re supposed to be with for the rest of your life? Is this some sort of joke?

“Did you not think anyone would notice?”

“Holy shit.” You murmured, sitting back in your chair.

“You’re a fucking copycat.”

“I’m not a copycat, you moron.” You snapped back. “Leave me alone.”

It couldn’t stop there, of course. When you got dressed for the sponsors, you tried to look nice by wearing a summery dress with a cute pair of wedges. Usually, you go for an expensive set, trying to look like you come from wealth, but you were hoping that if you took a page from Cashmere’s dress, then maybe it would be easier to get through to them.

Unfortunately, it did not work. In fact, you think you set yourself up for violence, because you practically got verbally assaulted by the Capitol people that hang around Finnick the most. You have thick skin, so nothing they could say would ever get you riled up, but it kept coming.

And then it began to encourage the people around them. By the time Cashmere and Gloss were finally arriving, you were fuming. Your skin was hot to the touch, and you were grinding your teeth.

“You look like you want to kill someone.” Cashmere told you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Why are you so warm?”

“Is that a tattoo on your arm?” Gloss asked without giving you a chance to answer his sister first. “Wait—”

“I did not get this tattooed last night.” You told him, steely eyes encapsulating him into a stare down, challenging him to call you some form of a copycat.

“Well, how could you? You went right home after the bar, right?” Cashmere asked, reaching to grab your arm to get a better look.

Gloss had a question on his tongue, eyes wide as he looked between the mark on your arm and your face. He knew that if he said the wrong thing, he would immediately get reamed, forcing him to reconsider his words carefully.

And you knew that he already knew who else had just gotten that tattoo on their body.

“Yes, I did. I even took a shortcut through an alley to get to the building quicker.” You told her through tight teeth.

Gloss opened his mouth, taking in a breath of air, and then it hitched. He changed his mind, not quite ready to ask you.

“So… this morning?” Cashmere asked, not paying attention to her brother. “When did you have time?”

“I haven’t.” You finally looked at her. “I did not get this last night or this morning.”

Gloss swallowed. “You know, Finnick was at a tattoo shop with Hannes and I last night.” He started slowly, testing the water.

“Oh, I’m fully aware. Hannes told me this morning, and I’ve been getting an earful from these assholes all afternoon.”

He pressed his lips together. “I don’t know what to say right now, because all I’m coming up with are ways that will get you pissed off more than you already are.”

“I am not a copycat.” You told him, then looked at Cashmere. “I got it in that alleyway last night.”

Her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing while she stared at you, trying to figure out what you were trying to subtly tell her. “Okay…?”

“Finnick has the same tattoo, Cash.” Gloss nudged her a little. “I watched him get it.”

Her eyes bounced down to what’s been permanently etched into your skin. “Soulmate mark?” She asked, her tone slightly hopeful.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You told her, “And now I have no choice but to talk it out with him.”

“You’ll be able to catch him tonight.” Gloss told you. “He’s free, he has no plans.”

“Good, because we need to settle this.”

After this, you went back to the apartment to change into something more casual, tired of appearances. You settled on a pair of jeans, sneakers and a long-sleeved shirt that would cover the damn thing. However, when you got to the sponsorship room to be with Cashmere and Gloss, it was infuriating.

It was like you became a zoo animal. Once word got out that you had gotten a tattoo exactly like Finnick’s, less than twenty-four hours from when he got it, everyone had to come and see. And while it did get incredibly busy, and it would’ve been perfect for networking—all people wanted to do was see the tattoo and ask you if you were proud of yourself. Or if you had a hard time being your own individual.

Which is rich coming from a group of people who talk, walk and dress the same. They have one collective mind and it’s controlled by the President, but it’s not like you could say that to them. 

So, you gave up for the evening and you’ve spent the rest of the night stewing in your room, waiting for everyone to go to bed so you can leave. As you step into the elevator, you jab your thumb into the four button on the box. The doors slowly slide shut, and then you’re sent a few floors up.

From what you understand, all the floor layouts for the Tribute Center are the same, so it should be relatively easy to get around. When the elevator stops, the doors open, revealing a differently decorated apartment. It’s incredibly cliche, with the seashells and sand vases with ocean paintings on the wall.

Something moves in the darkness, you step forward to place your hand on the doors to keep them from trying to close. You don’t move further than that, waiting to see who it is that’s in the living space. If it’s Lynnea—or whatever the girl mentor’s name is—you’ll have to come up with some lame excuse and go back down.

A low laugh interrupts the silence, as the person barely comes into sight. It’s Finnick, and he’s got this smug look on his face. You hate smug people.

“Well, look who it is.” He says slowly, you step out of the elevator. The doors close immediately, blocking off the light. But he’s prepared for this, because he reaches to the nearest table to flick on the lamp. “Come to scope me out and see what else you should steal from me? A tattoo wasn’t enough?”

“Are you stupid?” You shoot back, it comes out harsher than you mean for it to. “Genuinely. I thought that you had to be smart, considering your strategies, but you have to lack some common sense.”

“I’m stupid? The least you could try to do is be subtle.” He motions to your arm. “Nowhere else? In the exact same spot as me? I thought Hannes was kidding when he told me.” He shakes his head. “You had to be stalking me in order to get it that quick, and then you went to some alleyway artist to protect their identity? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You think I care about your life that much?” You laugh a little. “You don’t think it’s strange that I happened to get it the same night you did?”

“I figured it was a form of dedication.” He shrugs. “It wouldn’t be the first time you tried to follow in my footsteps.”

You open your mouth to correct him, but you remind yourself that you can’t get sidetracked. “It appeared on my arm.”

Finnick’s face twists, as if you’re trying to feed him a spoon of shit. “Tattoos don’t just appear on your arm. How fucking stupid do you think I am?”

You don’t take the bait. “They do in some cases.” You tell him, not wanting to outright give him the answer.

Honestly, it’s not like you really hate Finnick and the thought of being connected to him makes you sick. It’s because you want him to feel stupid for how he’s been treating you these past few years—especially this year. 

You don’t really care about him, usually you can stomach and brush off what he has to say, and the shenanigans he’s up to. You’re actually pretty similar in most ways, which is why his behavior doesn’t get to you. You have the same fashion taste, mentoring style, arena strategies, and more. And you only considered this to be a coincidence until recently.

It clicked in your mind this afternoon while you were changing. All the pieces have fallen into place since. You’ve always been drawn to each other, whether you liked it or not. It might’ve been romantic or friendly from the beginning if Finnick hadn’t already hated your guts. Instead, it just turned you into competitors.

“Like what?” Finnick asks, still actively being combative.

“Take a second and think about it.” You tell him, leaning against the wall. “I’ll even give you a hint; we have the rest of our lives to figure it out.”

The creases in his forehead get more defined while he turns your words over in his head. It doesn’t take long for him to realize what you’re telling him. His eyes dart to his forearm, where he rubs the tattoo on his skin, lips pressed together in a thin line. Then his arm drops. 

“We’re soulmates.”

“It explains everything, doesn’t it?” You ask him.

“Yeah, actually.” He looks up from the floor. “How long have you known?”

“I knew it was a soulmate mark when it appeared on my arm after the bar last night, but it was Hannes that actually indirectly told me it was you.”

He lets out a hiss. “This will be a hard one to explain to the Capitol.”

You shrug. “Tell them the truth, or don’t. Either way, I want my sponsors back.” You raise your eyebrows. “It’s unfair to turn them against me like that, especially since they’re not for me, they’re for my tributes.”

“That was Lynnea.” Finnick shakes his head. “She wanted them to come to us, instead. I’ll have a talk with them to make sure we set things straight.”

“You can’t blame it on Lynnea. Everyone has told me that you called me a wannabe.”

Finnick’s face twists. “Do I look like I call people wannabe’s?”

You squint at him. “Fine, I’ll let that go. Just tell Lynnea that if she wants to go home with a black eye, that’s the way to do it.” You press the button on the wall, and the elevator opens right back up. You step on, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hey,” Finnick takes a step forward, you block the doors that have begun to close. “What are we going to do about this?” He asks, showing you the tattoo on his arm. “We live in two different districts.”

You stare at him for a couple of seconds, “I’m in no hurry to find out. It’s not like we don’t see each other every year for a month at a time.”

Finnick nods a little bit. “Goodnight, (Y/n). I’m sorry.”

“You’ll make it up to me.” You give him a cheeky smile, moving your hand away from the elevator door. “Goodnight, Finnick.”

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

hi hope your having a good day!

do you have any headcanons for a yandere Clark Kent, I just think he's neat

Hi! I have slightly great day actually but I hope yours is much better!

In regards to Headcannons about Sups yes, Superman really is a pretty great character loved the guy since I saw him on TV but kinda scared about how they keep making evil superman these days, anyway lemme just open my old notes and please forgive me for typos this isn't really proofread much.

Yandere Clark Kent/SuperMan

HeadCannons

[General, Platonic and Romantic]

General

In the terms of a yandere Clark I think he's somewhat-

Obsessive - loves to pick up even the tiniest things you do or the little stuff that makes you -You! especially with that perfect vision that can literally see for miles.

Example: The tiny baby hairs that curls at your nape when you tie your hair up, The habit you do when something catches your eye or interest and even the slight twitch of your muscle when you're about to do something.

Controlling - but I say he let's you have some freedom, this golden boy is raised by the Kents to hold his temper when things doesn't go his way-

Like when you disagree with what he wants he will then try to hear out your reason first and maybe work something out, it breaks his heart to see you angry, distress or just sad.

But if it's been life or death? your life and wellbeing on the line? There's no talking your way out of this, his words are final.

Hero Complex - He thinks its his responsibility to protect and save you from everything, He's Superman, Man of Steel and a Hero, Yes of course you can get groceries for yourself but atleast let him come with you, you don't know what some people are planning or what goes inside their head until you just find yourself at the end of the barrel of a gun.

[Platonic]

As a Yandere Platonic it's like just in a very over protective family.

Whether you're like a parental figure, a sibling or even like his own child, He'll become to protective over you.

If he ever has the chance to show you of he will but not to the point of telling anyone everything about you, they'll know who you are, your name , what you are or relation to him and what you do but that's it, he'll try to avoid anymore discussion or talks about you, he gets to keep that informations to himself.

Like how you really like your puppy and you want everyone to know you have one but you won't let them pet it or even just look at them in general, it's your puppy, you're not obligated to share them to people.

Very family Oriented guy, he likes to have his family close to him and celebrate any important events with everyone, memories are precious and he wants to keep them forever, we have this thing here -a culture you might say- where in some families it's not really required or force upon the children to move out and become independent sometimes it's still okay to live under the same roof with your grandparents, parents, siblings, in laws, along with your wife and children and your siblings children (dear lord u don't know how true this is in my country)

I like to think that if you want to be a bit independent to Clark, he'll be like 'Oh! I understand so I thought about this instead'-

and literally build either a separate house that reaches his parents farm house in one full walk or extended the house where you get your own space and still be with the family.

He coddles you even more when you don't have superpowers or is a kryptonian, He freaks out when your hurt and acts like you'll die from a little scratch after falling, still kept baby proofing the house even if you become an adult

You can use accidents or possible injuries as a leverage but you can never talk or joke about kys because he will literally get angry with you and gives you lecture about how important your life is.

[Romantic]

As a romantic yandere I think he's a bit on the Hopeless Romantic side.

Believes in love at first sight or soulmates and continue to fall more and more in love with you day by day, thinks about how romantic it is to swoop in and save you as Superman, likes to pop out everytime you stand on your balcony and sneak up on you and how you fit right in his arms as he carries you in the sky with you and him alone above everything and everyone.

Will give you gifts that has more sentimental value than the price tag, like the scarf his Ma made even meals and treats for you, simple things maybe art supplies or notebook for journaling and if he can get a good raise he'll get you that jewelry that brings out your beauty, he loves to see anything he gifts to you on your person a bit like marking on you that kind of stuff.

Doesn't really like Poly-relationship, he's not really against it but He likes to keep you to himself, you're both made for each other and he likes to keep it that way.

Family - adding this again but really wants to get married to you soon after like what 2-3 dates? wants you to move in and become a stay at home spouse where you'll spend more time with his folks and maybe take care of the kids.

Is dying to see you round and prego like goodness lord you are even hotter to him when you stand there either cooking or walking around with your hand on your hip and the other under that bump may or may not.

If you're willing in this relationship maybe 2-3 kids? if not forced pregnancy might become possible.

And if you can't have kids it's alright adoption is available, he would still look like a highschool boy in love when you hold a baby or a tiny kid in your arms

I'm a bit soft on my Yandere stuff so a bit srry for that

And that's all I got for the Big Man supes, I hope you like this and I hope did this right, been writing this one at 3am, Thanks for the ask btw.

[stars4noah]

HALLEY'S COMET- six.

{WARNINGS}: swearing, mention of a bar

w.c- 2,038

a.n- i'm gonna be so honest, chapter five was originally going to be the end of this series but i was driving and i had a crazy idea. enjoy more chapters because i don't think this story will be ending any time soon.

{TAGLIST}: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @chey-h @rumoured-whispers @oobleoob @dontwantthemoney @n0n3xsisting

"i'll love you forever." he said softly.

"and always?" i asked

he laughed softly, nuzzling his face in my hair.

"and always, my love."

"[y/n]. dude, come on. wake up." nicholas' voice broke through my hard slumber, jolting me awake. i furrowed my brows, sitting up slowly and looking around. i was on the tour bus. but why? i had just been on the couch with noah..

i ran a hand over my face, trying to gather my thoughts. we just finished a show. noah and i got into another argument. but this argument was different from the one in my dream. and then i left. no.. that part was a dream. i fell asleep.

it was all fake.

the music, the new album, the sex and the kisses and the 'i love you's. it was all fake. as much as i hated him, i felt a strange sense of disappointment down in my gut. it hit me like a train. this perfect life had been built up in my mind in the course of just a couple hours. was that really what i wanted? who was i kidding, of course it was. it was all i'd ever wanted in life. to be in love. to be happy. to be able to live out my dreams freely.

even though i definitely wasn't interested in the music industry.

"what, is she still sleeping?" i heard noah's voice getting closer, and i rolled my eyes as i jumped out of my bunk. "no, asshole. i'm awake."

"oh, she lives!" he said. "what were you even dreaming about? you've been tossing and turning and talking for the past 30 minutes." he said, his arms crossed.

"fuck off, noah." i grumbled, searching for some clothes for the show tonight.

"not until you learn how to do your job right."

i rolled my eyes, retreating to the bathroom to go and get ready.

"i swear, it's like he lives to piss me off. doesn't he have anything better to do? like, i dunno, hook up with girls? make music? write lyrics? instead of fucking with me. it's annoying." i rambled to nicholas as i set up my camera, him standing beside me.

and then he suggested the most absurd thing ever.

"i dunno, [y/n], maybe he likes you."

i choked on nothing, my eyes widening. "are you insane? him? like me? never in a million years would that happen."

nicholas laughed softly. "i mean, the way he talks about you when you're not around says otherwise. it's always [y/n] this, [y/n] that. don't you see the way he stares at you when you're not looking? or how he put extra effort in when he knows you're gonna be closer to the stage?"

i stayed quiet. he kind of had a point. i never heard him speak about me or felt his stares, but i could tell that he always dressed nicer or sang better when i was closer.

maybe..

no. hell no. just because i had that stupid dream doesn't mean a thing. i hate him, he hates me. and that's final.

"you're delusional." i said.

"you're in denial." he retorted, walking off to go get ready for the show.

as i continued to set up, i felt a pair of eyes on me. i looked up briefly, noticing noah looking at me before he quickly looked away, going to talk with some girl.

why was i jealous? it's not like we were together. not like i liked him. not like i imagined a future with him every time my insomnia kept me awake at night.

whatever. it didn't matter.

NOAH'S POV.

i finished up my conversation with some random girl whose name i couldn't even remember. i didn't know why, but some part of me just yearned to make [y/n] jealous. to make her wish i was giving her all of my attention instead of giving it to others. i needed her to know how i felt. how i looked at her, how i yearned for her.

what am i saying? i don't like her. at all. she's cocky and stuck up and beautiful and funny and-

fuck.

i watched as she walked around the arena, humming to herself as she adjusted the settings on her camera, not paying a lick of attention to where she was going. a couple more steps and she would-

CRASH!

"ow! fuck!"

i scoffed, walking over to where she was sat on the ground, rubbing the back of her head.

"you good there, princess? looks like you fell." i smirked.

she rolled her eyes, pulling herself up to her feet. "i'm fine."

"you sure? you took quite the fall there." i said.

she smirked. "aww, are you showing actual human empathy for once?"

i scoffed. "keep dreaming. i can't afford to lose my photographer right now. do your job." i said, walking away.

the lights dimmed as we took the stage, the crowd's energy palpable. i stepped up to the microphone, my intense gaze sweeping over the audience. among the sea of faces, my eyes locked with hers, an unfamiliar spark igniting between the two of us.

"the sutures in my head keep getting ripped out. these open wounds are the thoughts i can't stop thinking about. digging for purpose, feelings resurface. and involuntarily my system gets nervous."

there was a crowd of people in the arena. our first sold out show ever. we just released our album Finding God Before God Finds Me a couple months ago, and for our first sold out show of the tour, i decided to add a couple songs from our very first album.

"tell me tonight that you'll be by yourself. cause something bad will happen if you are with someone else. i'm just all fucked up, and i really need your help. i really need your help."

i looked at [y/n] in the front row, snapping pictures. when she was so close to the stage, i always felt like i performed better. seeing her smile at nicholas, hearing her sing along to our songs. it gave me motivation. i closed my eyes.

"there's a lotta hollow souls out there all alone, and they're waiting for you to invite 'em back into my home. they touched and they took what was rightfully mine. now i'm the devil, and their souls just went up in price."

images of her face filled my mind as i sang. her smile, her scowl, her tears and her laughter. every part of her was gorgeous. every part of her made me fall in love deeper and deeper every day. why couldn't i admit these feelings?

"set me free, i think i'm giving up. don't wait for me, i think i've had enough. set me free, i think i'm giving up. don't wait for me, i've had enough, enough now"

right. i had bailey. my girlfriend. i wondered what she was doing right now. maybe sleeping or shopping or watching tv in our bed at home. even though i had her, part of me felt off. it didn't feel like she really loved me. everyone always tried to convince me to break up with her. but she's my girl. the love of my life, the woman i wanted to marry one day. right?

as we got back onto the bus, i came to a realization.

one, i wasn't happy with bailey. she was toxic, manipulative, and i was pretty sure she was cheating on me.

two, i was utterly, hopelessly in love with [y/n].

i laid on my bunk, wide awake with my thoughts swarming in my mind. i was in love with her. i was in love with another woman. what the hell was wrong with me?

"there's a thousand voices in my head. i just hope it doesn't take a rope around my neck to put them all to rest." i hummed to myself, scrolling on my phone.

"noah?" [y/n]'s voice spoke from her bunk, her head peeking out of the curtain. "i thought you went for drinks with the others."

"nope." i said. "i'm not in the mood."

she raised an eyebrow. "that's weird. why?"

i shrugged. "i'm thinking."

"about?"

"none of your business."

she rolled her eyes, mumbling something under her breath before retreating back to her bunk.

it was quiet for another moment before i spoke.

"hey, [y/n]?" i said quietly, not wanting to disturb her in case she had fallen asleep.

"what?"

i bit my lip. "what do i do if i'm in love with someone.. but i'm in a relationship?"

she peeked her head out again, raising an eyebrow. "break up with the girl, duh. don't lead her on if you're not interested anymore. that's a dick move." she said. "wait, don't tell me you're breaking up with bailey?"

i shrugged again. "i dunno yet."

"jesus, finally." she said, and i frowned. "first of all, don't say that. second, i said i don't know yet. i'm thinking."

she sighed. "noah, you know she's a shit person. she literally abuses you. she's a toxic, manipulative asshole. and if you're in love with another woman who you know can give you the love that you deserve, shoot your shot. don't sit there and suffer just because you don't want to hurt someone's feelings."

i wasn't sure why, but a small bit of rage filled my body at the way she spoke about bailey. "don't talk about her like that. that's not true. she's just doing what she knows is best for me." i said, and she scoffed.

"whatever you say."

"you're just jealous." i crossed my arms.

she raised her eyebrows. "of what? cause its definitely not her behaviour. or literally any aspect of her personality or life."

i laid back down, ignoring her for the rest of the ride. i knew she was right, but i hated to admit it. i loved bailey. she was all that i had.

when we first got together, everything was great. i swore that i would marry her one day. and then she started going out more and staying out later and sometimes i didn't feel like i could trust her. but i let it slide because bringing it up would just lead to arguments. i didn't want arguments.

but as her behaviour continued and i saw my friends in happy, loving relationships, i realized it wasn't normal. being treated like this wasn't normal, and it wasn't what i wanted. i wanted to be happy. feel loved.

i wanted to be loved by [y/n].

with a sigh and a slightly heavy heart, i texted bailey a long message.

'i want to start this off by saying i know what you did. i know what you've been doing behind my back for longer than i'd like to admit. i loved you bailey, i really did. but we can't be together anymore. i want things that you can't provide me. i know you've been cheating on me, and i let it go because we all make mistakes. but this is more than a mistake. please don't try to fight this, just accept it. you would rather sleep with multiple other men than be with me, and that's okay. i can't be what you need, and you can't be what i need. we weren't made for each other. this is goodbye.'

with tears in my eyes, i put on my headphones and put my phone on silent, blasting some music as i washed away these feelings that i didn't want to hit me at this moment. i hated being vulnerable. i'd cry it out when i was alone.

i sat in my bunk for the rest of the night, trying to fall asleep but i couldn't. instead, i drew in my notebook and wrote down the occasional lyric that popped into my mind.

'i'll flip it with you and me inside.'

'heaven know's i ain't gettin' over you.'

'thought you were somebody else.'

'no way to right these wrongs, either way i'm feeling, it might just cost something in the millions. i know that i can't resist.'

fuck. this was going to be good.

[heavenlyraindrops]

The Devil Made Me Do It | Arcane | Silco x Reader | Chapter Twenty Six

available on AO3 and Quotev | visit the first tag for other chapters | warnings: profanity, mentions of drugs, brief mention of alcohol, cigars and smoking

summary:

In the midst of an unfortunate run-in with the enforcers, you meet the young revolutionary Silco, and by extension, his friends Vander and Felicia. Growing close friends, you get through life in the undercity together, determined to make Zaun a better place. Until tragedy strikes, and betrayal and carelessness stabs hard enough to turn you bitter. Years later as time solidifies the scars, Silco proves to be a thorn in your side. You, in his. Hatred festers. And your world cracks further open.

Chapter Twenty Six:

Over the next week or so, Donna walked around you on eggshells, as did most of the Haven. Half expecting you to go manic, or have another meltdown. You, however, popped an unholy amount of pills and carried on with life. 

“So,” you said, spaying your palms out across the low table. “Tell me about the Slickjaws.”

Donna tossed a file on the table, right next to a bowl of grapes. The air was thick with Allison’s absence. Where she would have been sitting on the sofa, or kneeling on the carpet, there was nothing. Just you and Donna left. 

“Their leader is Finn,” she began. She opened the file, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to you. “He got into crime as a teenager. They specialise in assassinations.”

“What does he look like?” You asked casually, popping a grape into your mouth. Donna paused, then shrugged, reaching for a grape of her own.

“Flashy, I guess. A bit like you, honestly. Except for you, that’s not really you.” She looked up at you, eyes glittering in the rose candlelight. You smiled.

Donna placed down something else. You picked it up. “What’s this?”

“He’s having a party,” she said, voice level as she traced the gold lettering on the paper with her index finger. You snorted derisively. “You should go.”

“Where’d you get this?”

“I have my ways.”

You picked up the invite. It certainly was eye-catching. “It’s strange if I show up uninvited. He hasn’t sent us the invite personally, has he now? If we don’t have an invite, we just look like creeps.” You frowned, turning the invitation over. “I don’t want to go in like that straight away.”

Donna smirked and placed another grape in her mouth. “But we know someone who probably does.”

You frowned, furrowing your brow.

“Who?”

Donna raised her eyebrows, mouthing a single word. Your eyes widened.

“Oh.”

-

“Jinx!”

The girl looked up from the bar counter that she was leaning on, straw still in her mouth. You smiled as you entered the Last Drop, holding out a hand to her. The young girl grinned, hopping off the barstool to tackle you in a hug. 

“Whoa, what’s gotten into you?”

She pulled back. “You brought me to Silco. I just wanted to say thanks.”

You laughed, ruffling her hair. For a moment you stilled, but then you smiled. “Of course.”

“Want a drink?”

“You know I do.”

You slid onto a barstool, curtly nodding at the bartender. Jinx leapt onto hers, and it shook as she landed, slowly spinning around. “Hey, Chuck. Get [name] a drink, will ya?”

“My name isn’t-“

“Chuck,” you said darkly. “She asked you to get me a drink.”

Chuck looked at you nervously. “You’re, uh… [name], right? You run the Haven?”

You winked, a subtle smirk on your lips as you produced a sleek black card from your jacket and tossed it to him across the counter. “Come find me any time, and I’ll get you sorted for anything.”

He clumsily set to fixing you a drink. “Gin and Tonic,” you ordered, and he nodded quickly. You turned to Jinx. “So. How’s it been?”

There was a small contraption on the table. Jinx picked it up. It was dusted with colours. “It’s been good,” she said casually, snatching up a screwdriver you recognised as the one she’d gotten when you’d kidnapped her from Hilda’s shop.

“Say… when I took you to meet Silco, what happened, exactly?”

She slotted the screwdriver into the dent in the actual screw, twisting, tightening. “Oh, nothing. I just woke up and he was there. He told me I’d passed out. Weird, cause I didn’t remember anything.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. Chuck placed your drink in front of you, but you didn’t spare him a glance. “We were halfway there when you sort of just… fainted. But it’s fine, cause I handed you over to Sevika.” You grinned, resting your cheek on your palm, elbow on the table. Your eyes flicked down to Jinx’s hands. “What’s that?”

“A bomb,” she replied nonchalantly. You raised an eyebrow. 

“A bomb?” She offered it to you. You reached out nervously for the object.

“Jinx.”

You both looked up.

Silco was standing by the door. He stepped into the light, eyes fixed on you. You smiled and leaned forward to sling your arm around Jinx’s shoulder.

“Hey.” You gave him a tinkly little wave, and watched him stiffen.

“[name],” he said curtly. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” He held his hand out to Jinx, who looked at you, before getting off the barstool to go up to him. She placed the bomb in his outstretched hand. He turned it over.

“What’s this?”

“A bomb.” Her voice was eager.

“Does it work?”

She took it back and held it close to her chest. “I haven’t tested it yet.” 

“You go do that,” he said smoothly, ruffling her hair. She gave you a wonky smile as she skipped out of the room. You smiled back, leaning on your elbow.

Silco scowled, stepping towards you. He placed his hand on the bar top. Chuck had conveniently disappeared into the back. You turned your face away, raising your drink to your lips and casually looking everywhere but at Silco.

“What do you want?” He snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut like a knife. You set the drink down with a deliberate clink, sighing.

“You said we needed to discuss whatever I did with Finn,” you reminded him coldly. “And I want a favour.”

“I believe you owe me two,” he replied curtly. You stiffened, then grinned, chewing your lip as you traced the rim of your glass.

“One.” Your voice was low. “Don’t push it.”

He tilted his head, crossing his arms. His usually pushed back hair had fallen out of place again. “One, then. Fine. Well, what did you want?”

You smirked and slowly drew something out of your pocket. You held it out to him, tapping it against his chest. Gold letters glittered in the bar’s dim lights. His expression darkened immediately, displeasure radiating from him like heat.

“Where did you get this?”

“I have my ways,” you said smoothly, stealing Donna’s words with a wry smirk. His brow furrowed, crease between his eyebrows deepening as he frowned, looking in between the invite, then at you, eyes flickering with suspicion. After a few moments he flicked his head at the door.

“Let’s talk.”

You swiped your drink off of the counter and slipped off of your barstool to follow him past the door, up the stairs and into his office. The door shut as you turned on the spot, looking at the now-familiar space. He went to his desk, tossing the invitation on the wooden surface and looking at you. 

“So what exactly are you doing with this invitation?”

“I’m going to go.” It wasn’t a request, just a simple statement. He sat down in his chair, turning around so he wasn’t facing you. You could make out the shadowed silhouette of his side profile as he lit a cigar. 

He flicked his head at you. “Then go.”

You slowly stepped around his desk, then pushed yourself up so you were sitting on top of it. The sharp edge of your heel dug into the wood as you spun his chair around, forcing him to face you. 

You held out your hand, and he scowled, jaw tightening, before stiffly placing the hand cigar in it. “One small problem,” you began, before taking a slow drag, sighing it out. “I don’t have an invite.”

He leaned over and past you to tap the piece of paper, then looked back at you to raise an eyebrow. You shook your head, pointedly stabbing the cigar at him. “No. It won’t work. He never sent me one personally.” You sucked the smoke in through your teeth, then leaned in, exhaling. Smoke billowed in his face, and he narrowed his eyes, looking away. “But I bet you have one. And I also bet you don’t plan on going.”

His hand shot out, snatching the cigar from you, his movements sharp and irritable. He turned away to take a drag. You leaned forward, craning your neck to try and get him to look at you. 

“Send me on your behalf.” Your voice softened into something smooth, gentle, almost coaxing. 

His eyes flicked to yours, narrowing with suspicion. “And then what? You kill him?”

Your temper snapped. “I won’t kill him,” you hissed, and grabbed his jaw, wrenching his face back to look at yours. Your fingers pressed hard against his skin and he gritted his teeth, eyes widening in shock for a moment before relaxing again. 

“But I need a fucking valid reason to go.” Your voice dropped into a low, dangerous whisper.

“Why should I do anything for you?” He sneered, lips twitching into a ghost of a sardonic smirk. You cocked your head to the side, drumming your fingers on the top of his chair, arm pressed upwards against the side as you leaned in. You stared at him for a moment, then leaned back, letting go of the chair.

“Then Finn dies, and you lose that little piece of power you have over Zaun that he gives you,” you grinned, picking up your glass that you’d set on his disk. You swirled the liquid inside around, ice clinking softly then raised it at him in a sarcastic toast, nodding smugly before taking a sip. His eyes never left yours, gaze burning feverishly.

“Fine,” he spat, the word filled with venom. “Take my invite, go on my behalf. But you’re going to fill me in on everything you plan on doing.”

“I want to cash in one of my five favours from Sevika as well,” you added casually. He groaned, running his hand through his already disheveled hair. After a moment he scoffed, shaking his head.

“Be my guest. But take it up with her, not me.”

You stayed silent for a few moments, the rim of your glass pressed against your lips. You straightened up, taking a breath. 

“How was Jinx?” You asked, your tone deceptively casual.

He looked up at you from behind his hand, due to his fingers being pressed against his temple, elbow balanced on his armrest. “She was fine.” His voice was hard. 

You planted your feet on the edge of his seat and used your legs to swing him around to face you fully. He let out a small, frustrated growl as you leaned in, your gaze sharp and unrelenting. 

“Any effects of the sleep drug?” You inquired, eyes gleaming. A muscle in his face twitched, and he shook his head. You nodded slowly. 

“She has no idea what I did.” Your voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, reaching for his cigar. “Why’s that?”

He ignored your second question, letting you prise the cigar from his fingers, watching you inhale from it. “Let’s keep it that way.” He paused, gaze flickering with something unreadable. “She seems to like you.”

You threw your head back and laughed, the sound sharp and grating. “Who doesn’t?”

He gestured lazily to himself. You grinned again, mirthlessly this time and hopping off of his desk, tipping the glass towards him in a final mock salute. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” he muttered, before giving you a smirk and tipping his head to the door. 

You scowled as you walked out the doorway.

[homestuckreplay]

Seeking Friends (MUST be named John)

(page 1129-1136)

tiny jade tiny jade we got tiny jade!!!! look at them both <3

Unfortunately this is now a Grandpa Harley hate blog. That ridiculous amount of force used to kill a butterfly. (a transgender butterfly at that!!) The unnecessary show of power and dominance. And for what? To show a small child that destruction of life is his idea of fun? No wonder Jade has such a refusal to hurt animals – I feel like she’s associated with life and growth while Grandpa is associated with death and destruction. Like on the one hand, having to handle her grandpa’s death at a young age and being the only one around to clean up and stuff the body must have been incredibly traumatic for Jade, and being alone ever since can’t have helped. But I don’t think she’d be doing much better if he’d lived! This is not a tragic situation where Jade almost had a good guardian! In fact, Jade regularly acting like her grandpa is still alive could come from him being SO omnipresent and overbearing while she was alive that she never really spent any time without him, until he was entirely gone.

Although I’d say Bec is already acting like Jade’s actual guardian, as he’s clearly the one taking care of her while Grandpa is destroying the beautiful landscape with his inappropriately large firearms.

We still have all scenes occurring on a beta kid birthday, but there’s no year on this one. What does Grandpa Harley think is the right age to introduce Jade to the thrill of the hunt? Probably way too young, but Jade can already read well as she has no trouble with John’s note, so I’m gonna say this is her 6th birthday. December 1, 2001.

Unfortunately you cannot open it yet! This package has an important journey to make first. You are planning on delivering it momentarily. Good thing you already know what's inside. Otherwise you would surely be consumed by curiosity and suspense. You sincerely pity anyone who might be forced to endure such a fate. (p.998)

The reveal of Jade’s package is really cute. I think the above quote is intentionally hinting that Jade knows what’s in the package through the power of Prophecy and Visions, but it’s actually the more mundane (kind of?) reason – she already opened the gift years ago! And inside we get the fabled ‘dear jade,’ page, completing the set, plus a note that contains SO much beta kid lore that I’m so excited about.

Jade wears blue and takes up gardening because she receives this package, creating a stable time loop around these interests. This Blue Slime Ghost shirt could be the first shirt used to make the wardrobifier, as young Jade is wearing a plain shirt.

We don’t know when Jade started seeing dream visions, but from her reaction to John’s letter, there’s no indication that she thinks about things in the weird past/future, seeing herself as an agent of the timeline way that she thinks in 2009. I would bet that this is the beginning of her relationship with predestination. I also think this might have caused her to wake up on Prospit, as she’s been contacted directly by the future, and this makes her more open to temporal communication

John thought he was going to be so late with Jade’s present when he remembered how far away she lives, but he actually got it there incredibly early, so huge W for John. (and an even bigger W for the heroic mail carrier PM). Jade’s response was ‘john thats ok really! im sure will get to me exactly when it needs to and it will be a nice surprise when it does!’ and she was right. The gift was definitely a nice surprise, as tiny Jade had no clue it was coming, and if it prompted Jade’s interest in gardening and potentially her visions – a key source of guidance for her especially after she loses her grandpa – then it did happen at exactly the right time. I like the idea that all of Jade’s weirdness was prompted by the seemingly most normal character.

John has NO supernatural awareness in this letter, and is totally stumped as to why Jade’s pumpkins are disappearing – but he’s listened to her when she’s talked about her gardening woes, and his ‘i'm sure you know the fun is in growing them and taking care of them until they're ready’ is a good read; it feels like something Jade herself would say. And John gives Jade a shirt that not only matches his, but is ‘way more awesome’, so he’s really putting her first. There is something about John’s gift to Jade that feels somehow lesser than his honestly inspired gifts to Rose or Dave – it ended up being really impactful, but wouldn’t have been if she had received it in 2008, where it would’ve just related to her existing interests. But I understand that, because sometimes when someone is THAT important to you, it’s impossible to represent that with a physical gift.

John also went to a store, and to the post office! I feel very vindicated because I find the idea that John does leave the house and interact with other people but still feels alone, alienated and ‘homestuck’ way more compelling than the idea that he’s literally never left the house and yard or spoken to anyone outside his family. Similarly, he signs all the notes to his friends with ‘(john)’, so he wasn’t literally named on his 13th birthday - ‘it is only today he will be given a name’ is more a statement about independence and coming into his own. I like this official confirmation that some of the video game aspects aren’t meant to be taken literally, and I think it opens up more angles for interpretation in future.

Finally, we learn that John met Rose and Dave through Jade! So either Jade was the common link that met all three of them individually, and then brought the group together, or John and Jade were friends and Rose and Dave were friends, and Jade united the pairs. I think the first is more likely, as having received this letter, Jade will be on the lookout for friends named John, Rose and Dave, and may get hints to her meeting them when she starts seeing visions on Prospit. As usual (but also for the first time), she will have a head start while everyone else is oblivious.

As if the Package storyline wrapping up wasn’t proof enough, the adventure map shows that we really are at the end of act 3. I cannot wait to see how the act ends and where the story will go in act 4.

> Jade: Tie giant shirt around yourself like a wizard’s cape.