#you do not want to be her she was not “living the dream” she was a victim what the fuck

[uravitypng]

𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲

pairing: yandere satoru gojo x chubby reader

summary: at the beginning gojo made your life hell when he first sees you because you won't give him attention. then it all changes, he just hated seeing you cry and he'll use all his resources and power to love you and spoil you

word count: 14.7k words

a/n: okay okay! i'm back! with something incredibly longer compared to every other oneshot i've written. i started this before gojo's birthday but it just kept getting longer and longer, then came the holidays and then i got ill too but it's finally finished, yay! i hope you all enjoy this and of course like always make sure you read the warnings before reading x

content warnings: gojo is a yandere!! friends to lovers, hints of stalking, gojo manipulates everyone, mentions of breeding, fingering, rough unprotective sex, cumming inside, gojo calls her 'silly girl' in his head and thinks she thinks to much (kind of like 'you don't need to think or make decisions or earn money because i can do that for you'), dirty talk, dumbification, objectification(?), submissive reader, dominant gojo, petnames: princess, sweetheart, (good girl) (if i've missed anything please let me know because it's very possible with 14.7k words - mdni / 18+

everyone flocks to satoru gojo, girls and guys alike, they want his attention, if only for a second, and want to be noticed by him. he's the beating heart to every social situation, with an ability to draw every single eye in the room on him, feeding off the spotlight and admiration. whatever he wants he gets it, he has since he was a young child so why are you being so difficult?

there's not many who he considers his equal, if he had to pick out one it would be his best friend from childhood suguru geto, two families telling their children to talk to the other in hopes to form more connections. gojo remembers to this day being five years old dressed up in a suit that was too stuffy for any five year old to wear, taken to a party with his parents. everywhere he looked there were elites and politicians, anyone and everyone with power. he remembers the nudge his mother gave him towards suguru's direction, telling her son to make friends. others at the university are lesser than him, but they're entertaining for a short duration, before he gets bored of them and tosses them away for someone else, that is.

then there's the nobodies, the lowest of the low. uninteresting in every way possible with nothing to offer him, nothing to pique his interest and in terms of satoru gojo you're a typical nobody but even the nobodies look his way when they think people won't notice. even the really shy ones or the stubborn ones who always say how much they despise how everyone adores him will momentarily glimpse in his direction when they think no one's looking.

but you... you look right past him, and it pisses him off. do you think you're better than him? even people in long term relationships eyes drift to him, most would break up with their partner for just one night with him. this 'most' mainly means all, everyone wants a chance to be with the man whose sexual escapades are spoken about frequently in such a high regard.

it's not like you don't know about his existence, you do, but you want to keep yourself to yourself. even your closest friends talk about the famous satoru gojo but he gives you the shivers for some reason. you've never spoken to him and you don't intend to, even if it's everyone's dream, it's not yours, something's just not quite right about him. you live in completely different worlds, different universes, and you prefer to dream about things more realistic, maybe dragons and flying saucers on occasion but never satoru gojo. not only is associating with him unrealistic but just the thought of him makes you shudder. he's too cocky, too self-assured, too arrogant, too loud, too... attractive, it doesn't seem right that someone would look that good. it's like he's hypnotised everyone bar you.

first it's irritation when he notices your behaviour, it's clear when you're acting the complete opposite to everyone, then it's anger when he sees you pay attention to someone that isn't him. something must be wrong with you if you're laughing at a joke that he didn't make, a joke told by another nobody, not just a nobody but someone a year younger. his actions are fuelled by his anger and his annoyance towards you. he makes sure every friend and acquaintance you have stops talking to you, it's easy really. all those so called 'friends' leave you alone after 'overhearing' hushed voices talk about how gojo's more likely to talk to someone when they're not friends with someone who's like you. it was easy to orchestrate it, all he needed was two girls who constantly fawn over him, perfect for doing his bidding.

"gojo never talks to yumehara, even though she tries so hard."

"yeah, it's because she's friends with moriyama. associating with someone like her is a no-go."

"moriyama?"

"yeah, you know that girl in class a, the one who thinks she's better than everyone and doesn't care about gojo."

you now sit by yourself and walk the corridors alone- easy. if he was more sympathetic towards you he'd almost feel bad that all of your friends would stop talking to you so readily.

next was your grades. the gojo family funds the university meaning that he had much more power than the average person, even more than people who also come from wealthy families. professors know it's in their best interest not to get on the bad side of the heir of the gojo family, not just for the university's sake but for themselves as well. one wrong move and they'll be fired, blacklisted throughout town unable to get a job. one wrong move and the university could lose all their funding. he wields more power than the headmaster.

you already get average grades, typically b's and occasionally c's but if he plays his cards right he knows he can lower those c's another extra grade down to an f and he knows just who to start with. professor iura: a man in his mid-thirties who's respected by all and he knows you like him. he's been told you try extra hard in his class, taking double the amount of notes in his lectures than you ordinarily do. he knows getting an f in his class first would be more hurtful than over all the other classes.

"professor iura don't you think the girl who wrote the paper on-" he stops mid sentence, what did you write about again?- "something so boring it hasn't even sunk in. i remember everyone else's but not hers." he only remembers his own and there was never any reason to see what a nobody like you wrote about.

the professor's eyebrows furrow before quickly schooling his expression back to impassive. satoru has used his influence before but iura's never heard about him using it as payback for whichever poor soul's caught his ire. "who is it?" iura thought you deserved an a this time, it's disappointing that he'll have to give you an f.

all these things start stacking up and you feel like the universe is against you, you don't understand your sudden drop in grades or why your friends won't talk to you. you do your best to put on a brave face but you feel alone, you have no one to turn to, you don't understand why everyone gives you the cold shoulder and why they pretend you don't exist, your facial expression dropping when someone ignores you for the umpteenth time. you don't understand how your water always seems to spill in your bag all over your things even though you swear you've put on the lid securely, screwing the lid on the bottle so tightly your hands suffer the consequence, almost raw, from how tight you've tried to make it. you can't afford to buy another textbook and you don't have enough time to rewrite your essay.

you don't understand how things go missing every time you look away. you glance to the window when you see a falling leaf, burnt orange and crimson red litter the floor outside. autumn is so beautiful, a season of harvest and abundance but it's a reminder to you that nothing lasts forever, leaves fall and people leave. people talk about how autumn is maturing but omits the melancholy idea that it's just growing old, that burnt oranges and crimson reds are just rotting on the ground. your whole world is rotting with every second, the universe has it out for you and by the time you look back into the room your pen is missing.

gojo takes pleasure from seeing your face at these times, that puzzled look and biting your lip in frustration as you've lost another pen or that pout when your friend ignores you, he thinks it looks pretty on you. not that he'd ever admit that of course.

his pleasure twists though, into a new emotion- a darker emotion. you got another f and you look... sad... distraught. satoru enjoys seeing your pout when something goes wrong for you, he thinks it's pretty but he's watching you like a hawk right now, he can't take his eyes off you, he can tell you're trying desperately to hold it all together but you can't stop your eyes from welling up, it's impossible to stop your waterline brimming with tears, overflowing like a broken tap, hot tears running down your face, you attempt to quickly wipe your tears away with the back of your sleeve in hopes that nobody has seen but it's too late for that. he thought he would take pleasure in seeing you cry but instead it's pure rage. even though he's the one that's convinced all of your professors to give you f's, all he feels is fury for them making you cry. he doesn't want you to cry, he wants to keep you safe, wants to make you all his.

in the following weeks professors leave the university without announcing it to students. leaving studies and classes in a limbo for awhile. not just the professor who made you cry is gone but also iura and several others.

with that limbo period came more group projects to fill in the space of the lack of lectures. a 'little' push from satoru to higher ups and you were paired up together, leaving you no choice to spend time together and have your first conversation with each other. at this point he needed to be near you. you sit across from each other after class and you introduce yourself to each other, even though you both know who the other is, you didn't expect him to know you and he acts like he doesn't. "oh i know you, i really liked your last paper. you got an f, right? i can't believe that, it was the best one." after all your friends avoiding you and all those f's getting validation makes you shyly smile, your cheeks feel warm and you're starting to understand why people like him.

things start to change after that. your f's go back to normal and people are kinder, with everything going back to normal satoru makes sure you're still alone though, makes sure your friends continue not to talk to you. he's the only one that's allowed to do that. your friends still don't spend time with you, instead gojo does and honestly you don't mind that change, you appreciate that change, you don't know what happened with your friends but you like how gojo doesn't dismiss your emotions and opinions like they used to do.

you previously had that inkling that something was wrong with him but his easygoing smiles and playful words make you enjoy your time with him and his once overconfidence that you always used to observe which once bothered you now makes your heartbeat go crazy in your chest, like marching drums hammering away against your ribcage.

satoru notices this change in you and he takes advantage of it. this change doesn't make him lose interest in you, maybe if you were someone else it would but not with you, if anything it makes him more interested because he learns more and more without you, some with your consent and knowledge others without it. he thinks you look so cute when you smile and he loves hearing you laugh. he never really liked music but he's listened to all those music and songs you share to the world like the ones you love that you play in cars and talk to people about them, plus the more secret ones hidden in your likes and private playlists. he loves the things you do that you don't realise you're doing, the soft sighs you make when you put on a warm coat when it's cold or the hums when you drink a hot drink. how you bite your pen when you're deep in thought and linger by the door before leaving the house and locking up, mentally checking you have everything you need with you. the little moans you make when you eat something that you love, at those times satoru has to restrain himself from kissing you. he loves it all. he loves you.

you see each other whenever possible and if you can't you'll be texting, he'll send you emoji's at the end of messages that you don't understand the context to and will send you selfies and photos of cats he's seen while around town.

after the first few times at the library you tend to see each other at café because they're more relaxed and you can talk as loud as you want to. he starts paying for your lunch whenever you're together, you always used to insist to pay yourself but after the first few times you relented, he could buy you breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday for the rest of your life yet it still wouldn't make a dent in his wallet. not only does he buy you lunch now but it's much more extravagant then you could afford for yourself.

you're walking together past a store front window and gojo sees something that catches his eye, stopping where he is and pulling on your sleeve to stop you too. "look at this!"

your eyes scan the window not knowing what he's talking about, all of them are designer clothes but none of them are men's. "what are we looking at gojo?"

he grins and points to a blouse, "that would look so good on you, you'd look so cute!" 'doubtful' you think. you scoff, that is a cute blouse but no way. "hey, what was that for? it's true." he insists.

"i don't even need to go in there to see that it's way out of my price range, plus designer brands like that never have my size anyway."

"you didn't say you didn't like it."

"me liking or not liking it isn't the point."

you carry on the rest of your day like it didn't happen and you forget about the whole thing. gojo doesn't.

all of gojo's fans start to get jealous of you, it's been over three months, the limbo period is over and new people have been hired, group projects are finished but you still spend all your days together. his previous relationships have been no more than eye candy only lasting a couple weeks yet you don't even seem to be dating so why is he always smiling when you talk and is walking you everywhere. they can't comprehend it, you're a nobody.

satoru loses it one day. you've gone to hand in your library book, it's overdue and you had forgotten about it, you needed it for when you and gojo were working together but you forgot all about it. gojo's waiting outside for you, you know the librarian likes you more so you've told him it's better if you go on your own, he knows that isn't true but as long as the librarian is kind to you he won't intervene. 'if the librarian knows what's good for her she'll let it go and not upset you.'

someone gojo vaguely recognises as a cheerleader who suguru slept with a few times spots him and goes over to him, leaning against him and pushing her breasts up against him. it disgusts him. "what are you doing here gojo? don't tell me that friend of yours is making you wait for her." she says in a sickly sweet voice and his eye twitches. he doesn't reply, she should get the idea and leave. "if i were her i'd never do that. why don't you come hang out with me? me and my friends are having a party later we'd love it if you'd come. normally i wouldn't come up to you so boldly but i think i'd be able to show you a good time, not like that girl you're always spending time with, you're so out of her league." she runs her hand along his arm but he grabs it tightly making her wince.

"don't ever fucking talk about her again," gojo responds coldly. he squeezes tighter and she yelps. he lets go of arm and pushes her away, almost in revulsion that he touched her. she stumbles and leans against the wall, looking shocked. at that time you push open the door with a relieved look on your face. satoru ignores the girl, acting like she doesn't exist, he smiles brightly at you. "everything okay?"

"yeah, she was surprisingly very understanding," you return his smile and shut the door behind you. when you shut the door you see the girl leaning against the wall staring at gojo and you wonder why. you've seen lots of gojo's fans but none of them have looked at him like that. you turn your attention back to gojo, not really wanting to engage with the girl if you can help it, you've never seen her before but you can tell that she's someone who would make your life hell if you knew each other as teenagers. "is everything okay?" you ask him, vaguely gesturing to her.

he grins and strolls towards you lifting up his sunglasses and lifting up your chin to look at him, forcing you to make eye contact and in doing so you get flustered and frazzled. gojo would sometimes put his arm over your shoulder when your walking together or grab hold of you quickly from behind unexpectedly, making you jump but this is the first time it's ever been so intimate. it's also rare for you to see gojo without his sunglasses on. "everything's fine." he grins and pats your head jokingly making you glare and pout. he snickers as he sees your reaction and lets go of your chin, slinging his arm over your shoulder.

"alright, if you say so, but for lunch i'm getting extra for that, i'm not some pet." you grumble and walk off together. satoru's mind flashes with images with you on your knees, 'i think she'd make a good pet. maybe i should buy her a collar.' he snickers again and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, "what's so funny?"

"nothing," he smirks. as you walk away he turns back around to look at the girl still standing there paralysed and glares hard at the girl. normally people would be swooning when they see his bright blue eyes like the clearest spring days but not right now, they'd all be wrong, his eyes aren't clear like any warm day they're frozen over and icy, with flecks of white and all that girl feels is despair and dread. he looks at her so cruelly, it makes her unable to move- frozen in place.

you haven't seen gojo for the last few days, it's the longest you've gone without seeing him since you became friends. even if you've both been busy previously gojo makes sure to have seen you, even if it's only for a minute, but you've both been too busy. gojo has had basketball practise in the day and in the night his family demands his attendance whilst discussing family affairs and you on the other hand have been busy studying, wanting to make sure you don't get any f's again. you don't realise you won't though, everything could be incoherent with each other word being spelled terribly and you'd never get an f again, gojo's made sure of that. he won't let anyone make you cry again.

you rhythmically tap your fingers, fidgeting on the table where your laptop and textbooks are, 'i want to see him.' satoru's scored another goal, this time a three point line goal, normally he goes for slam dunks but as long as he's the one scoring it doesn't really bother him. he's got a big game coming up and you're going to be there, you're going for him, you've never been to any of the games before, not having any real interest in the sport but now your friend is the star player so you're not going to miss any games. he'll score every single point his team makes so your eyes have no option but to focus on him and after the match you'll compliment him. the coach asks him something but it's all white noise to him, 'i miss her.'

you get a text on the fourth day of not seeing him and when you read the message you smile so wide your face becomes sore. 'the last few days have been so long without you! i know we normally go out for lunch but do you want to go for dinner?'

you don't hesitate responding, 'i'd love too!'

'i'll pick you up an hour before our reservations, i've brought you something.'

'reservations? did you plan tonight? and what's this about buying me something? you already pay for my lunch.'

'i've pulled some strings xoxo see you tonight.' you scowl when you read that he's blatantly ignored your comment about buying you something and if he's went out his way to pull some strings for this meal it must be more than a fast food drive-thru or the equivalent. you didn't really expect him to take you somewhere where you can eat in your car or it's acceptable to wear a three day old top and a hoodie that is a little too small but for him to go to the effort of pulling strings this must be a sophisticated place.

half an hour later you hear your phone again, multiple messages being sent one after another, five buzzes. 'shit.' 'I FORGOT' 'i forgot to send a time!' 'i'll see you at 6.' 'pretend this never happened.' you cover your face with your phone and giggle.

by six you're ready, it's taken you longer to get ready then you'd like to admit but you wanted to look pretty, it would be embarrassing to underdress. compared to gojo anything you or any 'normal' person would wear looks cheap in comparison to all his designer clothes but you spent hours making sure it would be suitable.

it's ten past six when you hear a knock on the door. opening it you see gojo in all his glory, his attractiveness on full display and his wealthiness showing, wearing an all black giorgio armani suit with a white shirt underneath, his sunglasses look different than normal, fancier, you think you can make out a ray-ban logo. he's wearing a rolex watch which is more than double your monthly rent. his hair looks shorter than the last time you saw him, he must of had a haircut in the last few days. it's obvious the way your eyes linger on him, checking him out and gojo grins as you unknowingly fuel his pride and ego.

"awe, you look so cute princess," gojo says playfully, smirking. princess- the first time he had called you that you malfunctioned, your eyes had widened and you forgot to breath. no one else has ever called you a term of endearment before and you didn't expect your friend, satoru gojo, to be saying it. you didn't ask why he called you it, why would you? it made your fingertips tingle and the inside of your chest to warm up. "can i come in?" you nod your head and move to the side to give him enough room to come in and close the door after him. "you really do look beautiful," he says gently, you don't think you've ever heard him speak so tenderly before.

"you look good too gojo, you always do but- but tonight as well," you tell him, bashfully smiling. he grins and his eyes gleam with glee at the genuine compliment. he loves when you compliment him, it feels different than the vapid ones others offer him, even if you compliment him with only a few words it means a greater deal.

behind his back he's carrying a sleek black box with a scarlet red chiffon ribbon wrapped around it in a bow containing his gift to you, your eyes narrow when he hands it too you, although your voice is soft and quiet when you say, "it's not my birthday gojo, why are you buying me things? you don't have to do that," your voice gets quieter with each word spoken.

gojo takes your hand in his and places the box in your hand. "i can buy you things because i can. i have enough money and i want to spend it on you," he tells you firmly and your stomach flutters with butterflies but you don't know why, his hand is awfully soft maybe that's why your heart is racing or maybe it's because he spoke to you firmly like there's no room for arguments. gojo cups your cheek with his unoccupied hand and strokes it, your whole body melts at the action, "just open it 'kay?"

you nod your head and hum, relenting- just like you did when he began paying for your lunch. you delicately unwrap the bow, not wanting to ruin the box, and open it, you didn't know what to expect, you could of been given a hundred guesses and a hundred days to guess what he brought you and you still would have no clue. you pause as you open up the lid, your heart skips a beat and it's almost as if the air was stolen from your lungs like deflated balloons as you breathlessly say, "satoru! what's this?" inside the box is the blouse you were looking at all those weeks ago, the one you said was too expensive, the one you said would never fit.

'satoru' it's the first time you've ever called him by his given name and it sounds so angelic coming from your lips that he's forgotten to breathe, everything pausing and not moving. "do you like it?" he finally asks.

you nod your head in an almost daze, you're in awe that he'd really give you something so beautiful, that he would go out of his way to buy it. "i- i don't deserve this gojo."

he steps closer to you, "uh uh, what's with calling me gojo again?"

your eyes widen as you realise that only a second ago you called him by his given name, "oh! i'm so sorry! i was just in shock, i didn't mean to call you that gojo," you ramble.

he smoothed out the wrinkles of his forehead rubbing it with his fingers, which is currently caused because he finds your lack of awareness disconcerting. "that isn't what i meant princess, i want you to call me satoru. i want to give this to you."

"oh... okay," you're quiet and you've pressed your lips together to stop yourself from smiling. it won't be hard to start calling him satoru, you already call him satoru in your head. after a long pause of you trying to put your thoughts all together you start speaking again, "are you sure about this satoru? this is bound to be expensive, right? it's- it's ralph lauren isn't it? isn't this too expensive too be spending on me." gojo has to hide a smirk at that, 'has she forgotten how rich i am?' "and, and i don't want you to think that i want to spend time with you because you have money or anything!" 'ah she's adorable, i could just cancel our reservations and have her on her knees the whole night to say thank you for the blouse... i couldn't do that though, not right now... if i don't see her in that blouse in the next five minutes i'll go insane.'

"of course i'm sure about this princess, i know you'd never spend time with me for clothes from ralph lauren." he resists the urge to pull you in by your waist and kiss you, he doesn't want to overwhelm you, not at this moment.

you take the blouse out of the gift box and hold it out in front of you, there's a twinkle in your doe eyes as you look at it in wonder, knowing that this is yours, whispering, "pretty," it's barely audible. "wait, i didn't think this store went up to my size? did you go to a different store? and... how do you know my size." you ask him confused.

"i have my ways," he answers and winks at you, you scoff at the wink and narrow your eyes.

"seriously satoru," you press him. 'ah she could ask me anything and i'll tell her if she keeps calling me satoru.' "actually i know you know my size from when you've seen my coats and jumpers lying around but-" 'oh yeah... that's totally how i know...' "- how did you get it in my size?"

"annoyingly they don't actually make that particular blouse in your size... how ridiculous is that, sadly i don't have enough money and connections to make them ruined and bankrupt." he says nonchalantly, casually waving his arm around. you bark out a laugh thinking that he was joking. he wasn't. if even one article of clothing isn't made in your size it should only be fair for the brand to lose all their money and reputation, no matter what the brand is.

"hold up how do i have this if it doesn't come in my size?" you cock your head to the side quizzically and for the second time gojo thinks about buying you a collar, maybe with a matching lead...

he grins and flicks his eyes back and forth between your face and the blouse you're holding up. "obviously i got it custom made,"

"that's- that's obvious?!" you splutter and he laughs.

"obviously." he reiterates, enjoying your reaction- dumbstruck and lips parted in near disbelief.

"it'll take us thirty minutes to get to the restaurant princess and our reservations in about forty minutes." he lets you know and you snap out of your stupor.

"i'll just get my bag."

"hang on!" satoru rushes out before you can leave to get your bag. "you look beautiful right now princess but don't you want to see how that blouse looks on you?" you shift your weight from side to side, heat rising to your cheeks. 'do i really have time to get changed? i spent so long choosing this outfit too.' before you can say something gojo stops you, not wanting to give you an opportunity to say no or think to hard about it. he wants you to do it, you don't have to have an opinion on the matter, leave that him. sometimes you can't be trusted when it comes to these things. "come on princess, i'm the one who brought you it. just wear it, please. i want to make sure it fits properly."

you yield, "okay let me go get changed."

satoru smirks, 'good girl.'

as you come back out of the bedroom adrenaline bursts through his veins. you twirl around, pausing when you circle back round to gojo and picking up the hem of your skirt playfully with one hand and doing a half curtsy, it's such a happy coincidence that the blouse pairs so well with the skirt you're already wearing, "how do i look?" 'beautiful, stunning, breathtaking, ethereal.'

"perfect," he replies dreamily and you giggle, thinking he isn't being serious and is exaggerating.

"i'm serious satoru," you tell him, it was meant to sound firm and like you won't back down until you get an answer but it just turned out sounding a little whiny.

gojo smirks and leisurely saunters to you, stopping when coming up close in front of you, "you look truly beautiful sweetheart." 'sweetheart' he's never called you that before. you don't know if your heart can keep taking it all. satoru's your friend, your close friend, but at times like this it's hard to remember that.

you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling- admittedly unsuccessfully. the corners of your mouth still quirk up and your round cheeks become more predominate. you fight the desire to cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, instead opting to twiddle your fingers. "sh-should we get going?"

satoru grins at you, "sure thing."

the whole drive you're both stealing looks at each other when you can get away with it while making small talk and satoru's not letting you know where you're going saying that it's a surprise. whenever there's a red light gojo takes his time to admire you and as you step outside into the night you're astonished at the restaurant in front of you. satoru's handing his car keys to a valet to park his car but you're distracted from that, finally knowing where you're eating tonight. you know this place, well you know of this place. never in a million years would you have thought you'd be dining here, it's so lavish that the cutlery is more expensive than buying a house that's already furnished. "are you okay princess?" you snap out of your daze and nod your head. "alright then, let's go inside."

you follow closely behind gojo, nervous as you enter, you don't think you've ever felt more out of place. satoru doesn't even give his name, the man at the desk recognises him straight away, "ah mr. gojo if you'd follow me." the man leads you upstairs and you hear him asking satoru questions but all that's going through your mind is 'please don't trip, please don't trip.' you're quite accident prone and falling down these stairs would be too much to handle. he takes you all the way to the fourth floor and near the window where you can see the city lights shining below. "here you are."

when the man leaves satoru pulls out a chair for you and you're startled by the gesture. you take your seat and he takes his. "you're more gentlemanly then i expected you to be satoru, pulling out my chair for me," you pause for a second mulling your thoughts over before adding, "or is that normal etiquette?"

"i'm very chivalrous, i'll have you know," he replies pouting and you raise an eyebrow at how fake his answer sounded. he throws his hands up with a smirk, "well, i'm not always chivalrous but if a pretty lady is in front of me than i can become very courteous." you chuckle, trying not to hone in the pretty part for your own sanity.

you glance at the table and worry because satoru might know proper etiquette but you don't. you know the general rules and ideas but why are there two knives and forks next to your plate and a spoon as well? why are there two glasses, a wine one and a normal one? why does the napkin look fancy? does that mean it's just for decoration, what if you need it? you're worried that you'll leave smudges in places where there shouldn't be and what if the table cloth rips? maybe this was a mistake...

"hey," satoru says softly catching your attention, when you look back up at him you see his smirk has turned into a frown and you don't think you've seen that expression on his face before, it doesn't fit right. he's taken off his sunglasses and placed them down, hanging them out of his suit pocket. his striking baby blue eyes glinting when the chandelier droplets move in the light. his snowy white hair looking soft and subdued under the glow of the light and the wavering flame of the candle. "sweetheart, whatever you're thinking right now isn't true."

"how did y-"

he cuts you off before you can finish asking. "because i know you and i know that look on your face, that overthinking look, i can see all those unnecessary cogs turning in your brain."

"i just..." you look away from him, not wanting to look into his eyes any longer knowing you'll crumble but gojo's not allowing that. with how long his arms are it's not difficult reaching over the table to you, placing his fingers below your chin and tilting your head around to look at him.

"just what? sweetheart." satoru presses you.

bunching up your skirt into tight fists you take a shaky breath and try again, "i'm worried i don't belong here. this is a really lovely place satoru and i just... what if i embarrass you? i'm not like you, i don't know when to do certain things or say specific things, i don't know why the table is placed like it is or any of it," after the words stop spewing out your mouth you take another breath, this time not shaky and deep. you look relieved to get it out.

'silly girl.' "do you really think i'd get embarrassed because of you sweetheart? nothing you could do would make me embarrassed. i'm lucky that you're with me right now. i don't care if you don't know all the rules and you shouldn't either, all that matters is that we're here together and we get to finally see each other after some hectic few days," gojo tells you earnestly, his body close to the edge of the table, leaning forward further near you, his voice low and intimate, like what he's saying is a complete secret for your ears only. the days were hectic and finally you're getting to see each other. those tedious meetings with his family and hours of basketball that seemed to stretch on and on but finally- you're together again.

your shoulders sag, you weren't even aware that your plush figure had tensed up in the first place. when satoru saw how you relaxed your posture he picks up one of the menus, "everything okay now?" he asks you, his eyes soft as they gaze at you.

"yeah, i think so." you lick your lips, wetting them after getting dry, the intense spike of emotions throwing your body threw a little bit of a loop, dry lips, moist eyes, with shaky fingers.

gojo grins and leans back on his chair, seeming more casual than a minute ago and hands you a menu. "what are you thinking about getting? i might go for the lobster."

you're browsing the menu but when you hear him you put it down momentarily to reply, "oh please, like you care about the lobster, you just want dessert," you say grinning wide.

gojo gasps and places his hands on his chest in mock offence. "dessert? i think you mean desserts." you laugh, eyes crinkling in amusement. "i want you to enjoy this meal just as much as i'm planning to, that's why i intend to get the lobster, i don't want you to feel like you have to rush while eating just because i want dessert and i don't want you to even think about a silly thing like money." 'so he's ordering one of the biggest and expensive dishes? ...that does sound like satoru actually.' although you would be none the wiser about the prices of these meals, it's one of those high-end restaurants that doesn't have the prices on the menu, satoru must have been here often enough to know how much the lobster costs compared to other dishes.

"i don't know what to do about drinks, i hear they've got a fine collection of wines, maybe we should order a couple bottles? do you like wine?" he already knows the answer to that but you don't know that. "they've also got a wide selection of spirits and non-alcoholic drinks too, i believe."

you both order what you want, making idle conversation while waiting.

by the time your food arrives satoru has tried to convince you that you should've ordered a bigger meal, you're content with your choice in the end though and it's not the most surprising that when your food does arrive there's also a side dish for you to which you didn't order.

"i didn't order this satoru," you raise an eyebrow.

gojo smirks, "i know you didn't, but i did. i didn't want you to be hungry and we haven't had lunch together in days have you been eating properly?"

"are you suggesting that because i'm eating food in my price bracket instead of yours that it's not good enough? the food you pay for is definitely better but poor people food taste good too."

he chuckles and smiles at you fondly before replying, "that's not what i'm saying and you know i'm not. I am however asking have you been eating three meals a day?" you wince. "i thought not."

"i've been busy with studies, i didn't have time to eat three meals a day every single day," you try to justify.

"that's exactly what i mean. i won't take any excuses though, you shouldn't have skipped any meals." satoru lightly scowls you but don't take it too seriously, you should have though. 'silly girl, she really can't look after herself properly. it's a good thing i'm here to keep an eye on her. she just can't be trusted on her own.'

you pout at his reasoning, it's not often that gojo reprimands you or anyone you've seen for that matter. knowing that you don't have a leg to stand on you keep quiet.

when you eat the first bite of your food you hum blissfully, so close to being a moan and it's music to satoru's ears, 'god she's adorable.' he doesn't even realise that he isn't eating until you noticed that he's unmoving. "satoru are you okay? you're not eating."

"i'm fine sweetheart just thinking about something," he responds with a smile.

"okay- if you're sure but make sure you eat soon or it'll get cold."

"yes ma'am," satoru gives you a cheeky smile and picks up his fork.

your face heats up in embarrassment and you lose any composure that you previously had. you avert you eyes and focus on the tablecloth, suddenly finding it very interesting, focusing on the material. you never knew being called something would make you feel so strange, it was the complete opposite to gojo calling you princess or sweetheart.

even though satoru picked up his fork and began eating he didn't take his eyes off you at the corner of his eye, he wanted to see your reaction to that name. he wanted to test how docile you are, his theory that you are submissive and it seems he was right, although even if he wasn't and his theory was proven wrong he'd just mold you into what he wants. 'of course she's so perfect that i don't need to change her, she's such a good girl.'

quickly ma'am leaves your head with the more delicious food you have but you can't help some negative thoughts enter your mind. everything starts to feel too good to be true, the twinkling lights and the flickering of the candle on the table, the scenery and the ambience, the delectable food and the amazing beverages, the dream company with someone who you care so very much about, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else and... it just all feels too good to be true.

'how many girls does gojo come here with? they knew who he was without giving his name. i know i'm not his girlfriend. it's not like i'm jealous it's just- i want this so bad to be special. am i one in a long line?' you have to ask, you have to know. if you're not special you need to know.

"satoru-" you start by getting his attention.

he looks up at you and sees the pensive look on your face, he puts his cutlery down and ceases eating, directing all his attention to you, "yes princess?"

"can i ask you something?" you ask, hesitant and more meekly now you have his attention.

"of course you can princess," he smiles and waits for you to ask whatever it is. he truly doesn't know what it could be right now.

"am i special? i mean- wait- not special. i mean do you take lots of girls here? they seemed to know your name already so do you? i know we're friends so it wouldn't be the same as you taking other girls here but do you take lots of girls here?"

he doesn't even try to stop the smirk that creeps onto his face, you're jealous and what's even better do you even know that you're jealous. satoru can barely contain his excitement.

not once have you brought up other girls, not once. you've never asked if it's true that he doesn't date anyone for longer than a month or that he's gone through half the school. you've never asked about the crude gossip about how big his dick is and how he's the best anyone has ever had even though he knows you've definitely heard those rumours. but right now? right now your words hint of jealously and insecurity.

satoru tells the truth as he replies simply "i haven't brought any girls here." gojo dangles the small piece of information in front of you, it isn't a question of if you'll take it and ask further questions he knows you will but he wants to hear you ask for more, it thrills him.

"you-you dont?" you ask for more explanation.

he grins, "nope," he pops the 'p'. "i go here with my family and on occasion suguru but only sometimes with suguru because it can be kind of intimate with two people," he explains and you giggle at the thought of the two of them sitting across from each other here. he carries on his explanation, "i would never go here with other girls, of course you're special," he tells you honestly and your lips part, hanging onto every word spoken.

'i'm special.' you press your lips together but the corners of your mouth still manage to lift up into a small smile. your brain then fully catches up with everything he said and your heart beats erratically, just now satoru said a dinner here between two people is intimate, he didn't word it in that exact way but if a dinner for two with suguru is intimate, a dinner for two with you might be considered intimate too. overall you're pleased with the answer you were given, gojo thinks your special and he doesn't take other girls here.

you eat the rest of your dinner without incident, enjoying every single mouthful and letting gojo know that it's tasty, thanking him. when you order dessert it's no surprise that satoru goes a bit overboard nearly buying the whole dessert menu, not that you would ever complain about a thing like that, the more time you've spent with gojo the more of a sweet tooth you've become yourself.

satoru doesn't attempt to hide the bill, he enjoys the look on your face when you see the amount in the corner of your eye. for him the money is trivial sum but to you it's shockingly high. he gets a power trip when he sees your eyes widen at the money.

"do you want to come back to mine?" satoru asks you while you leave the restaurant and you agree not thinking anything of it. he's been to yours before but you've never been to his. you don't think there's anything behind his question, you don't even consider he's suggesting something and gojo's well aware that you don't realise.

you don't speak much on your way back, you're leaning against the window and watching the city lights, it's starting to drizzle and you feel at ease in your current company, your eyes fluttering, slightly drowsily, as you hear the rain. gojo taps his fingers on the steering wheel and smiles thinking about how adorable you look right now.

the journey back to satoru's could've taken ten minutes to an hour for all you know as your mind wanders and your eyelids get heavy. when you arrive and he parks up and you get out of the car, you shiver a bit as the cold air hits you, giving you a shock and getting rid of any lingering tiredness and satoru walks around the car to be next to you. he pouts as he bends down to look at you, his sunglasses still in his jacket pocket, "pretty ladies aren't just supposed to have their chair pulled out for them, they're meant to have doors open for them too."

you giggle and bump against him, "flattery will get you nowhere mister." it does. luckily you'll be able to blame your flushed face due to the bitterly cold if gojo questions you on it.

"let's get inside sweetheart, it's cold." 'sweetheart' something else you can luckily blame on the weather. you're not expecting satoru to randomly touch your face though so you think you're going to be okay.

you follow him inside and the size of his place is a large as you thought it would be, you're learning to expect everything he owns is extravagant. the interior however is something you take note of, you've only entered one room but it seems barren. the walls are drab, painted slate grey and off white with only the bare necessaries of furniture and nothing more. devoid of any human presence. you're not even sure if he's lived here long and when he looks at you he can see those unnecessary cogs turning in your head again. "is something on your mind princess?"

"um-" you don't really know if you should bring it up but your curiosity gets the better of you. "have you lived here long?"

"a couple of years," satoru leans against the wall and smirks.

"i just- there's not a lot of stuff in here, it looks like you still have unpacking to do."

he pushes himself off the wall and goes over to you, "do you think i should get more stuff? like cushions for the the sofa and posters on the wall?" you feel gojo's breath against your skin as he leans down to talk in your ear quietly, it's so intimate, your mind draws a blank finding it hard to think with him so close to you. satoru is playful and he's teasing and you've heard rumours that he's a flirt but he's never been this close to you before, you've never been able to smell his cologne and been this close to feel his warm breath against your neck. "maybe we should go shopping together and you could help me pick out some stuff?" you're holding your breath, not being able to breathe anymore. "or maybe it would be better if you just stayed here and brought your stuff along? you do always complain about your rent being high."

you take a sharp intake of air and move a step away from him so you can look back at him in the eye. mentally shaking your head to forgot about his remark. 'did gojo just say about me being his roommate? i'd get to see him everyday... wait... i'd have to hear him all the time when he brings home girls and does he even clean after himself properly?'

"did you have too much to drink tonight satoru? you know you shouldn't drink and drive," you reply with light tone, reminding yourself not to think too hard about the situation, almost being successful in your mission.

satoru just watches you and smirks as he sees you try to ignore his comment. "anyway i don't think you need a roommate." 'roommate? yeah i don't need one of those...'

"and for all i know you might steal my food from the fridge and not wash up the dishes. plus i always forget my towel when i shower." you say the last sentence flippantly, but satoru's mind fills with thoughts of you... 'walking out of the shower into the living room with a small towel on, barely covering your body, body damp with water dripping down your neck, onto your shoulders down to the valley of your breasts...' he's getting hard just imagining it.

"are you okay satoru? you're a bit red." you question and the topic of conversation changes.

satoru moves back away from you, "i'm okay princess, probably thirsty. do you want a drink?" he's glad of this change, he'd like to tease you more but there'd be a real chance you'd see his erection, he could probably tease you about it if you'd notice it but he doesn't think you're ready yet. he wants to make sure you're relaxed and comfortable. you've got a long night ahead of you.

"sure."

following him into the kitchen you take a seat on one of the kitchen counter stools. "what would you like to drink?"

not wanting to ask for something he might not have or cause a fuss you respond with, "whatever you're having is good with me."

'she's so predictable.' he pours both of you your favourite drink, he knows all your preferences, of course he's stocked up on everything you like. he hands it to you and you smile wide, "this is like my all time favourite drink, i didn't know you liked it too."

in situations like this he switches his answers up from time to time not wanting you to get suspicious. "do you like these too? the amount i get through weekly is crazy." he makes sure to separate things into two categories, things you've told him and things you haven't but he knows anyway. he wouldn't want to mention in conversation about how he remembers that you like these drinks when you've never told so.

satoru likes when he tells you things that subtly suggest, 'look how much we have in common. we like all the same music and drinks!'

he prefers when he tells you he remembers something you told him, you quietly replying to him once about how much it means to you because "no one has ever cared about me to remember something so mundane about me." he swears that he'll remember everything about you, he swore he'd never forget a single thing.

gojo takes his place next to you, sitting on the stool and purposely brushing his hand against your rib, under your breast, and he gets pleasure from seeing you straighten up your back.

you both enjoy your drinks and kick your legs in the air. "i feel bad because you've been driving me around all night. when i go i'll get an uber or cab or something."

gojo frowns, "are you going now?"

"n-no! unless you want me to?" you don't want to overstay your welcome and you have a feeling that if gojo wanted you to go he'd let you know and you want to look around the other rooms if you have a chance, perhaps not his bedroom for privacy reasons but you want to see if his other rooms have plain decoration and if the bathroom has any noteworthy products in, you have always wanted to know how his skin looks so good all the time.

"i'm definitely not telling you to leave princess... in fact why don't you stay the night? you can stay in the spare room. no pressure though. you don't have to but there might not be anywhere you can get a lift because of how late it is and how it's the other side of town adding that all onto it's now pouring down. i'd offer to take you back myself but i'm not a huge fan of driving in the dark, especially if the roads are slippy 'cause to the rain. it's your choice. i'm sure you'll get someone to take you eventually but it might be less effort to stay here and leave tomorrow?"

he knows you don't want to wait forever getting home, he knows you want to take him up on his offer but something is stopping you, he doesn't know what is it for a moment until he figures it. "it's absolutely no bother, i don't mind and i've got clothes that you can wear, i think i wore them to lounge about in on tuesday so i haven't had time to wash them yet but i don't think that's a huge problem. i wear them a lot but they're too big on me, you should fit in them."

that small comment might have upset you more if it came from someone else but you don't think gojo meant it maliciously, you think it came from a good place, however you couldn't help thinking about it, the words 'they're too big on me, you should fit in them' ring around your head, about how you should fit in them. you know that satoru didn't mean anything by that but you've never worn someone else's clothes before so it gives you a bit of anxiety and satoru can see that.

gojo speaks again in an attempt to stop you from other thinking. "if you did want to go i'll give you the money to get a cab but if not you can stay, it's no problem, in fact i would enjoy it." your eyes snap up to look at him and you see a soft smile adorning his face. "we could watch that new film you were telling me about and i don't mean to brag but my shower is amazing, nothing compares, even five star hotels." you crack a smile but your mind still lingers on the clothes. satru can see that still not fully convinced and there's something stopping you, "is this about the clothes?" you shift your eyes away nervously not wanting to admit how you clung to a few words. gojo stops himself from sighing in exasperation. "if you'd feel more comfortable keeping the blouse and skirt on you can, you do look good in them but you shouldn't overthink about wearing my clothes. i know i said they're not clean but i've only worn them once since they've been washed it's not like they're diseased." you giggle and satoru gets less exasperated after hearing you laugh.

"they'll fit you if that's what you're worried about and honestly even if they are a little tight you'd still look good in my shirt, it would just hang onto your hips a bit." your mouth parts, the previous throwaway remark being swiped away like smoke by his hand, instead being replaced by insurance that it will fit and if by the off chance it doesn't then it's not the end of the world. he hopes it doesn't fit.

it quells your mind and you agree to stay. "thank you satoru, i'd appreciate staying, over the hassle of getting home."

he grins at your answer, hands itching to take off your blouse. "do you want a shower now so we can watch that film?"

"sounds good." you follow him into the bathroom and it looks like the living room, crystal clean, newly moved into, the only difference is his electric toothbrush on the side and moisturiser. gojo doesn't leave when he shows you into the room, he doesn't leave when he makes a quick explanation about how the shower works, in fact he didn't tell you at all. instead of telling you he turns the shower on, adjusting the handle to change the temperature to the one you prefer and pressing a button next to the handle, keeping his finger on it for a few seconds before removing it, changing the water pressure. "here you go princess," he grins and turns back to you. you think to yourself about how you could of figured out how to work the shower but you don't vocalise it, you've been in enough showers to know how they work but satoru's one is probably different if he did it himself.

"oh, the shower wash and shampoo is there, i don't know if you want to wash your hair but it's there if you need it. you'll have to use my one." he then leaves, before placing a towel on the sink for you to grab when you get out. he owns all the soaps and scents you use but you can't use them, he doesn't want to share. if he gave you them you'd be suspicious and there would be less for him to use when he misses your smell, groaning in the shower after he gets home from basketball his hands massaging your shampoo into his scalp, one hand in his hair the other fisting his cock. he'll buy you new perfumes and soaps for the holidays, he would never change any of your signature scents but you deserve more expensive products in his eyes.

a part of you still can't help but think about the clothes but when you step into the shower your eyes close and body relaxes, somehow it's the perfect way you like your showers. all of it melts away and as you pick up gojo's shower wash your body heats up inside. you're going to use the same soap as gojo uses and once you recognise how you reacted you shake your head to get away from all those thoughts. everybody at your university would likely have the same reaction as you but you're not just anyone, satoru is your dear friend and he deserves more respect than you just gave him. you don't spend long showering, wanting to not use his soap for a long period and you end up not washing your hair.

you dry yourself but panic as you can't find clothes anywhere, did satoru forget? maybe the plan was for you to put your clothes back on until he's gave you them. opening the door ajar you peek outside, you're planning on seeing if you can hear satoru, asking him about the clothes but before you can you see a shirt on the floor next to the door. picking it up, you close the door quickly and breathe deeply, glad that you noticed the shirt before calling out to gojo.

when you start to slip into the shirt you feel a repeat of the shower, it smells so much like him. you didn't realise when you agreed to this you'd have to be concerned about this but you are and it's making you feel guilty. like you're no better than those girls who throw themselves at him, only based on appearances alone. you put it on as quickly as you can and try to ignore the smell but the entire room is filled with it. it smells different to the soap, it smells more like him, 'his natural scent?' you ponder. it effects you differently than it would his fans though, they'd be filled with thoughts that are less than appropriate, like being pushed into his pillow while he's taking them from behind or not wasting time with getting completely nude but to you they're innocent, the smell is comforting like when he surprises you by suddenly grabbing you from behind or crowding your space as you worked on projects together. it's not the smell of satoru gojo, famous 'womaniser', 'manwhore', 'heartbreaker', with a reputation that would make a nymphomaniac blush, it's the smell of satoru gojo- your gojo. and annoyingly your gojo, your friend, smells really good.

satoru was right about the shirt. because of how tall he is it reached down to your thigh, you were slightly worried about accidentally flashing him but it was long enough not to worry too much about it. he was also right about how it clung to you. even though it clung to you it didn't make you feel uncomfortable, the fabric stretched a tad around your hips and chest but it didn't make you feel uneasy, you doubt satoru would even notice. he, of course, does. and takes great pleasure in it.

you fold up the towel and leave it in the laundry basket. exiting the room you hear satoru and go to him. he hears you near him entering the room and looks up from the sofa, "you okay?"

you smile sweetly and nod your head, "i'm okay, it was a good shower."

he returns your smile, "i'm glad."

satoru doesn't hide his staring as you move to the sofa to sit down next to him. you're so cute and you're so hot all he can do is stare and he's so thankful that you agreed to come to his and stay. he's never let anyone wear his clothes before, it's a boundary that he doesn't cross. his previous relationships weren't allowed to wear his clothes, if it was cold outside and someone didn't bring a coat he wouldn't give them his, he never cared about them that much to do things like that but when you walk in wearing his clothes his heart jumps with joy. he never thought about how much he'd love seeing you wear his shirt, it's not just a shirt it's a statement, you're his, he owns you. it barely covers your thighs and he knows if he gets you to move and bend down, even if only slightly, everything will be on display. his shirt is clinging to your curves and he's practically salivating as your hips look so grabbable.

you're none the wiser of this and when he turns on the film you previously spoken about he was paying more attention to you than the television, every so often shuffling a little bit closer to you. he doesn't wait long, it's been about twenty minutes through the film before he puts his arm around you, he slings his arm around your shoulder when you walk together sometimes so it's not the first time this has happened. this is regular behaviour in your eyes.

forgetting his arm is even around you you become invested in what you're watching, you were right to mention it to gojo, it's exceeded your expectations. you have no reaction to satoru taking his arm off your shoulder and instead placing it on your plush thigh. he has more of a reaction that you do, biting his lip to stop any noises that could come out because you would likely notice if he groaned. after a couple of minutes of his hands being still he starts moving, making small patterns on your skin and stroking you. his hand gets higher, reaching the hem of his shirt before stopping and leaving his hand there.

as the film ends you become more aware of where gojo's hand is resting but you choose not to say anything. you're flustered but you think he's put his hand there absentmindedly while watching the film so you keep quiet.

"did you enjoy the film princess?"

you smile brightly at him and respond, "i did! did you?"

satoru starts making patterns on your skin lightly again. tapping his finger on his chin with his other hand like he's thinking and making a noise, "hmmm i did enjoy it although i was distracted through most of it."

that catches your attention wondering what it was that he was focused on instead. "oh, what was it?"

he smirks, "it's hard to pay attention to anything other than how pretty you look right now."

satoru had called you a pretty lady earlier tonight but this feels more personal, your brain refusing to work and it's exhilarating for him to see it happen.

he cups your cheek in his hand so you're making direct eye contact with each other, he doesn't want to look away from him. "do you want this sweetheart?"

your heart is pounding in your chest like a hummingbirds wings and you worry that satoru can hear it, swallowing before replying, "w-what do you mean?"

he leans closer to you and feel like your body is buzzing, tiny zaps of electricity shooting through your veins at his proximity to you, "do you want me?"

"i-i," you're stuttering over your words and nothing makes sense. do you want him? want him to do what?

"sweetheart do you want me?" he reiterates putting more emphasis on the 'want' and slivering his hand up further along your thigh, inching under your, his, shirt. you wait with bated breath, wondering if he'll go further, wondering if he'll say more.

"satoru are you... are you coming onto me?" you're quiet when you ask, you're unsure, you worry that you're wrong and gojo can't help but laugh.

"obviously i'm coming onto you. i thought that was pretty clear."

"you are?" you're still quiet.

"yeah," he smirks at you however your eyes drift away from him feeling shy but gojo's not having that, he pats your cheek before saying, "look at me princess." you do what he says and make eye contact with him again, "there she is, "he smiles at you and kisses your nose making your whole body heat up, your lips part open in shock and he smirks.

"i'm going to ask again, do you want this?" lowering his voice he continues speaking, "because i want this."

'he wants this. he wants me... but do i want him? everyone wants him. do i want him? if we do this it might never be the same again, we might stop being friends... satoru is really attractive, he's hot, he can get anyone he wants but will this mess everything up... i don't know.'

he can see those unnecessary cogs again, how silly, how useless.

he doesn't wait for you to answer, he's given you time and instead of answering you're thinking, overthinking, not being a good girl at all. instead of waiting any longer he closes the space between you two and slots his mouth against yours, licking your lips in a silent request to open your mouth, you oblige his request without any more thought and just simply do what feels right, do what feels good, and kissing satoru feelings good.

his lips are soft, probably softer than yours but you can't tell with them against each other. imaging the kiss you'd think gojo would kiss someone slowly, languidly. you imagine he wouldn't put a lot of effort or passion in the kiss but it would still be the best kiss anyone has ever had. you never thought he'd be a passionate kisser. you know from rumours that his relationships don't last long, it seems to you that he's never been invested in any of them so what's the point in kissing someone like you can't get enough of them when he's going to move on to the next person in a week, so what's the point of kissing passionately but right now that theory is blown out the window. his movement is rushed, it's hungry, it's unexpected. you didn't think he'd be so greedy. his skilled tongue is against yours and he's completely dominating the kiss. satoru's not even stopping for air and he's not letting you either, he's been waiting for this for so long now and a stupid reason like needing to breathe isn't going to stop him.

satoru's leaving wet kisses down your jaw and pulse point anywhere that's visible he's kissing. leaving little nips in his wake and trying to find a good space for him to start leaving marks and hickeys so everyone will know you're his.

the hand that was holding onto your thigh squeezes gently and a shiver runs down his spine because you feel so soft. he pushes you down on the sofa and he's above you looking down, knocking your thighs open and kneeling between them. he's swears he's never seen a more beautiful sight. you get nervous when you look at him, the way he looks at you tenderly with those vibrant blue eyes, that unbeknownst to you hold so much love for you.

you're gasping at every new sensation gojo's giving you, never having felt like this before as his continues his path up your thigh moving the shirt up along with it and now he's finally touching your plush body he thinks he may be in heaven with a gorgeous goddess with him and the more he moves the shirt up the more he thinks so. both of his hands moving to your hips and pressing his fingers into your skin watching them spill over and it's making him dizzy. never has he felt anyone with your body before and it's driving him crazy. he wants more, he needs more.

satoru brushes his knuckles over your underwear making you whine and he smirks, "feel good princess?"

"uh huh," you reply nodding your head up and down rapidly, head fuzzy and wanting more, wanting him.

"yeah?" he asks smugly. " ' course you do." he taps your hips just above the line of your underwear, "lift up for me sweetheart." you move up so he can pull down your underwear and he pockets them in his jeans saving them for later. he doesn't waste anytime as he unzips his jeans and takes them off, pulling his shirt off after, the only reason of the shirt being off is that he wants you to see how hot he looks and to check him out, he knows he looks good and he wants you to know it too.

he presses two fingers into you and you moan. "i'm going to prepare you sweetheart." it wasn't a question but you nod your head anyway. his slender fingers are longer than yours, reaching placing you can't, he's leisurely taking his time, watching as you squirm, eyes starting to glaze over.

only after four minutes and he's had enough of this leisurely pace fingering though, he just has to have his dick inside you now. he would promise to go slow but he knows he can't promise that. you don't see his dick before he goes into you, if you did you'd say something but instead you feel it. more girth than most and nine inches long thus as he starts to thrust into you you let out a moan that soon fades into a silent scream.

with each inch you feel that it must be it but then there's more, he knows he should've spent more time getting you ready for him but the idea of waiting even a minute longer was torture.

at the same time of being fully inside you, you wince, and satoru places a chaste kiss on your lips. there's a fleeting thought as you wince about how you think his cock has broken you, so far he's in your guts. he keeps his hold on you as he thrusts shallowly a few times testing the waters and playfully pinching your nipple to see your reaction.

you try to speak but the words get caught in your throat and it doesn't take long for gojo to speed up, not even a minute and he's already thrusting hard and fast into you, a creamy white ring already forming at the base of his cock. his pace doesn't falter, in fact it gets more rough as satoru sees your face. it's hard for you to even think, you've never been this full before, you're eyes are glazed over and you've got your mouth open drooling a bit, he thinks you look so adorably dumb. "look at you princess you look so dumb right now, so stupid. you don't even have one thought in your head do you? it's so fucking hot. not thinking or worrying, all that matters is this, you don't need to think i'll do it for you."

satoru lifts up one of your thighs and puts it on his shoulder, at the new position it feels like he's reaching even deeper. you whine so loud that people walking outside would hear. "my cock's making you lose braincells huh?" he grins, tapping your cheek gently to get your attention. you look up at him in a daze and he sniggers. "not a thought behind those eyes."

at the new angle you try to grab hold of his arm but struggle to focus losing grip straight away, squealing, "ah it feels s' good 'toru!"

satoru is pleased that you've spoken something, that you've been able to form an legible sentence, he's even more pleased at how good you sound squealing, knowing that he's the one who's made you sound like that. however more than all of that he's overjoyed that you called him 'toru' it sounds so perfect from your mouth.

"i know, i know, you're so good for me princess, such a good girl." he keeps slamming into you at a brutal pace and he wants you to come undone around him soon before he cums. "hear that princess, your pussy is so wet and sticky for me. she knows what she wants huh," he grins and starts pinching your nipples, watching as your eyes roll back.

he's fucking you so rough that your body is moving up and down on the sofa, jiggling with each thrusts, and as he watches your body bounce he gets closer and closer. he normally lasts so much longer but he can't help it with you, it's impossible for him to keep his regular time when your warm wet walls are wrapping around his cock, when he's inside you.

satoru can't wait any longer removing his hand from your nipple and bringing it to your clit, rubbing harshly as you shriek from the sudden extra stimulation, as you get tighter around him he sucks his teeth so close to cumming, "are you going to cum for me sweetheart?"

you don't say anything, you don't have time to answer him because instead the coil in the stomach that has been winding up for the last half an hour snaps, with the added help of gojo touching your clit, you arch your back, and your eyesight goes fuzzy seeing white dots. you've never had such an intense orgasm before, it drowned out noise and made everything hard to hear, you didn't even know cumming could do that. everyone was right about sex with satoru.

feeling you spasm around him was even for him to finish as well, a few more thrusts into you and he lost it cumming too. if he was a better man he would've pulled out but satoru knew that he would never pull out when it comes to you. he's seen birth control in your bathroom before and when he saw it he frowned, he hopes that you missed it today. either way he's making sure to bury himself in you as deep as he can get hoping that even if you did take birth control today it won't be good enough to stop his intention- his deep desire to breed you. thoughts racing through his head, 'silly girls don't need to go to university they should just stay at home. i've got more than enough money to look after her. she'd look so good, her body even softer than it already is. she'd make such a good mama.' as he comes his body goes taut and he groans loudly saying your name and stilling.

you're both catching your breathe, not speaking for a minute, recovering for the most mindblowing sex both of you have ever had.

he wants to stay where he is but he knows he can't. when he moves you whimper, feeling empty all of a sudden, and it makes his ego rise, "sorry princess, i'm going to get you a towel okay." satoru kisses your forehead before rising and getting a towel from the bathroom, coming back and kneeling, swiping the towel gently over your inner thighs and pussy. kissing your hip and looking back at you, "are you okay?"

you're breathless as you reply, "yeah."

satoru smirks, "that's good."

you cover your face with your hands, timid with the way gojo's focused on you. putting the towel down he holds onto your hands and removes them from your face so he can see you again, smiling at you sweetly and kissing your forehead again.

"satoru what's going to happen now?" you're almost silent, if he wasn't so laser focused on every movement and thing you do he might not have heard.

"we could watch another film but it's getting late."

"no... i mean with us..."

satoru furrows his eyebrows, not understanding the question. "us?"

"yeah i-i mean are we s-still friends?"

"friends?" he looks at you like you've grown an extra head and your stomach sinks, if you knew this would've been the outcome you would've done something differently.

you don't want to lose gojo, you really don't want to lose gojo. you don't want to cry in front of him, you don't want it to get misconstrued and him to think that you're trying to manipulate him or change his mind but the idea of not having satoru in your life is heartbreaking. wait... heartbreaking? however the tears still come and the words get lodged in your throat. you manage to get some words out but it's barely audible with how erratic your breathing is becoming and how you keep swallowing every five seconds. "can i do anything to make us be friends again? i don't want to lose you." you're sniffling and you know you sound needy and probably desperate too but that's not your main focus right now.

"lose me?" he squints and gently wipes the tears from your face. "why would you lose me?" he cups you cheek, "princess how do you feel about me?"

your mouth parts open, you're glad that he's suggesting that you're not going to lose him but that's completely overshadowed with the question he's asked. you stay silent, not moving a muscle, how do you feel about him?

'satoru's my friend, my best friend! so... i feel that he's my friend? did i feel this way about my other friends? i lost my other friends and it was awful, i hated it but if i lost satoru... i think it would be worse than awful. maybe soul crushing is accurate... heartbreaking sounds more accurate. can someone be heartbroken about a friend? can i?'

you can't say anything, you don't know what to say, all your thoughts are muddled and you feel lost. gojo's still cupping your cheek, now stroking it with his thumb. "alright then princess, let me tell you." you don't know how he's going to tell you, you don't even understand yourself. "you don't see me as a friend anymore." he says simply and your eyes widen, and he holds onto your elbow with no force with his other hand to stop you if you try to draw away.

"do you know why i know that princess?" satoru asks you, his voice tethered, borderlining on husky. unsure you shake your head. "because friends don't act like you do. they don't get jealous about the thought of me taking girls out to restaurants, they don't check me out when they think i'm not looking. friends don't make a photo of us together as their lockscreen and wallpaper-"

at that you interrupt him, "you have me on your lockscreen too!" but he puts his fingers to your lips to gesture for you to keep quiet.

"not finished yet sweetheart. friends don't send each other good morning texts as soon as they wake up and they don't memorise my order at cafés we go to. friends don't stare at my lips and compliment my eyes all the time. friends don't look at me longingly. friends don't go to romantic restaurants alone together."

he pauses watching with rapt attention as you look down at your lap, he doesn't make you look up at him this time and waits for your response. when you decide to look back at him you calm your breathing as much as you can, "b-but you do those things too satoru..."

satoru grins brightly, "yeah i do, sooo... that would mean what?" he presses you to answer him.

"do you- do you- am i more than a friend to you satoru?"

"bingo!"

you feel like you're dreaming, nothing feels real. you could never of guessed that gojo feels that way or that you're his type. "is that why we had sex?"

satoru chuckles, not answering but instead replying, "you're so cute!" it makes your face heat up. "do you want me to tell you a secret?" you're nervous and dubious but you nod your head softly. gojo moves even closer than you, "you're more than just my friend princess," he leans closer to your ear and whispers "i love you."

you blink at him- once, twice, three times. you understand now that gojo is more than a friend to you and you recognise it's been this way for a very long time but through all his speech you didn't consider he felt the same. maybe that's why you didn't understand your own feelings, because if gojo acts the same as you do and calls you his friend you never questioned about if you really felt friendship towards him.

how long as satoru known all this and has kept you in the dark? what if he choose not to ever tell you? would you end up in a relationship with someone else only to break their heart when you finally realise that you're in love with satoru. your mouth is dry and you lick your lips swallowing to wet them, your voice still sounds a little hoarse though as you say, "why didn't you tell me?"

"because you'll understand and accept your own feelings and mine. i wanted to tell you but i know you, i knew that you would just deny it and ignore your feelings and it could result in something changing with us and that was the last thing i wanted sweetheart, it would kill me but i knew that it was time. i knew that you'd accept both of our feelings," he asserts and he's so close to you that you can feel his body heat.

you know what he's saying is true but you can't help but pout. "how do you know me better than myself satoru?"

satoru chuckles. well he does spend a great deal of his time loving everything you do...

"plus i couldn't keep it in any longer princess, i swear i was going mad. i would probably have folded soon and tell you," he whines and you giggle.

you take a deep breath and look at him straight in the eye, your whole body feeling fuzzy, "satoru i love you."

'yeah i know.'

gojo grins and wipes his forehead dramatically, "thank god." he holds onto the nape of your neck and pulls you to his lips so he can kiss you hungrily, as he pulls away he asks "do you still want to sleep in the spare room tonight? my room is more comfortable... and there may be some boxes on the bed that i haven't moved."

your eyes widen, "say you're joking 'toru!"

he throws his hands up and grins "well..."

you don't stay mad at him long, you've both confessed your love to each other it's not like you can be annoyed at him, you grin back, "i can't believe you."

"i swear it wasn't planned just a happy coincidence... that i chose not to tell you about... but it's okay because we can just use that room for any of your extra stuff when you move in."

you open your mouth wide in disbelief, "i cannot believe you satoru!"

"aw come on you know you love me!" he chuckles and you glare at him before be pokes your cheek and you start laughing too.

[satinroses]

Night Time Routines

How the harbingers and their darlings ready for bed

Yan! Harbingers x reader (separate)

Feat: Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone and Scaramouche

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: “honk shoooo honk shoooo” - capitano, “zzzzz zzzz” - Pantalone, “honk mi mi mi” - Scaramouche, dottore’s doesn’t snore but he does speak in fluent sentences in his sleep and it’s terrifying. thank you for coming to my ted talk. also yes i made scaras pretty purple eyes light up like ei’s when she’s using her skill, the more raiden parallels the better in my opinion

Warnings: 5.3 archon quest spoilers, Yandere behaviours, i have likely not proof read this as well as i should have so i apologise for any mistakes, dark themes, some mentions of NSFW themes but no actual smut, being robbed of making choices, they all have serious control issues

Capitano:

Capitano has struggled with sleep for centuries now, he hopes you take no offence when he doesn’t join you at night however he would never wish to make you feel neglected. The primary reason he stole you away was to could ensure that you are treated with the dignity and adoration that befits someone of your character.

If your hair is long enough then he takes great care in braiding it every night. You’re surprised that a man of his stature is able to manoeuvre his fingers so nimbly through your hair. If braids aren’t your style or they simply wouldn’t work with your hair then he patiently awaits your instruction. Whether you want a bun, a ponytail or simply for your hair to flow freely he will diligently do as you command.

Although some aspects of your night routine may resemble that of Pantalone’s darling, Capitano doesn’t force you to abide by any particular routines. As long as you get enough rest he doesn’t mind if you spend every evening huddled in the library, just please allow him to sit with you as you read, nothing would bring him greater pleasure.

Despite the first harbinger being unable to sleep due to the constant burden of the tormented souls upon him, he does find comfort in the domesticity partaking in your nightly routines affords him. Watching your eyes flutter shut, hearing the words that slip out of your mouth leaving him to guess what you could possibly be dreaming about, watching over you when you are at your most defenceless.

He finds it utterly endearing to see you in this state. His heart feels much lighter the first night you fall asleep in his presence. He understands you may hold some resentment towards him for stealing you away from your home and the life you knew yet he is able to find hope in the vulnerability your behaviour shows. Being in your most docile and helpless form around him must surely mean you hold some form of trust for him. Trust is something he can work with, he’s certain now that he can cultivate this small piece of trust that you’ve extended to him from a sapling into a flourishing bloom and in time, perhaps you’ll forgive him for the selfish decision he made. He was utterly mindless and inconsiderate when he took you with him, against your will. Every day he lives with the shame of stealing you and yet... watching over you as you lay in his sheets, he cannot bring himself to regret it.

He shuts his eyes and listens to the rhythm of your breaths, a symphony that brings him nothing but relief. The knowledge that you were resting peacefully by his side invigorates him far more than slumber ever could.

After some time passes and he truly believes you are warming up to him in spite of everything, he might slip into your bed (with your permission of course). He’s unsure what to do at first, so overwhelmed with your closeness and warmth but as you begin to drift into a dreamscape, he allows his hands to wander slightly (but never anywhere inappropriate, despite how desperately he might crave your body he would never force you to do anything that might dishonour you). The body heat that emanates from you brings him immeasurable comfort as he forgets about the pain of the abyssal rot ravaging his body, instead focusing on the softness of your skin on his.

To feel you against him, your body tucked against his, it brings comfort that settles deep in his bones, not even the heavenly principles nor the curse that eats away at his flesh could strip it from him. For the first time in 500 years he remembers what its like to have a home.

Dottore:

You have the misfortune of having spent more time alone with Dottore than anyone else in Teyvat. In spite of his near constant presence, you had never once see him or any of his clones go to sleep. Once every few months you’ll catch him with his eyes shut and hunched over his desk, you assume he has finally drifted off but then mere seconds later his eyes will shoot open and his hands resume tinkering with whatever (or whoever) has had the misfortune of piquing his interest.

Prior to eliminating his clones he often used them as lab assistants, citing that the only person who he could trust to fulfil his work to the measure of perfection he demanded was himself. As the sun began to set whichever of his clones had the least to do would be charged with escorting you from his laboratory in the cellars of Zapolyarny palace to your shared estate. Much to Dottore’s annoyance, he swears that as the moon begins to rise, the segments begins to rush to finish their tasks in hopes of being the one to escort you home.

From early morning to night time you are forced to remain wherever Dottore is however he understands you are only human (for the time being, however he has plans to change that) and you require rest so he allows you to go home and sleep with the caveat that a segment remains by your side as he repeats a similar sentiment as he did earlier, that being the only man he would ever trust with your safety is himself.

Upon prime having to destroy the clones he is visibly on edge despite his dismissals when you try to enquire about it. It’s evident to you that without having the security of his segments watching over you he is tense. He now forbids you from going home, even with a platoon of Fatui guarding you, he has made far too many enemies to count over the years, he isn’t foolish enough to entrust your safety to some lackeys that even the eleventh could carve through with ease.

Much to your dismay he also states that he cannot take so much time away from his experiments to tend to your slumber and that from now on you will be sleeping in the laboratory.

It doesn’t take much exertion for his brilliant mind for him to deduce that you are not thrilled at this development.

After a few days of complaining he finally cracks. You seem to find a fault with every aspect of his laboratory.

”I’m uncomfortable”

”My back hurts”

”It’s too loud”

”It’s too bright”

”It’s too hot”

“It’s too cold”

”This pillow is lumpy”

”I can feel you staring at me”

It drives him mad. His next experiment will be on your voice, he has to test his hypothesis that there is something particular about your voice, perhaps it’s the tone or the pitch but whenever you speak he can’t help but grant you his full attention.

He prides himself on his resilience but for you he has always been quick to crack. Seeing you in such a bad mood puts him in a bad mood. Suddenly his patience has been shortened exponentially, the screams of his patients grind on his nerves far too quickly, leading to many experiments being cut short.

The following morning you will see two anemo skirmishers setting down a large object covered in a dust sheet in the far corner of the laboratory. You raise your question to Dottore, asking what it is. Only then does he set down his tools, a tiny smirk blooms across his face as he takes your hand in his and leads you across the room before lifting the sheet off the object and looking at you expectantly.

It was a single bed with plain white sheets and a single pillow. It was hardly exuberant but for Dottore to even show any form of regard for the discomfort of any living being was nothing short of a miracle.

If you ask him what prompted this his voice will grow venomous as he bites out that your endless complaints were a hindrance to his experiments but you see the self-satisfied sneer on his face as he soaks in your gratitude.

Admittedly you do still have to endure the screams of those unfortunate enough to end up strapped to the operating table as he refuses to allow you any form of noise cancellation lest he needs you for something (he never has but you’re sure he just doesn’t want to give you any avenues for ignoring him), at least you can keep your head staunchly under your pillow for whatever small form of muting the cries that it's able to provide.

Pantalone:

In spite of your resentment for Pantalone you could not deny the morbid interest you had in watching him go about his day. As an outsider you couldn’t shrug the pervasive feeling that had settled in your mind that his whole day seemed to be more of an elaborate routine rather than a man naturally progressing through the day.

Every paper, painting and plate had a specific place in his life and that was how Pantalone preferred it. One night at dinner you had made note of it and he had let out a rare chuckle as he gazed at you from across the grand mahogany dinner table. He put down his utensils before taking a moment to stare down at his hands, twisting the rings back into place so that the gemstones on them rested perfectly on his fingers, glimmering just right in the light before he acknowledged that perhaps some people might agree that he can be a little particular.

From the moment he had taken you into his home, he made sure that you too fit into his routine as flawlessly as everything else. He had expectations that you would meet if you knew what was good for you. Throughout the day his routine never once relaxed and as such, neither did yours. From the moment dinner ends he has you on a schedule that he had devoted hours to ensure it would allow you to fit into his schedule as perfectly as he wants you to. Like a ballerina wound up in a jewellery box, you would pirouette seamlessly to whichever melody he desired and you only move when he winds your cogs, never before.

Once you rise from the dinner table and he returns to his study, you are taken directly to your shared chambers with Pantalone by your ladies maids. In the porcelain tub within the en-suite sits a pool of hot water, still steaming with heat. Standing there awkwardly with only a silk robe wrapped around you as maids flutter in and out of the room. You stay rocking on the balls of your feet until at last the head maid returns, with her she carries a silver tray upon which rests several different bottles of fragrant oils and soaps to add to your bath.

Perhaps if you had been a little less perceptive you would believe this to be one of the areas in your life in which he allows some leniency but that is not the case. You are certain beyond all measure that each and every scent has gotten his approval before being presented to you. Maybe you should be thankful for this small illusion of choice but it only makes the reality of you situation sting in your tear ducts.

As you smell each one the head maid takes great enthusiasm in telling you the elaborate backstory for each and every bottle. Although its her voice speaking, you can hear his words.

The violet grass scent that had been acquired from the very highest point of Liyue’s immense mountain scape lending to it’s powdery floral notes being far more potent that before.

The sakura bloom oil had been extracted from a handful of petals that had been struck by the Shogun’s own divine lightning lending to it’s typical sweet smell having a bright undertone. You couldn’t stand that oil, you swore every time you applied it, it tingled.

The glaze Lilly that this oil had been diffused from had allegedly only bloomed when an adeptus descended from her abode in Jueyun Karst to serenade the flower and coaxing it into opening its petals. Supposedly its scent was so delicate and intoxicating that everyone who smelt it wept tears of joy. You didn’t think it smelt much different than any other glaze Lilly.

After a dozen more being presented to you, each with its own elaborate origins you simply grabbed the bottle closest to you on the tray, not caring which. They all smelt far too similar to care.

Since the day you were taken he had insisted that there was no price too high for his beloved. Perhaps he thinks you find his gifts romantic, instead you can’t help but laugh bitterly at the irony of your bathing products being better travelled than you are.

After nearly an hour of several maids scrubbing you from head to toe (when you had originally arrived you had refused their help however once Pantalone caught wind of this he had punished the maids for it. You had pleaded with him that it was your own fault for refusing their help and to please not punish them for your actions. He smiled gently, thanking you for your honesty before pressing a gently kiss to your forehead yet he said nothing about pardoning the maids, dismissing you at every mention of it. You had an entirely different group of maids tending to you the following morning and every subsequent morning after that).

After leaving the bath and drying off, you were dressed in a night gown. They were undoubtedly the worst part of the night, although they were beautiful they were also covered in itchy lace with necklines too deep and hems too short for the Snezhnayan winter.

After being dressed you would sit down at your vanity and methodically brush your hair with the gifts he had gotten you from Mondstadt: a boar bristle brush with a silver handle (he claimed the bristles were from a mighty bore sovereign native to Dragonspine) and a Dragon bone comb (he also had this made in Dragonspine, the bone acquired from the skeleton of Durin, the comb was a sturdy bone that no matter what always stayed warm).

Finally you would lie in bed and wait for your husband. If he decides to join you then you can slip gently into your dreams, the one place where you can forget about the heavy arm latched around your waist and the fingers tangled in your hair. On more unfortunate nights, he would not join you in your shared chambers, instead he would expect you to come to him. Shuffling sleepily through dark corridors until you finally reached the tall doors of his study. Your knuckle barely grazes the wood before the door swings open and he offers you a gentle smile before wrapping his arm around your waist and coaxing you in.

If you were lucky a few well-placed tender kisses to his neck would persuade him to abandon his work and join you in bed however some nights he would have you sat on his lap until the sun rose. Those nights you rarely slept well as you had to deal with his mutterings, the candle light illuminating the room and the way he adjusted you on his lap. If you were lucky you could shut your eyes and feign sleep when you felt something hard growing beneath you, other nights he was insistent on your participation.

Scaramouche:

Throughout the countless waking hours you’ve spent in unwilling solitude with the sixth harbinger you were hardly surprised at the revelation that his sour attitude persists far past the sunset and well into the moonlit hours. If anything his annoyance only grew the closer you crept to retiring for the night.

Having no knowledge of his marionette body’s ability to endure without sleep, you couldn’t disguise your discomfort the first night you shared his bed and his lilac eyes stayed glued to you all night, their vibrant hue glowing in the dark of your chambers. You could see the dim purple light in the room, even through your eyelids. His illuminated eyes wouldn’t move from your face as you rested. It doesn’t matter how often you late in the night you might wake up or how often you squint through your half-closed eyes at him, Scaramouche’s gaze stays fixed intently on you from the moment you pull the blankets over your shoulders.

Should you somehow develop a fondness for your captor you will quickly learn that in spite of his feelings for you, he is not an attentive or affectionate man. Scaramouche scoffs at the proposal of ‘cuddling’. He spits out that he will not entertain such pathetic displays of fondness, not even for you. The firm tenor in his voice makes you believe that there is no room for negotiation on the matter, however from that night onwards, his hand remains fixed tightly around your wrist the moment you retire under the covers with him.

One particularly irritating trait about Scaramouche is his insistence that you never turn away from him, many times your awoken by a set of firm hands clamped down on your shoulders as they turn you around in the bed, back to facing him. While you are both waking and sleeping he refuses to allow you to turn your back to him, you’re unsure as to why and frankly you’re not certain you wish to know. There are aspects of your captor's past that you're undoubtedly influence his current actions yet you do not wish to learn such things, not yet.

On exceptionally rare occasions, oftentimes after an intimate night of gently unwinding with him, removing his clothing with all the attentiveness he has expected to be synonymous with being the wife of the sixth harbinger. Brush your lips gently over his skin with a tenderness in your touch he hasn’t felt since… he can’t recall. After several hours in each others passionate embrace, Scaramouche may fall into a restless slumber. You may initially find this rare period of sleep from him to be enjoyable however it opens the gateway to a version of Scaramouche you may find yourself unfamiliar with.

The first night Scaramouche falls asleep in your presence, you soon understand his disdain for sleep. The whimpers and cries that escape the balladeer are completely uncharacteristic for him. You had never heard his voice assume any tone beyond a haughty drawl or an intimidating bark, you almost didn’t recognise it was Scaramouche speaking until a familiar word escaped his throat.

”Y/N...”

It was undoubtedly the balladeer speaking however his voice had been fragile and light as he spoke your name, as though saying it too harshly would cause it to shatter.

”Y/N… come back, please…”

“please...” he had whispered out and the word sounded almost foreign on his tongue. Until now you had assumed the word didn’t even exist in the harbingers vocabulary. His sleep only seemed to worsen. You sat up, unsure whether you should wake him or not. His gentle murmurs were slowly growing louder and more desperate. You watched as his sleeping form writhed across the bed, his arms fully extended as his fingers clenched and unclenched, grasping and pawing at the bedsheets.

You slowly nudged yourself closer to him, preparing to wake him from whatever nightmares was plaguing him until his hand brushed against your night clothes. Suddenly his fist clenched tightly around your waist as he yanked your body impossibly closer, curling around you.

The following morning he untangled his limbs from yours before quickly scurrying out of the room. His gaze never met yours but from the chaste kiss and the way his eyes refused to look up from the ground… you swore he almost seemed embarrassed, his demeanour suiting that of a pouting child rather than an agent of destruction.

As you opened the bedroom doors not long after his departure, the stench of sizzled flesh wafted through the corridors. Some poor Fatuus were now paying the price in blood for Scaramouche’s humiliation as they were demoted from subordinates to the punching bags for him to unleash his rage on. The part of himself that he had buried so deeply, shrouded in layer and layer of bitterness and rage, had exposed itself to your discerning gaze and his mortification was suffocating him.

If he were a weaker man perhaps the humiliation would have brought tears to his eyes but he was stronger than the mewling little wretch he used to be. Like forging a sword, he had beaten the impurities out one by one in the heat of his own hatred and the boiling of his blood until only the perfect blade remained. cold. lethal. merciless. He is no quivering weakling that can simply be thrown away. Not anymore. Never again. In spite of his pathetic display last night he would make certain you and everyone else remembers it.

[charlotteking23]

The Aristocats

── . ✦ Max Verstappen x reader

── . ✦ Summary: The coquette cats or you like to call them cat-quettes 🎀

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Sitting on top of your messy vanity was a couple of pink ribbons surrounded by your makeup and other essentials. You bought it for a special occasion, sadly they were not all for you.

You'd smile cheeky, thinking of the reason for all these ribbons. Heading to the living rooms, you heard many meows coming from your cats innocently playing around.

Your precious Sassy was the first to notice you. She loved to hang out with, whether it's sitting on your lap while you put your makeup on or just cuddle of your bed near you.

Wherever you were, Sassy was not far behind. As your boyfriend always says Sassy was definitely a momma girl through and through.

Meeting Max was everything you ever dreamed of and more. Although in the beginning he was a little hesitant on you matting his cats. But in the end it started a whole new bond between each other.

Sassy was the first to warm up to you. But Jimmy was a little more standoff-ish.

You watched as Sassy saw you from her nap pillow, immediately walking towards nuzzling her head on your leg, lightly purring.

Jimmy saw his sister leave towards you, but after a second he went back to playing. Jimmy was more fond of his dad, like Sassy, he was always with Max.

When Max was not off racing and winning trophies, he would be cuddling you while watching a movie of your choice, most of the time it was Rom-com.

But as life would have it, a certain needy cat would practically beg for his father's attention. Basking in his love, that Max would never be opposed to, even if he was interrupting movie night.

You glanced around seeing your last cat sitting up while watching the movie Aristocats. Which happens to be your favorite Disney movie of all times.

So it was a dream come true when you and Max decided to get another cat. A white fur kitten, who was absolutely dazzling with her big pink bow around her collar and another on the top of her. Although not at this moment does she have one..for other reasons.

Marie was her name after the Aristocats, fitting because she completely adores the kitten Marie.

You gently picked up Sassy from the ground before placing her on the kitchen island chairs. Sassy was found over the softness of the chair, putting her tail around in sleep. Oh your sleepy girl, You grabbed a little fur on top of Sassy head before tying a ribbon in the shape of a bow.

"You look so pretty", you squealed in delight holding Sassy up in the air.

You look over at Jimmy who was peacefully playing, before grabbing him. Placing him on the chair next to Sassy.

"Stop fighting me Jimmy, You will look like a gentleman". You pleaded with Jimmy but he only hissed, clawing out at you.

You tried putting the ribbon in Jimmy's hair in desperation. "Stay still", You whined before finally placing the bow on his neck.

"You can give me the side eye all you want but you're wearing the bow no matter what", You pointed out in frustration at Jimmy.

You glanced back at Sassy for two seconds before seeing a bow on the ground, "Oh, do not give me that look Jimmy, I know this bow is yours". You held the bow up from the ground tying it back into Jimmy fur on his neck.

Again not even a second later the bow was next to Jimmy not on his neck. "Look Jimmy, you need this bow to stay on your neck so you look like a gentleman".

"Alright this will stay on", you made sure to tighten the bow on his neck but not too much to hurt him, but making sure this is the last time it comes off.

You swore you turned your back for one second...NOT EVEN a second and his bow was laying on the floor again.

It was an ongoing battle with Jimmy, You don't understand how he was able to take it off so easily. It's not like he took his paws and gently took it off of his neck.

Finally after putting on the bow around his neck and not looking away from him without blinking for a minute, you concluded that the bow shall stay around his neck. Jimmy was not too happy about it, whining in his meows.

"Look at Sassy, you don't see her complaining", You pointed at Sassy who was napping still on the chair. Jimmy only looked at her for a second before leaving in an annoyance.

Gosh that made you feel like a parent, who's scolding their trouble making child. I mean Jimmy is way more Sassy than Sassy herself...and her name is literally Sassy.

Finally you took your precious little Marie, hugging her cute little body as she continues to watch her movie. Gently taking her to the chair Jimmy previously sat on.

Marie held her head up high seeing the pink ribbon, gently fluffing up her fur for you.

You put the ribbon around her fur on her head before turning it into a bow, it was easy now after watching so many tutorials of turning ribbons into bows.

you fluff up her bow on her neck adoring the classic Marie look on your kitten.

"And done", you quickly scanned all three of your cats making sure they all looked perfect and all their bows were still on.

"That was easy", you glanced at your cats but Jimmy gave you that look as if he was saying 'yeah right'. You're just gonna pretend this took you like 2 minutes and now an hour.

You set the cats in a line for the photoshoots squealing in how utterly adorable they were looking.

"Give me more...Yes my darlings more!", directing the calls as if you knew what you were doing. Putting the cats in different positions even some solo shots.

The cats only gave a blank look but you knew deep down they were having the time of their lives. Except Marie that kitten was strutting her stuff like a little pageant kitty.

You heard the door of the apartment swing home..indicating Max was home from his usual workout.

I mean who else could it be, a stranger coming in to see a cat photo shoot.

You heard the sound of steps that came closer to living room, before a abrupt stop.

Max cautiously step closer afraid of what he was seeing, "What the fuck", was all that came out. Of course the only phrase Max had said happened to be a curse word.

"Hey Max", you smiled innocently like nothing was out of the ordinary. He smiled awkwardly back, before repeating a few more curse words in surprise.

"excuse me sir, but please refrain from using any bad words In front of our children", You spoke sternly, also trying to get the perfect picture of the 'Cat Pyramid'.

One of the true wonders of the world also the cutest by far.

You stood up gently placing the camera on a desk, out of reach from the cats before walking towards Max. You held something out to him, "What is this?", Max asked in confusion.

"Here let me help you with it, Baby".

There you were posing like a family, Sassy was on the left sitting up with a bow on her head, Jimmy a true gentleman with a bow around his neck sitting up on the right. And of course little Marie with a pink bow on her neck and head right in the middle between the other cats.

Behind the little cats were their parents, You wore a classy pink dress with a bow on top of your hair sitting ever so perfectly.

And Max looked like a gentleman with the bow around his neck and was freshly showered and groomed after the gym.

He fake a smiled, his eyes filled with terror of the trauma he had to endured of wearing this bow and the nagging of you telling to wear something presentable and not something of red bull merch.

Can you blame yourself it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"Everyone better be smiling", you demanded while smiling sweetly in the camera.

[tahbhie]

The Act of Writing Psychotic Characters 

Part 1: Attention vs Intention

It's been a while since I received this request, and I ensured I took my time with the thoughts, evaluation, and analysis. This topic will be covered in three parts, so here's the first.

Before we proceed, please note that I am not a psychiatrist, psychologist, or any professional in that field. This is just an insight into how this kind of concept can fit into your novels.

Okay, let's begin.

The Attention vs Intention part of this topic will discuss two ways of portraying these type of characters in scenes. 

First, you need to understand that psychotic characters aren't psychotic based solely on their speeches or actions. If that's all you have in mind before approaching a story, you might leave a huge gap in the execution.

Rather, it's how they feel—the desire to satisfy their current emotions.

They have drives and motives, but most especially beliefs which, in most cases, are hardly understandable by other people. It's wrong and unacceptable by society, but to them, they wouldn't do it any differently.

That's why most psychotic characters have no remorse. You simply can't apologize or feel sorry if you don't 'believe' that you're in the wrong.

➜ Attention Psychosis

Psychotic characters whose main purpose in a story is limited to presence (i.e., showing up in scenes and visibly serving the role of a psychotic character) are attention psychotics. You don't flesh out their backstory or why they are who they are.

Their drives and motives aren't talked about enough to the point of justification. Readers hardly care about them, but the action they bring to the scene creates a rich narrative with the purpose of psychosis.

In summary, their role is minor. We see such cases in movies like The Babysitter.

Let's agree that none of the cult characters in that movie are exactly sane, as their main aim is to end their victims’ lives in the sickest ways possible. However, there's a certain character, Max, who simply enjoys the idea of "killing and seeing people bleed."

That has exceeded the central idea of being a cultist who gets involved in blood sacrifice to achieve their 'dream life' like the rest of the characters. It's now something more and different.

Something that has to do with homicidal ideation.

Max worked in a diner where he dealt with people that annoyed him so greatly that he wanted to kill them. So he got the opportunity to join a cult and do just that.

It was plain clear this guy had something else going on for him, but throughout the movie, his character had no special attention or even a peek into his thoughts. Although, it still worried the audience. Job done.

➜ Intention Psychosis

When a story is centered around a character's mental state, their motives, drives, beliefs, actions, and the story actually unfolds by going deeper into this concept, you have intention psychosis.

If not entirely, at least mostly, it defines the entire plot surrounding that character. People get to understand why they are who they are, their mode of action, what drives them, and even a peek into how they perceive the world around them.

Such scenarios are seen in movies like The Joker and Pyramid game (Korea). The audience gets a glimpse into their overall life and understands at least to an extent why they are the way they are.

Their beliefs get twisted for certain reasons, and there was just no stopping them. Here the characters were more than a presence; they were a central core.

In the movie Joker, we watched Arthur’s impoverished life unfold, with every event and incident worsening his condition further.

Baek Ha-rin in Pyramid Game literally created an entire game system to watch a student, who happened to be her old friend, suffer both physically and mentally. She went to great lengths to carry out this nefarious act under the guise of the game. Although this movie encompassed more than just this storyline, it was hard to ignore the unhealthy drive and actions of the young lady with an innocent face.

Before incorporating a psychotic character in your novel, determine their form of portrayal and appearance in the overall story. Are they going to serve as an attention psychotic or an intention psychotic?

Inspired by @sothera

Stay tuned for the next part!

۝ Before you go! ۝

My Characters and I is an extensive one-on-one coaching session designed to create characters that leap off the pages and become best friends with your readers.

What's a great story without remarkable characters? Spots are filling up fast, so grab yours now and get ahead of millions of writers out there.

👇👇👇

[anna-scribbles]

you know all of those movies and shows about princesses and twins and twin princesses and swapping places etc etc. well miraculous ladybug is actually also one of those shows, it is just told from the angle of “what if the twin princess was your mom and she gave you so many issues”

[leia-writes]

hi! i had a dream about this recently and was wondering if it would be anything you'd be interested in writing :)

it starts off with the reader and in-ho going through a really rough break up but they still have feelings for each other. right before the s2 games started, in-ho went to a bar and saw reader there and her job is to perform live music, so she sings about in-ho and their breakup, not realizing that he was actually there

Maybe You'll Be There

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link

masterlist

song inspiration: maybe you'll be there by etta jones

note: thank you so much for your request!!

warnings: angst

“Get out.”

You glared through teary eyes at In-ho, who was standing in the middle of your apartment with a bouquet of flowers. He sighed and dropped his arms in frustration, a few petals and leaves falling to the floor.

“I said I was sorry. I really am.”

“How many times have I heard that? You’re a broken record at this point.” You turned away from him and began cleaning up your kitchen. It took everything in your power not to break down crying right then, but you were just so tired of doing this with him. 

“I know. I messed up again. I’m sorry. Please.”

You sighed, dropping a glass into the sink. It clattered noisily as you turned towards In-ho. “Please what? Please forgive you for the thousandth time? Please forget how you ignore me whenever something important happens for me? Please let you play with my emotions?”

He stood there silently, trying to mask the shame spreading across his face.

“Which one, In-ho?”

He clenched his jaw, looking away from you. He still wouldn’t say anything. With every passing second he was silent you could feel your heart breaking even more.

You scoffed. “That’s what I thought. Get out.”

He gave you one last look, tears starting to form in his eyes. You’d never seen him cry, never even close to it. You wanted so badly to run to him, but you had to be strong this time.

You watched him as he set your flowers down on the table and walked to your door. He looked at you once again. For a brief moment you hoped he would say something, anything to make it right again.

Instead, he left, closing the door behind him.

~~~

You cried in bed that entire night. It was supposed to be a good day - you had just performed a full-blown concert all by yourself for the first time ever. Even though you worked for a very dark and secretive organization, you always made it a priority to pursue your passion for music. As time went on, you started gaining a reputation for being an outstanding jazz singer, and you found yourself wanting to move on from your high-stress job and live a more normal life.

After winning the squid games you participated in a couple years earlier, you soon found yourself working for the same organization alongside In-ho. Despite his cold exterior, you got along well. You had been dating almost a year before you started running into problems.

In-ho worked as the Front Man for a while before you joined him. You had only been working with him for a couple years, and you didn’t really have the same connection to that place like In-ho had. You both went through something extremely traumatic by playing and winning the games, but it seemed to bond In-ho to that place when you couldn’t care less. In-ho seemed constantly tormented by his decisions, as if he didn’t want to be there but couldn’t help himself.

As you started becoming more popular, you didn’t feel the need to work for them anymore. You wanted to leave many times, but In-ho always convinced you to stay. He promised over and over that you two could make it work, splitting time between the island and your apartment. And he promised he’d be at every one of your performances.

A promise he was never able to keep.

There were so many nights like that night, where In-ho would show up late in the evening, well after your performance, begging for forgiveness and promising to be better. You’d cry in front of him, break his heart a little, fall for his sweet words, and then make up as if nothing happened. Then you’d have another upcoming performance that always happened to conflict with work, and fight endlessly about how you navigate your relationship. Repeating the same vicious cycle over and over.

You couldn’t stand to keep breaking your heart like this. The love you felt for him was undeniable, something you felt you’d never get over, but the pain was just too much. Tonight was your final straw.

The next day, you finally quit your job and started your new life.

~~~

In-ho waited outside the lounge, the cold, night air whipping across his face. His hands were awkwardly stuck in his pockets as he scanned the people around him, looking for her. He was reluctantly waiting to meet someone on a blind date, set up for him by an acquaintance.

He didn’t want to be there at all, but figured he needed to start putting himself out there. Or at least that’s what everyone else was trying to convince him to do. After looking around for another brief moment, he spotted her approaching him.

She was beautiful. But she wasn’t you.

Ever since your painful breakup, he was tormented by thoughts of you. He couldn’t help but remember you in the little things around him, even now a year later. It was a constant reminder of his failings, how he ruined one of the only things that was good for him and made him truly happy.

He knew he was pushing you away the more you wanted to quit. He knew he was hurting you every time he missed a performance, ignored a call, prioritized anything else over you. He knew you’d be better off without him and his baggage.

In fact, it seemed true. Ever since you had finally broken up, he saw you rise to a whole new level of fame. You were constantly putting on performances and releasing new music. He tried his best to ignore any news he heard about you, but in moments of weakness couldn’t help but look you up and try to get a glimpse into your new life.

She approached him with a smile and they entered the lounge together, sitting at a small, intimate table for two. The atmosphere couldn’t have been any more romantic - warm, low lights, candles and a rose on the table, drinks and conversation flowing with ease around them. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt, as if he was doing something wrong.

A waiter approached the table and took their drink order. Upon returning, he excitedly pointed to the currently empty stage.

“Are you here to see the show?”

They looked blankly at the waiter, and she asked who was performing. In-ho felt his blood run cold when he heard the waiter say your name.

You.

You were performing at the lounge tonight. 

He gave a polite smile as he internally screamed. “Oh, we’re just staying for a drink, so we’ll probably miss it, won't we?” He glanced at his date.

She scoffed. “What? Of course not, we can’t miss this! I didn’t even know she was playing tonight.”

The waiter smiled. “It’s a special one-night performance, just for us. This is where she had one of her first solo performances!”

The waiter and In-ho’s date chatted briefly as In-ho tuned out all the noise around him. The one night he tried to get you off his mind, he found his way into the one place in the entire city you’d be. He felt his heart rate quicken and his head start to spin.

Suddenly he was pulled from his thoughts. “Are you a fan too? You seem the type,” his date asked.

He snapped out of it. “Oh, uh,” he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “Yes, I am.”

She smiled. “Great! We can’t wait.”

The waiter smiled and left. In-ho and his date casually sipped their drinks while making small talk. His eyes would dart wildly near the stage, anticipating when you’d appear on stage, wondering if you’d be visible nearby. 

“Are you alright?”

In-ho brought his attention back to his date, who had a concerned look on her face. He smiled. “Oh. Yeah, sorry. Uh… just a bit nervous, I guess.”

She smiled and sighed, relieved. “Oh god, me too. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

He laughed softly, but couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable feeling he had inside. He looked around, noticing how busy the place was getting as your performance was about to start. 

“Want another drink before the show starts?” he asked. The waiters were incredibly busy, and he needed an excuse to step away.

“Sure. Just the same. Thanks.”

He quickly got up and walked to the bar. It was filled with people getting their last minute orders in, but he took his time getting the attention of the bartender. Anything to delay having to go back to the table and put on a facade. How was he supposed to act once you began performing?

As he was waiting for the drinks, you arrived on stage. The entire place erupted with applause. In-ho wanted it all to not be real, just a dream he could wake up from at any moment. He wanted to look away from you, to keep his focus on the drinks he was supposed to be getting, but he couldn’t stop himself from turning to you.

It was as if all the air in his chest escaped at once. You were standing at the microphone looking like an angel. The lights had dimmed in the room, with a single spotlight illuminating your face. You scanned the room with a soft smile on your face.

“Wow. Thank you all for coming. I’ve never seen this place so packed!”

A quiet laughter sounded from the audience as you continued. “As some of you may know, this is the spot where I had my very first solo performance ever, almost a year ago now. I have so many memories in this place. Some good, some bad, but… that’s life, isn’t it?” 

You paused to take a deep breath. “Tonight I’ll be singing some of your favorites, some I even performed here that first night. And I even have a new special song I’ll be performing at the end for you. I hope you enjoy.” You smiled as the band started, the crowd applauding again.

In-ho stood still, frozen at the bar as you began singing. He immediately recognized your first song, remembering so vividly even now how you practiced it and played it for him over and over. He didn’t even notice when the bartender gave him his drinks.

Instead, he stayed there almost your entire concert, completely mesmerized by you. With the songs he recognized, it was like watching his memories in a movie in front of him, as if he was experiencing those feelings again just like before. And with your new songs, it was like getting to know someone he’d never met. He saw the parts of your life he had completely missed. It created a deep sense of loneliness and longing in his heart.

Before your last song, he finally became aware of himself and brought the drinks to his table. His date looked surprised.

“Oh. I thought you ditched me.” She scowled.

In-ho gave her an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. The drinks…”

“The drinks didn’t take that long.”

In-ho sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, I got distracted.”

She sighed, taking a long sip of her drink. “You know, it’s fine. I was warned you might be like this, anyways.”

He was taken aback for a second. “What?”

“Your friends, they all told me they basically forced you into this.”

He scoffed. He wanted to defend himself for a moment… but they were right. He stayed silent.

“I just thought you’d have better manners than this,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He wasn’t sure what to say. Before he could think of something, you spoke before your last song.

“I want to thank you all for being here tonight. It means the world to have your support. Thanks to you, I’ve been able to make my dreams a reality. I’d like to thank you by playing a brand new song, just for you all. I wrote this recently, but it’s about what some of my life has been like this past year. 

“Like I said before, some good memories, and some bad. I wrote this to reflect on some of those bad memories, and hopefully let go of the pain with them. I’m sure some of you can relate, right?”

Many in the crowd nodded. “This one is called Maybe You’ll Be There. Thank you.”

As you began your song, In-ho’s blood slowly ran cold. He knew after the first verse you were talking about him. He studied your face as you sang, watching how your eyes would subtly flutter at particularly emotional moments. It was something most people wouldn’t pick up on, but he knew you. He still knew you so well.

Your voice filled the space with ease as you reached more intense moments, gracing the ears of the audience with your rich tone. Once you reached the last verse, a tear fell down your cheek in perfect timing. In-ho’s heart strained in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to run to you on that stage and wipe the tear from your face, and do anything to make you happy again, anything to make the two of you whole again, anything to heal the wound that festered over the last year.

He almost cried listening to the final words of your song, hearing how you wished he would come back. After everything you had gone through together, and all the time you spent apart, you still missed him. His heart broke - he didn’t deserve you, and you deserved so much better than him. And you said it yourself, that you hoped you could finally move on after releasing this song.

Although it pained him greatly, and forced him to defy the longing he felt in every fiber of his being, he knew you’d be better off without him. And so, after your performance ended, he politely excused himself from the date and went home. 

~~~

You entered your apartment later that night, pleasantly exhausted. It was late, but you were still buzzing with emotion. You hadn’t expected to become so emotional while performing your new song. It had been a long time since you cried on stage, but singing that song brought back so many painful memories that you couldn’t help yourself. Despite that, you were proud of having such a vulnerable moment become something beautiful.

You collapsed on your couch with a glass of wine, too tired to get changed just yet. The silence enveloped you. You remembered a year ago, the last time you saw In-ho in your apartment. The somber look he gave you as he left. The ensuing rush of tears and pain that you couldn’t keep in that night. 

And the painful ache of longing you’ve had ever since then.

You sighed deeply, finishing your glass of wine and willing yourself to stand up. Life goes on, you told yourself. You were well-acquainted with the act of ignoring your feelings and pressing forward. No matter how much you wanted In-ho to appear in front of you, it wasn’t going to happen. He never once tried to get you back in the entire past year. Maybe now you could finally let go.

As you walked to your bedroom, you heard a light knocking at your door. 

You stopped. Were you hearing things? The following silence was filled with tension.

You were about to dismiss the noise and continue walking when you heard it again, this time louder. Your heart was beating through your chest. 

Slowly, you walked to the door. Your heart leapt, as if you knew who was behind the door. You weren’t sure whether to cry, or get excited, or get angry. A flurry of emotions filled your mind as you grasped the door handle, turned it, and pulled the door open.

You froze at the man standing in front of you. His grief stricken face. Flowers in his hands. The way he breathed a sigh of relief. 

The way your heart breathed a sigh of relief.

In-ho.

[natalchartnurtures]

•Pick-A-Meme• How Do Your Friends View You?

1-2-3 >>

Cue the intro to F.R.I.E.N.D.S

Pile 1:

Spirit message to open your reading – "a bundle of joy." Aw, haha, I get a really warm, expansive energy radiating from you. It's quite beautiful as I sit in it right now. It’s as if I’m basking in soft sunshine on a Sunday morning—so light, so golden. This is exactly how your friends view you. You’re a ray of soft sunshine, pile 1. Believe it or not, you are the embodiment of joy and kindness to the people around you. Your presence is deeply felt and appreciated, especially in the world we live in rn.

Your friends may think you’re incredibly lucky? Maybe you’re the lucky charm of your friend group? Or maybe it’s just that you bring a lot of fun wherever you go. You give me fairy vibes tbh. You remind me of Tinker Bell sprinkling her pixie dust wherever she goes (you don’t have to be a ‘she’ to take that message, btw) and lifting people’s frequency without even trying to. This could happen on subconscious levels as well, so your friends might not know how to put a finger on how you make them feel. They might just describe you as a lovely person to be around.

Ooh, I’m getting that even though you might like to keep your circle small, you may have a lot of people around you generally. It might just be that you make a lot of people feel like they want to get into your close circle but can’t. You probably don’t even realize it, lol. To you, you’re just living a normal life and being your fairy-ass self—cute, kind, generous, wonderful, authentic, divine, and casually powerful (lol). Let me tell you, IT HAS A PROFOUND IMPACT on everybody you know and interact with, not just your friends. You impact strangers, acquaintances, potential romantic suitors (which you have a TON of, I hear—not sure if you know this).

Your presence is felt, pile 1. I don’t care if you’re a wallflower or a theater kid. You. Are. The IT GIRL/BOY/PERSON of the room, and that’s it. You may be blissfully unaware of it (and that’s a sign that your aura is heavily protected, which is a good thing, so dw).

MOVING ON—your friends view you as a go-getter. They see you as incredibly creative and capable of achieving whatever you set your mind to. You give BALANCE, in every sense of the word. You are equally feminine, loving, nurturing, and caring as you are protective, fierce, and masculine. This quality of yours is so bloody admired. You are the textbook example of integrity, pile 1. Wow. I’m in awe of your energy. Keep it up, sweets—you must’ve done some really intense inner healing to get to such a beautiful internal place.

Now, things take a very interesting turn. I see that a lot of the people you know but aren’t especially close with may be interested in you romantically but don’t come forth with their intentions. They prefer to simply stay in the "friend" zone (maybe ‘cause they feel unworthy of stepping towards you? Idk). These people seem to be in their distorted masculine energy, and you seem to trigger the ever-loving crap outta them, lmao. It’s just your beautiful light that automatically does it for you, yk.

People you know (but aren’t close with) could secretly be jealous of you. In their eyes, you’re living the dream life—whatever that means for them. But just know that you’re heavily protected at this time, yea? Any kind of energy that could potentially harm you will be dealt with by Spirit. Spirit wants only the best for you, and your energy demands nothing but the very best. So if you feel rejected, lonely, or like not a lot is happening in your life, it’s because of this. Take rejection as a positive sign that you’re divinely protected :)

So, that’s how your friends view you! Hope you enjoyed this read—I can’t wait to see you on my next one :] Have a nice rest of your day, sweet pea! And stay your divine, amazing-ass self, tehe ✨️

If you'd like to know more about how your friends view you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

Pile 2:

Opening energies for the pile – I heard the song "Reincarnated" by Kendrick Lamar as I tapped into how your friends view you. Pile 2, I must say... your friends view you as a badass person. Hardcore, intense, low tolerance for BS, and possibly having old-soul energy is how your friends see you. They love your sarcasm, your witty humor and the light energy you bring to everything you do.

Also... I’m ngl, your friends think you’re a bit like Kendrick Lamar himself, haha. They might think you’re really talented at something and potentially have star quality, too. Do you have any major Leo energy in your chart, maybe? ‘Cause you sure come off that way to your friends, and they LOVE this leaning vibe about you. You seem so open, generous, and childlike with your friends but intense to people who aren’t, haha lmao. You may have an RBF that scares some people away 😂 (but enjoy that, maybe?). You’re hilarious.

Side note: If you’ve ever considered doing stand-up comedy, I see you being super successful at it 😁👀

Do you like Kendrick Lamar, pile 2? ‘Cause that song I channeled is playing in my ears LOUD and clear as I’m reading for you, haha.

Your friends might view you as somebody with a complex but deeply satisfying and rich inner world. You may love being by yourself as much as you love goofing off with your friends. They find this very interesting about you, tbh. They see you as somebody that’s “detached but VERY cool.”

You come across as the cool boy/girl/person in the room. You have an energy that stands out, and the best part is you don’t even care, haha. You’re just living in your own mind and checked out from the world unless there’s something worthwhile that catches your attention irl. Haha, that’s so iconic.

Ooh... your friends may view you as very attractive, too, ‘cause I just saw Christina Aguilera from her Dirrty MV, and boy, does she EAT in that ICONIC VIDEO. That MV is how I can summarize your energy and how it’s viewed by your friends, pile 2. It’s quite powerful (in a nonchalant typa way), too, I’m ngl. Like, idc about you but HAVE LOADS OF MONEY simply ‘cause you didn’t give a fuck, lmao.

You might be deeply spiritual, and to your friends, it comes as a very mysterious part of you. They don’t fully understand it, but on some level, they acknowledge that it’s a BIG part of who you are and respect it for what it is.

They view you as highly individualistic. As someone who’s gonna do what they wanna do and still land on their feet every time. They view you as “this person will be fine no matter what happens,” ‘cause I feel this raw strength emanating from you, which your friends easily pick up on. It’s something they love about you, too, yk.

Your friends view you as somebody who finds it hard to let their guard down. They see you as someone who’s come from a difficult life/upbringing, and they understand that you need your space from time to time. You seem to have very mature and protective friends, pile 2! Good for you, haha.

They view you as somebody who is content and fulfilled in their life despite any past challenges. They admire everything you’ve accomplished despite these challenges. And if you’ve been through a transformation recently, they really see this shift inside you, and they’re really happy about it 😊👀

They might feel as if you still struggle with some things related to your past, though, but on some level, they expect to see a breakthrough in your energy soon. They know for a fact you’ll get over anything ‘cause, according to them, you eat challenges for breakfast 😂 Haha, love that.

So, that’s how your friends view you! Hope you enjoyed this read—I can’t wait to see you on my next one :] Have a nice rest of your day, sweet pea! And stay your divine, badass self, tehe ✨

If you'd like to know more about how your friends view you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

Pile 3:

Spirit messages to open your reading – "inspiring and very healing to be." You give papa bear energy, pile 3 (regardless of your gender). You have this sweet and tender vibe towards your friends, and that’s how they see you. Somebody with a precious heart and an even more precious mind—always buzzing and alive with thoughts.

Your friends might reeeeally love chatting with you. You give me therapist vibes, tbh. Talking to you is sooooo soothing. But I think what your friends don’t understand is that while you give great advice and are fun to talk to, you might not always be in a good place mentally. I feel like your friends assume that you’re fine on the inside when you’re not? Maybe they have a false impression of you? Hm. Interesting. This might be ‘cause you simply keep your mental health struggles to yourself.

You don’t want your friends to bear what you think is your burden to bear. You don’t wanna bleed on everybody else, so to speak, and this has your friends viewing you as a light ✨. You give me strong Chiron vibes, tbh—the wounded healer in every sense of the word. You have quiet compassion towards people in general, and that’s really appreciated, but not necessarily always seen. If that’s the case with you, I’m so sorry, pile 3. You deserve to be CELEBRATED for your heart and deserve friends that truly appreciate you!

Your friends view you as a bit of a mom figure in their lives. Maybe you take on a lot of responsibility, so they see you that way. You are viewed as a safe space where anybody can be themselves without feeling judged. This is that therapist energy I was picking up from your vibe earlier. You might have some very emotionally disconnected (and potentially immature) friends in your life, pile 3. Hm.

Interestingly, your friends also see you as somebody who's not a pushover, though. You know how to burn a bridge when it's time, and this is something about you that's respected. They could describe you as someone who's a nice person but not a doormat. You know how to move on and get that REVENGE if you're pushed to your limits—and you'd do it with such ease that the people you've left behind might be baffled by it.

I'm also getting that you might've gone through a heartbreak recently? If so, I'm sending you loads of love, sweet pea. Hope you heal well from this. I see that beyond this heartbreak is a fresh new start for you, leading you straight into a joyous outcome. Like, say you broke up with your significant other—I see you meeting new people by the end of your healing period, potentially even your next suitor! (Apply this to whatever situation you're in, though.)

But yeah, to sum it up, your friends view you as a wonderful friend, confidant, and just... a healing presence.

So that's how your friends view you, pile 3. Hope you got something helpful out of this read—I can't wait to see you on my next one :]

Have a nice rest of your day, sweet pea! And stay your divine Chiron-ass self, tehe ✨

If you'd like to know more about how your friends view you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

[contrarianwitt]

random thoughts rereading trk part 1:

the prologue will always kill me… “this was the year he was going to die” gansey that is making me want to die wtf

the fact that gwenllian is described as putting a bunch of shit in her hair and wearing a bunch of different layers and blue keeps complaining. babe the only difference is that she’s tall

okay we do basically get confirmation that blue amplifies ronan’s dreaming! i wasn’t sure whether it was implied or stated

the money i would pay to get the scene where blue threw that guys (his names holtzclaw?) backpack over his car. like what even happened before that

“ronan’s jealousy of henry was visible from space” king he said three words to gansey. you’ll live. no wonder adam thought you were such an asshole at first i can’t even imagine

Adam “i usually don’t take sides but that’s bullshit” Parrish putting ronan in his place during the gansey v lynch divorce argument

uhhh i forgot just how much adoration adam has for gansey like at the end of the day adam really just loves him huh

“Adam rejoined Blue in the other side of the vehicle. He took pains to stare at neither her breasts nor her lips” yk what adam thanks for being honest bc yk gansey is repressing that shit! love how teenage boy adam is compared to the rest like he hides nothing

adam immediately clocking blueseys secret relationship so casually is so funny to me he’s really like “yeah i know you guys are dating and i know ronan is in love with me. so what”

matthew playing “lacrosse or some shit” is confirmation that aftg exists in this universe and that he plays exy !! no further comments

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 2.3 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

eight

sunday, february 2nd

you've gotten the question 'how do you do it?' a couple of times in your life. you've always been the kind to never stop running, never stop moving, never stop working, just never stop. never even take a break, really. any 'free' time was an opportunity to do something useful or productive.

you're pretty sure you never really 'cracked the code'. the code was kind of built inside of you, weirdly embedded in your brain. you've always been disciplined, you've always known that small, deliberate actions over time were the only way to stay consistent. it does help that you've always had this purpose or reason to do it.

you knew what you wanted, who you wanted to be.

you knew that commiting, sticking to the plan was the only way to get there.

in order to stick to a plan, there had to be a plan.

it makes sense that you wrote out an entire two page document, detailed and in depth with graphs, sources and pictures explaining your complete approach to getting over rafe and putting some much needed space between you two.

you're picking your nails, a habit you'd abandoned years ago after a rather brutal pull that ended with you in tears while your dad disinfected your bleeding thumb.

now here you were again, staring at the dining room table you'd temporarily transformed into a desk for rafe's tutoring session. step one of your plan was distance, of course. you had to block him away emotionally and him wandering around in your room, letting his smell linger, leaving his clothes or his stuff sitting there for days, lying in your bed. it was too close. too personal.

your room was a sanctuary, it was essentially your place of work and your home all at the same time. it had to feel serene and cleansed from distractions like feelings for boys.

the table was set up the same way your desk was: his notebook, pencil and calculator neatly placed on the table. you even placed a bottle of water right there so he didn't need to go wandering into your kitchen for anything. there was no need for him to walk around your house.

you would sit diagonal to him, working on the valentine's day cards which you were super behind on because you spent multiple days being too upset to even look at a heart-shaped-anything.

your dad was also sitting in the living room working on his laptop which somehow made it feel even more impersonal. it was perfect.

the doorbell rang and you froze for a moment. "are you gonna open that..or should i?" your dad called from the living room and you jumped into action. "uh! no, it's rafe. i'm going, sorry." you're rushing to the door and take a deep breath. "just be casual, be normal." you whisper to yourself before opening the door.

don't even think about how good he looks or smells or just how good it feels to even be in his viscinity. don't. don't. don't. shut up. don't.

"hey." he says as you move to the side to let him in. "hi. was the..drive good? any traffic?" what kind of a stupid question was that? this town had less than 50 000 people. there was never that much traffic.

he seems to be confused by the question as well, "no, no..traffic. it's sunday.."

"that is.. good. really good." you stand there with your hands behind your back as he takes his shoes off and when he walks over to you, in front of the stairs, he gives you a look and raises his brows. "are we gonna go up?" he slowly asks and you press your lips together and shake your head. "so, actually. i had this really fun idea that we could just..stay down here." you gesture to the dining room down the hall.

he looks at where you're gesturing before he looks at you again. "you want to stay down here?" he questioned, eyes boring into yours. "mm, i would like to stay down here..it's..i—it doesn't really matter where we sit, right?"

he blinks at you, lips parted. "right," he says softly and you nod and repeat after him before turning and heading into the dining room. he followed and his eyes immediately went to the table set up before glancing at your dad. "hey, y/d/n." he says and your dad greets him back, this big smile on his face that kind of makes you want to shove him. this boy broke his little girl's heart and he was just smiling at him? okay, sure, he doesn't know that it even happened but he should just sense those things. is that too much to ask?

you don't waste any time. the minute rafe sits down, you're getting into the lesson. "alright, last lesson we covered how to solve systems of equations by graphing, substitution and elimination. do you feel like there's one or multiple methods that you struggled with the most when you were doing the exercises?"

he looks at you, seemingly lost for a moment. "before we start, can we just—"

you tense. "maybe during the break. so, any issues?" it seems like he sees the momentary panic in your face because his eyes soften before he nods and exhales, "i..i guess with the graphing, i struggled with the overlapping lines and the parallel ones and for substitution, isolating variables and variables in general is still a shaky one."

you nod and stand right next to him, reading his notes carefully. "you're not gonna sit?" he looks at you. you don't look at him. "i'm okay, so, for the overlapping lines and parallel, what you need to remember is overlapping lines represent infinitely many solutions and parallel lines is the concept of no solution or an inconsistent system. it's kind of confusing but once you can set those apart and remember what they mean, it gets easier." you flip his page then, "and for the variables, i can see that you forgot to solve for the second variable a couple of times. remember that after finding one variable, you have to plug it back in to find the other."

"wait, but i thought when i did this, i was solving for the second variable…?" rafe points at his page, eyebrows furrowed as his pencil drags under a line of equations. "because i brought this one over."

you lean closer, bending over his notebook to see what he’s pointing at. "no," you say, tilting your head toward him. "i explained this last time, but you were too busy trying to braid my hair instead of listening, remember?"

he cracks a lopsided smile, the kind that always threatens to make your knees weak. "just trying to grow my skillset," he murmurs, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smirk tugging at your lips. "anyway," you say, nudging his pencil aside gently, "what you’re actually doing here is moving the term over to isolate one variable first. see? once that’s done, then you substitute it into the second equation to find the other variable."

you wait for his usual reaction, the quiet "ohhh" that always follows whenever he finally pieces something together. but the silence stretches, and when nothing comes, you turn to him. "you get… it?" the words falter on your lips as your gaze meets his, and the rest of the room seems to fall away.

he’s already staring at you, his eyes steady and unrelenting. they’re warm, piercing, and hold a depth you can’t even begin to describe. you don’t even have time to process how close you are, how his breath brushes faintly against your cheek, or how the faint furrow of his brow softens as he takes you in.

you feel caught, anchored by something invisible yet impossibly strong. your heart hammers so loud in your chest you’re sure he can hear it. the air around you thickens, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged tension. it’s as if the world has narrowed to just the two of you, and nothing could pull you out of this moment.

remember the plan. remember the plan. you try to tell yourself but then his eyes flicker down for the briefest second, not enough to seem deliberate, but enough to send your pulse skyrocketing. when they meet yours again, it feels like he’s trying to tell you something without saying a word. it’s overwhelming, consuming, and utterly impossible to look away.

your breath catches, the intensity growing unbearable. you’re drowning in the weight of it—this connection, this magnetism that shouldn’t feel as monumental as it does. and just when you think you might give in, might let yourself fall into whatever this moment is, you tear yourself away.

your eyes drop to the notebook in front of you, your hands fumbling to straighten the page unnecessarily. "so, um… yeah, just try the new exercises i made and i'm here if you need help," you say, your voice a pitch higher than usual, and you can feel your face burning. you bee-line for the kitchen before you actually make the situation worse.

you paced in the kitchen for a couple of minutes before casually walking back into the dining room. you slid into your seat and could feel rafe's eyes on you but you refused to look up. you willed yourself to focus on the notes and hundreds of pink and red enveloppes in front of you.

the entire session went the same way. you worked on your envelopes, and rafe worked on his exercises. you answered his questions when needed, but you never moved from your spot.

near the end of the lesson, your dad's voice carried from the doorway, casual and warm. "rafe, are you eating dinner with us?" it had become a bit of a routine—your sessions almost always wrapped up around dinner time. but tonight, you’d planned for this.

"no, not today," you answered for him.

your dad hesitated, clearly surprised to hear your voice instead of rafe's. his confusion deepened when he glanced at you, taking in your stern expression. after a moment, he nodded sharply, muttering, "got it," before disappearing down the hall toward the kitchen.

"what was that?"

"what was what?"

rafe stood, pushing his chair back with a scrape. for a moment, you thought he might just leave, but instead, he stopped at the doorway, turning back to you. his eyes pinned you in place. "come here," he said firmly, his voice low but unyielding.

you blinked at the demand, your body rooted to the spot. "what—"

his jaw tightened. without repeating himself, he walked straight to you, his movements deliberate, his frustration radiating off him like heat. you thought he’d just grab your wrist and tug you to your feet, but instead, he did something much more dramatic.

"rafe, what are you—"

before you could finish, he bent down, his arms looping around your waist as he hauled you over his shoulder with ease.

"rafe!" you yelped, your voice higher than you’d like as you squirmed against him. "what the hell are you doing?"

he didn’t answer. didn’t even flinch. he just turned and started walking, his steps firm and purposeful as he carried you up the stairs like you weighed nothing. you slapped his back and demanded to be put down, but it was like talking to a brick wall.

he set you down, right on the edge of your bed. you jumped to your feet immediately, but he was already there, standing in front of you, so close you could feel his breath. the proximity was overwhelming, so you sat back down again, instinctively creating space.

"rafe—"

"no. i’ll do the talking now." his tone left no room for argument. he pulled your chair from your desk, dragging it a little too roughly across the floor before sitting down, facing you. you felt the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his stare, and for a split second, you felt small—like a kid about to get scolded by the principal.

"i don’t know what happened last week. i don’t know why you won’t talk to me. i can’t help but assume that you either aren’t ready to talk or just don’t want to talk to me, but i can figure out that i’ve done something to upset you. i can’t force you to open up, but if you don’t… i won’t know what the hell i’m doing. i’ll apologize, because, honestly, i just want this," he waved a hand toward you, your whole being, "to stop."

he leaned forward, his voice steady, firm. "you’re ignoring me at school, you barely answer my texts, and we won’t even talk about how you yelled at me on wednesday because clearly, you don’t want to talk about that either. i’ll never bring any of it up again, if that’s what you need from me. but now? you’re shutting me out completely. we can’t even sit in your room? i can’t stay for dinner, you won’t sit next to me—what the hell is this all supposed to mean?"

his gaze was unwavering. "i want to fix it. i want to make things right. but if you won’t let me, if you refuse to even try, you can’t act like i’m the enemy. you can’t be pissed at me, not tell me why, and then shut me out and act like i'm somehow misunderstanding the situation. that’s not how this works."

his voice was tight, but there was no shouting. just a clear, deliberate force.

"okay." you nod after a moment. "okay?" he repeats and you nod after him. "you're right. i'm not being fair, it's just..i d-don't really—i w-want to—"

he stops you the moment you start to struggle, "don't. don't force yourself to tell me anything if you don't want to. i just don't want to lose this. " he says and your mind immediately flashes to him with adriana before you can even delusionalise yourself into thinking he meant that in a romantic way.

"i know..and our friendship is important to me too. i just.." you start slowly and he's looking at you with these, big, kind, hopeful eyes. "i am a very type-a person—"

"you don't say."

you glare at him, "—and i work well with planning, order, organization. i don't like mess. i don't like things that don't go my way. now, please, do not take this the bad way because i promise, i don't want you gone, you aren't a burden," you beg quietly and he nods reluctantly, "but..this..situation we've found ourselves in has significantly.." you pause and search for the right word, "upset my balance and i think that the bonfire was a bit much. that is all. i j-just..got my period that day and i've been doing all this stuff that i usually don't do like not following my schedule by the letter so i needed to let it all sink in a bit and i process things in a very specific way which makes me lose sight of other people's feelings sometimes but i'll try to stop. i promise." you say and rafe raises his brows, "yeah?" he asks and you nod, faint smile on your lips when he grins because it's impossible to not smile with a grin as contagious as his.

safe to say you didn't stick to the plan.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.  taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa  let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist & interact with post to remain tagged <3

[pysprnt]

Hellooo!!!

Love your fics so far <3

if it’s okay I’d like to request a older brother! Thanos + Younger sister! Reader, platonic obvs, fic where thanos hasn’t seen the reader in ages because of his rap career but then meets her again in the game and she’s is in the game for her high collage debt.

Can end happily if you’d like but I’d like it to be angst pleaseee <3

𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 — 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐬𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐠; 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝, 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) — 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞 .

𝐰𝐜 — 𝟏.𝟔𝐤, 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 .

“ms y/n, if you do not mind me asking, why are you here? you’re awfully young and kind, i wouldn’t have imagined you to have debt of any sort.” played 001, also known as in-ho, politely questions your reasoning behind participating in these death games.

the other players in your small group of allies perk up upon hearing the question, the lot of them seeming someone curious as well. clearing your throat awkwardly, a lopsided smile paints your youthful face. the group takes notice of your hesitation, and quickly reassures you that you do not have to share your past with them if you’re not comfortable.

“you don’t have to, y/n. do not feel pressured.” junhee whispers, rubbing your back gently. shaking your head with a sigh of disapproval, you reply in an almost disappointed tone. “no no, it is fine, unnie.”

“i studied abroad in the united states for college, and took out quite a few loans to help financially.” you start, the group paying close attention, despite feeling exhausted from the paranoia and lack of comfortable rest. “i had no source of income, and my debt just began to pile up until i was no longer able to afford staying in america. even moving back to korea, i did not escape my debt.”

the group stays silent for a moment, feeling an odd sense of pity towards you—after all, you just wanted an education, and it was unfortunate that you were unable to fulfill your dream. “i’m sorry, miss.” dae-ho murmurs with a sad smile, watching as you shift closer to your pregnant friend.

“i just hope that we can all make it out of here; alive. we’ll all pay off our debts, and maybe we could meet up at a local cafe—catch up after getting our lives together.” you have not known these men, and junhee, for very long, but they provide you with comfort that nobody else has. not even your own brother, su bong.

just the thought of his name causes an ache in your heart that cannot be expressed. oh how you resent su bong. during your early teenage years, the two of you had been attached by the hip, spending all of your free time at an arcade down the street from your apartment complex. it was quite run down, but you had the time of your life. you had even grown close to the owner, mr jungsoo.

life began to change when he died, and the arcade that you found comfort in was demolished. as time went on, su bong had distanced himself slowly, his rapping career becoming successful. it was almost as if the fame had made him forget who took his feelings into consideration under every circumstance, who cleaned his wounds after a nasty argument with his father, and who stuck by his side during his drug addiction.

you have not seen su bong in 4 years. he had disappeared when you were 16, leaving you in the care of your parents, who were completely unfit to have children. you still feel bitter to this day. he had left you when you needed him most, even after you were there for him throughout all of his hardships.

you fell into a depressive state of mind after about 1 month of no contact with your elder brother, your fathers verbal abuse getting worse as every day goes by, while your mother did little to help. you started to care little about your physical appearance and hygiene, only showing up to school so that you could graduate and move on with your life, just as su bong did.

though, the difference between you and him, is that you are not leaving behind the person most dear to you. no, the person that meant the most had already left, left without a single goodbye.

you tell yourself every night that you do not care, that it does not bother you still to this day, but before you close your eyes to rest, you wish that you’d one day get an explanation from your brother. for closure. all you need is closure.

“y/n, are you alright?” you are shaken from your thoughts as gihun waves a hand in front of your face worriedly, having taken notice of your sudden silence. “yes yes, i am just fine. i think that i will take a walk, i feel a bit faint and would like some time to think.”

before gihun or any of the others have the chance to objectify, reminding you that it is dangerous, you quickly make your leave, wandering to an empty corner of the dormitory.

unbeknownst to you, su bong takes notice of your presence, but feels conflicted about whether or not he should confront you. he knows that you’re aware of his existence around you, but you have yet to seek him out on your own. su bong doesn’t want to force himself onto you after all these years.

though, after watching your body make contact with the stone cold wall, and seeing you sink to the floor in tears, the big brother in him pushes him from his bunk, quietly stalking towards you in a determined manner.

you immediately take notice of su bong as he stands above you, fiddling with the cross that lies underneath his shirt. you ignore him, wiping your tears and trying to act tough. su bong had always told you that crying was for pussies, and that you were strong—tough, just like him.

“hey, bumblebee…” that nickname physically hurts you. su bong had come up with that name because you always lingered behind during walks to gawk at the flowers in gardens around seoul. at first it annoyed him to no end, but he soon picked up on your fascination for the beauty of nature, and the nickname bumblebee blossomed.

“go away, su bong.” you sniffle, obviously not enthused by his presence. the ex-rapper slowly slides down the wall just as you did moments before, taking a seat on the floor beside you. “no can do, baby sis. remember what i told you? crying is for the weak, i didn’t think you would turn into a pussy while i was away.”

he has not changed one bit. still rude as hell, yet in a comforting way. “you don’t have the right to talk to me.” you hiss coldly, but make no attempt to leave yourself.

“don’t be this way, y/n—“ “you can’t tell me how to be when you left me.” you cut the older male off, making your resentment and pent up anger known. su bong had lost his older brother card the second he decided to leave you without a second thought.

“y/n, i didn’t just leave you—“ “yes you did!” you cut him off once more, which slightly angers su bong, but he decides not to speak on it, since you have every right to speak to him as you are. “do not cut me off. i tried to come back for you, but you were gone by the time i had gotten enough money to provide for the both of us.”

“you came too late. you did not leave a note, didn’t shoot me a text, hell, you deleted your number completely! i had no way to contact you, no way to ask what happened, if you were safe, if you fucking overdosed on those pills you pop. you had me worried sick!”

“i know, and i’m sorry!” su bong tries to stay calm, but his muscles begin to tremble, and he fights the urge to down a few of his pills just because he knows that it will do nothing but set off the rage in your heart. you had always begged him to stop taking drugs, to get help. thinking back to the arguments you had about his addiction, su bong wishes that he would have listened to you.

“you’re not fucking sorry. you didn’t think of me once, what i would go through without you. all you gave a shit about was the fame and attention you’d get from people who would never truly give a damn about you.” yes, you may be being a bit harsh with your older brother, but at the moment, all signs of respect have vanished completely.

groaning quietly before running his finger through his purple hair, su bong struggles to maintain his composure. “i thought of you every second of every day, so don’t you dare act like i don’t care for you when you know damn well that i do.”

“do i really?” you are unable to prevent the light cracking of your soft voice, eyes glassed and lip quivering with every second that goes by. su bong regrets his decision deeply, oh how he wishes that he were able to watch you blossom into the young woman that you are today. maybe if he were there, neither of you would be in this position.

“i’d hope so, yes. i understand why you must hate me, i don’t blame you—“ “come on, older brother, i could never hate you.” yes, you feel unwavering anger towards su bong for what he had done to you, but you could never feel true hatred towards him. after all, he is—well, was, your one and only friend. your best friend.

silence envelopes the both of you, a small smile prickling at su bong’s face after a few moments. “i love you, bumblebee. don’t forget that.” he whispers somberly, knowing that even after he disappeared off the face of the earth, you’ll find it in your heart to forgive him. and until then, he will try his hardest to keep you safe. whether that is from right beside you, or afar.

“su bong, i am so happy to see you again.”

𝐚/𝐧 — 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 !

[mocchii-writes]

Hiii💕 Can you please do the sfw alphabet with ji-yeong or sae-byeok? Whichever’s easier for you

Sae-byeok sfw alphabet <3

Paring: Kang Sae-byeok x fem!reader

Warnings: loser fluff tehe, swearing

A/n: Lmk if you also want a Ji-yeong one!

~🍡🍡

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

She's initially closed off, but Sae-byoek feels very safe around you, so she would warm up eventually. I'm not totally sure how she would be with physical touch, but I think she'd like holding your hand at the very least. Acts of service are her love language, but she also loves it when you praise her, and she likes to give you things on occasion.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

She doesn't socialize much, so you'd probably have to be the one to start a conversation. She might not even bat an eye towards you until you do something for her, it could be to help her or just to show her you care, but she'll notice. She's pretty smart, so if you can show that you're intelligent in some way, you'll also get her attention.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Like I said before, I don't explicitly think she'd like physical touch, but she wouldn't be against it. After a rough day, she might appreciate being held before she goes to sleep or comforted in some other way. She would also probably enjoy just taking a moment to cuddle, your bodies intertwined in the early morning.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I feel like she'd be good at cooking tbh, so as long as you could keep the house in good shape, she wouldn't be against a domestic life. She doesn't exactly dream of a white picket fence life, but she wants a good place for her little brother to live, and the thought of settling down more with you pleases her a bit.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Depending on how the relationship was, I don't think she would let them down gently. If she didn't really like them in the first place, her breakup would probably be abrupt and monotone. If she did like you, or she at least cares about you a little, she might sit you down and try to explain. She wouldn't want to hurt you, but she isn't the best with sympathy sometimes.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Like I said, she doesn't exactly dream of the picket fence life, and she probably won't be proposing to you, but if she did, I don't think she'd make a show of it. Her parents aren't around, so she might feel a little sad about it, but she'll be okay.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

She isn't aggressive, but early into dating she's just not used to showing romantic affection. She'll secretly enjoy it when you show her love, though, and when she is ready to return it, it's pretty soft and safe. She doesn't seem like the type to be rough with you at all, but her touches are probably longer and have more meaning to them when they happen.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

I'd say she prefers getting hugged to hugging. She likes to hold you, though. It grounds her, being held, so your arms would seem like a safe place to her. She won't hug you often, but she'll always accept a hug from you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It'll probably take her a while to even realize she's in love with you. You might have to get used to saying it without her responding. But when it happens, it's a sweet moment of vulnerability for you two. She'd whisper it, not looking at you, and you could just smile and say it back, reassuring her.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

She doesn't really focus on other people, but if she does get jealous, she's quiet about it. She might get a little quieter, and you'd be able to notice pretty quickly. You could probably just do something sweet to distract her from her thoughts and she'll be okay.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

She probably likes nose and cheek kisses. She thinks they're really wholesome, and she'd like the feeling of them, both ways. She also likes classic kisses on the lips, and enjoys the softness of a sleepy kiss, in the morning or before bed.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

She's pretty good with kids when she wants to be. She's used to taking care of her brother, and she knows how to talk to most kids, but she probably doesn't want to. She might know how to change a diaper, I'm not sure, but she usually just avoids children.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

I think she either sleeps in or wakes up at the brink of dawn. No in-between. She wouldn't wake you up if you slept in. If she slept late so you woke her up, she would be groggy and grumpy, probably grumble something about getting sleep. However, if you don't, she's like "Why didn't you wake me up :<"

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

After a hard day, she would like to just rest with you, maybe reading or watching TV, but your touch in the evenings comforts her. If neither of you really did anything productive, she would probably just hang out or talk with you until one of you passes out.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Sae-byeok certainly isn't a very open book. We know this. If you open up to her or not, she'd be hard to crack. Of course, she comes around, and I think it would probably happen slowly, but surely. She feels safe around you, and it makes her feel better being able to talk to you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

She rarely gets aggressive when angry and never at you. She would probably get annoyed if you were fucking with her, but she isn't bothered that much. Obviously if someone mentions her family or something in her past she would get pretty upset, but she's a pretty calm and patient person.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

She would remember most things, I think. Just because she's more of an observer in day to day life. You would mention your favorite flowers, and she might pick them up on the way home, not really thinking about how she remembered or how that part would make you happy, but she's not complaining that it does. She would also remember things that make you upset and subconsciously not bring them up.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

She loves quiet moments of affection between you two. You holding her face with just the candlelight lighting your eyes, not saying anything. She also enjoys when you guys spend a day out. It doesn't happen often unless you push for it, but she enjoys a little out and about evening. She thinks of them before bed sometimes.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

She is very ready to defend you if you need it. She doesn't take shit from anyone, and especially doesn't take any towards you. She usually refrains from violence, but sometimes it's needed. She could need your protection sometimes, and really appreciates it if you can stand or fight for her. She enjoys an equal relationship.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

She wouldn't put a lot of effort imo, but there would be a lot of thought. She doesn't seem like the type to arrange or plan ahead too much, but she may. She's more the type to pick something you enjoy, weather you prefer, food you like, and just make a day of having a nice time.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

She tends to be kind of cold sometimes. She wouldn't be very good if you guys had arguments, and she's not the type to suck up to you, usually. She would just argue dryly or whine about your behavior, but she sometimes forgets she needs to show she cares and that you don't read minds.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

I don't think she is that worried about her looks, but she wants to keep hygiene for sure. She doesn't skip showers, and she keeps herself put together for the most part. She'd fix her hair a certain way because she likes how it looks, and maybe spend a little time on outfits some days, but she's just naturally perfect, what can I say ♡

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You're definitely a big part of her life, and you're one of her main sources of joy when she has a tough time. She would manage without you, probably, but she wouldn't enjoy it. If, for some reason, you weren't in her life, she might lessen her productivity and motivation, or she could increase it to distract her. She would feel it the most in her bed, though. It would just feel so achingly empty :<

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

She might complain, but she secretly likes it when you do her makeup or paint her nails.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Definitely cockiness. She hates it when someone is inconsiderate or thinks they're better than other people. She might think that way about a few people, but it's different than being fueled by pure ego. She wants someone who respects her as a human and not an authority, and returns the same.

She gets hot in her sleep. She sleeps with few layers and probably throws the blanket often. It's hard, though, cause she enjoys cuddling you. Winters are nice for bedtime, though. Sometimes, you'll wake up and see her sweating in her sleep, and you'll turn on the AC or open a window. She can't sleep when she's hot, so she won't say she's awake when you do this, but it pleases her heart, and she's reminded how sweet you are ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

I hope this doesn't suck too much, lol. I love writing for Sae-Byeok, so don't be shy with requesting herrr

~🍡🍡

[bunbunsama]

the difference in post-vg rook de riva pregnancies are delicious to me in that:

with emmrich, its a dream come true - the dream finally realized, late and yet, exactly when it was meant to. he's already spent years planning this moment, planning with past faces that he scants remembers as they become so easily replaced by her, & now its no longer a dream. its reality. its in his hands. & how he dotes on her! she doesn't want for nothing, no craving left unsatiated, no desire unfulfilled, all that she wants is met with "of course, dearest". his hand is always on her; in her hair as he pulls it back when nauseas takes hold & on her neck when she lulls her head back as the scent of something hits her wrong; the small of her back when they take their walks to ease the discomfort of a restless baby; holding her hand when she loops her arm around his as they talk to nevarran nobles & senior mourn watchers & the occasional crow. he knows the fade can make dreams reality, turn ideas into truth, & that is what rook has done; she's made real a dream he has long ago put to rest.

with lucanis, its a delicious nightmare - more an anticipated & a dreadfully torrent affair that even an antivan crown birth could not overshadow. lucanis is rightfully terrified outright; his mother was murdered by another house, his father most likely as well, & he watched catarina bury eight other grandchildren due to crow politics. he has barely seen himself as a man, let alone a father. whether he absconds for some time to grapple with the news or not doesn't overshadow how absolutely wild viago goes; if he does leave, viago will never forget it & its only through teia & rook that he even relents when lucanis returns, & if lucanis doesn't leave, viago becomes an unnecessary appendage of the pregnancy. "this isn't just a pregnancy, rook, it's a message; a clear message" house dellamorte lives; house dellamorte will survive. this pregnancy also is a shield for rook; a woman who once ruined a talon operation, who the fifth talon has to negotiate & plead for safe exile, is now the only one who carries the next dellamorte heir - catarina is furious because she cannot make a move. having rook in her favour was necessary after she slayed a god, & with thedas practically in her pocket (her mother is the hof & her father the inquisitor, all of thedas is at her disposal) it would be stupid to rebuke her - but she didn't have to like her. she didn't have to approve of lucanis' love & illario's strange infatuation ("you picked the wrong dellamorte" is something she doesn't forget) but it was just a waiting game; now, with her pregnant (& of course rook knows this pregnancy protects her, that it gives her more sway across the crows) catarina can't do anything unless she truly wants her house to disappear - & there are houses that are waiting, wanting, just such an end. theres also a struggle of where to have the baby, where the baby will stay mostly - which house will they take. a lot of lucanis & viago going back & forth till catarina steps up to the plate & then rook has to play the mother/god-killer card.

bonus: viago will absolutely be the most awful protective & overbearing brother. rook better not be pregnant BEFORE she's married or else she will never hear the end of it because he refuses to have her first child - his first nephew/niece - be a bastard. teia finds the whole exchange fun & her & rook probably are the most normal during the whole exchange, talking about baby names & picking out drapery & fabric for the nursery.

[vxsellie]

‧₊˚┊simple living things﹗

a hunger games!au ellie williams fanfiction.⌇ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔦𝔳

summary. the capitol, what a lovely place. however, as humanity's story goes, the most captivating sights have the darkest secrets. capitolites crawl around the city like vermin, teeth bared like daggers ready to sink their teeth into the newest tributes. good thing they have a few days to train.

content warnings. mentions of past suicide (only lasts a paragraph or two), depictions of gore (it's in a dream tho dw), graphic depictions of addiction, smoking, and fist fighting (not in the way you think??)

total wc. 13,045

notes!! i don't have much to say ab this one guys im sorry,, i didn't edit it so that's really great but i talk about that more in the post-notes @ the end!! once again, reminder that it's better read on ao3!

𝜗𝜚 series masterlist ⸝⸝ playlist ⸝⸝ ao3 𝜗𝜚

20:10.

TRAINING CENTER, FLOOR 4.

“Oh, isn’t it lovely?” Alice Reymond beams at the suite, clasping her hands together in awe.

The Training Center is one of many skyscrapers within the Capitol, a large portion of it dedicated to the yearly tributes and their teams. Each floor is assigned to its corresponding District. For example, the first and lowest floor is where the tributes of One will reside. As such, you and Remy are assigned to floor four. Sam and Henry are below you on three, Ariadne Evans and Selene Jones above you on five.

Since the Reapings, you’ve spent hours memorizing each tribute. Ruben deems it to be a waste of time, saying most of them will die in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. You beg to differ. Sure, a good portion of tributes will die early on, but most of them will end up surviving the bloodbath and be threats to your survival. Since most people view it as Ruben does, your determination to memorize each tribute provides you with the ascendancy. Well, it would, had you not been born a L/n.

If they Capitol weren’t so fucking infatuated by your family, you’d undeniably have the upper hand by knowing each tribute by name and District. But they all already know you. By more than just name, at that. They know your family tree, history, District, name, and all else that’s up for common knowledge — which is everything. It’s fucking maddening. You have to do double the work just to learn each name whilst yours is a given to everyone else. 

You’ll be a target in the arena, deemed the highest threat and the most valuable kill.

“We each have our own rooms, bathrooms, and dressing rooms. Just like on the train. Though this place is far more ostentatious.” Alice continues on, walking around the space with a wide grin. “Dinner will be served in half an hour, so you’re able to get washed up. Return back here in something more comfortable than those costumes, yes?”

Alice shoos you and Remy away, turning to admire the suite alone. She continues to mutter words of veneration under her breath long after everyone has left.

The suite has an open layout, kitchen and living room separated by a three foot wall. To the right of the space is a wide hallway, corinthian columns on either side. Down the hall are four doors, one for each of you. The floors are hardwood, the walls velvet with intricate mouldings.

You push open your door. Your room is decorated in different shades of blue, likely due to Four’s being a fishing District. It’s cliche, though you find yourself far more fond of the blues than you were of the pure whiteness back home. It adds character despite that being basic.

You’re quick to strip out of your pirate outfit, slipping into something more congenial. 

Your stylist was kind enough, a short plump woman named Birdie. Her hair was chopped into an electric red pixie cut that messily framed her round face. She didn’t look as much as a Capitolite as Alice Reymond, though she still had that wealthy aura to her. She was super sweet, asking how you wanted your hair done and how short you wanted your skirts. Most stylists don’t care to ask for the tributes’ preferences, so you were grateful to her in that sense of things.

The piracy was her idea, though she allowed you to choose between fabrics. You were sure you’d be dressed into something appalling, whether that be two shells or a full blue bodysuit. But the pirate dress wasn’t too bad. It was actually the best option possible. It was creative enough to draw attention, yet modest enough that you weren’t exploited.

You remember feeling someone’s eyes on you at all times, making you shift uncomfortably as you couldn’t figure out who was staring.

But when your carriage turned after leaving President Fedra’s building, you caught the eye of District Seven’s tribute. Ellie Williams, you believed her name to be. She wore something much showier than you did, making her undeniably attractive. Her short auburn hair was cast back, accentuating her blotchy freckles. Whoever Seven’s stylist is this year surely has an eye for Ellie’s features, knowing exactly what to highlight and how.

You walk around your room, taking in the sight of the space. It’s larger than your room on the train, though it’s full of so many gadgets that it doesn't feel as vast as your room at home. You mess around with the devices for a while, exploring the wonders of Capitol technology. 

You can change the color of your walls, lightbulbs, and carpet with the press of a button. You leave it on blue though, something about the color bringing a sense of comfort to the foreign space. There’s also a machine that materializes food within the blink of an eye! All you have to do is order a meal by speaking into the intercom! How cool is that?

Your adulation is quick to fade. And you’re now disgusted by it.

Kids die from starvation in the Districts daily. Yet, here in the Capitol, food is materialized by the press of a button? The thought makes your stomach churn and you’ve suddenly lost your appetite.

Right on time, there’s a knock at your door. You rush to open it, no longer wanting to be near the sickening machines of the Capitol. Alice stands in the hallway, eyes bright as she announces that it’s time for supper. You nod, following behind her to the kitchen. On the way, she knocks on Remy’s door and he joins you guys at the table.

You sit down, the meals already set out in front of each of the four chairs. Though, one remains empty. Looking down the table to where Ruben should be sitting, there’s naught in his space. You raise an eyebrow at this, turning to Alice.

“Where’s my brother?” 

“Oh, all mentors attend a dinner at the Capitol following the Parade! They’re able to talk with sponsors about how well you guys did.” She responds cheerily as she tells an Avox to cut her steak. “He should be back by now, though. Hm. Perhaps he’s just running late.”

You frown, having no choice but accept her nugatory explanation — which did nothing to console your nerves. 

The Avox nods, stepping away once he’s cut her meal into tiny bites. You catch his eye and he raises his brows, silently offering to cut yours as well. You shake your head, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

Alice glances up at you, her movements paused. “What’d you say?”

“I wasn’t speaking to you.” You tell her, gesturing to the Avox behind her. You speak casually despite knowing how this will inevitably vex her. “He was going to cut my steak for me and I declined.” Her eyes widen before she places her fork down gently, trying hard to withhold her patience. “It’s informal to speak to Avoxes in such a manner, Y/n. You’re meant only to address them when giving orders. They’re criminals and have earned their place as servants.”

“What’s informal is your lack of sympathy.” You scoff. “You have no idea what their crimes are. There’s a high possibility that they’re defendable, that they have families who miss them dearly.” “Yet there’s a higher chance that’s not the case.” She responds. 

Alice appears to be absolutely horrified by your show of defiance and willingness to argue on such a matter as this. Remy watches with wide eyes as you two continue to bicker back and forth, all Avoxes now having lowered their heads to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

Your argument is ended only when the front door of the suite clicks open.

Ruben staggers through the doorway, his hair tousled and his shirt half unbuttoned. Your eyes widen as he lifts his head. His pupils are blown and bloodshot, his lips are parted and chapped. The cause is obvious — the post Parade dinner. He must’ve taken one too many of the personally enhanced drugs that the Capitol provides him with.

Alice is quick to her feet, rushing to his aid. It’s so odd how she can be so caring at times, yet so malicious at others. Remy’s brows are furrowed in confusion, clearly not understanding why Ruben is acting so peculiarly. 

Alice brings him over to his chair, where he slumps down onto the table. You don’t move. Part of you feels a sense of pain, seeing him like this. You feel like you should help him as he’d helped you all through your childhood. But another part of you wants to run away, cower in your room until it’s all over. You’re frozen in place, feeling like that useless, defenseless child you once were. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Remy asks, his voice small.

It takes a few seconds before you realize the question is directed at you. Remy watches you with concerned eyes. You blink a few times, taking a deep breath to ground yourself before you answer him. 

“He just had a lot of fun and he’s feeling a bit tired, is all.” You say, using the same response Ruben once gave when explaining why your father would return home drunk all the time. You then turn to Alice with the same pointed expression Ruben would give your mother. “Stay with Remy, I’ll take Ruben to bed. We’ll let him sleep it off. He’ll be better by dawn.”

Alice’s brows furrow for a second, though she’s quick to piece it together. She nods, pulling Ruben’s face out of his food before stepping away to allow you to intervene. You crouch down, draping one of his arms over your shoulders before pulling him to his feet.

Ruben stumbles, his knees buckling under her weight so you’re practically carrying him all the way to his bedroom.

His room is a carbon copy of your own, though he’s switched the color settings to a dusky hue of taupe. You lead him over to his bed before dropping him onto the mattress, allowing his weight to slide off your sore shoulders. He groans, shifting around atop the blankets.

“Oh, quit your whining.” You roll your eyes, though you’re aware he’s likely too far gone to comprehend anything you say. With a sigh, you begin to unlace his shoes. “If anything, you should be thanking me.”

“Thanks, Y/n.” He says, syllables slurring together. He barely opens his mouth, his voice muffled through his teeth. He lulls his head to the side, peering at you through lidded eyes. “‘Never wanted ya t’ do this part, y’know.”

“I know.” You whisper, tossing his shoes aside.

You unbutton his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders for him. Scars cover his arms and torso, painting his skin in different shades of pigmentation. Some scares you recognize to have been caused by your parents’ abuse, others by his time in the arena. There are only a couple that you were unaware of. Though, despite already having known about almost all of them, the sight of his body so battered is painful to look at. 

You wonder if yours will look so bad after your Games. You’re already coated in scars from your parents' inflictions, but that makes up only half of what Ruben has. A mosaic of all things bad, scars are. They paint a picture of ache, telling the story of one’s agony.

You stand straight, folding his shirt over your arm before placing it on his desk. The Avoxes clean the rooms while everyone’s asleep, which includes picking up clothes. So, taking a few seconds to fold them neatly goes a long way.

“G’night.” Ruben murmurs as you open the door to leave. Despite his residual grogginess, the next three words that leave him ring clear as day through the dark room. “I love you.”

Your heart clenches in your chest at the sound, not having heard those words fall from his mouth in a long, long time. You never thought you’d hear them again and, if you did, you hoped it would be said in sobriety. With him inebriated in such a way, you don’t feel it’d be fair to return the gesture. It’d erase all intended sentiment.

“Yeah,” You whisper, “You too.”

With that, you exit his bedroom and shut the door softly behind you. You walk back out to the dining area, seeing that the table has long since been abandoned. Remy and Alice must have gone off to bed. The Avoxes are clearing the dishes, working in complete silence. You thank them, grabbing the attention of a few. As they’re unable to respond, they simply nod in appreciation before returning to their task.

You stand in there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. You could go to your bedroom, though the sight of all the gadgets makes you sick and you’re certain you’ll be unable to sleep. In the end, you decide to exit the suite. 

It’s frowned upon to venture the halls at night, though it’s technically not unallowed. There are cameras everywhere, watching the tributes’ every move. You spot three in just the hallway down to the elevator. The buttons on the wall start at ground level — where the actual training is set to take place starting tomorrow morning — ranges from 1 to 12 for each District, then ends at rooftop. You were unaware that the Training Center even had roof access. Curiosity gets the better of you, causing you to press the button.

The walls of the elevator are glass, allowing you to look at each floor as you pass it. Though you’re moving far too fast to actually examine what you’re seeing. 

You step out of the small space once you’ve reached the roof, the doors sliding open to reveal a huge amount of space. The railing is made of concrete, reaching the height of your chest. Though you know that there’s an invisible boundary preventing the tributes from killing themselves before the Games. The Capitol wants to see your deaths, so prior suicide is highly loathed by the excited viewers.

The air is chilly, but not cold. You walk across the roof to the edge of the building, resting your elbows on the concrete wall. You can’t see the stars here as the city pollutes the sky with artificial light. The streets, however, provide their own spectacle. And, if you squint hard enough, they almost look like stars. But you quickly feel dumb once you’ve done it. 

The fresh air is nice, despite the lack of stars. It helps to clear your head, ridding your thoughts of your own problems. But whenever your mind manages to stray, you’re reminded of Ruben and how closely he resembles the father he loathes so greatly. They’re perfect mirrors of one another — addicted to the Capitol’s attention, abandoning their family to relish in the spotlight of the sadists, and eventually falling victim to addiction. The only difference is that Ruben hadn’t had kids yet. Perhaps he never will, the fear of replication too much to bear. More than that, you wonder if you’ll end up like the same way, partying with the Capitolites until you’re unable to walk. It’s in your blood, you suppose, so you’re sure it’s inevitable. Might as well accept it now, right?

Just as your thoughts begin taking a darker turn, you hear the elevator doors slide open.

You straighten our back, knowing whoever it is must be either a tribute, mentor, or escort and they’re thereby an enemy to you. As soon as you’re in the arena, whoever they are will be working towards your death.

“You can’t jump, y’know.” A rough, female voice says as her footsteps thud across the rooftop toward you. “I heard a rumor that there’s an invisible field around the building.”

You only look in her direction once she’s leaned against the railing beside you, her back facing the cityscape. Ellie Williams. The girl who defied the Capitol at her Reaping, the girl who stared at you throughout the Parade, the girl who’s suddenly pulling out a cigarette.

“Want one?” She asks, catching your gaze.

“Didn’t know those were allowed here.” You respond shortly, turning to face back forward.

“They’re not.” Is all she says.

Your lips thin in silent perspicacity, eyes narrowing. “Of course not.”

“Well they can’t arrest me, can they? It’s too late, they need me in the Games.” She points out, placing the cigarette between her lips. She once again holds one out to you. You shake your head and she shrugs. “It’s not like your lungs will kill you any sooner than the arena will.” “Unless I survive.” You point out.

“There’s always that, yeah.” She agrees easily, igniting the cigarette with an oddly shaped lighter. It looks oddly familiar to you. She notices your staring and is quick to defend herself. “It’s not mine, it’s Joel’s. So are the cigs. He’s the one who advised me to smoke in the first place, said it’d helped to ease his nerves before his Games. So I decided ‘why the fuck not?’”

She inhales deeply, though it’s apparently too deep because she suddenly breaks out into a coughing fit. She spins around to lean on the wall forward-facing. 

You watch as she struggles for air, the hacking eventually fading to laughter. She straightens, still raspy as she says, “I get that you think you’re better than everyone, but you could at least try to make conversation before we’re shipped off to die. What’s the harm?”

“I don’t think I’m better than everyone.” You respond with a huff.

“Might not think so, but you are.” She says, inhaling once more. She coughs again, though it’s far less riveting than the first time. She exhales the smoke out into the night sky, her breath forming a puffed cloud against the blackness. “You’re the rich girl, you’ll get all the sponsors. You’re already better off than I am in that sense.”

“You’ll get sponsors just fine, I’m sure.” 

You say, thinking back to her costume in the Parade and the way the Capitol adored it. Exploitation is one of the most used methods to obtain sponsors. If she plays her cards right, she could easily be the newest Diamond. She’s attractive and you’d be a fool to deny that.

“Not if you’re hoarding them all.” Says Ellie. You know she doesn’t mean it insultingly, but it still hits you that way. She notices your expression and adds, “Intentional or not, the Capitoli- Uh, Capitol people will be tripping over themselves to get you gifts.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation to you, they won’t be sent through to me.” You say, because it’s true.

Ruben may be your mentor, but your father is sure to be present in Saint Mary’s Hall — which is where the mentors watch the Games and coordinate sponsorships. He’s a Diamond and will therefore be permitted entry, especially considering his daughter is a tribute. 

When Ruben was in the Games, your father had been his mentor and controlled all his sponsorships. Because gifts must first be approved by the mentor prior to being sent into the arena, he had this power. But, the thing is, your father refused a single gift from reaching Ruben. Even when he was dying of dehydration and bloodloss, he refused to let anything through. It created a rift in Saint Mary’s Hall, many sponsors deeming him immoral. He was quick to patch that up, though, as he said he’d been doing it to make his son stronger. Being as skilled as he is at manipulation, the Capitolites were quick to naivety. From there, he was only praised for his thinly veiled neglect.

So, if your father is within the Hall this year — as he likely will be — there’s no way anything will be sent through to you. He’ll refrain Ruben from permitting gifts and withhold sponsorships completely, purely because he wants his kids to win fair and square. It’s iniquitous to let you starve, yes, but you’re almost glad for it. Because Ellie is right. If it weren’t for his cruelty, you’d be undeniably hoarding all sponsors from other tributes. Sponsors could send you buffets and magical medicines while all other tributes die out slowly of starvation and lack of medical care. It’d be the equivalent to cheating the Games and you’ll be damned if you win this thing through sponsorships. If you make it out alive, it’ll be thanks to you, not the Capitol.

“Won’t be sent through?” Ellie asks. She raises a brow at you, wordlessly inclining you to explain.

Instead of telling her your entire life story, you redirect the subject to one you know she’ll be unable to deny. “Actually, I changed my mind. I could use a smoke.”

Ellie’s eyes widen, the corners of her lips twitching as she removes the cigarette from her lips and holds it out to you. You hold it between your index and middle fingers, staring at it with a hint of uncertainty. It’s unwise to do anything related to addiction, considering your family history. But it’s so tempting and the arena isn’t too far away. Plus, being addicted to smoking cigarettes is far better than your father’s alcoholism or Ruben’s drug addiction. Right?

“Scared?” Ellie taunts you.

Her gibe is the final push to make you indulge. You scowl at her before placing the cigarette between your lips and inhaling deeply. It seeps into your lungs, burning the back of your throat on the way down. Your head instantly feels wonky, your vision swimming. You hear Ellie’s laughter as you begin coughing just as hard as she had.

You lean against the concrete barrier, resting your forehead on your folded arms to muffle the hacking sounds. Between coughs, you manage, “That was fucking awful.”

It takes a bit for you to quiet down. The first feeling that you register is queasiness, but then you notice the equanimity. Your maddening thoughts have begun to muffle, pushed to the back of your mind. It only lasts a few seconds though, causing you to already reach for another drag.

“What’d you come up here for?” Ellie asks, passing you the cigarette. “You already know I’m here to smoke, it’s only fair for you to explain in return.”

“Hey, I never asked you for an explanation.” You remind her, inhaling. “I owe you nothing.”

“No, but you’re using my cigarettes aren’t you?” She points out, a glint of something akin to regalement behind her gaze. “A form of payment is due anyhow.”

“Joel’s cigarettes, you mean.”

“Shit,” She curses as you pass it back to her, “I forgot I told you that.”

You huff a laugh, watching as she turns to face the horizon. Not that it’s much of a sight though, what with the buildings plaguing the skyline. Her side profile is illuminated by the dull lighting of the roof. Your eyes trace the slope of her nose, admittedly infatuated by her. You blame it on the nicotine, even more so on the relaxation it causes you.

Ellie drops the cigarette off the roof, pulling a second from her box. While she’s turned, you begin speaking. Perhaps because it’s easier to talk when you can’t see her face or perhaps the cigs are making you that much more sociable.

“Back home, there’s nowhere I could go where I couldn’t see the ocean.” You say, causing Ellie to suddenly perk up at your voice. Her eyes flick between your face and her hands as she rushes to light the cigarette. “I rarely spent time in it, always holed up in our house. But the sight of the sparkling water was a comforting constant throughout my life. It’s odd to be where the water isn’t. Plus, despite not having been in it much, the few memories I do have are enough to satisfy me. They’re all good ones.”

“Let’s hear ‘em.” Ellie says, passing you the lit cigarette. 

You inhale deeply before speaking, “Well, my first memory of the sea is learning to swim in it. My brother took me. He wasn’t allowed to, but I begged him so he did. He was patient, but laughed at me the entire time, saying I looked like a fish out of water. He claims I was a fast learner, that I picked it up quick. But I can remember the salt in the back of my throat and the way my eyes burned. There was nothing quick about that. I was four and was certain I would die.”

Ellie chuckles, watching you from the side. One arm is rested atop the railing, the other taking the cig from your hand. “He’s your mentor this year, right? What’s that like?”

The question itself is innocent enough, genuine curiosity that comes with getting to know a stranger. But it makes you bristle nonetheless, your shoulders suddenly feeling tense. Not because of Ellie’s question but because of the answer. 

‘It’s horrible.’ You could say in regards to the technicalities. The distance between you, the long glances you share, the unsaid apologies. Flashes of his messy hair, bloodshot eyes, and undone blouse pop into your head. ‘It’s great.’ You could say, just as truthfully. This time, you’d be referring to the mentality of his proximity rather than the materialistic things. The comfort that comes with being near him, even amid deafening silence, the odd nostalgia that hits you when he’s sat at the dinner table beside you.

Though, as it turns out, the memory that announces itself most needily is the one most painful — tucking him into bed after he’d taken a few too many pills only a short while ago. Perhaps because it falls under both categories. The horridity of seeing him so disheveled paired with the aching reminder of your father. Though, there’s still a greatness to it. To feel him lean on you, knowing that you’re actively repaying all he’d done in your shared youth, that he needs you. To hear those three words whispered into the darkness of his room despite knowing they’re empty of the meaning you covet.

“Did I say something wrong?” Ellie is quick to ask, nervosity to her tone as she picks up on your hesitation. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No,” You say, “I’m just not sure how to explain it. The duality.”

She hums in recognition. “I get that. I came here with a loved one as well and, uh, it surely didn’t turn out as I thought it would.”

You blink at her, taking the cig from her offered hand. Your thoughts are fuzzy, though just barely enough that you hardly even notice. It’s nice how you’re still in control of yourself whilst feeling the faraway effects of the nicotine. 

“Riley, right?” You ask, tilting your head at her as you breathe in the tingly air.

She nods, “Yeah. We’ve been best friends since we were nine, inseparable. But, recently, she’s grown a bit distant. Though she didn’t fully disappear on me until the Reaping. Since then, we haven’t spoken a word to one another.”

“You looked pretty close during the Parade.” You tell her.

You can vividly recall the image of their intertwined hands coming onto the screens. The crowd cheered as you watched with thinned lips. It was obvious to you what it meant, though the audience remained completely oblivious. You were impressed, at first, by their unapologetic defiance to the Capitol, especially considering it was the second time they’d done it. But you knew it was a bad idea on their part. Once they're in the arena, the Gamemakers need only press a button to end their lives.

“Didn’t realize you were looking.” Ellie says.

“Everyone was looking.”

She thinks on this before saying, “It’s odd, isn’t it? The lack of privacy. The Parade aside, there’s always someone looking.”

“I suppose.” You agree.

To you, it’s not such a foreign concept. Even in your own home, you were unallowed to lock doors. Your father claimed that needing solitude was a flaw that’d lead to vulnerability in social settings. So having privacy was never even a question, though there’s a vast difference between the possibility of someone walking into your bedroom when compared to being ceaselessly monitored at all times. 

How someone could ever grow used to being watched nonstop is beyond you. Even in your private bedrooms and bathrooms in your assigned suites, there’s no way of knowing whether there are cameras. You wonder how Ruben dealt with it, how he still deals with it annually during his mentorship for the past ten years.

Ruben’s Games were twelve years ago, though he’s only been a mentor for ten in total. He was a mentor for two years until your uncle, Theodore, won the 64th Games. Theodore promptly took over the role of mentorship for District Four for the following two years. It was only cut short when he drank himself dead. His second year being a mentor, two children were Reaped and both died brutally in the arena. He’d blamed himself and ended up committing indirect suicide via alcohol poisoning.

It was a hard toll on everyone. He was always so cheerful, a big round man who was exceedingly vocal about the things he loved. After his Games, though, he changed. He was secluded in a way he’d never been before. To learn that cheery Uncle Theo killed himself was hard on a ten year old. He was your favorite relative after Ruben. You oftentimes wonder what he’d think of your Reaping, how he’d mentor you in place of your brother. Would it be more or less tolerable?

At the thought, you reach for the cigarette. Ellie passes it to you wordlessly.

You’re grateful for her lack of questions, glad she’s able to realize when you don’t necessarily wish to speak. You’re also grateful for the comfortability of her silence. With Ruben, quietude is an awkward endeavour, making the air so thick you feel suffocated. Even with Alice, it feels unnatural. But with Ellie, it feels intrinsic to her company. 

“Shit, it’s probably getting late, huh?” She says after a long time of silence. You look up at the moon, noticing how far it’s risen into the sky. It’s been about an hour or two since you abandoned your suite for the fresh air. Ellie runs her hands down her jeans as she straightens. “I’ve gotta get going before my escort notices I’m gone. She’s super controlling about that kind of thing.”

“Your escort is Tilly Reymond, right?” You ask, recalling the way she’d approached Alice right before the Parade, referring to her as a sibling would.

“Oh yeah,” Ellie says, “Yours is Alice.”

You laugh, remembering their conversation from earlier today. They bickered like children. Tilly had come over to ask if Alice was feeling proud of herself for having another L/n Reaped in her lifetime, to which Alice grinned madly and said she did, in fact, feel rather pleased. From there, they did little aside from argue. 

Their quarrel differs greatly from yours with Ruben. Tilly and Alice are passive aggressive, giving compliments on each other’s dress whilst eyeing a certain stain or disarranged jewel. You and Ruben, on the other hand, fight as though you’d both rather eat glass than admit the other to be correct. It’s nasty, throwing insults like daggers. Something you’d both been unfortunate enough to inherit from your parents, presumably. To argue with such animalistic avidity.

“Well,” Ellie says with a small smile to announce her residual need for departing, “Meet me here at the same time tomorrow? I’ll bring some more cigarettes.”

“More of Joel’s cigarettes.” You correct her with a teasing grin.

She waves a dismissive hand, “Yeah, yeah.”

And with that, Ellie Williams walks back inside. She’d left you with the cig you’d been smoking, so you remain outside for a little while longer as you work it down to a butt. Your mind reels with tangled thoughts of the Parade, Ruben’s addiction, and Ellie’s laughter. Fuck, it’s been a long day. And tomorrow is bound to be even more taxing.

6:00.

TRAINING CENTER, FLOOR 7.

Ellie hardly slept a wink last night, her dreams full of terrors regarding her upcoming fate. Through wafts of heavy smoke, trees from Seven, and estranged voices, she could barely make out the contents of her slumber. What she could decipher was waking up over and over, only to find she’s still trapped in a dream. 

At one point, she was in the arena. As she doesn’t yet know what she’ll be thrown into, her brain concocted the one from last year — which had been won by a girl named Abigail Anderson. It was a rocky terrain, the entire arena on a slope. The tributes were on a mountain, having to find shelter in caves and trees that littered the topography. The tributes in her dream, however, were the ones Reaped this year. She was starving and wounded and struggled to walk on the dampened stone. Other tributes ran past her, their forms abstract and footsteps inhuman. She called for help, only to be ignored by each one. Finally, after what felt like hours of agony, someone crouched down to aid her. Riley. Her best friend and her savior. Except she wasn’t. Instead of propounding assistance, she pulled Ellie to her feet only to shove her back again. She’d tumbled down the mountain, eyesight rolling alongside her. The scene shifted.

She’d fallen all the way down to the rooftop from last night. The logistics were nonsensical, though that hardly mattered when she took in the state of the unwaking world. From her place of elevation, she was able to overlook the Capitol as she’d done last night. Though, this time, the buildings were up in flames, people screaming in the streets with scorched flesh and mutilated bodies. She attempted to run to the elevator, only to find that her feet were manacled to the floor. She fought with futility against the chains until her ankles were bruised and blistered from the unforgiving metal. Somehow, due to unconscious malarkey, she could see the Capitolites as though she were looking through a pair of binoculars. Their faces, distorted and pained. Their hair, scorched and lacking in their tell-tale extravagance. Then she saw a familiar face. Riley, crumpled on the ground just as Ellie had been when they were on the mountain. Riley reached up, begging for help. Ellie lurched at the sight, though she was still bound to the rooftop. Riley was pleading with someone. Ellie followed her gaze to see you, leaned back coolly against a brick building with a cigarette hanging from your lips. Her– Well, Joel’s cigarette. You helped Riley to her feet, only to shove her to the ground. It was a perfect mirror of what Riley had done to Ellie. Only this time, the shove caused her to be trampled by the huge crowd of panicked people that plagued the streets. Her body was crushed under the people until she was naught but a heap of meat and tissue.

Ellie awoke with a jolt, her chest heaving. 

Those were the only two dreams she could accurately recall. All the rest were blurred and distorted by the others. But she knows there were more, so many more. The scene kept shifting, antagonizing her relentlessly. Flashes of Riley’s face, both pleading and cruel. Of your face, imbued by that same duality. Of Joel’s or Marlene’s or even Tilly’s. Her mind was a horrid, callous place and she never wanted to think of the terrors again.

Though, as it turns out, her luck ran out rather quickly. The trepidation of her dreams followed her all the way down to the training rooms below ground level. Joel and Tilly brought she and Riley down, the group of them comfortably conversing in the elevator. Even Riley joined in, though Ellie couldn’t. Her head was still reeling, though she’d woken an hour prior. She wonders if she’s still in a dream, only this time with sentience.

She chews at her nails as the elevator opens to reveal a wide, metallic hallway with two heavy doors at the end. Above them is a sign reading, Tribute Training Rooms. She removes her fingers from her face, stuffing her hands in her pockets. 

“Hey,” She feels a heavy hand on her shoulder, causing her to jerk away. She turns to see Joel standing beside her as Tilly and Riley leave them in favor of entering the training rooms. “You’re actin’ weird today.”

“Oh,” She breathes, willing herself to relax, “It’s nothing, just on edge. I guess.”

He nods, pulling her over to a shadowy corner of the hall. “Did the cigarettes work? Y’know, for your nerves.”

“Uh, yeah, actually.” She says. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

Just then, the elevator doors creak open and another pair of tributes walk out with their mentor and escort. She recognizes them to be from Eleven, only able to remember because that’s the Reaping that Riley stormed off after. 

They’re the two kids, their mentor being Dina Woodward who won the 66th Games at age thirteen. She’s infamously kind to her younger tributes as she’s able to relate to their youth. The Capitol is split directly in half, one portion adoring her for the empathy whilst the opposing portion loathes her for it.

As they walk past, Dina offers Joel a kind nod that he returns. She pushes the heavy double doors open, holding them ajar for her little tributes to saunter through. Joel only turns back to Ellie after Dina has shut the door behind them.

“Ya have to be more careful.” He tells her harshly. “If anyone, even Dina, overheard that you’re smokin’ in the Capitol, we could get into a shitload o’ trouble. Me specifically, since they can’t do anythin’ to you before the Games. But still.”

“I get it.” Ellie scoffs. “I didn’t even say anything while she was out here, anyway.”

“Well still.” He crosses his arms. “What’d ya wanna ask me?”

“Why’re you helping me?” She inquires, eyes narrowing in distrust. “You were a complete dick when we first met and now you’re giving me illegal solutions to help my nerves. Why even bother if you think Y/n will kill me?”

Joel sighs through his nose, leaning back. “I had a talk with a friend last night.”

“At the dinner party?”

“Yep.” He concurs. “She kinda lit into me ‘n’ said I need to at least try with my tributes. See, I wouldn't usually take such hard criticism, but t’ argue with Teresa Servopoulos is a fuckin’ death wish.”

“That’s..” Ellie trails off, trying hard to remember which District she’s from. But her mind is blank. She knows Tess is a mentor, which would explain her presence at the dinner party last night, but Ellie can’t seem to recall anything else about her.

“District Three.” Joel says, picking up on Ellie’s contemplation. “Victor ‘f the 55th Games.”

“Oh yeah.” She says. “She won the year before you did.”

“Yeah, she–”

Joel is cut off by the elevator doors opening again. From them, District Two’s crew exits. Ellie stiffens at the sight of Abigail Anderson’s strong build. The braided girl scowls at Joel, her gaze so sharp it could cut through the tension that’s suddenly accumulated within the hall. Had Ellie not just had that funky dream about Abigail’s arena, she’d likely have not thought anything of her presence. But she did and so she does.

She won last year’s Games, taking over mentorship from Melanie Moore. Abigail’s victory allowed Melanie to move to District Ten, where she instantly wed Owen Moore — winner of the 70th Games. Their relationship gathered a lot of attention from the Capitol as people gushed over their love story, much to Melanie’s distaste. This year is the first time in seven years that Melanie isn’t the mentor for Two. Which is a shame because the tributes appear to have already picked up Abigail’s insolence. Lev and Yara walk shoulder to shoulder, glaring at Joel just as their mentor is.

Joel frowns, though he seems more upset than angry at their show of distaste. Once they’ve entered the training rooms, Ellie turns to him. “Geez, what’s her problem?”

“Uh,” He pauses, thinking on how best to explain, “Her father, Jerry, was Reaped the same year that I was. And, well, only one victor can win, so–”

“I get it.” Ellie nods, feeling a sense of solemnity to his tone. It’s unsettling to hear from such a naturally rough man. Joel’s Games were aired when Ellie was three years old, so she doesn’t recall much from them. The Capitol replays highlights from past Games, but it’s not the same. She knows only what the Capitol deems important — his most brutal kill, him running in the opposite direction from the Cornucopia, and his final kill. Jerry Anderson isn’t among that.

“C’mon, kid.” Joel says, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Let’s go.”

Ellie nods, following him down the hall to the training rooms. The interior is exactly like the outside, a big metal box made of tile, glass, and concrete. A large circle is formed at the center of the room, all the tributes and their corresponding mentors and escort encircling an athletic man who’s preaching explanations, schedules, and rules for training here. There are stations set all around, an expert in each skill located there, willing to offer help to the tributes. The escorts and mentors all leave once the instructions are finished.

Ellie watches them depart. The crowd of them is plagued with ambivalence; the escorts exude an air of wealth and elegance reserved only for someone raised in the Capitol, whereas the mentors exude strength, honor, and dignity reserved for killers who won past Games via brutality. 

As the doors close behind them, she watches through the cracks as pairs are formed. She sees Joel and Tess begin talking with a blonde woman she recognizes to be Maria Miller — she married into Joel's family by marrying his little brother. Joel doesn’t talk about him much. Abigail and Owen also seem to instantly turn to each other, as do Tilly and Alice. And, before she can see any other duo, the doors close fully. She turns back around to see the rest of the circle has dispersed.

Her instinct is to look for Riley, though she quickly discards that instinct and walks over to an empty station without reading what it’s for. A short, hoary man welcomes her to the plant section. She withholds a sigh, now realizing why it was empty. Everyone else fled to the weapons.

“Plants are much more important that most people realize, you see.” Says the old man, picking up a small bunch of berries. “What does this look like?”

“That’s nightlock.” She says.

“Oh, uh-” The man’s brow furrows.

It’s clear he was expecting her to say ‘Those look like blueberries, I would totally eat them!’ but she didn’t. Ellie hunted in the woods in Seven often enough to know her way around which plants are and aren't edible. She feels bad for the man, as she looks clearly upset. It’s not her fault, though, she hadn’t meant to come over here.

“What are nightlock berries?” Asks a small voice from beside her. Ellie jolts at the sudden presence of another, turning to face the owner of the voice. A small girl with dark skin and coiled hair stands to her side. She’s from Eleven, one of Dina Woodward’s tributes. 

“Oh, I’m glad you asked.” The old man grins. “Nightlock is a wild plant that grows small purple berries below its pointed leaves. They’re extremely poisonous to anyone who eats them. You’d be dead before they even reach your stomach.”

“Woah,” The girl whispers, looking at the pomes with wide eyes. “I never would’ve guessed such little things could cause such big reactions.”

The man chuckles, “Yes, nightlock is not something to underestimate.”

As the two of them fall into a long conversation about plants, Ellie slowly backs away from the scene and exits the station. She knows well enough not to sit at stations she doesn’t need to sit at, doing so would be a waste of everyone’s time. But then again, perhaps it was a good thing. Everyone is learning, yes, but they’re also watching. She feels the careers’ eyes pinned to her as she exits the plant station. Everyone is observing everyone, learning their weaknesses and strengths.

For Ellie to walk into the plant section first, they’ll assume she knows nothing about it. They’ll underestimate her. And, much like the poisoned berries, it’s a foolish thing to do. An idea pops into her head as she walks over to the archery section.

A few other people are there, she counts three. Henry from Three, showing his little brother how to aim an arrow at a target; Ariadne from Five, who’s hitting the bullseye each time; and the other little kid from Eleven, whose name Ellie doesn’t know, attempting to hold the bow with both hands. See, just from gazing across the space, she’s gathered enough information to be considered valuable. Ariadne Evans is a beast with a bow, Henry will likely be trying to teach Sam to use every weapon possible, and the little Eleven boy is horrible at long range.

Ellie walks over to the table, grabs a bow and quiver, then positions herself in front of one of the targets. The instructor offers assistance, though she refuses it easily. She feels a pair of eyes on her, though she doesn’t dare turn around. Every instinct in her body screams to hit the bullseye, to show off. But that’d be useless. Then her strengths would be revealed.

She positions the bow in her hand, holding it out a bit crookedly. She places the arrow on the string, purposely messing up a few times. Then, with both eyes open and her back slightly hunched, she releases the arrow. It clatters against the floor and Ellie huffs, feigning annoyance. She does this three more times before setting the bow and quiver on the table and storming off, appearing to have given up on archery.

As she leaves the station, she does a quick assessment. Three people had been watching her. Nolan Barlowe from Ten — the buff guy who looked overjoyed to have been Reaped. Thalia Thatcher from One — the younger sister of the 68th victor. And, finally, you. The literal best people to have put an impression on. You three are the most threatening. If she’s underestimated, all the better.

You’re leaned against the wall, arms crossed as you observe everyone with sharp eyes. She fights a smile at the sight. You look the polar opposite of who she’d smoked with last night. Your gaze remains steady as you eye her from across the room. 

Right. You’re not supposed to know each other aside from brief passing. 

She is amused by your technique, though it’s the single most cockiest thing she’d ever seen. You’re not training with everyone else, instead opting to watch as though you’re superior. It exudes the idea that you don’t need to train, which Ellie assumes is the case. 

She walks over to another station, struggling to ignore the way your eyes follow her every move. The station happens to be spear throwing — which won’t be hard for her to suck at because she does suck at it. Throwing the overlarge stick over her head and hitting a target? Yeah, it’s not exactly something she practices back in Seven. There’s no need to spear while hunting as it just damages the meat. Had there been any bodies of water in her District, which there’s not, she’d perhaps have learned it through fishing. 

She vaguely wonders if you’re good with a spear, being from Four and all. She then recalls what you’d said about not being in the ocean much. God, it pisses her off how secretive you are. There’s a fifty-fifty chance that you know how to spear. You’ve clearly trained a lot, so you’ve likely practiced with it. But also, she knows you went to the ocean sparingly.

Two other people are at the spear station — Nolan Barlowe, and an old man she doesn’t recognize at all. She doesn’t even remember him being Reaped. Oh. He must be from Twelve because she hadn’t watched their program when it aired.

He watches her with a glint of something unreadable in his eye. It makes her stomach churn as she grabs a spear.

There are human-shaped mannequins against the wall for tributes to practice hitting. Nolan sees Ellie and scoffs under his breath. At first, it irritates her. But then she remembers this is her plan: look weak and be underestimated. She sighs, feigning recluse toward his show of disregard. He keeps his eyes locked on hers as he throws the spear without looking, the blade wedging right between the mannequin’s eyes. She swallows, this time not needing to feign her unease. I mean, seriously, who practices with a spear in their freetime?

Ellie shifts as the two men practice on either side of her. She adjusts the spear in her grasp, dramatizing her oblivion. 

Do I hold it with one or two hands? She thinks to herself. The fuck do I do with my elbows? 

With a grunt, she throws the spear at the target. She shocks herself when the blade wedges in the mannequin’s heart. She’d fully expected to miss. Nolan’s brows furrow in curiosity. Ellie grabs another spear, desperately needing to undo what she’d just done. She holds it the same way as before, muttering under her breath to remember how exactly she’d done it. She then tosses it halfheartedly, the spear landing three feet in front of the mannequin. She frowns and Nolan chuckles.

“I knew it was just beginner’s luck.” He says with a scoff, causing the man from Twelve to chuckle. Ellie sighs, fighting the urge to argue with him. Instead, she scowls at them both as though she’s terribly offended, then storms off. 

The next hour in the training rooms is spent doing the same thing. Sometimes, she actually feels like she could get the hang of some weapons. She finds herself quite enjoying small throwing knives, though she purposely drops them when she notices herself getting better with them. She also, shockingly enough, is good at just straight up hitting things. She’d used a crowbar as a weapon and scared the trainer, who was forced to take a few steps back to avoid being injured.

She’s noticed other tributes’ traits as well. Nolan hasn’t left the spear station, so it’s likely he’s only good at one thing. After half an hour in the archery section, Ariadne left to practice with a mace. And, terrifying as she is, she’s even better at that than with a bow, swinging it around like it weighs nothing. Ellie was also proven correct when she watched Henry escort Sam to each station, instructing him on how to use every weapon. Lev and Yara are both scary with a bow as well, having even better aim than Ellie herself. The couple, Roland and Archie, don’t dare stray a foot from one another, bound together at the hip. She’s also noticed that Riley has been trying different stations, though she’s careful not to be near the one Ellie is currently at. She’s stayed away from the axes, not daring to show off her skill with them just yet.

Ellie is walking over to the fire-making station when she feels a tap on her shoulder. She whips around to see you standing behind her, finally having peeled away from your wall. Your gaze is steady as you watch her, looking every bit the threat you are.

“I need a partner at the combat station.” You tell her easily, casually. As though you’d never spoken before. Ellie gets flashbacks to doing this exact same act with Cat at the Remake Center. It makes her chest cave.

“And I’m your first choice?” She asks.

Everyone’s eyes are pinned to the two of you, though Ellie knows they’re far more interested in you than her. You haven’t left your wall for the entire hour of training, watching everyone with such closeness that there’s a heavy weight in the air. You’ve done naught but observe. It’s truly no shock that they all find it impossible to look away.

“Yes.” You say easily, your voice deceptively smooth.

She narrows her eyes, desperately trying to read what you’re thinking. Is it not foolish to be talking at all? She’d thought you two came to a silent agreement that speaking would give away your recent rendezvous. She continues to stare at you. But you’re a closed book, thoughts cryptic. But then you tilt your head at her, inclining her to reply.

Ellie shrugs, “Why not?”

With a threateningly alluring grin, you begin walking toward the large mats set to the side of the room. Ellie trails behind you. Nobody has used the mats yet, leaving the instructor to be sleeping in her chair. You kick off your shoes before stepping up to the ring. Ellie unlaces hers, taking a few moments longer than you did.

She’s still clueless on your logistics to this, to training with her. You’re the most feared. The tactic of refusing to show your strengths was honestly the smartest thing you could have done in your position, in spite of the clear show of pride. If you were to train with someone, it’d make best sense if you were to do so with your fellow tribute, though Remy is too small to fairly practice hand-to-hand with. Or you could train with the second strongest tribute present, which would either be Nolan or Ariadne. Or, possibly, the weakest, which would be– Oh. Well, shit. It’s Ellie. Perhaps she took her strategy too seriously. Yes, the children from Eleven are weaker than she is, but it’d be unfair for you to beat them up. Ellie is a year older than you and thereby your best option.

“No damage to the face.” You tell her as she pulls herself up onto the mat.

She looks around. A crowd has formed around the ring, everyone yearning to see you in action. Ellie feels a sense of pride at knowing she’s the one who gets to fight you. She turns to face you, realizing she has two options. She could keep up her weak facade, causing everyone to continue to underestimate her so she can easily sneak up in the arena — which is the wiser of the two. Or she can reveal that she’s not the useless girl she’s pretending to be — which is more satisfying. 

Ellie squares her shoulders, already coming to a decision. Fuck, her dignity will be the death of her.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She replies.

You chuckle, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Good to hear.”

Ellie holds up her fists, not at all knowing how to approach this. Are you a tackler or..? She knows that Marlene likes to keep her distance, dodging more than she punches. She knows that Riley uses her legs more than most people, sweeping or kicking her opponent. But you’re a mystery to her, to everyone. Do you rely on offense or defense more heavily? She knows Marlene uses–

Her thoughts are cut off by a blow to her gut. Ellie hunches over, not having even noticed you moving in on her. She’s quick to recover, though her stomach aches from your punch. 

The crowd remains silent as you two begin to circle each other, holding their breaths in anticipation. 

She watches you, taking in the way you step and the way your fists are idly positioned in front of you. But you’re giving no signs toward your next move, completely closed off. She decides to make the move this time, aiming for your jaw despite her agreement of ‘No damage to the face’. You evade her easily, light on your feet as you back out of her reach. 

Ellie comes forward, attacking again. She’s fast. Fast enough that you’re unable to dodge her fist to your ribs. Breath is forced from your lungs at the impact. Ellie is momentarily proud of herself. But that's before she realizes all she managed to do was rile you up.

Your leg collides with her side before she registers the movement. The same side that you’d punched in the beginning. While she’s still catching her breath, you grab her by the arm and twist it around her back. She grunts at the ache in her shoulder. 

Your lips caress the shell of her ear as you whisper, “I knew you were a good pick.” before then shoving her hard in the back, sending her stumbling forward.

She’s quick to spin around to face you. It pisses her off to see that you appear unmoved, standing in the same spot as before without so much as a hair out of place. You move with fluidity, like a dance. More than that, you’re calculative. You already know Ellie’s style. 

You close in on her, reeling your arm back and aiming for the face. Apparently, you’ve both abandoned the agreement. Ellie ducks under your fist, taking advantage of your unprotected stomach, punching you hard in the gut. Exactly where you’d hit her. It’s childish, but it makes her feel a sense of satisfaction as you buckle over.

The satisfaction is short lived as your ankle is suddenly coming at her face. She twists, grabbing you by the calf and using her own leg to sweep you off your feet. Your back slams against the mat. Hard. Ellie stands over you with a shit eating grin.  

“Still think I’m a good pick?” She asks, crouching to taunt you. You’re splayed across the mat, chest heaving. Sweat clings to your hairline, your lips parted. Ellie’s stomach flips at the sight, though she’s careful not to show it.

A smirk tugs at your lips, “I knew you weren’t weak.”

“Is that why you chose me?” She chuckles. “To prove to yourself that–”

She's cut off when both your feet fly into her stomach. She coughs, staggering backward as you hop to your feet. You’re instantly on her, hands on her shoulders before you drive your knee into her gut. Once. Twice. Three times before Ellie notices your face has been left unguarded by your busy hands. Her fist collides with your jaw. Your head snaps to the side. She’s quick to use your momentary shock to her advantage, tackling you to the ground.

You slam against the mat, on your back once more. This time, she’s wise enough to hold you down. Ellie’s knees are on either side of your torso as she pins your wrists above your head. You pant heavily as she grins down at you. You scowl up at her, brows contorted into a furrow. But then, all at once, your expression does a 180 and you’re smirking with just as much titillation as she. You squirm under her, causing Ellie’s grip to tighten on your wrists.

“Y’know,” You say through heavy breaths of exertion, “If it weren’t for our current situation, this could be a rather fun position.”

Ellie’s face flushes, her eyes widening. Her focus slips and your grin widens. Unbeknownst to her, that was your only intention — to get her to slip up, to be taken aback just long enough for you to change the game. You buck your hips hard enough to roll her over. You straddle her waist as Ellie pants beneath you, glaring. 

“That wasn’t fair.” She says.

“It worked, though, did it not?” You point out with a grin. She groans, tipping her head back against the mat in defeat. She can feel every movement you make, your bodies close enough together that she’s sure you could count the freckles on her face, if you so desired. “What’s your next plan, Williams?”

“I’m thinking.” She grunts. “I could headbutt you, but that’d damage your face.”

“Oh, so now you care about that.”

“I don’t want your stylist killing me in my sleep.” 

“Ah, she’s far too kind for that.”

“Is she?” 

Ellie thinks of Cat, wondering what she’d make of this. Do you have a similar relationship with your stylist? She doubts it. What she and Cat have is highly illegal and could result in both of them being turned to Avoxes if they were ever found out. You’re far too reputable to risk such a thing. But then again, most stylists barely even talk to their tributes. 

She wonders, wonders, and wonders when it comes to you. A mystery, you are. An enigmatic book so foreign to her she’s unsure where to even begin to read you. The words blur and the page numbers shuffle, forming an unintelligible story left unread by all. 

“What an odd tone, that was.” You say. Ellie hopes you’re unwise enough to not recognize it as jealousy. To imagine you with your stylist as she was with hers is a sight she wishes to remain as such an enigma.

“I yield.” Ellie says, cutting the conversation short via surrender.

The crowd hums with conversation. Everyone knew you would win anyway, though they’re shocked at the fight Ellie was willing to put up against you. They disperse as you climb to your feet, offering Ellie your hand. She takes it, standing.

She briefly catches the sight of Riley’s face as she’s pulled up. Scowling, condescending. Not at all an expression one would reserve for their lifelong best friend. It makes her stomach twist and she quickly releases your hand. You don’t seem to think much of it, walking over to put your shoes back on. She does the same. 

And with that, you part ways as strangers. Which, with or without the rooftop acquaintance taken into consideration, is technically true.

21:37.

TRAINING CENTER, FLOOR 4.

“Did I or did I not say to avoid any type of combat?” Ruben asks, trying desperately to keep his tone level as he reprimands you for the bruise on your jaw. The moment you walked into the suite, he rushed to freak out over it whilst Alice gaped dramatically.

“I won.” You argue back, scowling at them both. “Plus, it’s not like I was hiding some big secret. They all know I can fight.”

“Yeah, well now they know your technique.” He says, pinching his nose in annoyance. “They know what you’d do in certain situations. They know if you prefer offense or defense, if you use your upper or lower body more, if you–”

“I get it.” You butt in, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Do you? Because it doesn't seem like you do.” Ruben snaps. 

He’s been, frankly, acting odd all day. You wonder if it has something to do with last night’s dinner. You want to ask about it, sitting at the foot of his bed with bright eyes as he speaks about his issues. But you can’t do that, no longer on that level of relation with him. 

You frown at him, fists clenching at your sides. “You’re not my fucking parent. I’m an adult and can handle the Games how I damn well please.”

“Well if you die, that’s on me. That’s my guilt to carry.”

Of fucking course. It only makes sense that he’s only interested in how your death would affect him, how guilty he would feel. Not once does he think of his little sister who would be the dead one, buried six feet under the dirt.

“Great. Then you add my death to your fucking sob story.” You seethe. “Cry about it to your Capitol friends, maybe they’ll make you some new drugs.”

Ruben opens and closes his mouth a few times. His eyes are wide, clearly offended by your comment. A mixture of satisfaction and repent swirls within your gut, creating a recipe for cataclysm. You know this’ll end one of two ways — you and Ruben will get into a screaming match, taking after your parents in all the worst ways, or one of you’ll storm off and subsequently not talk for a long time. Both options result in misery, so you allow Ruben to make the choice.

Alice’s jaw is hanging open, resembling some sort of a fish gasping for air. She appears absolutely appalled by your audacity to insult Ruben in such a way. It takes everything in you not to wipe that expression clean off her face.

“You say some really fucked up shit when you’re mad.” Ruben says, voice quiet. “Y’know who else used to do that?”

You say nothing, already knowing his answer. You hope your lack of indulgence will prevent him from saying the name, but it doesn’t. He speaks it nonetheless, spit with such venom that your jaw twitches.

“Your father.”

Something deep in your chest yearns to lash out again, to bear your words like daggers ready to slice him open with their cruelty. It’s an insatiable, carnal desire that’s followed you all your life, looming over you like a shadow. Anger is so quick to wrap his hands around your throat, so hasty in pulling the strings like a sadistic puppeteer. You only now register that it’s not Anger causing this, it’s you. The blood in your veins and the nitrogenous bases in your DNA that tether you to your father. There’s nobody, nothing else to inculpate aside from your own heritage.

You crave the sweet release of shouting at him, imagining the hurt look on his face. Despite knowing the satisfaction won’t last long before guilt replaces it, you still want it. To inevitably hurt the ones you love, what a curse that is.

As said, there are two options from here and you take the latter. With a heavy huff of anger and a clenched jaw, you turn on your heel and storm out of the suite. You’re on the rooftop before you’re even able to register how you’d gotten there.

You were supposed to be here half an hour ago, having promised Ellie to meet at the same time as last night. You desperately hope she hasn’t left yet, for you really want a cigarette.

“Look who finally showed up.” her voice is heard before her form is seen. You turn toward it to see Ellie leaned against the railing opposite of the one you’d occupied the night prior. Fair skin and freckles dance under the silver moonlight cast upon them, auburn hair a flame against the darkness.

She already has it lit between her fingers and you refrain from lunging toward it. 

You wave off her comment, walking toward her.“Yeah something came up.”

“Such as?”

“A desperate need for some food.” You lie. “Didn’t mean to take so long, Capitol meals are just too good to turn down.”

Ellie chuckles, mindlessly passing you the cig. You take it, placing it in your mouth with an animalistic hunger that only causes her laughter to grow laced with amusement. The smoke fills your lungs and clouds your head, a momentary sense of tranquility washing over you. It causes the sting from Ruben’s words to not burn so much, easing the wound he’d left like intangible ointment.

You begrudgingly pass it back to Ellie, staring at her as she inhales. There aren’t any bruises on her face, which is rather unfair as you’re certain you got a lot of punches in. Well, you suppose they were mostly aimed at her stomach and ribs. Shame.

“Why’d you choose me?” She says into the chilled night air, breath fogged. It takes you a moment to realize what exactly she’s referring to.

“As a combat partner?”

“Yeah,” She confirms, “If you wanted strong, you could’ve asked Nolan or Ariadne. If you wanted weak, you could have asked Selene or Elliot.”

“I didn’t want them, though. I wanted you.”

Her mouth twitches at this, though she simply speaks, “But why?” “Because I knew your frailty was an act.” You shrug, swiping the cig from her. “You’re a good actor, a great one even. But I know what it looks like to enjoy something. And you really enjoyed that archery station. The spear and the crowbar too, just not as much. And, oh, how could I forget your cute little plant section?”

“Okay, stalker.” She huffs as you laugh. 

“I was watching everyone, Ellie. Don’t feel too special.”

“Awh,” She feigns a pout, “I was just beginning to.”

It’s comfortable here, on a roof of solace. It’s like a secret oasis shielded away from the rest of the world, obtained only by the two of you. It’s nice, perhaps too nice. You’ve formed a bad habit of distrusting things when they grow too good to believe. As you pass the cigarette back to Ellie, your mind comes up with countless scenarios of how this could end — you get caught, cast out of the games, and turned into tongueless Avoxes; or maybe you don’t get caught, become good friends, then you’re forced to kill her in the arena. No matter how this goes, the ending is the same. Inevitable loss of comfort. 

Ellie remains silent beside you, comfortable in the lack of conversation. She overlooks the city, the lights reflecting within her viridescent eyes. You imagine the way the light will leave them in the arena. Because, amid the infinite scenarios in your mind, there’s not a single one that entails you losing the games. Whether you’re the one to take Ellie’s life or not, she won’t live.

“Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask, desirous for an off-switch to your thoughts.

Ellie’s eyes remain on the scene below as she responds. “The higher Districts might train for the games, but the lower ones are taught to defend themselves.”

“From what?”

“Anything?” She shrugs. “Everything.”

You hadn’t thought of it that way, as an act of defense. Of course you’re aware that’s what fighting is for. But you were raised into thinking it was a fact of life — you’d been expected to know how to take an enemy down at the age of seven. You were trained to fight with Ruben before you used the holograms. 

“Well who was your practice partner?” You ask. “Back in seven.”

You hadn’t thought much of the question, though it causes Ellie’s expression to falter. Her lips tighten as she passes you the cigarette. “It was interchangeable between my caretaker and Riley.”

Oh. Okay yeah, that was your fault. You’d completely forgotten about her stifled relationship with her best friend. Guilt traces up your spine. You want to ask what she means by caretaker, but you decide against prying for more information. 

Although she’s good at hiding it, Ellie’s expression is rather dejected. At the sight, you feel the need to offer a fair trade. To give her information about yourself that’s not so easy.

“Mine was my brother.” You say softly, turning toward the city before inhaling the smoke. It’s her turn to stare at you while you observe the city. Her eyes bore into the side of your face and you fight the urge to look at their greenery.

“Are you guys, uh,” She trails off, sounding unsure on how to approach this. “What’s your relationship like? Currently, I mean. You— well, I know you used to be close because you said he took you to the ocean as a kid. And, uh,” 

Her rambling makes you laugh, lightening the ache in your chest.

“We’re not so close anymore.” You admit, passing. Her brows furrow, clearly wanting to ask more. You appreciate her forbearing from doing so, though you know she deserves honesty. If you wish to pry as much as you do, you can’t expect to not return such an endeavour. In a much quieter voice, you speak, “He wasn’t the same after his Games.”

Ellie frowns, “I wouldn’t expect anyone to be, considering what the tributes are put through.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “It was just, really bad.”

She nods in understanding, though you know she doesn’t exactly have many details. “I’ve lost people too.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I was a baby but yeah.” She says, quick to undermine her own losses in comparison to yours. It’s endearing. “Both my parents passed when I was an infant. I was raised by my mom’s best friend, Marlene. She’s cool and all but– Well, she’s not my mom. And she makes no effort to act as one.”

You’re quick to recall Ellie referring to Marlene as her caretaker. Well, now you know why.

Ellie turns, looking out at the horizon. Her face is illuminated by the moonlight, smoothing her skin and shining her hair. She breathes out a cloud of smoke, clouding the cool air.

You’re not sure what to say, unused to having people confide in you. Are you supposed to tell her more about yourself as to relate to what she’s saying? Or would that be self-centered? Just as you’re about to spew out a random response, Ellie speaks up, swiftly changing the topic. Thankfully.

“I don’t tell many people emotional shit like that.” She admits. “But, for some reason, that’s all you and I seem to talk about — sentimental crap.” She then turns back to face you, your eyes meeting for a moment. Something passes between you, her gaze sharp but in a watchful way rather than a predatory one. She hands you the cigarette. “Tell me something about you. Something conversational.”

“Like what?” 

“What’s your favorite color? Who’s your biggest inspiration? What’re your hobbies?” She lists off, counting each point on her fingers. 

“I don’t really have hobbies.” You say, huffing a laugh. “Don’t have time for them.”

“That’s impossible, everyone has hobbies.”

You hum as you inhale the smoke, thinking. You truly can’t think of anything. You’re normally too busy with your mother’s training or retrieving game from mister Alden. When you finally think of something, it’s from your past. Long before Ruben left, when you were allowed to be a kid. “I used to enjoy writing poetry when I was younger, though it was no good.”

“See, that’s a great hobby.” Ellie smiles encouragingly, nudging your shoulder. 

“Okay, then. What’s yours?” You redirect, narrowing your eyes at her.

She grins even wider, already knowing her answer. “Hunting, gardening, doodling, painting, reading comic–”

“Painting?” You ask, mildly shocked by this.

“I mean, it’s the one I do the least out of them all, but–” “What do you paint?”

Her brows raise at your sudden interest. “Depends on the day. Sometimes I paint people, though I can never get the proportions right so I only end up pissed at myself by the end. Sometimes I paint abstractly, but I can never figure out what the end result depicts because it’s just a big burst of colors and vague shapes. Ninety percent of the time, they’re landscapes. Of the woods, of the road by my house, of the abandoned mill. Anything, really.”

“Hm, I didn’t really take you as a painter.”

“I’m not, really. I mostly just doodle in my notebook.” She says. “I only paint when I want to create something bigger than the journal’s confines.”

“Is that what you brought with you? Into the arena?”

“No. That would've been a good idea, though.” She shakes her head, clearly disappointed in herself for not having thought of that before you. 

“What’d you bring, then?” You ask. She holds out her hand in response. On her right index finger resides a thick metal ring, shaped as a moth. The creature’s wings wrap around her finger, body thin. It’s so intricate, so detailed. You lean closer to get a better look. “Is it a family heirloom or something?”

“No, uh,” She falters as she decides on how to answer. You straighten, still looking at the ring even after her hands have been dropped back down to her sides. “It’s from a friend.”

“So is mine.” You tell her before reaching up to touch your necklace. Ellie looks at it, eyes tracing the line of your collarbone all the way down to the pearl pendant. She reaches out, fingertips grazing the thin chain. Her hands are cold, causing your breath to hitch. She notices and is quick to pull her hands away, clearing her throat awkwardly.

She turns back toward the Capitol, you do the same. The city is asleep, the lights all turned off in the windows as the streets are naked of vehicles. You wonder if there’s a curfew, though you doubt it. Capitolites rarely have rules.

You imagine yourself living here, residing in an overpriced home that you won’t be charged a penny for. You’d be tended to by a vast quantity of Avoxes, never hearing any of their voices. The home would be yours to keep and yours to design. There’d be blue everywhere, subtle reminders of your life back at Four and the salty ocean that mister Alden would put through each visit on his skiff. The thought sounds nice at first, the luxury of it all. But the finer details — owning people, never seeing the ocean again — those are what get you. Not to mention all the parties you’d have to attend. All Capitolites are made to attend the more prestigious parties, mandatory under President Fedra’s decree. But then another thought crosses your mind. You’d have to win the Games first. To even be pondering on your life after them, you’ll have to survive before all else. The idea sickens you as it never has before. At first, you think it’s because you'll have to kill people, a thought that’s never sat right in regards to your morals. But then, as Ellie passes you the cigarette, the cool metal of her ring brushing your finger, you realize it’s not only that. It’s not the fact that you’ll have to kill people. It’s the fact that you'll have to kill her.

[post] notes!! i'm gonna be so fr, i only edited half of this chapter bc its SO fucking longggg (sorry ab that btw). i normally try to reread & edit as i go, but i seem to have abandoned that process #whoopsies!!

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[ladyloveandjustice]

My Top 12 Favorite Anime of 2024 (and more)!

We had a lot of good anime in 2024, so here's the list of my top 12 favorites and some bonus great anime as well. If you get tired of clicking the review links, check out my anime overview collection for all of them here.  

(There are a couple anime on here I never gave an official review due to not watching during the season they were airing, and their sections are a bit longer) These are in no particular order!

Delicious in Dungeon (a.k.a Dungeon Meshi)

Dungeon Meshi  is one of my favorite stories period, and easily my top anime of the year. The basic premise is that Laios and his party of adventurers need to travel through a monster-infested dungeon rescue his sister. Rather waste precious time earning money for food, Laios decides they should just eat the monsters they encounter as they travel. But then that simple plot spins off into so much more...

The story combines cooking and adventure animanga expertly. It has some of the most impressive and fascinating worldbuilding I've ever seen, top-tier varied character design and a great plot. It's also funny as hell, and I love its main cast of nuanced eccentric weirdos with all my heart. Even the characters who have five minutes of screen time feel like you could watch a spin-off series about them.

It's not just about food, but the cycle of life and death, about hunger of all kinds, about ecosystems and societies and finding solace in the monstrous...there's a lot simmering under this story!

So, go ahead and eat up! And read my review here for more!

Mayonaka Punch

Canceled YouTuber, Masaki, meets a pathetic lesbian vampire, Live. Live agrees to help Masaki launch a new YouTube channel, but in exchange, Masaki has to let Live suck up all her blood when they reach 100 million subscribers.

 This is the kind of stuff I watch anime for. This is what dreams are made of.

Do you support women's wrongs? Are you craving some women who are loveable shitheads? Do you want a great ensemble comedy about five disaster vampires wreaking havoc and a cynical human along for the ride? This show has all that, plus some down bad lesbian vampire shenanigans! But there's also a lot of growth for the main character, and the show has a lot of pathos in how it explores how the internet and its outrage train can do a number on one's mental health.

It's a ton of fun! See my full review here!

Magilumiere Magical Girls Inc.

Being a magical girl is no longer the domain of teenagers, and has evolved into an actual career dominated by adult women. Kana becomes a magical girl for a scrappy start up company, and tries her best to navigate working life.

It's the magical girl story about adult women I've been craving for years! Magical girl media often explores the struggles of adolescence and growing up, and this show takes us to the next step by using magical girls to explore what it’s like to be a young woman entering the working world. The focus is one Kana struggling to grow her confidence and accept support from her workplace, but it also has a lot to say about companies exploiting their workers, prizing efficiency and growth over actually taking care of their customers, and it shows how the world could be better than what it is right now. Check out my review here for more detail!

Girls Band Cry

After being bullied, Nina drops out school and ends up starting a band with four other girls, including the woman whose music saved her at her darkest moment. Nina's determined for the band to stick it to the people who once looked down on them. GBC features some wonderfully messy and entertaining teenage girls, actually incredible CGI animation and great music. Nina, the lead, is allowed to be angry and obnoxious and powered by spite, but the narrative sympathizes with her and loves her spirit, even if she sometimes messes things up. All the girls have rough edges and raw emotion and a great dynamic with each other. They also flip people off a lot.

It was kind of screwed over by streaming, but don't sleep on it! See my review here!

Natsume's Book of Friends (Season 7) 

Anime's sweetest boy and his horrible cat (affectionate) are back, and it's time for more yokai adventures! I’ve already talked at length about how this series is special–check out my series review/ Rec post for the series here. I also did an article titled The Courage to Speak: Mental Illness and Recovery in Natsume’s Book of Friends that goes into more in-depth analysis. The story is sweet and charming and sometimes heartwrenching and very important to me.

It's yet another season of lovely, bittersweet yokai tales that tug on your heartstrings, the characters continue to heal and grow in slow but satisfying ways. It just feels so nice watching this series again and letting the love, comfort, and catharsis wash over me. See my review here.

Dead Dead Demon's DeDeDeDe Destruction

A giant mothership is hovering over Tokyo. The aliens have done nothing, not even leaving their ship, but Japan and America are already trying to blow that UFO up, and show off who has the best weapons, causing many civilian casualties along the way. Meanwhile, two girls are just trying to living their lives.

This anime goes hard on criticizing the military industrial complex, Japanese nationalism and imperialism, American imperialism, xenophobia, mistreatment of immigrants, rich people, and conspiracy theorists. That means it's often devastating and visceral, but it also follows some fantastic weird girls and their ride-or-die soul bond, as well as other charming, funny teenagers who are just trying to live in a world falling apart around them. You can also look forward to some plot twists that recontextualize everything you know!

You should also see my review for some content warnings and a really important message about episode order if you want more detail, you can read it here.

Senpai is an Otokonoko

 Makoto is an "otokonoko" ( a term that means crossdressing boy) and he's figuring out his relationship to gender, and hiding his interests from his mother. A girl named Aoi confesses to him, thinking he's a girl. But he reveals the truth, she's ecstatic about it, much to his shock. Meanwhile, Makoto's best friend Ryuji is also crushing on him...

It's tough to be a queer kid in a world full of rigid gender roles and insidious homophobia, and this anime shows the unfairness of that struggle. But it also shows the joy of finding those who accept and understand you, and of slowly becoming comfortable with who you are. The show knows how to make you really roots for these great kids, and it's really good at tugging the ol' heartstrings. See my review here for more!

A Sign of Affection

The anime follows Yuki, a shy girl who's been deaf since birth, and Itsuomi, a world-traveler and polyglot, fall in love. They both live in very different worlds, but as their romance blooms, they're eager to learn more about each other.

A Sign of Affection is shoujo romance at its sweetest, with soft colors, gentle blushes, tender moments, and plenty of warm fuzzies. The animation is beautiful and the show treats Yuki's perspective with care and delicacy as the story goes on. It also have a great focus on communication and consent in a relationship. Read my review here! 

YATAGARASU: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master

In this world, people have the ability to shapeshift into yatagarasu, the giant three legged ravens from Japanese mythology. Prince Wakamiya, who's next in line for the emperor, is thought to be an incarnation of the powerful "Golden Raven", so the four women chosen as his bride candidates (each who carry the hopes of their respective provinces) compete fiercely for his hand. Yukiya, a canny young boy, has been pulled into being the prince's attendant, and both Yukiya and the women soon find themselves pulled into a deadly web of mysteries and political machinations.

Yatagarasu is a tightly woven tale of political intrigue, featuring lots of palace folk plotting against each other, multiple assassination attempts, spies, fascinating worldbuilding and use of mythology, well executed plot twists, and complex characters. Yukiya is a very likeable little trickster with a heart of gold, and he works well as an audience surrogate who has to keep up with all this weird court drama. In the first half, the story focuses a lot on on women contending with rigid roles and how that leads to both enmity and empathy between them. But disappointingly, most of those characters are dropped or have their roles reduced in the second half of the anime, which is a shame.

Overall, this anime is a story that hooks you with it's story and it's dark, majestic atmosphere and never lets go.cIt's just plain good, and pretty underrated, so I'd suggest checking it out!

The Apothecary Diaries (Episodes 13-24)

The second half of The Apothecary Diaries was somehow even better than the first half, crafting a compelling ongoing mystery and delving into MaoMao’s backstory. There were quite a few big thrills that made me gasp aloud. MaoMao, the world's best poison-obsessed detective, pulled off some show-stopping feats and she remains an incredible, endearing character. Especially now that we’ve learned she has a killer evil laugh. Check out my review of the first part of The Apothecary Diaries here and slightly more detail on this run of episodes here.

Dandadan

 Another one you've probably heard of, it's the story of two kids- Momo, who was abducted by aliens and Okarun, who was cursed by a yokai. Now they have to break Okarun's curese while aliens and yokai are hunting them!

Dandadan is an anime bursting with absurd action and humor, and it has a boppin’ soundtrack and amazing animation from Science Saru. It’s wildly weird in the best way, and the characters are hilarious lovable losers. It's also the rare example of a battle shonen that actually treats its female lead as an equal to her male partner, in screen time and in battle. I adore Momo with all my heart- she's fun, she's bombastic, she's badass, she's everything.

However, the main problem I have with the show is its pattern of putting Momo in sexual peril. I go into more detail about this and the show in general in my review here.

Train to the End of the World

 A story about four girls and a dog traveling across a weird, warped version of Japan to find their missing friend, Train to the End of the World is wild. I absolutely adore bizarre anime about equally bizarre girls, and this delivers. We see the girls encounter a cult with mushrooms growing out of their heads, screaming goatmen and even zombies on their journey. The dynamic between the different characters is great, and the dialogue is snappy. If you appreciate wild and weird zaniness that also has a lot of heart and great friendships, give this show a try. My full review is here.

Bonus Anime- some other stuff you might want to check out!

Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?!

Despite an extremely goofy title Cherry Magic quickly became a surprisingly grounded, thoughtful and heartfelt BL romance worth watching. See my full review here.

7th Time Loop: The Villainess Enjoys a Carefree Life Married to Her Worst Enemy!

Rishe has lived seven lives, had lots of adventures, and in every single one of them, she has been killed as result of the world war started by the emperor of a neighboring kingdom. Each time Rishe dies, she's sent back to the moment the crown prince of her own country broke off their engagement (she's actually pretty happy about it). But in her seventh life, the future Emperor sees her, is instantly smitten by how cool she is and proposes to her. Rishe decides she might as well enjoy life chilling in the palace before things inevitably go to hell.

7th Time Loop has a fun conceit, and it features a vivacious, badass heroine who's a joy to watch. Having lived as a commoner in most of her past lives, she's ready to use her smarts to help people--whether it's going undercover to help a maid who's being bullied or addressing illiteracy among the servant girls. Whether she's beating up kidnappers or politically maneuvering, she's learning and growing and kicking ass. While her love interest is a bit too broody for me, I do deeply relate to how Rishe's badassery clearly turns him on. The antagonists and plot are sometimes a bit silly, but it's always a good time. A josei anime about an awesome gal is just what the doctor ordered.

Acro Trip

A silly show about a magical girl fangirl who's recruited to an evil organization by an incompetent villain,  Acro Trip is a lot of fun, and I recommend it to any magical girl enjoyer. I also recommend it to anyone who loves pathetic failguys and girls. Our "villain" Chrome is the most hilariously pathetic of them all. You like bad boys? Well this man is literally bad at everything. See my full review here.

Whisper Me a Love Song

 I have to give a shoutout to the only textual yuri anime that came out this year--it's production basically completely collapsed, but it's still watchable and the story is a sweet and solid girl band romance. At least consider giving the manga a shot if nothing else! See my review here!

[twstfanblog]

Little curious, but what’s Yuu’s genuine reaction to Malleus’s overblot and the first part of chapter seven? Like up to the point they’re still in Lilias dream? Like a lot of people said that it’s basically impossible for Malleus to overblot considering how much magic he has, but it’s legitimately supposed to be ACTUALLY IMPOSSIBLE for Idia considering his curse and he did.

But then comes Lilias withdrawl from school, the going away party, Malleus suddenly appearing with Silver, declaring he has a gift, Ortho yelling about an increase in blot, the students trying to fight Malleus and failing, Malleus’s signature spell, and maybe one of the last things Yuu sees before she are put into a magical sleep, is her date mates overblot before Yuu ‘wakes up’ in a dream

It's kind of funny in and out of context, honestly. Yuu basically crashed out during book 6. Like she was ripping panels and wiring out of shit to force open doors in STYX, home girl was NOT OK.

Book 7 is that X10. Literally Malleus overblots and she screams at him that he doesn't get to do this shit. Yuu's unknowingly and knowingly under a lot of mental strain and Malleus's overblot is just another two tons thrown on top of her. I've vaguely alluded to it and talked about it in private chats with mutuals, but my Yuu DOES have the prophetic dreams. She just doesnt remember them, and thats because Yuu is much more mentally aware in the dream scape.

There's story beat reasons for this. Because I also plan on Malleus trying to trap her in her own dream, but she fully rejects it. While Yuu's home life was far from ideal, she knows what her family was like and loved them anyway, anything different could never be accepted. But in an ideal world where everything is perfect and it's literally made for her happiness, the concept of loving but not LIKING your family isn't something Malleus could recreate properly. Yuu is happier in Twist, but she still holds a lot of fears about her situation and misses certain loved ones from her own world. The only way Yuu could have accepted her dream was a complete memory overhaul since her family trauma started basically when she was gaining long-term memory.

From what we see of the dreams, they're pretty standard 'What If' scenarios, and the characters arent really changed other than thinking one or two events went differently.

Yuu and Malleus will have a private chat in the void because Malleus genuinely does not understand why Yuu wouldn't want this perfected version of her family. Nor the false narrative that she always lived in Twist.

But during Lilia's dream, Yuu's just pushed down her own fears and emotions on the topic of Malleus's overblot and wants this to be OVER already. She is very 'Malleus, I love you, and your feelings are valid, but once this is over, I'm going to beat you to death with a laddle.'

[lunaandco]

i heard from a friend of a friend

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: ivet recovers her love for football thanks to some guys at the park. one of them wants to introduce her to a friend of his; or in which ivet meets gavi through a common friend.

taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia

masterlist // I do not take requests

The park was just two streets away from where Ivet lived. It wasn't the aesthetic and gentrified kind of Barcelona park she had grown up around, but a gray concrete and grafittied place that boys used to skate and play football.

Ivet crossed it every day to go to work, ignoring the itch on her legs to kick the ball every time it flew past her. She had played, once upon a time, with pigtails and her older brother's second hand kits and boots, but that time was long gone. Oscar had grown out of the sport when she was around fourteen, and without him it had not been as fun for her, so she ended up dropping out too.

That didn't mean she didn't miss it, the adrenaline, the power, the skill.

She had cried like a baby when Spain lifted the Women's World Cup, watching how a bunch of girls made a dream that she thought impossible reality; she had gotten drunk with her friends when the men lifted the Eurocup.

"Careful!" a voice called, while she was crossing the park. On pure reflex, Ivet controlled the ball that was hurled at her, quickly stopping the movement. She located the owners quickly, a bunch of guys that were staring at her as if she had grown a second head.

She made the pass, missing the ball the moment it left her feet.

"Woah," the guy that recueved the ball approached her. "Do you play? We're missing one!"

Ivet bit her lower lip. The offer was everything she had wanted to hear, but a bunch of strangers, specially male strangers, made her a little bit nervous. She mentally checked what she was wearing: comfortable sweats and a pair of trainers that, while they weren't ideal, they were good enough.

"Can I play?" she asked, not believing it yet.

"Please," replied the guy. "My name is Guille. This are Rafa. Marcos..." He gave her the names of the seven guys. Ivet replied shyly with hers.

"You play in my team, Javi, you change. We play with our shirts on, they play shirtless."

"Oh, c'mon, why do I have to change?"

"Well, she's not gonna play shirtless, is she?"

Javier could not argue against that logic, and pulled off his shirt.

"Let's fucking go."

Ivet wasn't fourteen anymore. It took her a while to get used to the pace, a bit rusty from the years without playing, but catching up in no time. Football was like riding a bike, in some ways. By the time they all had to go home, Ivet was sweating a big smile stretching her face.

"Damn, girl," Guille patted her back like she was one mkre of the gang. "Come back whenever you want, this was awesome."

Ivet did.

Once she had tasted the adrenaline of football once again, it was like she could not get enough.

"You're from Barcelona, right?" Asked Guille one of those days.

"Yeah, born and rised."

"Why are you here tho? In Sevilla?" Marcos took a swing of his soda can.

"My parents found a better job here."

"Damn. It's funny, you know. We have a friend that had to move to Barna a few years ago," Guille said. Marco stepped on his foot, a wordless way to tell him to shut up. "It's like you're replacing each other."

Ivet laughed it off, and returned to the game with them.

💙❤️

"Hey, where are the others?" Ivet asked Guille as she approached the park, and only him and Marcos were there.

"We are going to play at the sports centre today," explained Guille, a guilty expression on his face. "Our friend, the one from Barcelona is visiting, so we're doing this a little bit more fancy."

"Ah."

Ivet took a step back. It stung a little bit that after half a year of playing with them, she wasnt yet part of the group enough to know about thsese kind of change of plans, but she had never met the friend from Barcelona, so she understood why she hadn't been let on what the plans were about.

One thing she didn't understand was why the friend wanted to play at the sports centre and not the park. Obviously the centre had its advantages, artificial turf, proper goal posts and a big pitch that one could rent privately, but it seemed like a lot of hassle just because.

"But.. I was kind of hoping to introduce you two, today," added Guille. "Maybe you can join us, if y'all vibe nicely."

"Ah?"

"He's picking us up in—"

A car honk interrupted Marcos' explanation. The three of them turned to the expensive looking car by the street.

"Let's go!"

Guille grabbed Ivet by the wrist and pulled her towards the guy that was hopping off the car. He was Ivet's size, with broad shoulders, thick thighs, and a confident strut.

Marcos reached him first, and they melted into a tight hug. Then it was Guille's turn, there were a lot of back pats loving insults.

"Hermano, this is the girl I told you about, Ivet."

"Nice to meet you," she said, examining the boy's face. He was handsome, a boyish smirk that reminded her of her brother in some ways, pointy teeth and a couple of small faint scars peppering his skin.

"Same. I'm Gavi."

Ah. That explained why Guille and the others were so low-key about their friend from Barcelona. He was not only living in the city, he was playing for them in first division.

Luckily for Ivet, she had seen very few matches from the men's side, not enough to get star struck meeting him. She preferred watching Barça Femení games, since they were more affordable and she had not been able to enjoy women's football when she was a kid.

"So, Guille speaks wonders of you. Are you coming to play with us tonight?" asked Gavi, giving her a shirt greeting hug.

"Uhm..." Guille and Marcos had not been very specific about that.

"Yes!" replied Marcos for her.

"Let's go then!" Gavi threw his arm around Guille's shoulder, leading them back to the car.

Ivet stopped right on her tracks.

"Uhm, wait a second. I can't..."

"What?" The three boys turned to her in tandem, as she pulled out her phone. "I need to..." she said absent mindedly, as she quickly texted her location to one of her female friends and her brother. She then walked to the front of the car and snapped a picture of the license plate.

"What on earth are you doing?" Asked Guille.

"Sending my brother the info," she replied, as she finished detailing the plans. "Have your mothers never told you not to go on stranger's cars?"

"Yeah, but we're not strangers, you don't need all that."

"Huh. That is how you get yourself kidnapped, Guille."

Gavi snorted.

"Oh, c'mon, look at me," said Gavi. "I've got like, the worst disguise to commit a crime."

"On the contrary. Who would believe my best friend if she said I was last seen with you, when we have never met before?"

"Damn," admitted Marcos. "That's a good one."

"I know."

"How do I know you're not a crazy fan ready to post everything about me on Instagram?" rebuked Gavi then, but he was smiling widely.

Ivet snorted.

"Same as I know you're not a kidnapper. Leap of faith."

Gavi snickered and opened the passenger door.

"Girls first," he told her, ignoring Guille and Marcos' protests of being relegated to the back seat.

"Thank you," she whispered, even if she would rather sit on the back seat, and be by the margins.

Gavi drove like a madman, toying with the speed limit.

"You're from Barna, no?"

"I was born in Gràcia," she said, holding to the seat as discreetly as she could, her face turning green.

"How does Marta deal with you hanging out with a pretty girl every day?" Asked Gavi then, looking at the rear mirror for a split of a second.

Ivet tensed. She knew that her gender separated from the friend group and jt made her unlikely to be fully considered one of the bros, but the reminder still stung.

"Quite well, hermano. Ivet was the one that helped me ask her out."

"Ah, joder." Gavi was silent for a beat. "All my exs would have insisted I was cheating."

"That is kind of your fault Gavito, you're such a catch you bring the paranoia in everyone," said Marcos. Ivet rolled her eyes, which only Gavi saw. He snickered tongue swiping at his teeth.

"And you? Your boyfriend is fine with all the men you hang out with?"

"I don't have a boyfriend. And if he had a problem, then he would stop being my boyfriend very quickly."

💙❤️

At the sports centre, there were more boys than Ivet knew. Friends and cousins of Gavi that didn't necessarily mingle regularly with Guille and his gang.

Ivet kept close to Guille and Marco, as all the boys went through their greetings. They don't stall too much, quickly arguing the way of making the most balanced team.

"Gavi should play with the girl," said one of the guys Ivet didn't know. "To balance things out..."

Ivet crossed her arms above her chest.

"How is that supposed to balance the team, genius?" she asked, knowing exactly why he had said that. She just wanted to see if he had the balls to admit it to her face.

"Ivet will play for my team," decided Guille, who was in the team against Gavi.

With that issue quickly resolved, Ivet watched the boys organise the teams. She purposely dropped to the background, waiting for the game to start.

Guille told her to take the left wing. Ivet hadn't play such a well structured game in years, but she adapted well to the change. Most of the boys she didn't know had ended up in Gavi's team, so she caught them by surprise, shooting a ball to the post.

Gavi, who had been relegated to goalkeeper in order to maintain the fairness of the game, cursed like a madman.

"Don't let Ivet take the ball," he kept ordering his team. It made Ivet smile as she assisted Guille's first goal.

In the end, Gavi recklessly left the goal to dribble past Guille's entire team to ensure his own victory, to which all the boys complained half-heartedly. They all knew his competitive spirit would flare up sooner or later.

💙❤️

By the tike they were all leaving the sport centre, Ivet approached Guille.

"About the money, what do I owe you guys?" she asked him. Renting a pitch on the centre meant paying quite a bit of money. Marco shrugged.

"Usually Gavi pays for it. He feels guilty that we can't play normally when he's around, so he covers the cost of his... special needs," he explained.

"We tried to pay once and he just invited us for dinner after. He does not like being denied," added Guille.

Ivet bitbher lower lip. She could understand why Gavi would pay for his firmed, but for her?

She then approached him gently. Gavi was hugging one of his cousins goodbye, so she waited at a respectful distance.

"Guille said you were good, but I fear he underrated you," told her Gavi once they were alone. She blushed.

"Thank you. What do I owe you?"

"I'm sorry?"

Ivet explained her reasoning, to which Gavi only shook his head.

"No, no, you're my friend now," he said, dropping his arm around her shoulder.

"But..."

"Unless you want to be my date. I would like that very much, there's this new coffee shop my sister says I have to try?"

"What?" Ivet stopped on her tracks, making Gavi turn to look at her directly.

"I'm asking you on a date, Ivet. You're supposed to say yes."

Ivet hesitated a bit.

"Yes?"