Do People Post Horny Edits On Here Or What

do people post horny edits on here or what

Me when an author writes something that fits so well with the story I made up in my head for my self insert

lionfish, seahorses, and dolphins, oh my! | f. odair

masterlist

anon's request: noo bc i've been thinking about this for a while (all the time) imagine the reader from district 8 who's with finnick always sewing random fish patterns into his clothes or any cloth-related items bc of his district!!!

warnings: just some cutesy fluff, very very mild suggestive themes

notes: i couldn't not write this request it's so cute. very rushed because i've got another fic in the works ;) stay tuned my beautiful readers <3

word count: 800

Finnick would always invite girlfriend!reader to District Four because this man has major attachment issues, so you practically live at his house and are both attached to the hip. And one day he would find this little lionfish embroidered onto the cuff of his favourite sweater, which oddly resembles the colour of his hair.

His first instinct would be to call out to you. "Sweetheart?"

And you would respond with a "Hm?" from another room in the house, sneakily sewing something onto another item of his clothing. He would be curiously inspecting the little creature that had taken up residence on his shirt as he padded through the house to your whereabouts.

Just as he entered the room you were in, he would begin, "Why is there a—"

He'd cut himself short as he looked up and saw you sitting comfortably in a lounge chair, legs tucked beneath your body, a soft, knitted blanket draped over your lap, and a sewing kit lying on the side table. In your hands were a pair of his pants.

One of his eyebrows raised. "You've got my pants."

You looked up to find him standing in the doorway. "I do," you replied.

He took a step closer. "And you're sewing them."

"I am."

Another step. "And there's a fish sewed onto my sweater..."

You simply smiled at him—an adorable proud little smile. God, you looked so cute he genuinely felt to urge to lean down and pinch your cheeks between his fingers, but then he remembered he was your boyfriend, not your grandmother.

"Not that I'm not in absolute awe of your sewing abilities but—" He chuckled, shaking his head— "why?"

You shrugged, piercing a sewing needle through the waistband of the pants in your lap. "You're from District Four; fishes are kind of your thing, are they not? Plus, it's pretty," you said, then your voice lowered to a soft murmur. "Like you."

His stomach fluttered and he almost giggled like a little girl at your words. Once he got close enough, he kneeled beside the chair you were sitting in, watching as your delicate fingers manoeuvred the needle and yarn into the outline of a seahorse. He smiled to himself.

"Do you think I should start weaving clothes for you? Considering your district's all about making clothes and stuff," he said with a smirk.

"Like a dress made out of netting? It wouldn't leave much to the imagination."

"You won't hear this mouth complaining," Finnick said, the image of you walking around the house clad in a black net dress overcoming his mind.

Your cheeks warmed with a horrible blush and you decided to focus your attention entirely on the seahorse in the effort to overcome the sudden lewd thoughts involving his mouth.

Finnick continued watching in amazement as you managed to turn a few colours of yarn into a beautiful seahorse on the waistband of his pants. He wondered how many other pieces of clothing of his you had managed to infiltrate with various sea creatures. When his eyes caught on a bright blob of colour on the underside of the shirt sleeve he was wearing, he smiled, knowing he had gotten his answer.

His gaze flickered back to you, observing the look of concentration on your face as you sewed—the gentle crinkle of your furrowed brows, the subtle curl of your lips, and every now and then, the small twitch of your nose like that of a bunny, the pink of your blush adding to the image.

He couldn't help but prop his folded arms on the arm of the chair, chin resting on his forearms as he shamelessly and blatantly admired the changes in your facial expressions. He noticed as your eyes began to occasionally flicker toward him, your attention increasingly beginning to drift.

A few minutes later, you exhaled a heavy sigh. "You're so distracting."

"You're so adorable," he replied almost dreamily.

There it was again. The humiliating pink flush of your cheeks.

He grinned, humming a quiet laugh as he rose to his feet to plant a kiss on the top of your head.

"Can I make one request?" he asked.

"Perhaps."

His eyes fell to the lionfish on the shirt in his hands, eyes sparkling with child-like joy. "Sew some of these onto your own clothes so we can match."

A wide smile stretched across your lips.

Within the next week, you and Finnick were a giggling mess, sporting matching sweatshirts embroidered with big blue dolphins, each one's blowhole featuring a small red heart just above.

What if I cried

Angstmas 2023: Day 21/25

21 - "who are you" Finnick x Reader

Angstmas 2023

You didn’t want any of this, you thought to yourself as you paced the gray hallway outside of his room. 

It was hard to believe that the quarter quell had only been announced weeks ago. And now you were in District thirteen, waiting to see if Finnick would survive. 

You were alone in your house when the 75th Quarter Quell had been announced, you had collapsed back onto your couch. That’s where Finnick had found you a few hours later. He had sat next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, crushing you into his chest. 

“I can’t go back in there,” you whispered when you both were cloaked in darkness. The sun completely set and neither of you wanted to move from your positions to turn on the lights. “None of us can go back in there. How can they expect us to willingly do this?” 

Finnick lets out a long sigh, as if debating something inside himself. “There could be another way,” he says. 

You pull away from him, the moon casting enough light to allow you to make out his features. He was staring straight ahead. “What do you mean? We just don’t participate? They’ll force our hand, it's one district against them all.” 

Finnick shakes his head and looks down at you. “It’s not just one district,” he says, his eyes light up with something you hadn’t seen in him for a while, hope. “Want to have a picnic on the rocks tomorrow?” 

You blink up at him. He wanted to go somewhere that he knew no one would overhear them. The waves were too loud by the rocks, if there were any cameras they wouldn’t be able to pick up what he was telling you. You nod, “I would love too,” you say, before resting your head back on his chest. 

He had told you the plan that had been presented to him the last time he was in the Capital. How Plutarch, the new gamemaker, had told him this was in the works. How they were going to get them out of the arena, how they wanted this to be the last game. 

You hadn’t been reaped, but you were brought to the capital as a mentor anyways. Finnick hadn’t brought up the plan again, you didn’t know if it was because you could no longer help or if it was because there no longer was a plan. 

But as you watched that night, watched him go after Katniss, watched her tie the wire around her arrow before letting it go and the screens going black. Haymitch had grabbed your wrist, pulling you from the scene as you screamed Finnicks name. He was right by the tree, was he hit by the explosion, was he alive? 

Haymitch ignored all the questions you had thrown at him, practically shoving you into a hovercraft. “Save him, Haymitch,” you had yelled as the door began to slide shut between you two. 

He had blinked at you and given you a small smile. “That’s the plan, sweetheart,” he said before the door shut and you had begun to move away from Haymitch. 

 You had been taken to district thirteen, told to change into something gray and unflattering, and given a schedule that you weren’t sure how you were supposed to complete when your mind was on Finnick. Was he alive?

Haymitch had seek you out on day three and told you to follow him. He took you to the hospital wing where Finnick was strapped down in a bed with various tubes going into him. He bruised but nothing looked broken. You rushed to his side. “He’s alive,” you breath, you hadn’t realized how heavy the weight of not knowing had been. 

“We won’t know the extent of his injuries until he wakes up. He was blasted pretty good,” Haymitch had explained. 

You stayed beside him for a week. Sleeping on the chair beside him. Haymitch would bring you food and occasionally some of the nurses. You had been holding his hand, telling him about how bland the food was, when it twitched. His fingers grasping yours. 

You had yelled for a nurse, a doctor, anyone to come in. 

That’s how you ended up in the hallway, pacing back and forth as you waited for someone to come out and tell you if he was okay. You paced until you couldn’t feel your feet anymore and then you slid down the wall and sat across from his door, waiting. 

Hours had passed before someone finally emerged from the room. A nurse smiles at you, “He’s awake and responsive. I am going to grab him something to eat but you can sit with him until I get back. Try not to get him worked up” 

You nod, immediately standing and pushing into the room. Finnick turns and gives you a lopsided grin, “That was quick,” he says. 

You move towards him, sitting on the edge of his bed and grasping his hand. “I was so worried Finnick, I swear, I would have burned the capital down myself if you didn’t wake up,” you say quickly. 

He pulls his hand away from you. “Uh-,” he frowns as he squints at you. “Who are you?”

Your stomach drops as you look down at where he had dropped your hand. It felt empty without his fingers entangled with yours. “Finn, it’s me,” you say, looking back up at him. You say your name, hoping to see some recognition, but there’s nothing. 

“I am normally always up for lovely people throwing themselves at me, but I am not sure my nurse would be thrilled with the competition,” he says, scooting away from you. You stand up. “She’s the one bringing me food that;s not in a tube, so I wanna stay on her goodside.” 

He winks, and you step back. This wasn’t the Finnick you grew up with but the Finnick the Capital had created. He didn’t know who you were, he was putting on a show for you. “Of course,” you say, cursing yourself for the emotion in your voice. 

His smile slips as he says, “I am supposed to know you. Were-,” he shakes his head, as if he's trying to pull out a memory from somewhere. He curls his fingers into fists. “Were we friends? More than friends? You said-,” 

“No,” you say quickly. The nurse had told you not to get him worked up. He needed to rest. “No, we don’t know each other. I am just-,” you swallow and try to give him a swallow. “I am just a big fan.” 

His features soften and the distress leaves his face. “Oh, okay,” he says, “Maybe we can talk when I am not-,” he gestures around him, “predisposed.” 

You nod, turning around and blindly reaching for the doorknob before exiting the room. Haymitch stands out in the hall, and you shake your head. He opens his arms for you and you fall into them. “He doesn’t remember me,” you sob. “I don’t think he ever will.”

Me and @estellascircus

I feel like people don’t talk about this:

Enough.

The ending for marble hornets was one of the worst ones I’ve ever seen for a series like this.

NOT BECAUSE IT WAS BAD.

Because it was so gut wrenching.

Tim lies to Jessica about Jay being alive just like how Alex lied to her about Amy being alive and well just like Jay lied to her about why he was in the hotel

Jessica is truly the most tragic character of the entire series due to how she just wants to help, like in the ending when she offers to call for help when Tim is HACKING A LUNG UP but (presumably) gets attacked by the operator. Also when she tried to help Jay and ends up being kidnapped and held at gun point. Now she is completely alone in her fight to survive the Operator while thinking that she could still be able to get in touch with Jay and tell her she’s okay since his last mission before he died was to find her.

The fact that we KNOW that the operator isn’t gone and probably never will be is so terrible

The way that Tim drives away just like Jay did after Alex broke Tim’s leg is such an amazing parallel and that basically confirms that something so atrocious happened in that parking lot that Tim didn’t want to include it.

THEN THE WHITE TEXT ON A BLACK BACKGROUND LIKE JAY USED TO DO SAYING “Everything is fine.”

TROY WAGNER WHEN I CATCH YOU TROY.

JOESPH DELAGE III WHEN I CATCH YOU JOESPH

YOU WILL BE DELT WITH.

Physically I'm at work, emotionally I'm screaming into the void, spiritually I'm in bed, mentally I'm writing fanfiction