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#bc death is natural and that was taken from him. what is the will to live in the absence of natural death?

crimesyourarson · 6 hours

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Narilamb fanfic idea that I’m working on! (If someone already made this Idea I will simply cry/j)

The Lamb spares Narinder, and brings him back to the cult to be indoctrinated. However, Narinder fights tooth and nail the moment he’s on the grounds, and immediately makes a break for it. (Debating if I’ll have Narinder be in the cult for a few days or if he’ll sneakily leave, I’ll see what works out)

Narinder, now a vagabond, is just trying desperately to survive. Each day is humbling him; He’s no longer powerful. At this point, it’s mere luck he’s managed to get this far. And all the while he muses to himself, where did he go wrong? Was it truly the lambs fault, or was it his for placing faith in him? Did he leave leave the Lamb go unchecked? Or was it from the very start, when he considered his siblings family? And eventually he questions, how did he become a God in the first place? It was so long ago, he couldn’t tell if it was the crown that made him almighty, or if he was just born omnipotent. Not that it matters; He was once Death itself, and now he was just a dead man.

He’ll build a cult, foster its devotion, and ascend. Yet, it was painful, humiliating even. And worse, he’d inevitably meet the lamb again. Doubts plagued his mind, he wouldn’t even know what his gospel would be.

And what is stronger than death?

The answer was one he couldn’t get to choose. It came naturally, wether it be from him his own nature or the crowns influence. He couldn’t triumph death, but he didn’t need to.

For he would be the God of Regret

Everyone will face regret before they die, and even after. As one dies, they’ll envision each little mistake taken, or a path that was never chosen. Some may regret just having to die. Others May regret continuing to live.

This is what gets people to convert, because it’s so utterly human. It’s not something you’d expect from a God. That maybe, their regrets will be smoothed over. A resurrection May give one everlasting opportunities to make peace with one’s life choices, but most would just stall. It could be from cowardice or idiocy, or maybe even just irrational thinking, but everyone has a regret. Maybe even the Lamb has one.

Narinder sure does.

(Anyways I’m still workshopping this premise, but I already have some irons in the fire.)

(This is also a reupload bc I might’ve posted this on main accidentally lol)

#narilamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #the one who waits

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cornerful · 1 month

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Sméagol and the Gift

'Now!' said Sam. 'At last I can deal with you!' He leaped forward with drawn blade ready for battle. But Gollum did not spring. He fell flat upon the ground and whimpered.

'Don't kill us,' he wept. 'Don't hurt us with nassty cruel steel! Let us live, yes, live just a little longer. Lost lost! We're lost. And when Precious goes we'll die, yes, die into the dust.'

Devastated by this. Just a little longer, he begs. Even though his existence is a torment. Even though the will that holds him to life is barely his own anymore. He has long outlived his time but it's such a cruelty that now the only freedom for him is in death. I'm glad Sam didn't kill him but the whole scenario is awful.

When a mortal keeps a ring of power he does not gain more life, he continues, denied natural mortality as the fear of death is amplified and twisted into fear of separation, nothing matters anymore but the keeping, the continuing. In that miserable existence there is no peace, and at its end there is no graceful goodbye to life, there is only dust. Sudden, empty, and final.

It would take murder to spare him that. Or falling with the ring into the fire.

Bilbo let it go in time (did he feel anything when it was destroyed?) Frodo is freed of it now, though the toll it extracted for the separation was at very least a finger. It was too late for Gollum for the price to be anything other than it was, and that's brutal.

If you live long enough, death is no longer the enemy. What Sauron did to Gollum ensured that it would always be the enemy, to be feared and avoided for ever, once time and the ring had fashioned it into the only escape left. Evil.

#lotr newsletter #suicide mention in tags #haunted by the au in which gollum goes into the fire with the ring On Purpose #bc he still couldnt separate himself from it but frodo's compassion had somewhat released him from its evil #in a way an honor to frodo's quest and in a way an act of mercy to be able to give up the self-torment #which gives me shrimp feelings bc of the everything but also back to the original point that it is so tragic that death is all that awaits #bc death is natural and that was taken from him. what is the will to live in the absence of natural death?#smth deeply horrible about that #matt bugg screaming we'll be dust. so famous and rent free #lotrn325 #damn it im having more thoughts #wraiths vs gollum: discuss #the nature of the ring kept affects the nature of its possession no? those rings were made FOR thralldom #sauron has power over gollum but not That Much and his own ring is all abt the domination #what would a 2000 year old gollum even be like ._.#the wraiths are probably even more tragic bc at this point they're like...undead. even death isn't freedom #on that topic what happened to the witch-king's spirit fr #I'm pretty sure he isn't ever actually called that in the book but it's epic and gender and way snappier than lord of the nazgul #anyway shoutout to i think yambits for breaking the lore and giving them peace that was sick #where's my gollum rehab fic #i know he's a horrible little man who is constantly trying to murder my boys but i love him so #the au...gollum gaining the willpower to destroy himself because he was given trust and kindness and companionship for once. FUCKED UP.#fucked up horrible i need a minute. being shown compassion and then becoming more self-compassionate. epic #that compassion entailing seeking the freedom of death your soul was denied bc this is fantasy and somehow the exact #arc that usually leads to fighting to live is now flipped. HUH.#yeah jirt alluded to his motivation being For Frodo but i maintain that the willingness to die is HUGE there and extremely relevant #me and my red string keeping me company #ugh tag championships i win i think but at what cost #who wants to spin around miserably in a pool like franknfurter with me as we listen to gollum's song #tam you're already invited i have a floaty for u

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

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istg i check your blog religiously 😭 can i request ghost x reader that is rlly insecure of how she looks and bc shes so shy, so she never expected to be in a relationship bc she doesn't believe she ever rlly deserved that, and thinks that ghost will leave her eventually, so when he finds out he comforts her. so like angst to fluff

—Nervous Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [No one understands how you two get along - not when you're so different. It makes you second-guess yourself. He notices.] ❞

You sit at the bar and turn around your glass of Bourbon, the amber liquid sitting at the bottom as you blink at your reflection with slow eyes. It was late, but you were far from drunk—not even a light buzz was addling your brain with honied thoughts or actions. No, there would be none of that tonight.

Not when the woman was still hanging off Simon’s arm like a bad rash.

She was pretty, you admitted; beautiful, even. A sort of natural confidence and the looks to pair—ones that most people would go under a knife for without a second thought. Swallowing down saliva and not the alcohol, you tighten your lips and shove down the feeling in your throat. You shouldn’t be acting like this; you had no reason to.

There was no doubt in Simon’s loyalty or intentions, but your insecurities still lingered. He’d tried to shove the lady off of him as soon as she’d showed up—growling a ‘piss off’ and a flash of his dark brown gaze. Anyone without a death wish would have darted away immediately; maybe fled the country to be safe. She’d instead taken up the seat next to him and was talking up a storm as his fingers tightened over the tabletop.

Breathing out slowly, you try not to look at her, generally placid nature a large factor in your hesitation to come out to this place at all.

Simon was…a lot, you knew.

Big, scary; all around intimidating with his balaclava, hoodie, and jacket atop. Black gloves—he screamed serial killer except for the fact of his dog tags that clinked with every swivel of his head to you.

But the allure to his character was what charmed a lot of people, especially in bars when the drinks started to do the talking.

Sometimes you wonder if it was only a matter of time before he found someone better. Better suited to his… demeanor.

Simon’s fingers tapped the table twice to try and get your attention, side-eyeing you with a blank expression of annoyance at the lady’s constant prattle in his ear.

The woman loudly continues to talk about her ex-husband not a foot away from his face, trying to get into his pants unabashedly. Rage simmers deeply in his chest, but he won’t cause a scene—he can’t leave either. Not without you, and right now, you’re not even glancing at him.

When you don’t look up at his tapping, a strange emotion sitting on your normally smiling and bright flesh, Simon goes stiff. His shoulders tighten as he stares; attention entirely on you at all times. He sees your sigh, your intentful staring at your reflection with the occasional darting to the woman’s pristine features.

It puts something into immediate focus, and the Brit’s eyes go to slits.

Just as you decide it would be better for you to be drunk, staring to bring your glass to your lips, Simon snaps out at your side.

“Bloody slag,” the bar pauses at the monotone but subsequently harsh words yet quickly picks back up again. “Would you fuckin’ shut your mouth? Bastard’s runnin’ more than your damn husband did.” You choke on your drink, pulling back to cough into your arm violently with a sputtering inhale.

While you catch your breath, wide-eyed staring from over your elbow, the woman gapes and blinks like a deer that had been shot through the ribcage; gasping out stuttered questions.

Simon, in a wave of deep anger, takes out his wallet and slams bills to the bartop, sliding off his stool before gliding past you—taking the meat of your arm and pulling you along. Gently, only the slightest pressure to make sure you don’t stumble as your feet meet the floor.

In your stupor, you follow after quickly, allowing him to drop his grip.

“S-Simon, what are you—?” When you’re outside, you’re instantaneously corralled down the side of the bar, latched onto, and lifted easily so you’re over one of the man’s shoulders. You yelp, your face burning like fire as your voice goes high-pitched. “Simon!”

“Seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at yourself,” He grunts out, gritting his teeth as your hands dig into his spine for stability. But he knew just the right amount of force to keep you from falling. “What…? You think I’d give that old broad a good shag? Throw away the prize that I’ve got right in front of me?”

A harsh scoff echoes out, and seconds later you’re plopped down onto the top of a stack of pallets, hands slapping beside your hips and a clothed face millimeters from your own. You suck in a gasp and stare, entranced by how the lights burst inside of Simon’s pupils as he towers over you, a wall of muscle and will.

“I-I didn’t…I don’t,” you stutter, mouth opening and closing. “I’m not…”

His eyes narrow, scrutinizing you down to your marrow. “Not what, then? Say it.”

There’s no getting out of this.

“Simon,” you see his lips thin through his mask and you sigh, looking away instantly from the shame that courses your bloodstream. To force the words out was a physical pain to you, a dent in your lifespan. Your skin burns and the sting of embarrassment comes into your eyes.

“I’m not…pretty…” The man stills to near stone, eyes twitching a centimeter wider before they, too, halt all movement. “You shouldn’t have to be bothered every time someone better looking comes over because they don’t realize you’re seeing me—because they’d never think we’d be together. I…I don’t want you to think you’re weighed down by a…a…”

You lose your train of thought, and the only word coming to mind is a sharp knife to your chest. You glare at this chest, at his tags as they swing, and clench your jaw, taking down shallow breaths from your nostrils.

Simon utters the very word you dread in a tiny voice, accent deep, “...burden.”

All you do is shakily nod as the minutes roll past—the shadows grow longer and the night colder. Simon stares and stares, chest pounding with a fast heart and a tight wind of bulk.

His hands at your hips tighten into fists, grunting, “That’s the worst fuckin’ thing I’ve ‘ad to hear in ages.”

You blink away your unshed tears, darting your vision back up before a hand connects with your jaw and angles it up, balaclava shifted to his nose bridge as Simon pressed his lips to yours in a breath-stealing kiss. Opening your legs, he drags you forward by the small of your back and presses you to him with a growl, hearing your small mewl in answer.

His grip is firm and all-consuming, as it always is, and his mouth gives the tinge of alcohol and conviction. Hand on the back of your skill, you shudder and sink into him as he presses deeply, dragging each other back and forth with gasps and smacking flesh. Your hands grasp at Simon’s shirt, trailing his abs as he moves back with a grunt and a lick at his red lips.

Saliva gets caught in the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not leavin’ you unless I get my head blown to bloody bits,” he frowns, dead eyes darting up and down your blown eyes and panting breath. A flicker of a smirk dashes his expression. “So forget about it, Love.”

Simon’s gaze flashes with a soft reassurance, humming under his breath before he leans in once more.

“No one tastes like you do,” you drag him back into you as he mutters on your eager lips. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

TAGS:

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azullumi · 10 months

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“heart to heart” ; kaveh, wanderer, xiao

summary — he could only watch as you die ; alternatively, he’s there to comfort and hold you as you take your last breath.

characters — kaveh, wanderer, and xiao (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — angst but not that heavy but not that light also, grammatical errors bcs i don’t like to proofread, established relationship ; scenario/one-shot

words — 1431

note — u all had too much fluff these past few days, anyways, this is part 2 out of 2!! read the previous one here (^^)/

;; KAVEH

not again.

you were his but right now, death seems to hold on to your hand as if you were never his own, the half of him, his heart and his soul. they cannot take you from him, not again, not you—why does he always someone dear to him? why does it have to be you?

“how about a house on top of the hills or the mountains?” you say over the warm beverage that you held in between your hands and a short sound of laughter escapes him, “wouldn’t that be dangerous? a landslide could occur while we’re inside our home.”

“at least we’re going to die together, right?” he pauses, turning around to meet your tender gaze and he answered with a small smile on his lips. “that is romantic but i would rather grow old with you and die together by natural causes.”

“i can’t fight anymore. i’m… tired.” you muttered, loud enough for him to hear, as you could only stare at the same boring ceiling—he insisted that it was beautiful by the time this very home was built but if you were to always see it, wouldn’t you be tired of its beauty?—and lay on the soft bed. it’s almost like you were a corpse and oftentimes, the thought of death being the kindest thing for the both of you two occurs in your head.

“don’t say that, please…”

you couldn’t live until you were old and frail with him but even so, you were happy. you were happy that you got to meet him, you were happy that someone as lovely as him was willing to kiss your scars gently as if all that you were was a fragile being. in the short amount of time you have spent together with him, he made you the happiest, the most loved, the most cherished, he made you feel alive.

“i don’t care where we are as long as i’m there with you.” he murmurs against your lips, a pretty shade of pink and smiling. you tangle your fingers in the strands of his blonde hair, feeling his breath fan your skin and it was ticklish yet comforting at the same. “what if you’re not there?”

he presses yet another kiss, a short one but the sweetness lingered on your own when he parted. “i will be there, always, holding your hand.”

“i’m getting sleepy, kaveh…”

he chokes on his own sob, hand coming up to hold your own and intertwine it with his. he squeezed it rather softly and you tried to do the same but there was nothing left in you, just a slow heart and a weak body that is holding on to the faint light that you call life. “p-please, hold on a little much longer, okay? i’ll find a cure, i’ll find the medicine for you so please—stay awake.”

“i can’t—i’m sorry I won't be there until the end.”

“but i—i love you so much, i love you. please always remember that, kaveh.” he wasn’t even given the chance to answer when you had already closed your eyes and anything he would say at that point will not reach you.

as your hand loosens and slips off his hold, so does he falls to the floor. nothing could have prepared him for your last goodbye.

;; WANDERER

“i have a confession to make.”

you spoke weakly, voice nearing to a whisper, a testament to your state, and in contrast to your loosening grip on his hand, he holds you rather tightly as if you’re going to be taken away from him—a denial, eyes choosing to be blind to avoid facing the dreadful truth. “shut up, stop acting like you’re going to die!”

he continued, holding back a sob, “you are not going to die.” you never failed to notice the smallest falter in his expression—his crumpled expression relaxing into a soft one when he sees you, the small and genuine smile tugging on his lips, and right now, especially at this moment when his voice cracked and softened while speaking. he had already expected the moment when you’ll leave him, he was a puppet that can live long and you were just a mortal, a weak one. he was going to outlive you but why? why does it have to be this soon?

“you can tell me your confession later so please…”

but you knew better than that, you know there wasn’t going to be a later for both of you—maybe for him and only for him—, you weren’t foolish to not know that, death was already waiting for you with an open door but he was still tugging and holding on to your hand.

“i—i love you, kuni.”

he doesn’t respond, only holding his tongue back as he brings your hand to his lips and presses a long kiss on it but you were numb, you were already feeling numb and you hate how much his warmth was slipping off you, you hate how you couldn’t feel him underneath your touch, you hate that you’re dying right now and you don’t get to live your fullest with him.

“i love you, say it back, please?” a sad smile engulfs your lips as you try to meet his eyes with your unfocused gaze, was it the tears or was it the fact that your consciousness is fading off you?

“i—i love you. i love you, i love you, so please just stop talking, just stop it.” if you truly love him, you’ll stay. “don’t—“ his voice breaks out into a sob, tears that he had been holding back since earlier came like a waterfall. to love is to stay, is to be with him.

but you didn’t, you couldn’t, and for the last, you mouth those three words at him with a smile on your face, feeling your body going limp as your eyes closed.

he whispers, “—don’t leave me,” to the ghost of you.

;; XIAO

thoughts still continued to haunt his mind every time the memory resurfaces on a silent cold morning: if only he was a second early, if only he was there, if only he was able to protect you. if only he wasn’t so foolish.

“xiao.”

he could still recall your voice and the way you called out to his name, it was distant, almost seemed to be fading and everything started to piece together into the sight before him as soon as the environment changed when he answered to your feeble call of his name.

it looks like a fight has occurred, the scent of it wafting to his senses—it reeks of blood, it reeks of death, and his frightened gaze laid on your figure on the cold ground, almost lifeless.

he calls out to your name and in contrast to your soft voice, his was audible, loud enough to keep you holding on the last strand of your slipping consciousness. it was a shout, deriving from panic and fear, and you noticed yourself being picked up by a pair of arms, familiar ones soon after.

“xiao…?”

“i’m here, don’t talk. i’m going to find you some hel—“

you quickly interrupted him with a cough, blood sputtering out of your mouth as you did, and his eyes widened, a breath getting stuck on his throat. and just for a brief moment, he saw his world crumble down seeing that rude warm liquid staining your clothes. his body shook, he was all too familiar with this sight, all too familiar with the scene—he had taken many lives in the battlefield to not recognize the death that seeps into your ragged breath.

and he yields to his crumbling resolve because even if he chooses to deny what is happening, it still won’t stop you from dying. he wanted to scold you, he wanted to reprimand you for putting yourself in danger, but that’s not what you needed, not when all you needed was him and his comfort in your last.

“why…?” was all he could say as he dropped to the floor, tear-stained eyes clouding his vision while he holds you close. you knew what he was asking and you knew the answer to it but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him—if ever he’ll learn the reason, he’ll blame myself and you don’t want that, you don’t want him to be in such misery when it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t there.

“you’re here… thank you.” and with all the strength left in you, you spoke to him in a low voice, a smile plastered on your blood-stained lips, before your vision dims and you lay limp in his hold; he could only cradle your head closer to him as weak sobs started to escape his lips.

if only.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin angst #genshin kaveh #kaveh x reader #kaveh #wanderer x reader #genshin wanderer #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #genshin scara #scaramouche x reader #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin scaramouche #azul.writes

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torialefay · 4 months

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🗡️ The Eaten Heart🍷

bangchan x fem!reader (smut) 🔞

〰️summary: chan loves you to death. no, literally, he would die pleasing you. a ritual to unite the two of you tries to keep you both satisfied.

〰️ warnings: intense emotional sex, ritual play, breath play, blood play, lowkey highkey sacrilegious, genuinely just imagine all the warnings possible bc this is literally ur fault now if u read it so don’t blame me 🦇

〰️author’s note: this work definitely contains sacrilegious elements. no disrespect was intended through this writing. please do not continue reading if this offends you.

〰️wc: 6.5k

〰️please god minors DNI!!! 🔞

〰️check out my masterlist if you want to see more!

———————————————————

“Are you ready, my love?” Chan held out his hand, waiting calmly for you to take ahold of it. The black button up he had been wearing was now rolled up to his elbows. You noticed the tiny outline of a packet resting in the chest pocket.

“Always.” You gently took hold of his hand, as he began to lead you down the corridor and opened the black, heavy vaulted door at the end. Opening it slowly revealed the the narrowed, twisting set of steps that resided inside. No matter how many times you’d seen this view, the daunting beauty of it in all of its darkness, you were always overwhelmed at the sullen energy that was trapped inside.

The usual paleness of Chan’s skin now turned slightly warmer as he took a step inside to be illuminated by the seeping black candles held on the wall sconces. They gave warmth to a tiny path, leading up the dark stairs.

Holding tightly to your grip once more, Chan began to slowly ascend the steps, one level at a time. He paused carefully between each step, making sure that the fabric of the long, pillowy, dark wine-colored chiffon dress you were holding wasn’t hindering you in any way. You each took your time, enjoying the dual thrill and serenity of this moment together. Both knowing full well what you were about to do. The gentle ascension also allowed more time for you to study Chan’s face. The lust in his eyes was almost incomparable. The usually chirp nature of his personality all but gone. These moments with you were taken seriously by him. This was, for both of you, the time that you could fully be with each other- blocked out from the rest of the world and its mundane superficiality. In this world, it was just the two of you.

Greeted now by the last step, Chan used both hands to hold tightly to your arm, making sure that you were secure in the final and largest step in the series. Once you were settled on the steady floor, he took advantage of his grip to lovingly pull you closer, bringing your hand to his chest and resting it over his beating heart. The beats were so strong, so pronounced, that you could feel it rippling through his entire body.

“I want to feel you fully tonight. Okay?” he questioned, leaning his forehead down to touch yours. ‘My beautiful, beautiful girl,’ he thought.

You looked up at him, gently bringing your other hand to cup the side of his face. “Of course, my love. I wouldn’t have you any other way.” You went in for a short, sweet kiss before pulling away. Suddenly, Chan forced your hand down, off of his chest, rotating your arm until you repositioned your body to face forward.

One hand intertwined with his, the other now latching onto his bicep, you followed just behind him as he led you farther into the beautiful, almost ominous room. It was taunting in a way.

You always got nervous at this point. Nerves, butterflies, what have you. It didn’t matter how many times you’d gone through this with Chan, each ritual brought on new emotions, so overwhelming that you felt totally and completely consumed. ‘That is the point,’ you reminded yourself. ‘And ultimately, there is no better feeling in the world.’

You made a mental note of Chan’s expression- stoic and unwavering. His eyes were set only on the stained-glass window ahead. Much like him, and now much like you, the glass was adorned only in various shades of blacks, greys, and the occasional white. It let in the faintest beams of light, which was the only source of illumination excluding three white candles, not yet lit, sitting to the side of the window sill.

Now seeing Chan with the streaks of moonlight shining down on his face, you had reached the edge of the room. You both stood there for a moment, basking in the beauty shining out in front of you before turning to each other, Chan now taking both of your hands into his.

The love in your eyes while looking at Chan could not be hidden in the room. It sparked his heart up every time he saw the faintest reminder of it. His eyes trailed down to your lips- perfect and bare for him, as you’d known to do by this point. He saw you for your raw nature. For the humanness that you possessed, only a vessel to contain your inescapable soul. It wasn’t as if Chan wanted this, nor that he needed this. You were simply his fate. THIS was simply his fate. You had full control over him and he over you because you were one. Together, you made one full person.

He turned his head toward the window to face the moon in all its solemnity. You were always in his stars. The two bodies were simply one.

‘I can’t believe the luck I’ve been given in this life,’ he thought.

Piercing his eyes into yours, he began. “You are my one true love and my soul eternal. Nothing will ever be a part of me as much as you. Isn’t that right?”

Your head spun into his words, locking in every syllable. “That’s right, my love.”

“And I am your one true love and your soul eternal. Nothing will ever be a part of you as much as me. Is that correct?”

“Of course, my love,” you whispered, getting closer to his mouth. You came tantilizingly close, just lingering over his lips with a slight smirk. You knew what you were doing to him. You felt it every time in the way that his heart started to once again beat out of his chest. You took your hand from his, slowly, working your way onto his sculptured torso. You used two fingers to start walking up toward his chest, smiling at him daringly as you went. ‘I know this is driving you crazy, darling,’ you thought to yourself.

You stopped your fingers just over the spot you could feel his heart beating the strongest. You left them there for a second, lightly scratching the skin residing overtop with the tips of your nails. You contemplated for a moment, then proceeded to lunge your nails slightly into him, scratching down to leave deep red marks.

Chan hissed, leaning his head back. He allowed himself to fully feel the sting of your touch. The things you made him feel were like none other. He felt himself hardening underneath his black pants. Bringing his head back up slowly, he was met with your sensual gaze, smirk mocking him spread across your face. ‘Stop being such a fucking tease,’ he thought to himself, intense desire now building up.

He ran his tongue along his teeth, letting it out with a pop. Smiling down at you now, he leaned closer and whispered, “Then let’s play. Let’s worship.”

He suddenly grabbed the top of your dress and ripped downward, pulling the light chiffon apart as if it were never there to begin with. ‘Just like l wanted,’ he thought as he looked to your fully naked chest with no garments over top. He bent down to the level of the rip, continuing his force onto it. Eye level with your breasts, he bit down hard, getting a soft screech from you.

He smiled, obviously loving the reaction and kept working his way down.

*Rip. A bite into your stomach.

*Rip. A bite into your thigh.

*Rip. A bite into the side of your leg.

*Rip. A bite over the top of your foot.

He quickly took the dark fabric of the dress and threw it onto the alcove under the window. Now bent down onto one knee, he took one of your hands into both of his, kissing the top of it ever so slowly, then fully rotating to place a kiss into your palm. He lingered there more just a moment, pressing your hand onto his face to smell the sweetness of your skin. God how he wanted to consume you.

He kissed up the rest of your arm as he worked his way back up to standing. He slowly walked you back until your knees were resting against the alcove. In a swift motion, he pushed you back into the soft padding of the dress, just quickly enough to make you lose your footing but gently enough to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt and hit the three candles placed along the window.

‘My princess, so fucking beautiful for me,’ he thought, staring down at you. ‘This is all mine. I will have all of you.’ He launched himself down on top of you, throwing one of your legs around his waist as he leaned down to plant a hungry kiss to your mouth. He was straight to the point, biting onto you and swirling his tongue around yours. He began rutting his hips into you, taking full charge. He rubbed them up and down quickly, not giving you time to ease into anything. You could feel yourself growing wetter along the material of his pants. The way he put just the right amount of pressure, focusing it right along your clit, was almost too much to handle so rapidly. His body was so in tuned to yours, it was second nature. He continued to grind, unrelenting until a long moan escaped your mouth.

“Yes baby, that’s right. Keep going for me,” he instructed, unlatching his lips only long enough to get the words out. He was right back on them as quickly as he’d pulled off. As he steadily pushed his hips into you, he forced his tongue down into your throat, almost making you choke. He made deep strokes now, matching up his tongue movements to the thrusts of his hips.

You tried to let out more moans, but they were blocked. The vibrations that Chan felt on his tongue from it sent him into overdrive. He brought his hand up, sloppily pushing it into your face, then using two fingers to push into your mouth and join his tongue in your throat.

You gagged around the pressure. You couldn’t help it. You almost felt yourself suffocating underneath him.

“That’s right, so fucking beautiful for me. I know you can take it,” he spat out, eyes locked onto your every reaction.

You continued to choke while moaning and whining for air. You slowly tried to get deep breaths in and out of your nose, but they were far and few between. The combination of the clit stimulation and the aggressive strokes down your mouth overwhelmed you in the deepest sense of the word. You felt yourself losing oxygen, slowly letting your brain go fuzzy. You let out small tears and started to full-on scream. Muffled screams of course. At first, Chan couldn’t make it out. He reveled in the fact that he had full control over your body. Full control over your life at this point.

“Chris!!!” He felt you vibrate across his fingers. He quickly pulled his tongue and fingers out of your mouth, letting you choke and gasp for air. Tears were still streaming from your eyes, and Chris was sure this was the most beautiful he’d ever seen you.

You couldn’t help but continue to cry as you felt the oxygen rush back into your brain, helping you to finally feel alive again. Tears and tears and tears started flooding off of you.

“You did such a good job, pretty girl,” he cooed into you, still motioning his hips against your clit. “I’m so so proud of you,” he smiled. “But now,” he lifted his face up over top of yours- “Now, I need you to let go and come for me. You can do that for me, can’t you baby?” His eyes locked onto yours. You could barely see his face from the water covering your vision, but you went through with nodding your head as the breaths now came easier.

You focused on the deep strokes he was making on top of you, feeling your clit become engorged from how perfectly he was hitting you. You leaned your head back, mouthing “Fuck” as best as you could. Chan must have liked the reaction, as he pushed himself even harder into you, his thigh now adding more pressure. You were sure you couldn’t contain yourself much longer.

You gazed up to see Chan’s face hanging right over yours, watching intently as your began to writhe underneath him. He loved the power. He loved the thought of controlling the most vulnerable part of you. He looked like he wanted to fucking eat you.

You continued to focus on his face as the warm feeling of release started to come over you. Chan knew it too. He smirked, leaning down again to be closer to your face.

“Is my girl gonna cum for me?” he laughed, grinding as hard as he possibly could.

That was it. It sent you over the edge.

You felt your body start to convulse around you, desperately grappling for a bit of the dress fabric to hold onto while you rode it out. A zap went into your brain, healing any residual loss of oxygen that could have been felt. Chris smiled into your neck, then took both arms to hold your own down. He held your body down with his own, making you continue to take his hips grinding into you.

You were officially overstimulated, not able to fight back under Chan’s body weight. You cried, “Chris, Chris stop. I’m done. I’m done. Holy shit,” you cried, feeling another bolt shoot down your legs. “Ahh! I’m done!” You started panting, trying to catch your breath as quickly as you could as Chan lifted himself off of you slowly. The smile on his face quickly tilted down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I knew you could do it.” He continued to press kisses along the entirety of your face until your breathing started to normalize. Once you had calmed down. He took your hand in his and planted slow kisses into the side of your neck. He pulled back up to wipe a few leftover tears before smiling down. “Time to offer our bodies, yeah?” he spoke gently.

You nodded with a deep breath out and a look of determination and slight excitement on your face.

Chan raised his body over yours, then leaned down to cup your back and help you raise up. He stepped off of the platform to remove his pants and unbutton his top, grabbing a few small items from the pocket before removing it fully. You watched as he let the clothes hit the floor and leaned over your body to set the items gently behind one of the three candles resting beside you.

He twisted your body around with his arms so he could now sit down, taking the placement you once had. “Ready?”, he asked, reaching up to laze his hand along the back of your neck.

You didn’t bother replying. Slowly, you crawled on top of his lap, running your hands into his hair, settling to rest over each side of his head for stability. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto his hardened cock, making sure to take it inch by inch. His hands slowly trailed from your neck and down your back, until he was holding just above your waist. He breathed heavily as you lowered yourself onto him, letting out a small hiss each time you moved.

Moving his eyes up, he watched your face as you took in more of him. The way you scrunched your eyes at the light but delicious pain of having him inside of you. ‘All fucking mine now,’ he thought, letting his head roll back as you had fully taken him in. He gyrated his hips the slightest bit to feel around inside of you. How tight you were for him and how he filled you up all the way to your cervix.

“Time for worship,” he breathed out.

He smoothly swiped his hands along and off of your body to reach for one of the items hidden behind a candle. A small lighter rested softly in his hand. He made quick work to bring it back in front of you, right between each of your face. He looked into your eyes for permission before lighting it. A small, warm, meaningful flame sparked up as he dragged his thumb across it. He smiled at you lovingly, ready for what was about to begin.

“The body, the blood, and the spirit,” he whispered into the flame. The words moved past the flame to hit your own lips, sending a cool rush into your body.

You moved closer to the glowing burn. You stared first at it, then down to Chan’s lips.

You repeated after him. “The body, the blood, and the spirit.” You looked at each other, silently counting down before taking a deep breath to simultaneously blow out the flame. You smiled into each other, reciprocally grabbing faces for a quick kiss. This one was full of passion- unlike any kiss you’d had before.

Chan suddenly pulled away, carefully guiding the lighter up and away from the both of you. He extended both arms as far as they could reach, stabilizing with one hand and pushing into the lighter with the other.

With that, he lit the first candle:

“The Body”

Returning his attention back to you, he let himself take a moment to memorize the feeling of being inside of you. How wet you were for him and how tense you felt around him. How you contoured yourself perfectly around him, letting him fill you up like a mould.

“This pussy was made for me. Only me,” he breathed out, slipping his hands down to your waist. He started massaging your waist back and forth, slowly at first to warm himself up inside of you. He was gentle, but started picking up speed steadily.

“Come down here, I need to feel you,” he instructed, moving his hands up to your back and pulling your body down on top of his. Sitting now, chest to chest, you wrapped your hands around his neck as you continued to ride him, slowly, back and forth. You kept pulling his body closer as you picked up the pace. Your arms now completely crossed over each other with your face in the crook of his neck.

Chan took the opportunity to relax his head back a little, just enjoying the feeling of you giving into him. He turned his head to the side, planting kisses from the top to the bottom of your neck. You felt yourself gasp once he had gotten to the end.

He bit down. Hard. ‘Fuck,’ you thought. He continued relentlessly biting in. He wouldn’t let you out of his bite. Your first instinct was to start moving faster on top of him, almost ballistically as if to pull away. But he wasn’t having it.

He gripped onto your hips now, pushing and pulling you quickly around him. He didn’t bother with being gentle anymore. He would make sure you had marks on both your neck and hips by the time this was done.

With his teeth sunken in as far are they could go, he swirled his tongue around the fresh-forming bruise. He quickly took a harsh handful of your ass, hauling it backward and forward, backward and forward.

“Chrissss,” you hissed out, not knowing how else to express yourself in this moment. “Fuck,” you let your head roll down. “Chris holy shit.”

He finally pulled off of your neck. “Say my name again,” he gritted.

“Fuckkk, Chris,” was all you could manage to get out, breath getting heavy.

“Louder.” He was violently moving your hips now, adding sloppy thrusts where he was able. He stared into you, looking animalistic.

“Christopher, please!” You breathed out hard now. You weren’t going to be able to take much more of this.

“I SAID LOUDER. FUCKING YELL FOR ME.”

“CHRISTOPHER BANG HOLY SHIT. PLEASE GOD,” you now yelled out as loud as you could. You just needed him to finish you.

He smirked up at you, loving the sight of what he’d done to you. You’d do anything for him and he knew it. Any. Fucking. Thing. He could and would make you do anything he said. And he would do anything for you. This moment is how it was supposed to be forever.

“God?,” he tauntingly laughed. “No baby, I am your god. I am all you will ever fucking need,” he barked out through gritted teeth. One hand had moved up to grab your hair as the other kept slamming your ass into him.

“You will worship me the same that I will worship you.” He was yelling at this point. Suddenly, he laid his body back on the ground, pulling you down with him. Your face now only an inch from his.

He looked deeply into your eyes and grinned. “Now you better pray to me that I don’t destroy you.”

His hand in your hair now pulled all the way back, lifting your head up to the sky. His grip on you didn’t fade, but he stopped pushing you and instead started ramming his cock into you as quickly as he could. He was relentless, pushing deeper with every thrust. You couldn’t even describe the pleasure mixed with the pain.

“Christopher, OH MY GOD. Fuck.. fuck.. FUCK!” you yelled at the sky. A smirk came across his face at the sight of you looking up. Looking like you were praying to him.

‘My good fucking girl,’ he thought. ‘It’s just me and you now.’

He kept thrusting harder and harder, until you thought for sure something inside of you was going to rip. You felt like everything inside of you was being shifted. He was rearranging you from the inside out.

“You’re going to fucking rearrange me, Christopher,” you spat out, about to begin crying again.

“See,” he grabbed your hair even tighter, bringing the first tear out. “I’m making you into my own perfect creation.” He bucked his hips into you three more times, each leaving you feeling breathless and helpless.

Suddenly, he stopped. He dropped his grip on your hair, letting your head fall softly to his chest. You could hear his heart going a million miles an hour. He put his hand over top of yours to feel it doing the same.

As much as you needed the release, you knew neither of you could have it yet. That’s not how this worked. You had to be patient.

As you moved one hand to gently hold the side of his face, he moved his free arm around your back as he sat up again. The moonlight surrounding you showed the sweat along his forehead and hairline, only making him look sexier.

He quietly reached over yet again for the lighter and to grasp onto another candle. He swiftly made a motion over top of it to turn the pure white wick into a newly charing flame. Before turning to face you he grabbed the other item he had previously thrown down. A small silver dagger adorned with beautiful carving into the handle.

There it was, seemingly quicker than the times before. The lighting of the second candle.

“The Blood”

Chan gripped tightly to the knife and gently placed it in your hand, being careful not to let it hurt you. He looked in your eyes as if to wait for your nod of approval. You were always a little scared, yes, but you wanted this more than anything in the world. The feeling was indescribable. To pledge your loyalty to him and him to you.

You firmly grasped the dagger into your hand. Chan felt along your chest, resting his palm over top of where your heart laid. He delicately clasped his other hand on top of yours, leading the knife to the area above your chest. He softly removed his marking hand to expose your skin underneath.

Ever so slowly, he led your hand down, along with the knife until the tip was grazing the top of your skin. He made sure to directly line it up over the top of your heart. Each breath you took made it prod the tiniest bit into you.

“You’re mine, my love,” he held the hand tightly and leaned forward to kiss you forehead. When he pulled back, he looked directly into you and squeezed your hand. A signal to begin.

His had hovered over top of yours as you started to move the knife painstakingly slow, just deep enough so that it would penetrate your skin. As soon as you felt it make the first scratch, you winced a tiny bit at the pain. It was by no means unbearable. Just enough to make you notice the uncomfortability of it all.

Chris stared at your hand, still resting his own gently over top as you moved. Your eyes shut, and you breathed out heavily, focusing all of your effort into your hand. You slowly moved it, little by little, leaving a shallow imprint across the skin. You swooped it down, following a steady curve until it could be brought back up.

Chris smiled, knowing you were done. He took a tighter grip on the knife, pulling it back to reveal your handiwork.

There, now carved into you, a lone letter “C”. A few drops of blood were trickling down.

All Chris could do was grin, leaning his face in to plant a small kiss in the middle of the “C”, making sure not to ruin the tiny bit of blood that had been let out.

He softly grabbed the knife out of your hand and held it with his own. He motioned with his eyes down to his chest, cueing you to find where his heartbeat was strongest. Once you settled your palm against his skin, he extended the dagger slowly for you to grab over top of where his fist was holding it.

You easily took it. Not hard, but barely resting over top.

He put a smirk on his face before bringing the knife down to where your hand lay. You slowly removed it, losing contact with the pulse of the heart beating below. He made quick work to push the knife into his chest, definitely with more power and aggression, deeper than what you had done.

Your instinct was to pull his hand back, but to no avail. He was gripping at the knife too tightly for your touch to do anything.

“This is good, baby,” he assured you.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before stabilizing your hand over his one again. You followed along with the curve of his hand, as you watched him carve your initial into his skin.

He had gone so much deeper, blood was trickling down fast. Not enough to be worried, but enough to silently think he was crazy. Crazy for you.

Once he reached the last stroke of your initial, you went to take your hand off of his. Instead of pulling back, he gently pushed in on the knife a little deeper, almost solidifying the engraving into his chest.

“Stop it Chan!” you screamed, returning your hand to his, to try and slowly back it up. You struggled, but he didn’t give in. He looked you dead in the face. His eyes were black now. It was as if something otherworldly had taken over him.

He didn’t respond, just held the knife in place, using his other hand to reach up and grab your face. He left a few gentle strokes along your cheek before settling into your hair, smirk wide across his face.

“Give me a kiss first,” he whispered.

“No Christopher! You’re too deep! Take it out right now!” you yelled, truly worried. You grasped his hand even tighter, trying to tug on it. To no avail. He was staying there if it was the last thing he did.

By the look on his face, you knew you’d set him off. His nostrils started to flare and he eyed you down. His jaw locked in place so tightly you thought he’d never be able to open it again.

“I want to give you my heart, y/n,” he spoke initially. “I want to give you my fucking heart,” his tone raised, face visibly mad. “I want to fucking rip it out right now for you to have!” he finally started screaming. “It’s yours anyway. It doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to you goddamn it, now fucking take it!” he yelled at you, his hot breath hitting you in the face. He could say what he wanted, but he was in pain. You gave him a few seconds to calm himself.

You leaned down to return to him what he’d done to you prior. You whispered in a low breath “No,” before kissing his forehead. You pulled back to rest your face on the same plane as his, only inches apart. You grasped his hand over top of the knife. “Not today, my love. Today, I need you here with me. And I need you here to be a part of me.” You kissed his cheek.

You could feel his hand relax a little, and you let yours tighten. Going as slowly as possible, he allowed you to remove the dagger, a quarter of a centimeter at a time. You both looked down as it inched out, admiring the perfect initial he had carved. A few areas streamed blood down them, but nothing more than he’d had before. Once the knife was fully out, he gently held it in front of him, covered in blood that ran down the palm of his hand. Your hand still around his felt the tiny trickles of blood onto it too.

He slowly let you direct the knife back to your own skin. You rested it just along your own engravement, making sure to get the small amount of your blood from your chest and onto each side of the knife.

You both looked intently as you guided the knife back to the center and handed it off to Chan. You slid your hand down to grasp onto and stabilize his wrist.

You both sat for a minute, looking at each other like you weren’t sure who should start. Chan leaned in leisurely, bringing his face down to the the level of the knife. He stuck his tongue out to bring it straight down, along the middle of the blade. As he pulled back, he closed his mouth and licked his lips- a shade of red now covering them.

You mirrored his example and gently took a swipe of blood in your mouth. You never really got used to it- the taste of the iron. But knowing that it was now mixed blood, that of you and your soulmate, you cherished every last drop.

Chan placed the dagger back behind the candle before leaning in to steal a quick kiss. Your mouths were now wet with each other, but in the most perfect way. A tiny part of him, even if just a cell, would now live in you. It made you just that bit perfect, but that was enough for you.

It was not enough for Chan. He needed to devour you in every sense. ‘It’s time to finish you,’ he thought.

He rushed to find the lighter again, scrambling his blood-covered thumb over the top to light it up.

The lighting of the third candle.

“The Spirit”

He quickly wiped the blood of his hands off onto the remainder of the dress lying beneath him. He laid you down again onto your back, throwing your legs over his lower back as he went. He made sure to press his chest all the way down into you, letting your blood intermingle and soak into the initial he had so happy etched into himself.

He looked at you in adoration. ‘God this man.’ He made you feel so loved. So seen. How could this gentle being be the same man who was ramming into you 10 minutes ago? The man that was fully insistent on ripping his heart out to present to you because nothing else could fulfill his need to give you himself? This man loved you. In the full sense of the word. He would die for you. He would sacrifice his own soul to save yours. He would crawl through the depths of hell if he knew it would keep you safe. Chan was the only person you would ever need, and he made sure you knew that.

“It might feel tight, baby,” he whispered, laying his head down into your hair, right beside your neck. He slowly let his length move inside of you. He proceeded slowly, only pushing in slightly more when he felt you relax around him.

Once you had fully adjusted, he began with slow, loving strokes. You suddenly felt warm with this fullness inside of you. Like this is what you had been missing all along. And with it, you were finally whole.

Chan felt the same way, and he made it known to you.

“You feel so good baby,” he whispered into your ear. “My match made in heaven.” He kissed your ear. He continued slowly, making sure to rub along the outside of you.

He let his hands wonder down until they were pressing into the bottom of your stomach. You could feel so much more with the new pressure. You felt every inch of him slowly pulling into and out of you. Every stroke felt like it reached a deeper part. He angled his body slightly lower so that he could angle himself up into you. Right to the sweet spot.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, smile shining on your face. “Fuck baby, that felt good.” You let your head relax back.

“Yeah?” he asked, hovering his face over yours. He didn’t want to miss a single look on your beautiful face.

“Yes, Channie,” you smiled again, taking a sharp breath in.

‘God that fucking nickname’ he thought. His heart turned into putty every time you used it. ‘So soft and so gentle for me… For Channie.’ He smiled, using one hand to stroke along the top of your head, maintaining the pressure on your stomach with the other.

He thrust into you harder now. Not necessarily faster, but using more force. The look on your face was all the reassurance he needed to keep it up.

He watched how your mouth dropped open, like you watched to scream something out but you couldn’t. How your eyes squeezed shut to focus on the feeling he was giving you. How your breathing started to pick up the more that he moved.

Feeling himself inside you got him hard, yes. But watching you- with all of your perfection- loving the way that he made love to you, got him rock hard. Suddenly, his tip became more sensitive. It crept and crept up until it started to drive him wild.

He started to place sloppy kisses along your mouth as he slammed his hips in. He kept a steady pace, just enough to keep your heart rate up.

You moaned as his hand pressed even harder into you. You could feel his cock hitting up and into the palm of his hand. Time and time again, you felt him hit into just the right spot to make your toes curl. Everything in your body froze up, then went warm. He kept going and going until it was going to send you over the edge.

“Channie?” you whined, breathing heavily through your mouth.

“Yes, my love?” He detached himself from your face to look at you. God, he could get off by looking at that face alone.

He smirked. “Does my baby need to cum?”

“Fuck yes,” you said, reaching around his neck to bring his lips down to yours. You felt like you were being elevated from your body.

No, resurrected.

Chan was going to bring you back to life.

Hard, stiff thrusts now poured out of him uncontrollably.

His breathing quickened too all of a sudden. He let out a sharp moan.

“Ughhh,” he drew a breath in. His voice was shaking. “I’m going to cum baby. Cum with me, yeah? Let’s tie ourself together now, okay?” He could hardly get his words out.

You knew he was barely holding on. So vulnerable for you.

Swiftly, he released the pressure off your stomach, making you gasp at the sudden loss of weight. Instead, he brought his hand down to your clit, and rubbed light circles. He went just in tune with the thrusts, throwing you over the edge.

“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,” you screamed out, feeling the beginning of the orgasm take over your entire body.

That’s all Chan needed. He took long thrusts to push himself over the edge with you. He shut his eyes tight, picturing just your face, your soul, holding his heart.

No, EATING his heart. It's all he could ever ask for and you would be the one to give it to him.

“TAKE.” Thrust.

“IT.” Thrust.

“ALL.” Thrust.

“UGHHH,” he yelled out, throwing himself into you with the most force you’d felt all night.

Your vision went white, jolts being sent through your body in every direction. Your body stiffened, head throwing itself back and body arching up off the ground. You felt Chan’s cock twitch inside of you, followed by a warm feeling that almost filled you more than you could take.

He continued to give you a few more wild thrusts. He bit down onto your ear. “Take it baby. Take my spirit and give me yours.”

Your body let out one final jolt before Chan slowed down and grabbed your face, cupping it in both hands.

You kissed him like you’d never tasted him before. Like everything about him was new and you were ready to explore.

You had just dedicated your entire being to him, but everything felt so irrepressible in this moment.

As he brought himself to a complete stop, he pulled his face from yours, panting. He decided to lay there for a few moments, letting himself rest inside you. It only felt natural to be this close to you. To finally feel like he could be a part of you.

His eyes fell down to your chest underneath him- both of you stained from the dark red show of your love for each other.

He made sure you were looking at him. He wanted itnto be a show. He then took the palm of his hand to his mouth, giving it a soft kiss. He placed the hand over your heart, where his initial had been etched in.

“I’ll always be with you, yeah?” he smiled down.

“Always and forever, my Channie.”

——————————————————————————

If you enjoyed, please consider liking or reblogging <3

164 notes · View notes

weebsinstash · 11 months

Note

Alright bestie I’m on that shit again

So yandere Superman, right? Like obviously your fucked. The only other yandere in existence that might just be able to keep you from him is Batman, but even then he’d probably sooner work together just to ensure your safety- but that’s a prompt for another day.

Back to yan Superman, imagine you’re his darling and he is “keeping you safe”. But one day, you get snatched up by some organization that wants to use you as leverage or some shit, but you are just sobbing in relief at maybe being free- only to have Superman show up and do some not so super things to everyone who “stole” you

There are just so many casually horrifying things about Superman that people don't realize until you start like digging into his lore. "Oh he's super strong and a super fast flyer" actually he can do basically anything at those super speeds to the point he can literally even PROCESS THOUGHTS at near light-speed which means he has Absolutely Terrifying reaction times and can make plans and schemes on a dime, which, you know, can be even better utilized by him being intelligent. He has natural invulnerability so if you throw a punch at him too hard you could literally shatter the bones in your hand and he can't even control that, like you could literally hurt yourself with him on accident! He can see across INSANE DISTANCES and his x-ray vision doesn't have like a set range so he could do anything from, peep inside buildings to spy on you, to looking under your clothing for any bruises or injuries or even self harm marks, to peeking behind your hero disguise to learn your true identity, to seeing if there's anything inside your stomach and seeing if you're eating properly. Like jesus christ he literally found out Lois was pregnant from waking up one morning and suddenly hearing the heartbeat of the FETUS, there's literally nothing from him pulling that stereotypical "I know you're nervous or lying or afraid because I can literally hear your heartbeat increase" scary bullshit

And let's talk about Lois for a sec because my god her death was literally what kicked off the Injustice timeline? And there are other forms of Superman media where she just straight up dies naturally of cancer! Sure we could take the easy way and say "in this au Lois never existed or was just Clark's friend and he loved YOU" (which is my preferred default tbh bc, no competition for Reader lol) but I mean if you're going for that angst, that real whump, a yandere Clark Kent that just lost his wife/unborn child to either the Injustice incident or cancer, now overcome with grief? And in those cancer timelines they usually already have a son, Jonathan, and sometimes Jordan, and here's Clark thinking, well, his boy needs a mother, and he's got these weird feelings for you, and lil Jonny clearly has affection for you, maybe bring a bit of a platonic yan himself who sees you as either a big sister or even a secondary mom, so... be his wife maybe?

Like my god if Reader somehow helped him through the grief of losing Lois and managed to avoid "fully activating" Superman's anime villain arc, like he's going full fascist in the Injustice 2 Bad Ending, then some shit DEFINITELY goes down when Reader gets taken away. It just reactivates all his trauma. No! He can't lose anyone else! Jonathan can't lose anyone else! You're not just someone he loves, you're his FRIEND!

You're just huddled in whatever cell you've been kept in with your black eyes and bruises and knuckles bloodied from trying to fight back when you hear Clark's voice and you look up with excitement that just falls immediately off your face because holy shit did he just unlock that thumbprint scanner with a severed arm, and suddenly you're realizing there are other shades of red on his costume and dripping from his fingers

I can only imagine like, ngl I considered a sequel to my fic Doubt where Reader escapes the manor and runs into Supernan as the only other person who can protect you, so here we would have the inverse: you're the only one who knows about Clark's increasing instability and, while you still have your own freedom and autonomy, try to speak to Bruce about it, and now you have Batman Vs Superman: Competing For Your Heart Edition. I can only imagine what sort of unhinged reactions there would be if you think you've got Batman alone and you're beginning to cry all "Bruce I'm really worried about Clark, he isn't acting like himself, there's something wrong with him" and. Clark is like literally using his x-ray vision to read lips through the walls if he can't use his super hearing to outright eavesdrop.

Of course as you suggested, I'm always a slut for ideas with"oh shit I ran to this guy to help me and he's ALSO crazy, now they're teaming up and I'm in some weird shared/poly situation with TWO nutjobs". Lmao you go to Bruce concerned about Kal and Bruce goes to confront him and Clark just drops "did you know Y/N has been hiding self harm cuts under their hero suit also wow they smoke HELLA weed and im worried about their lungs and all the stuff they do when they're alone that no one else knows about 🥺" and suddenly here's Bruce " thanks i hate this actually :)" and there's a scheme concted to spy on you or move you elsewhere.

I've even thought of "Reader oh nooOoooOo, that, giant monster or villain attack or whatever also coincidentally destroyed your shitty little apartment complex? You mean Clark 'accidently' got sent flying into your building or smacked some giant creature into it and now you don't have a place to live? And you're broke too? Oh no 🥺 Well, BATMAN has this nice big house with lots of room in for you to stay toooootally 'temporarily', we PROMISE uwu"

Batman is the one who can put a tracking chip injected into your skin or even disguised as a filling in one of your teeth, and Superman is the one who can zoom off to rescue you/retrieve you "faster than a speeding bullet". I think one of the only people who could bring them down together at that point would be like. Fucking DARKSEID and, Jesus no, you definitely don't want HIM treating you as a pet 😭 the evil Batman that was brainwashed by him in the Apokolips War movie was scary enough (and scary HOT, lmao, let him keep me as some sort of prize and the only luxury Darkseid will allow him as a reward for his obedience. Lord Batman goes from having a meeting talking about like enslaving people to returning to his quarters and railing tf outta you because he's still holding onto some slim vestiges of humanity where he cares about you but also using you as his personal anti stress fuck toy)

#yandere superman #yandere batman #yandere dc #i got a draft whee damian and jon like you and introduce you to their fathers #and suddenly stalking you becomes a family affair #the boys walk you home and jon lies about having to pee so damian can plant bugs while youre distracted #the boys going back to their fathers and telling them all of your personal business #'yeah dad when she was at work i used my xray vision and saw her creepy manager grope her in the walk in'#suddenly your small little privately owned cafe was just bought out by wayne enterprises and your boss is fired or goes missing #maybe Bruce gets you a job st Wayne tech bc hes been following you as batman and he doesnt like you working third ahift #lmao heres hoping i actually finish it wven though im not quite sure where to go w it yet #but like its literally over 8 pages at least so. obviously some sort of creative juices are flowing #yandere stuff #sinprompts #at this point i cant promise shit bc my emotions and motivation are waaaaaacky

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johannestevans · 6 months

Text

i think his death was just shoehorned in at the end but like. i wouldn't even have minded much if they'd killed izzy in say, episode 5 and then had his death make an impact. kill him at the BEGINNING of the episode, even, and let it carry through

but killing him in the last 10 minutes and hurrying through it comes off far more as, "god, we're so scared about our budget being even LOWER if we do get renewed for s3 and this guy isn't part of our main romance but we don't know what to do with him and his salary is higher than a lot of our other cast, we have to kill him off quickly and get him out of the way"

esp bc like. killing izzy distracts from several other storybeats. ed and stede running an inn with izzy's corpse rotting in the garden. lucius and pete's matelotage is overshadowed by the grief for izzy. the big flee from the british even was about supporting izzy and then killing him off sort of pointlessly

like i'm sorry but like. as much as they can try to go "oh well, it was a mentor thing" or "oh well, it was a natural end of his arc" or whatever like. if it was about any of that they would have planned for that and written that.

if you have to give 10 interviews telling everyone what the point of your story was, you did not write a very good story. if you have to explain that, oh, izzy was meant to be ed's father or mentor, because you put in literally 0 scenes showing that, then... perhaps he wasn't that. perhaps you made that up last minute to explain what you've done.

maybe you made a choice for budgetary reasons, didn't execute it very well because you were under stress and freaked out about the aforementioned budgetary reasons, and then you had to think up an explanation. maybe for whatever reason, budget aside, your actor told you he wouldn't be able to make it back for s3 and the same thing happened. maybe you were worried that a guy you originally intended to be a two-dimensional antagonist was being played too well and was taking up too much emotional space in your tv show and you needed to get rid of him.

all of these would have been entirely understandable reasons to kill off his character, except that like. you could have also just sent him away and left it ambiguous, or had him die offscreen after being gone for a few episodes, and yes, it would have been sad enough but like. it wouldn't have taken away from the already slapdash narrative you were trying to accomplish

like that's the thing that frustrates me about the whole thing, it's just a complete lack of basic craftsmanship

there are other flaws like... i hate how ed and stede are meant to suddenly be happy together when ed hasn't been given time enough to grow and be comfortable, i hate that zheng was supposedly outsmarted by the brits and had her entire fleet abruptly blown up in one scene, i hate how oluwande and jim and zheng and archie aren't given enough screentime to play out their relationship dynamic(s), i hate lots of messy shit that doesn't do justice to the characters being given but like

izzy's death is just the biggest example

#musings #izzy hands #ofmd spoilers

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rodolfoparras · 1 year

Text

Captain’s boy

Price doesn’t play favorites at least that’s what he says. However there’s no denying he’s got a soft spot for you and everyone knows it.

You are after all Captain’s boy.

18+ | MINORS DNI

Pairing: John Price x Trans Male Reader

Stand alone/ part of a series

Cw; oral sex, clothed oral sex, reference to afab anatomy (clit is referred to as clit and not dick/cock), words cock and dick are used for reader’s genitalia though ( instead of words like cunt etc) alluded exhibitionism, possessiveness, Dom!Price, Sub!Reader, power dynamics, (light) verbal degradation, praise, no after care, plot what plot/ porn with plot

The usual disclaimer: English isn’t my first language so excuse any grammatically incorrect sentences, spelling mistakes, ooc, plot holes… heads up for long sentences as well, who needs proper structure anyway.

A/n: I’m forcing myself to post my drafts since ideas keep piling up. Also pls read the tags bc reading it without doing so might be confusing . This could be better but hey at least it’s something. I hope you enjoy!

Being captain of a squad entails a whole lot of things; one of the most important being that one couldn’t afford to play favorites. It’s bound to end badly. Matter of fact it might very well result in death. That’s why when Price became captain of the 141 he vowed to himself he wouldn’t play favorites.

Sure he might’ve taken Gaz under his wing but if the man were to mess up on a mission he’d be sent out on practice drills in the pouring rain if the Captain deamed it to be fit. And sure he might’ve known Ghost the longest out of all the guys in 141 but that didn’t mean he was any more lenient on him because of that. And despite Soap’s talent to worm his way into the toughest of hearts, Price ensured he’d never reach his soft spot.

But somehow you seem to be the exception. And everyone knows it. Their suspicions were first confirmed when you’d messed up during a mission. Everyone especially Gaz had expected you to be assigned to run laps for days on end but was surprised to see the captain putting a comforting hand on your shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

That’s also the very first time you’d earn your title as Captain’s boy.

The second person to notice the captain’s lenience towards a certain soldier was Ghost.

You all had just come back from a successful mission and despite the promise of celebration, there was still the ever daunting task of writing a report for it but no one seemed willing to do it.

Everyone had been tasked with writing it, except for the captain of course. Ghost had tried to talk his way out of it but had quickly been shut down by the older man. What he didn’t know was that you had been exempt from writing it. Even with the mask on his face, there was no hiding the sheer amazement he felt as he watched you stroll out the room with the captain himself.

“Captain’s boy huh?” He whispered under his breath as he clicked his pen.

Soap had been the last man to find out about it.

He had heard whispers about it from the previous men but had only chosen to believe it once he had seen it for himself.

You all had been tasked with training new recruits. Everyone had gotten their own little station and Soap had been assigned to the shooting rage. It was fun at first: watching the new guys trying not to shoot their heads off but at some point he got bored of watching over them. So naturally he had wandered over to your station. It didn’t take long before he heard the captain’s voice sounding over your hushed conversation.

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?”Price asked with his arms folded across his chest.

“Not at all” Soap said and flashed him a big grin as he turned on his heel only to be met with a glare from the older man. “Back to your post then Mactavish”

Soap had expected you to face the same treatment.

But as he scurried away and threw a second glance over his shoulder, he came to see the sternness on his captain’s face replaced with something much softer.

He had the mind to applaud you right there and then but had settled for chuckling in disbelief as the words “captain’s boy” left his lips.

Price and you chose to ignore the rumors since at the end of the day rumors were just rumors and no one seemed to mind that the captain seemed to favor a certain soldier.

However they’ll never know just how right they are about the captain and his boy.

You’re laying with your chest flush against the floor, ass up in the air and with a soldier’s body pressed against your own.

It would be rather inappropriate to be in such an intimate position with a soldier but this wasn’t just any other soldier. This was your captain and on many occasions have you found yourself in similar positions.

Your captain who you were supposed to be sparring with had quickly gotten bored and his hands had started to wander on their own.

You didn’t mind the change of plans, however you did mind the fact that his hands seemed to aimlessly wander your body, leaving you worked up and without nothing.

Just as you’re about to complain, finally fed up with the teasing he’d put you through, he roughly pulls down the fabric of your pants, exposing your underwear.

The cool air raises goose bumps all across your skin. But the sensation is quickly replaced with the heat from his palms as they find their way to your naked thighs, trialing up to the sides to finally end their journey at your hips.

You're waiting expectantly for Price to pull down your underwear, bucking your hips up to him every time he slips a finger under the waistband. But every time you think he’s about to pull them down, he allows the boxers to snap back in place and returns to his original spot on your hips, thumb mindlessly tracing circles on the skin.

“Ple-please” you pant, once again bucking your hips at him. However, Price chooses to ignore your plea. Instead he leans down, bodies now pressed flush against each other as he whispers into your ear “What? You want me to take these off for you?” faux sympathy dripping from every word he speaks as his fingers once again pull at the waistband of your underwear only to let it snap back in place again.

“Yes- yes, sir, please”

“Oh no my boy, we have to have some decency ” Price says, tone now akin to the one he uses for recruits when reprideming them but with something darker wrapped around the vowels.

You huff at his words, and feel his hot breath wash over your skin as he chuckles at your whining.

“What? Don’t tell me you want everyone to see you with your cock out. Is that what you want?” You squeeze your thighs, whimpers slipping past your lips as you think of what it would be like for someone to see you like this.

You feel his hands leave the waistband of your underwear to instead run down the side of your thighs.

“Want them to see how you get when you’re with me? “

It doesn’t take long for you to feel his body sliding further down your back, nose nuzzling along the length of your spine and words disappearing into the fabric of your shirts as he says his next words “Want them to see how hard you get for me?”

Price’s journey ends at your lower back where he presses a kiss on it as his hands go to cup your ass cheeks. From where he rests his head, you feel his hot breath hitting your skin and the wisps of beard hair prickling against your ass cheek and a whimper escapes your lips as you buck your hips up to him “Please, please, sir”

Price ignores your pleas as he continues to tease

“Want them to see just how wet you can get for me hm? “ he says as he harshly kneads the flesh in his hands “Answer me”

“Yes- yes sir. I want it please!” You cry out, hips subconsciously grinding in the air; desperate to be given some sort of relief.

“Oh, what am I going to do with you my boy?” he says with a dark chuckle “I know it’s a shame to keep you all to myself but what can I do? I’m not one to share”

It’s simple words meant to be said in the heat of the moment, words that really meant nothing, words meant to be forgotten once the act was over. But by this point you’re far too gone to think about your own words, head feeling too light and airy to really think about the implications of them

“You- you don’t have to share, sir” for some strange reason you felt the need to reassure him; reassure him that you were only his to have if that’s what he wanted , reassure him that he didn’t need to share if he didn’t want to.

Once the words leave your mouth you feel his touch leave you completely, cold air caressing the spot where his hands once had been.

Your words hang in the air for a moment, nothing but your own heavy breaths echoing throughout the otherwise silent room. For some reason you can’t help but feel like you said something you shouldn’t and it leaves you feeling rather embarrassed, eyes squeezing shut and hands clenching into fists. It really isn’t a confession by any means but it is something and that something had been enough to render him speechless.

His voice is low and breathy when he finally, finally speaks “What’s that boy?” You can’t see his face but you can hear his voice and by his tone it sounds like he purrs.

Goosebump raises across your skin, surprise and delight coursing through your body, the light and airy feeling you were earlier feeling, once again returns to your body.

You swallow hard before you respond “I said you don’t have to share sir”

You hear the sound of a sharp inhale before you feel his hand grab your face, roughly turning your head to face him.“Oh” his pupils are blown wide, desire swirling in his iris and he goes to lick his lips before he speaks “you're captain's boy now huh?” His voice is low and hoarse and when he says those words it sounds more like a statement rather than a question.

You whimper at his possessive tone, thighs once again pressing together at his words.

“Say it” he says, hand roughly jerking your chin “Say you’re captain’s boy”

“I’m captain's boy!” you cry out and as you say the words he groans and presses his cock up against your ass.

“Please sir I can’t take it anymore” you cry out, on the verge of sobbing out your words as you push yourself back on his cock.

He hushes you as whimpers escape your lips, hand releasing the grip on your chin to run down the length of your back in soothing motions.

“Let me take care of you, yeah? Let captain care for his boy”

You nod, mumbling something incomprehensible.

“Lay your head down” You do as he says, feeling his hand on your upper back, gently guiding you into the right position.

“Spread your legs” You do as he says and he hums in approval as he helps you adjust your hips.”Just like that. Doing so good for me, yeah?” You nod in response, feeling yourself preen at his approval.

“Now look at yourself boy,”

You turn your head to the big mirror hanging to the side of the training room. From this angle you can perfectly see both him and you.

The reflection shows you sitting on your knees, chest flush against the floor, arms planted into the ground for support with your legs spread wide apart like he’d told you to do before. Price’s also sitting on his knees, broad frame hovering over yours and hands on your hips to keep you close.

Both of you look disheveled, covered in sweat and with similar expressions on your faces that told anyone who’d walked through the doors that the two of you weren’t sparring in this room, at least not anymore.

“Pretty sight isn’t it?” He says with pride in his voice as his gaze locks with yours through the mirror.

You go to respond but before you can do so you feel a sudden pressure on your cock. “O-oh” you groan out as you look down in the mirror only to see Price’s leg lodged in between your own and feel the top of his knee perfectly grounding itself against your dick.

The steady pressure sets your nerves on fire

and a moan escapes your lips as you grind against up him, trying to get more of the feeling.

“I asked you a question,” he hisses. However he must’ve noticed your gaze locked on his leg because he says “eyes up here boy”

You do as he says, once again seeing your wrecked reflection in the mirror. “Pretty sight yeah?” You whimper and nod in response as he increases his pressure on your cock.“That’s Captain’s boy” he says as his gaze burns into your own, threatening to scorch you whole “Now keep looking at yourself, yeah?”

Just as you wonder what he’s about to do, you feel a sudden wet sensation between your legs. You look at him through the mirror, wide eyed and surprised only to see him grinning deviously with spit dribbling down his lips.

“Did you just-“

But before you can say anything else, you feel eager fingers spreading your folds and his mouth on your cock, his tongue laying flat on your dick, slowly dragging it from the top all the way to the bottom of it. As if hit with electricity, your body jolts and you drop your head to the floor as your hips bucks to meet his tongue. “Oh-oh fuck,”

His free hand squeezes the globe of your ass in warning and you’re quickly reminded of what you were supposed to be doing. “Sorry, sorry, sorry” you blabber out in response before you force yourself to once again look at yourself in the mirror.

You look like an absolute mess, pupils blown wide, hair in disarray and chest rapidly rising and falling.

Your face quickly morphs into one of surprise, breath feeling like it’s been punched out of your lungs when Price licks at your cock with renewed vigor, tongue pressing deeper between folds like there’s no underwear separating his lips from your cock.

The pressure of his tongue forces the fabric

of your underwear to directly press against your sensitive clit. And every time he swipes his tongue across your dick, it sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

You spread your legs wider, muscles slightly aching from the awkward angle as you grind up against his mouth. “Please, please, please”

His mouth soon makes its way to your clit,

wet lips lightly nibbling on it before his tongue flickers experimental at it. “Oh-oh” once again your gaze drops from the mirror, eyes squeezing shut as you lose yourself to the pleasure. Luckily Price seems too busy with other things to notice anything.

One lick two licks and he’s full on latching onto your clit, lips eagerly suckling at the engorged numb through the soiled fabric. He alternates between suckling and swirling his tongue around your clit before going back to pay attention to your dick.

The squelching sound that echoes throughout the room sounds straight up obscene and every time you hear it you feel your body burning as you relentlessly buck up into him.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry sir” you cry out, feeling rather embarrassed at your eagerness.

“Nothing to apologize for, told you I was going to take care of you, let me do so” You could’ve cummed right then and there, all traces of embarrassment gone as you allowed yourself to fully lose yourself to the pleasure.

It all quickly becomes too much for you. If his tongue isn’t on your clit then it’s running along the length of your dick. For each and every stroke he goes in deeper with his tongue. And your engorged numb is becoming more and more sensitive to his touch.

At some point you try to get away from him, desperately clawing at the floor and hips bucking away from him but he doesn’t allow you to leave, firmly planting his free hand on your ass cheek to keep you close to him.

“Please- please I can’t “ you sputter out, shaking your head as you try to get away from him.

“This is what you wanted, right? why are you trying to leave now?” He taunts, ceasing all movements as he pulls his mouth away from your dick.

“No!” You cry out, mourning the loss of his touch as you turn to look at him, teary eyed and with pleas threatening to fall from your lips. He’s sitting back on his knees, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and sporting the biggest grin. But your eyes quickly zoom in on the shine that seems to coat his lips. Not only is it on his lips but it's also on his chin and beard. Your eyes widen as you realize it’s a mix of his spit and your arousal and his grin widens, seemingly knowing what you were thinking.

“What did you say before? No?”

He takes one hand and swipes his thumb over his bottom lip, wetting the pad with remainments of your arousal before swiping it over your clit, rubbing agonizingly slowly whilst putting steady pressure on it as he speaks “This is too much for your little cock to handle huh?” He says, faux sympathy dripping from his lips as he reaches over to pet your hair mockingly.

You shake your head, attempting to respond to him but you’re rendered speechless, only able to mewl in response as he continually circles your sensitive numb. “I thought you were captain’s boy. If my boy can’t handle a simple blowie, how is he supposed to handle my dick?” He says as he grabs ahold of your hair, roughly tugging at it.

“I can- I can handle it sir I can candle it

!” you cry out, feeling his fingers lightly pinch your clit.

“That’s what I thought, lay back down for me again yeah?”

You nod, blabbering something incoherent as you resume your original position, allowing him to once again spread your folds and put his mouth on your cock.

Despite your previous words, you find yourself unable to sit still as you feel yourself tethering closer to the edge of your release. Your toes are curling, fingers digging into the mat below, and hips relentlessly bucking up against his tongue. You feel your cock growing more sensitive for every lick, your hole fluttering around nothing and the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Close- so close, just please, please”

All of a sudden his teeth scrape against your sensitive clit, once again putting just enough pressure to be properly felt through the fabric. And that’s all it takes for the knot in your stomach to unfold: eyes rolling into the back of your head, mouth agape as you furiously grind your hips on his tongue before you finally slump onto the floor, legs and arms giving out from supporting your weight for so long.

You feel Price run his hand soothingly down the length of your back and hear him say the words “There we go. That’s it, that's captain's boy.”

#captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #call of duty #alec writes

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oh-saints · 1 year

Note

hi ! would you be down to do a fluffy and funny social media au or an oneshot for a ødegaard!reader dating charles leclerc in secret because they're scared of martin's reaction, but martin tries to set one of his teammates up with reader and charles gets jealous and accidentally reveals their relationship ?

matchmaker

charles leclerc x odegaard&model!reader (ft. martin odegaard the big bro)

word count: 1k

notes: as a pain relief from my angsty works...? teheee but i can totally imagine protectivebro!martin towards his sister irl tbh and i hope you like this bcs this is my 1st time doing something related to socmed au! but as usual, i wrote this at dawn so this is yet to be beta-read.

ig pics taken from aimeesong's instagram; others taken from pinterest and tumblr.

yn.odegaard ✔️

liked by odegaard.98, yourmomig, emelie.odegaard, and 57,980 others

yn.odegaard only the best for your partner. @/tiffanyandco #tiffanypartner #ad

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odegaard.98 please get a real boyfriend

yourbff lucky bastard he is 👀

→ yn.odegaard girl don't spill anything here...

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“ah, the honorary son of our family is here!”

martin didn’t waste his chance as soon as emilie opened the door, only to reveal a particular monegasque racing driver standing before his youngest sister.

charles, being sweet as ever, hugged the giggling girl—it’d become odegaard family’s joke that emilie had been secretly harbouring a crush on the handsome lad—before giving her a small box of signature chocolate from whatever country charles had just arrived from due to the nature of his job. the playful jab martin threw at charles was ringing truer than ever before as the mother of the household walked out of the kitchen, leaving whatever dish she was making to engulf him in a bear hug, whispering silent grace to god that charles had survived another deadly week of racing without a scathe.

which she’d never done to any of her other children, by the way. not even when martin was bleeding from the scraps he’d gotten due to the gruesome nature of football, week in and out. in her defence, martin hadn’t been anywhere near death—not even life-threatening injury—whereas charles grazed the door of hell every time he was working, should his reflex fail him for a mere second difference on that asphalt.

you might be wondering how charles, a monegasque royalty at this point, was subtly adopted by the odegaards, a norwegian footballer family. it was a wonder that never ceased, too, to be honest.

except for you, who’d been the one who opened the gate to this crazy crossover.

you’d shot to stardom because of your social media activities, back when martin was still a madrid player. long story short, your follower count was what sealed your ticket to the catalunya grand prix as a guest for a famous spanish fashion brand, which resulted you being ushered to the ferrari paddock for the brand’s main ambassador, carlos sainz, who introduced you to his teammate, namely charles leclerc.

did it answer your question as to why charles could be found ever so often around the odegaard’s residence? probably not, and the odegaards felt the same way, too, in all honesty. one day, you brought him home for dinner and the boys had been so excited to have another boy at their close proximity to play football with that they even skipped the whole interrogation thing.

thus, them thinking charles was your best friend.

when in fact, he had been anything but.

it was actually within your purest intention to introduce charles as your boyfriend that night. partly because for the first time, you’d managed to snatch a fine specimen of a gentleman as your boyfriend instead of adding another male to your pile of boy/friend. but mostly because you and charles had every intention to be serious about your relationship—like marriage serious.

you had actually prepared both charles and yourself for a long investigating query from your brothers—in their name of being protective and all, and despite your exterior of despising them for that, you couldn’t help but love them all the same. but it seemed like those two older siblings of yours just thought charles was another boy/friend you met due to the nature of your job, or probably due to your extrovert trait.

did you ever bother to correct them?

lots of times, you wanted to break the label kristoff and martin was giving charles. but it was your boyfriend who held you back, grasping your hand in his in a gentle pressure under the table. when asked afterwards, he’d always answer with, “in due time, we will. for now, I’m focused on gaining their favours.”

so you stayed put. after all, you had been a firm believer that only a man knows other men best.

but it seemed like it’d change after tonight.

“you really should look for a boyfriend,” martin slipped in the thoughts he’d already put on her instagram’s comment section in the midst of the table going around her newest campaign. “you’re glowing when you have a partner.”

you couldn’t help but scoff. “what do you know from a picture?”

“we’re saying that you look so good in your last campaign, probably because you found a perfect partner for the shoot. now imagine if you have a real boyfriend…” kristoff added and you rolled your eyes at your oldest brother. the guy in the picture was actually the one sitting beside you, your boyfriend of almost a year now, so of course you glowed like you’re in a relationship.

“do you need my help to set you up with someone?”

kristoff’s eyes widened at martin’s so-called brilliant idea. “you’re a genius! or maybe charles can—”

“nope, no one’s good enough for her.”

charles’ statement left the entire table speechless, including yourself. you’d never heard charles spoken up so fast, with a tone so angry and facial expression so full of distaste, despite his blue eyes focused on the dish he was playing with.

“well, there’s kieran who just broke up—”

“can’t you just let your sister choose her own partner?” charles looked up and chose to shoot lasers to the head of the table, even it scared you a bit.

this side of charles was new, for he would always be seen exasperated when it involved things around racing, but it was probably because the topic was new. your idiotic brothers had never—ever—had a problem with your romantic life. tonight was the first time the duo ever sold the idea of matchmaking you since puberty waves hit the family.

charles let out a sigh so deep, you knew he regretted his outburst. “she’s all grown up, for god’s sake.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

charles_leclerc ✔️

liked by odegaard.98, yourmomig, emelie.odegaard, and 952,767 others

charles_leclerc Sorry not sorry I snatched her first

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yn.odegaard wrong account?

→ pierregasly wrong account

→ landonorris wrong account

→ carlossainz55 wrong account

→ georgerussell63 wrong account

→ charles_leclerc maybe not?

odegaard.98 charles, just an fyi: this is not how you impress your future bro-in-law

kristodegaard you guys really shouldn't have hid anything from us, not cool @yn.odegaard @charles_leclerc

emilie.odegaard i love you for letting my brothers think the otherwise all this time

yourmomig i smell this from the first time i met you. welcome to the family, son!

→ yn.odegaard YOU DIDN'T????

→ odegaard.98 are we the only one left in the dark? @kristodegaard

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spiderlandry · 10 months

Text

random (mostly non-gf) ethan landry headcanons 💭

watches your favourite shows with you, even if some of it isn’t his thing

if you love yellowjackets he definitely gets invested with you. (playfully argues with you about which ships are better. he cried over laura lee’s death btw)

you watch his favourite shows in turn (he likes procedurals a lot. the type to like corny 2000s cable shows like psych but you still watch with him)

glued to his phone when you began talking to each other. when you weren’t there he was either texting you or calling you. he was scared you’d think it was annoying so after he feels like he’s too overbearing, he held back and sent less messages to “play it cool” but you send him a text saying i miss you :( so now he’s sending double the texts

study dates being how you spend 80% of your time with him. you’ll just be sitting near each other, going over notes or working on an assignment

during these study dates it’s mostly just silence, but occasionally either of you would break the quiet by asking the other one what they think of a certain line in an essay, etc.

if you like to cook, he would definitely try to learn from you. he’s very attentive but can get super distracted by your hands you are very good with them

(gf!ethan being fascinated by the way you handle knives for a different reason)

prefers to eat with you at yours or his apartment because he’s way more comfortable when you’re both alone (even if sometimes chad would interrupt)

surprisingly good at baking—he’s a natural and you’re even surprised when he tells you he’s never done it before. he has good baking instincts

you can’t help but kiss him when you come home early and he’s making you cupcakes for your birthday. he’s kinda sad tho bc he wanted it to be a surprise :( he made the buttercream and everything

after you become more comfortable w each other and get past that awkward stage, he cannot keep his hands off you. literally loves laying on you and putting his head in the crook of your neck

FOREHEAD KISSES

keeps a secret list of things you like even before you start dating. also some important information about you like if you have any allergies, dislikes, likes

he’s scared you might think it’s creepy but after you start dating you catch him typing on his phone while you’re talking about a pet peeve and you think he’s not paying attention so you sneak a glance at his phone and this man is literally typing it into his list

you grin so wide it’s kind of concerning, he tries to hide it from you but you pepper his face in kisses and that’s the first time you say i love you

he wanted to say i love you first but is kinda glad you beat him to it because he probably would’ve taken way longer

watches gordon ramsay shows with you (specifically kitchen nightmares and hotel hell)

right before senior year of college, your lease is about to end and at this point chad is about ready to move in with tara so ethan would have to look for a new place soon

you notice that things line up, and you’re both laying in bed talking about the future and it just clicks. you look at each other in unison with the same question on both your tongues.

“are you thinking what i’m thinking?” you ask.

he nods. after a momentary pause, he clarifies, “wait, you’re thinking we should move in together, right?”

you laugh. “yes, ethan. that’s what i’m thinking.”

“okay, good.”

#ethan landry thoughts 💭#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry #scream 6 x reader #scream x reader

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cherrsnut · 3 months

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Hostage - Chapter 6

Finnick Odair x Healer!Reader

Summary: Up until now, your life has been a solitary one. Being the sole owner of an herbal shop, and apothecary to many fishermen who have been injured. Just when your life seemed to follow the routine you were so used to, your life turns a 360 when you’re suddenly taken away for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. This turn of events forces you to accept the idea the Grim Reaper is stalking close behind you, faster than you had hoped for.

Tags: Extremely Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Typical THG Violence, Forced Prostitution, Forced Lab Rat, Injury, Mental Health Deterioration, Psychological/Physical Torture, Death, Alcohol/Drug Consumption, Medical Malpractice, Fluff (bc they deserve it).

Word Count: 11.7k

Previous // Next

Chapter 6

It was day nine on the training facility. Which only meant it was three days to go until your feet stood on the harsh grounds of the Arena. Every passing day was another needle piercing your lungs, as you noticed the countdown coming closer to its end, you realized it was made harder for you to breathe. It wasn’t the muscle memory your brain was taught, it was as if suddenly you had forgotten the simple act of breathing, and all you could think about was controlling the air currents that sucked in and out of your mouth.

It was like your lungs were holding hostage the innocent air particles that were only out there to help you, and you felt like you coudn’t breathe now that the timer was close to its set.

This past few days you’d started to lose faith in God. It’s not like you blindly believed in him to begin with, but with the pained breaths you were expulsing, you slowly felt any sort of belief from a greater force be spilled out along with it.

Whether it was God, destiny or whatever, you soon struggled to be able to believe in any of that, because right now your position was different. You weren’t in that privileged stance; then, you had a home, work, food and water, you had whatever you needed to live, and it was easier to believe in that then, because you didn’t think about your own survival.

But it was different now, all of that was over. And after the Reaping it was a hard reality check that, the world indeed didn’t owe you a cent. And so, your Deist idea slowly faded into nothing, you simply lost faith in any entity, and at this point even yourself.

You didn’t know what you believed in, and it wasn’t like it mattered anyway. Whatever religion or personal truth was soon going to be vanished along your scattered body on the grounds of the Arena, and it felt very much like you were being executed for a crime you hadn’t committed. Punished for the wrongdoings of another person, and the wrong deeds of their fault had your life shorten, while the true perpetrator was out there enjoying their prolonged one, and they better understood their guilty freedom was in exchange of yours.

Yeah, you didn’t know what to believe in anymore, and it didn’t matter anyway. That’s why you abstained yourself from believing in anything, and if that meant you stopped looking at God’s metaphors in life, then so be it. Or to make it or poetic, you followed what Nietzsche once said “God is dead”.

By day nine it was obvious the Career group was formed. From District 1, we had Ezra and Ava, both loving siblings to each other, but definitely with lethal intentions to the rest of the Tributes, possibly even to their team members when the chance arose.

For District 2 we had the memorable Birch, and Nyla. You had found her curious for her preferred weapon choice to be a fishing spear, since it seemed it was expressly placed for the participants of District 4. But you wouldn’t judge her skills on her weapon, especially when you saw her expertise on handling that piece of weaponry, earning her the fitting title of hunter and it only seemed natural she was welcomed by the Careers.

Then came District 4, with none other than Vito and his double blades. It seemed Birch along Ezra had been interested in him not only through the way he handled the blades. Finnick’s games were still influential, since it only had been two years ago since he came out victorious, and they found his rapid net making to be the deciding factor for their admiration for him.

And lastly, were both Tributes of District 7, known for their lumberjack industry. It only took a quick look to realize as to why they were picked. Carter and Steph both had a muscular build, and they definitely exhuded strength and a feared determination of not backing down without a real fight.

You sighed looking at the formed group. It was disheartening the very knowledge that the strongest were in a group to fight off the weaker ones, and it felt bitterly unfair and personally against against you. Even more when Vito was along them and not you, meaning they saw you just as weak and useless as the rest, deserving to be killed right off the bat. Because for them, you had no use, comparing you with dead weed of the Arena, and they still found more ways to exploit the dry grass than yourself.

Your eyes met the grey tones of the slightly pigmented green of his irises, maintaining contact and understanding of each other’s presence. Carter’s eyebrow ticked up in acknowledgement. The ghost of your eyes haunted his, as he could feel the hoplessness that you body emanated, even when being many feet apart from each other.

You saw his lips curl up into a small smile. He hoped your grasped his gesture, to let it embrace you in a warm hug, all so he wouldn't have to see your present frown and to envelop yourself into his reassurance.

It wasn’t hard to comprehend the meaning behind his expression, he was just trying to make you feel better. But it seemed rather complicated to feel at ease when he already belonged to a deadly group, one of which had a participant that was a psycho and determined on pointing at you with the red dot of his invisible assault rifle.

But you still understood he wanted express his sympathetic side to you. You could imagine, and hoped, his secret hobby or lingering daydream didn’t involve the exciting thought of killing other people, unlike the Tributes of District 1 and 2. But rather, he was like you and Vito, here against their will, and obligated you all to be in the survival game by the choice of an mere outsider. And tho whomever created the Hunger Games to begin with, you didn’t have the prettiest words or thoughts about that person. And of course, you would never say them outloud. By the way Scarlett had reacted each time you cursed, it was like an unforgiving blasphemy to even proclaim your deepest negative thoughts about the Games.

You returned him the smile, unknown to him that your teeth greeted through your anxiety, to calm your scraping words of wanting to hide yourself to the world so no one could find you and, somehow be able to sneak your way out of having to be in the battling grounds. But that scenario was close to impossible, so you stopped yourself from thinking too much about it before you’d consider it.

”I get it, I’d smash. Although Finnick is more of my type though. But let’s get back to training, shall we?” The whispering words brushed past the side of your face, tickling lightly the crown of your ear with his warm breath.

And you stopped, before looking up at him. Your mind blank as it tried to grab onto any reason that was slowly flying away out from your ears. But your brain seemed to be damaged from the from broken wires by Vito’s words, and the sparking of the electricity was dancing around your mind, a sign of the overworked brain from a rush of confusing curiosity over what he meant by those words, which you quickly understood un thus the short time span electrocution that jumbled your brain around.

You mind run miles, and yet you weren’t unable to utter the words.

“With what I’ve seen so far, believe me, girlie. You’ll need it” he snickered at you. Your lips kept on closing and opening slightly, his extra piece of information meant to confuse you further, you knew that, and you still gave into his mind games.

Vito coudn’t help but hung a playful smirk up his mouth, amused by the rush of thoughts flashing behind your eyes. He felt victorious of course, he had his desired outcome so you would come out of that concerned trance he noticed you were having on a regular basis at training. But he didn’t expect you to have come out in such a funnily manner, that he coudn’t help the light giggles. Even more so at the creased brows you formed as you tried to compute further his words.

You managed to say something. “I didn’t know?” you said clumsily with a joking smile. You huffed a smile out at the situation. He lifted his hand up to his lips and chuckled further at your comment. Your expression was priceless in his eyes, and he coudn’t help himself from leaving you stunned like that. Oh, how much he loved doing that to you.

Caesar Flickerman had just called your name, his infamous smile, known to the whole of Panem sat across his well-known face. The many cheers that rang through the stage, from clapping sounds to the impatient voices of the citizens of the Capitol, were awaiting your shining entrance.

A few hours ago, the examination went… not so great. Vito had done his best in teaching you the refined arts of the knives, and you could grasp the basic concept of attcak, slice, and stab… that was it. Two weeks to learn everything about hunting down an vicioius animal one on one seemed like a challenging feat, not say practically impossible. So when you were standing below your future sponsors, it felt very much silly of you to try and use that weapon to show off your non-existent high levels skills, especially considering Vito was next in line. You cringed at that thought for the thousandth time today. It was embarrassing, you could say that much. So much so you didn’t even try to look up at them unless necessary. So when you did, you were met with the bored looks of the experienced viewers that had seen decades worth of fighters, and you wouldn’t be catalonged as one no matter how much you tried to disguise yourself as one.

But it’s not like you could do anything else. If they had even bothered bringing in some herbs or chemicals, you could’ve shown your more scientific knowledge. You knew a hundred ways to elaborate toxic poisons, and a millions ways to create antidotes for each and every one of them, that would’ve definitely earned you a more prideful look on your end. But then again, you were sure the Sponsors weren’t quite interested for you to elaborate remedies for basically anything. Afterall, they only wanted to see people killing each other; they just wanted to see violent and gruesome deaths, they wanted to hear their screams of horror as a familiar face was draining the life away from them, like a vampire sucking every ounce of blood to ensure your dried death. And being a doctor kind of went directly against what they preached. You weren’t like a hidden gem to them, more like a pain in the ass if you were able to heal someone back to life. And in the circle of betting games, the randomized traps scattered across the Arena, had the same element of uncernaty as the Sponsors had now that your card was placed on the table. Because now it meant you could take care of the Tributes. Your extensive knowledge was like a direct threat aganst the chosen Tributes they laid their money on. It wasn't just who would be more likely to come out victorious from a logical perspective, because you were brought into the mix. It wasn’t just strength, ability, and speed what they had to analyze, but also an element of luck. And unfortunately for them, that was something that coudn’t be measured in a logical way.

You sighed. The interview was your last chance to make people like you. If your skills wouldn't make them on your side, you hoped that maybe they would try to connect with you more personally. Perhaps if they felt bad about your death, you could win over their hearts. You needed to convince them you dying would only affect them negtively in the end.

You let another shaky breath, and stepped forward. The cling clang the heel needle resonated on the smooth and shining surface you were standing on, only to become completely soundless as you walked over, to none other than the famous blue haired waiting for you. You made sure your thighs turned to hard muscle, careful as to not be clumsy and fall infront of what seemed about five hundred people. Their eyes scanned you whole, so you coudn’t risk doing a mistake in front of all of them. You returned your gaze, shy and nervous as you wondered around the gigantic audience ahead of you.

It looked like a painting from the Impressionist era. Your first description of what was reflecting back your eyes was “A lot of colour”. Many dots of vibrant shapes and colors, raging from the warm tones of yellow and orange, to cooler ones like purple and tale blue; all painted above a black canvas.

The shining lights were flashing your eyes, needing a moment to readjust them to make better off the people of the Capitol. They were wearing odd and eccentric hats, an that was what you had previously confused to be expert brush strokes of an creative artist, was simply just the fashion designs of the Capitol.

Their eyes roamed over your every inch, awaiting what sort of good time you would give them. Whereas for you, they were on a dark canvas, they in turn they saw you against a white one, where your background scenery was filled with many sparkling glitter surrounded your promotional poster, with your face hanging there confidently.

Mr. Flickerman led you to sit opposite him, sitting on a home-like modernized version of an armchair. With the same colour as your dress, the designer was right to add the pillow below you. It was big, for anyone to regain themselves in whichever position they wanted and still be comfortable at the cute armchair. It reminded you of the warm and cozy cafeteria down the street of the Herbal Shop. And if you werte to recommend it to someone, you’d sincerely tell them it was best served under the winter weather with a hot chocolate protecting you from viruses that threatened to infect everyone.

“So Ms. Doctor from Distrcit 4, I’ve heard of something peculiar the other day” he started looking at you intensely. The pause, of course, for dramatic effect. Now you understood where Scarlett was coming from with the way she expressed her emotions. “I heard-”

Another pause. This was starting to feel gut wrenching. The large amount of people weren’t helping either, and you’ve been stuck in a cycle of insecurity of wanting to come across as likeable to them, and you weren’t sure how you could accomplish that. The first impression was was the deciding factor for the initial building blocks of a friendship, and that level of anxiety of the what ifs had your insides flip five times.

“You healed, none other than the Victor of the 65th Hunger Games, our Finnick Odair” his voice all of a sudden strengthened in volume, coming out in thrilled particles that drugged everyone replicating his mood, one of jovial enthisiasm. There were slight gasps in surprise, but definitely a lot of murmuring between themselves. Your eyes opened in shock, you had completely forgotten all about that.

Still astounded, you scanned over the room perfectly, the singular emotion that traveled in the air everyone breathed between each other, was that of simple curiosity. They wanted to hear your next words, they wanted to know what you brought to the table, they wanted to who you were.

This was the great start you needed. Even if it hurt your soul admitting it, you had to appreciate Scarlett's input for spreading this piece of information, so diligently it even reached the ears of the biggest TV host of the Capitol. Not only for your own sake, but as well for hers, you had to make the fullest of this little advantage.

Scarlett understood the public perception and opinion like no other; and when it came to Finnick’s name being brought up, it was your best bet to grow interest for yourself by using him.

You smiled brightly at what he had said. Making sure the shining of the lights reflected on your teeth just the same as the way your eyes sparkled in hopeful optimism. If you needed to sway public opinion to be on your side, this was your best bet to touch their hearts, and who knows? Maybe tickle them a bit to make their insides flutter happily.

You let a giggle escape through the microphone. “Yes” the tone of your voice thrilled with the taste on candied apple, to feed them the explosion of sweet delight down their throats.

“At the time, his fishing team came rushing in my Herbal Shop one day. You know, after they had injured themselves like they usually did” you started widening your grin at what you just came up with. It felt like throwing Finnick overboard, which was only more unfair on his end, now that he wasn’t with you to defend himself from the words that came out of your mouth.

But with these people, it was better the more you spoke, rather than staying idly still and quiet, in hopes the ordeal would pass by to detense the anxiety building up a tight knot from inside your throat. Even better? When your words sounded like a caramelized drink to their ears.

“You know, Finnick can be a little clumsy at times” you admitted. The microphone caught the way your tone dropped a few octaves as if mimicking you were in a vulnerable crowded place, giving away uncommunicated information that would make any Finnick fans squeal from joy. You placed a finger up your lips.

“But shhh, ‘kay? Don’t tell anyone I said that” you opened your mouth, showing your baring teeth to the audience. They laughed at your playful and cheeky personality that you gleefully showed them.

It worked, somehow it worked. But this wasn’t the time to get comfortable, the show was still going, and you’d give them the best version of yourself. You needed to leave your astounded expression for later, when you weren’t in front of televised cameras that were ready to pick apart the little of what you had shown them. Later, you would try to come up with reasons as to why it was so easy to captivate them, with whatever you had said to them.

Your very words that spoke enchantingly brushed the thin line between the truth and the uncertain lie, and to be honest with yourself, you didn’t know if they were either truthful or not. Because that wasn’t what was important right now, you just needed their attention to you.

A sudden realization hit you. They didn’t care about the Tributes, at least not nearly enough as the sponsors did, and that was only because they had a stack of money they were risking losing, a large amount that would make a significant difference in their wallets.

The public just wanted to see a show, and so you’d give them a show. They loved the gossip between the people they cataloged as untouchable, and that was evident with what you had told them about Finnick. If that’s what they wanted, you’d show them your secret facade that seems openly visible for them, as tasty as the sweetest honey they had never been able to come across before. One no matter the riches of the Capitol, they could never recreate that something that felt so pure, yet came from the inner depth of deception. You’d make them feel that a reincarnation of a Tribute like you will never happen again in near the history.

The blue haired chuckled at your words. You’d show them a different kind of spark, to make them feel you were the only one that could cure them from their embarrassing problems of the high society, an escape from their hard reality.

They had the nerve to complain about societal standards when the rest of the Dictricts were dirtying their backs with sweat and earth, whilst they washed themselves in the cash at the expense of your hard unpaid overwork.

Even with those staining feelings in your soul about them, you'd give them what they wanted. In the end you were still a slave of the Capitol, no matter how much you hated it. You shone under the lights of the stage, an eight-pointed golden star in replacement of your dull pupils.

If the wanted this, the show must go on then.

“You are a lovely girl” he started. “But unfortunately I wouldn't place my bet you” he lamented, caressing his eyebrows jokingly. Your heart dropped, and somehow you felt like he could see through your intentions. No, they’re not that smart to realize that. All they wanted was a big fun fest, and desired a good time, that’s why they had come here to begin with.

You gasped, learning from the best, none other than the unbeatable Scareltt. She was probably looking at you right now, Vito, Finnick and Mags beside her, expectant as to what actions you would carry out. You could sense her eyes, a look of determination, and hopeful you wouldn't miss this chance to change your game.

“Mr. Flickerman, you hurt me with those words” you placed a hand directly at your heart, theatrically trying to protect his confession from piercing your heart lika a dagger. You pouted very much staged, and of course in a joking manner.

“I’ll let you know, if you were a Tribute, I would not hesitate in rooting for you” you winked at him cheekily, a sly playful smirk coming up to your face. He only chuckled further at your words, earning you the clapping audience followed with warm laughter.

You could feel it, the way the citizens wanted to have a closer relationship with you. And to accomplish that you would need to captivate them further. Make them feel like there was a close friendship with them, make them feel important by sharing your masking secrets with them, make them believe they were present in your life.

Your lashes opened further at the realization. You just decoded how to make them like you, and you practically could hear your mind sing sang the little tunes of confidence that exhaled your body. This was a different kind of game, one the most cunning with the trickiest mind games would surely win over their hearts. And you had to be the best, so much so none of the other Tributes would beat you in this little game of yours, and you just needed to ace this. Especially when you were the creator of the rules to begin with.

“Tell us a little about yourself” Mr. Flickerman said between chuckles.

“Well, you know I’m a Doctor…” you thought further. “But do you know I’m that of a poison maniac” you admitted out loud. Everyone turned silent, and you could read the question as to what you meant by those yours. Your smile widened at the stunned look of the Host. They weren’t expecting that.

Bingo!

“Do tell us more about it” desired the important Host. “I’m sure everyone here wants to know as well” he directed his attention to his audience, earning the high tones of approval he was seeking. He tilted his face to his side, concentrating his look on your moving lips, impatient to know what you were about to reveal.

You let a dry snicker escape your mouth, one that ringed at the back of your tongue. You eyed him, with another convincing smile. “Being an medic, it’s only natural I give but the best quality medicine out there. And for that, I would poison myself to find the best remedies” you informed. You bit your lip down expectant as to what the reaction of the public would be.

“Wow. What an unexpected turn of events” he finally roared, his voice echoing in every corner of the set. The audience though, stayed quiet, and you could feel them staring in awe at what you had let out.

“Yup. From strange looking fruits, to snake bites. I have tried them all. An of course, that means I’m tolerant to most poisons” you turned to the audience, giving them a cheeky look. You just thought of the best response for this.

“I believe there's a saying that goes by ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’. Next time don’t underestimate me, I have a few cards up my sleeve, Mr.” you giggled through the microphone. Mr. Flickerman simply smiled in amusement. The audience ruptured in an applause, with some people whistling which cut though the noise, at the revelation that you had kept hidden. You only chuckled more in flattery of their recognition of your talent. Your eyes readied on the blue haired, him giving you that of a laughing smile. Maybe it was a bit adventurous of you, but you winked at him jovially, earning him another round of chuckles.

When the noisy ambience died down, the blue haired Host turned serious again. And of course returned his unbearable pause. He knew what he was doing, creating intrigue among everyone that saw his show tonight, making everyone more focused with what he wanted to say. He opened his mouth to finally speak.

“We would love to keep talking to you,” he informed regretful at the sounds of disappointed guests among the public. “but I’m afraid time’s up”

“Aww, Mr Flickerman, you’re totally breaking my heart” you pouted in with a pitiful voice, all part of a playing joke.

“Don’t try to gulttrip me like that” he added, along with the laughs of the public.

You stood up, but before you left, there was something you needed to do to make sure you were the spotlight of the likeability between the Capitol.

“Love you all, and thank you for tonight” your hand placed on your lips, only to swiftly fly off to your captivating audience, blowing out loving kisses to them. And with that, you left the stage. And that you blissful mask was thrown away into the trash once you heard the roaring cheers for the next person behind you.

You never realized just how empty this kind of lively show would give you once the lights turned their focus on someone else. Your heart had turned like an empty void, and you came across something you hadn’t thought about during the show. The joy and elation you were showing was was never there to begin with, and it honestly left you exhausted having to overwork you body to achieve to emotions you wanted to convey.

“Love you all” the words you spoke earlier bouncing around your mind like a broken record, like it was trying to tell you something that you coudn’t quite grasp the concept of. Loving someone, you didn’t know what that even meant. Although you had never been loved by anyone, nor you have loved anyone before; unless motherly kind of love you supposed. But even with Edna, you weren’t quite sure if that was the case. And for the next five minutes you wondered around with that topic of interest, “What’s it like to love someone?” you muttered as you walked down the hallway to meet the rest of your team, already noticing they’re exciting movement towards you.

That question though, would quickly fade into the abyss of amnesia inside your mind, throwing away pieces of information that your brain deemed unnecessary worth remembering. Scarlett practically ran to you to give to the biggest, most suffocating hug you’ve the pleasure to experience, and for a moment you thought she was about to kill you right then and there from the sheer force, before the Hunger Games even commenced. She had really toned muscles, you thought.

You found yourself again at the balcony. It had been your comforting place in a way. When everything felt too real and suffocating, you simply came out to feel the seasonal wind against your face. No matter how high quality aircons are in the Capitol, nothing could beat the fresh air of the still night. Even the incoming noises of the busy city, coudn’t reach the high tower you were standing on. So high up you bet you could brush the texture of the soft clouds, only to find the disappointing reality, and to contrary to what you had hoped for. In return, your offering hand was covered in tiny cold droplets neatly placed on the surface of your skin from the forming rain that was happening inside the spongy clouds.

The cold humidity that exhuded a crashing reality to your silly thought. So it was evident you also felt the freezing particles of the night over your body, and with that, the winds that hide themselves during daytime, travelled further away into their destination under the beautiful moon shine.

You almost expected it to be Finnick, having met him last time in the exact same place, at the very same hour. But what gave away that it was indeed not your mentor’s presence was funnily the smell, it was warm and refreshing. It reminded you of what Athena had said to you days go, the smell of the sea never seemed to leave the sea shells when they touched each other , it was daring and in a beautifully wrapped up overpowered odor.

Vito smelled similar to Finnick, but your Tribute Partner’s was more capturing. It was a nice smell that anyone would willingly drown themselves into a sea of flower petals, and no one opposed to turn themselves under his very submission.

Finnick on the other hand, reminded you of the wild dandelions that grew a top of the mountains. Back home, when you needed provisions for medicine, you liked trekking up to the crown of a mountain about an hour away from your town. It was a wonderland of medicinal herbs, like God himself had planted them all for you. And without fail, you blew air out of those loving blooming dandelions, speaking away your impossible wishes and secrets. Fragile and soft to the touch, as light as the wind blew them through the air into the hidden places over the ocean, that’s how Finnick smelled like.

You looked up Vito. His brown skin glowed with the neon colors of the Capitol, but the real party was the reflection of said colors on his sclera, even more so the void of his black eyes showing that similar of an underground night club where everyone was welcomed, no matter how different they were labeled as by the unfair standards of society.

“Hey” he spoke quietly so as to not interrupt the peaceful stillness of the night. He wasn’t looking at you, and yet you still understood the serious undertone of his voice, already knowing the reasoning he wanted to talk to you. You didn’t need to be a genious to figure that one out. “Hey”

There was a moment of silence. The heaviness placed around both of your shoulders, the grief swirling your very essence into replicating those sorrowful eyes of yours. You huffed out air. It was exactly the same situation like having to see one of your family member's succumb to a lethal disease, fully knowing they weren’t going to make it, and you were left with the slow acceptance that you would never see them again. Never touch them, never feel them, like you somehow had to ignore the footprint they marked on your core memory, and having to live your days as the circle of life took away their presence, and you still too burdened by their ghostly unreal fingers walking along your skin.

It was unfair, because neither you or Vito deserved this, and you both knew this very fact. Why did you have to be punished by the crimes people you never met had atoned for? You have been even able to distract away your anger before, but now it was impossible for your unresolved gut feeling. Your throat squeezed at the feeling of that unfiltered emotion. But there was nothing you could do, because you were merely an ant in the way of a human shoe, the riched and powerful men couldn’t form an ounce of sympathy for you. And why would they? Your merely an insect living in their hunting society; you were invisible to them, so why would they care about what you had to say?

The crashing of your teeth were pressing against each other rather strong, and aggressively. A tight pain from your gums was a reflection that if you kept going, with what felt like an unlimited force, you’d end up breaking each tooth into merely tiny pieces, so small it could could fly away as powder.

A burning tear screamed its way down to you jaw, like a hurt soldier in the name of scalding revenge for taking his loved one away from him..

Vito let a breath out from the agony of the situation he got himself in. He looked at you, finding himself reflected in the same emotion of that female rage that was circling around in a rushed manner through the ducts of your veins.

“Tomorrow’s the day” he just said. And you hated the way he sounded so indifferent about it, like he gave up in that instant, like he had finally come to terms to the situation. But you hated yourself more, because you knew you should feel that way as well, you needed to accept tomorrow would be your grave. But it was one of those hard things in life you coudn’t quite grasp the concept of, it was one of those hard lessons were it only left you more confused every passing second. Because your death would be for absolutely nothing worth sacrificing yourself over for.

Another tear rolled down, this time taking the path to follow down the silhouette of your nose, only to sink down your lips like a damaged ship from a recent pirate fight, leaving you with the saltiness of the sourness you felt at the tip of your tongue.

“I’ll come back to get you. Don’t linger around the Cornucopia unless you want to die from the get go” he murmured the warning. But you were glad he still wanted to follow through the plan, a plan that only happened after the obvious acknowledgement that you were surely going to die if you didn’t have a willing participant to protect you. You were more than glad Vito was by your side.

Yet, you had another thought in mind. One very much different to the words he was speaking, and if he hadn’t felt the very same rage circling around his soul, Vito would have had trouble in trying to understanding what you were referring to.

”I hate them, Vito” you told him. “I hate them so much I could kill every single one of them”

He knew who you were referencing to, the stuck up people of the rich society of the Capitol. Even more so the sponsors whose empathy are as empty as a vacant lot, and he couldn't forgive President Snow for celebrating the Hunger Games for another year straight. To make a whole show about the death of another twenty three children and adolescents, to be nothing but a promotional cultural activity, like a national sport competition that needed to happen for the sake of Panem political affairs.

He tensed the corners of his lips into a frown. The built up tears that he promised himself he wouldn't let spill was threatening just behind his lashes to pour down his cheek. He bit his tongue unable to say anything, complicit of the confessing words that could lead you to your punishment. One that involved scissors, your tongue, no anesthesia and a lot of pain you weren’t ready to face.

Vito blamed you for making him tear up like that. He was trying to hold it, because it didn’t come from a place of sadness but rather the feeling of unfairness anger, that turned in an eternal resentment to seek out justice for the Capitol’s wrongdoings. Your words had hit straight to his chest, the cruel and cold words he welcomed in with open arms, because he had the same sentiment. Unlike you, it seemed easier to hide away that feeling into an old rusty box under a key he threw away into the ocean, so how did you open his chest to reveal his innermost gruesome desires?

The pure of your emotion was shared with him, and both of you cried through the fiery rage of the obligation you two had to complete. Both of you wished for the other to survive, while also drowning in self pity and a silent wish it was them who would come out victorious.

He clasped a hand behind your head and buried your face in his chest, letting you make an emotional mess all over his shirt. So after his invitation to ruining yourself on his clothes, you grabbed a hold of the rich textile behind his back, making sharp and hard wrinkles around were your fingers that were creating a fist, a burning sensation on your fingers from the slight rash at the stong grip.

And there the both of you stayed, venting away the crucial and clouding desires to take down this Roman Empire to build another one, based directly by your conjoined ideals. Ones you were sure the people from the future would look down upon your current systematic one, to preach your imaginary one.

A whimper escaped your lips, your cries becoming louder in that pit of uncontrollable fire. You were coming back from the wings of fantasy, and crashing down your unprotected landing to earth’s reality. A dry sob from the realization he would be separated from you so painfully soon.

“But the hardest part is leaving you” was what you wanted to say to him. He’d become your only friend, a bond built upon the same unfortunate situation, but still a friend nonetheless. You didn’t want to separate yourself from him. You didn’t want to die, you didn’t want him to die, you just wanted to be with him like this until the end of times, until Earth had become nothing but crust. For someone to find your fossilized rock, and coming across that of an emotive stone of two hugging skeletons, in each other embrace to face the chaotic disaster together.

But you didn’t want to die, you wanted to spend more time with him. You wanted the both of you to lose yourselves on the dry mountains of District 4; to swim and perhaps and eat fish he had gathered from the endless sea, and tell old pirate tell tales.

You didn’t want to die, and you didn’t want him to die. But that wish was simply unrealistic, in which fate didn’t have that wishful plan for the two of you. And fate had already spoken, and that meant you two wouldn't come out of this alive together.

“Fifteen” the countdown was halfway through. Your feet were stoned to the platform, as your veins run cold coursing through your body. You sucked in air, trying to stop the scraping thoughts of death from cutting around your soul.

“Thirteen” you gulped down hard, as a way to stop the gurgling feeling from your stomach to rise to your eyes, and start crying right there and then. The anticipated Hunger Games was close to commence, and for the first time a voice whispered in approval to something you had said earlier, you weren’t ready for this.

“Ten” by then you sucked in many more breaths, the anxiety overgrowing through your every artery, infecting your lungs into a garden of poisonous wild vegetation. Your chest heaved rapidly, trying to stabilize your tumultuous mind. Everything was hazy, and your eyes roamed every corner it could, trying to desperately find and hold onto anything that would put you into the guarding hands of safety. But this was the Hunger Games, you knew better than to blindly trust something or someone. And when it came to the Gamemakers, when you turned your back, their betrayal was exactly like a Judas kiss.

“Where’s Vito?” your voice got lost in the immense silence that surrounded you. He wasn’t next to you, and in his stead came the features of the terrified girl from District 5. Her brunette hair braided into twined low tails, giving her the absolute most innocent look on her.

Ice touched your wrists, hurting the passing blood that was blocking your veins at the sight, already grimly visualizing her end.

Your eyes started to water, “Where is he?” your chest was rising and lowering in uncontrollable rhythmic fast paces. Your eyes moved fast trying to reach the boy you could trust most in this secluded place. Your jaw trembled a chill, it seemed from the very moment you entered the tube, every shiver that run made incomprehensible shapes on your back like it was foretelling you about something, and it felt exactly like a warning by the way your hairs straightened in electric agony. It didin’t matter how much your body screamed at you to turn around, to not enter the place that was surely going to end up being the graveyard of all the participants. The alert were justified. You were going to die soon, and that what scared you into the shaking fear that echoed in your bones, cliterring against each other.

“Nine” you found him. Vito was looking back at you, the irises of his eyes like the sea before a storm, calm and peaceful, and slowly getting more disturbed by the cruel ripples drawing hungry circles on the water. They were dark, like the clouds that started to cover the sky of the ocean, and soon the electrical particles would float around in the air, welcoming the thunders and lightnings that had been anticipating to come out, to free their violence through the sea.

He gestured his head behind him, away from the Cornucopia that stayed in the centre of the circled Tributes. He was calm and collected, he was ready to face this, something your weren’t. He wanted you to run away and hide somewhere, just like he said the day before, “I’ll come back to get you”.

You followed his lead, and found yourself overlooking the structure of this place, of the Arena that the Gamemakers had expressly done for the twenty four of you.

Walls, that’s all you could see, worn out walls with wild vegetation escaping the stony cracks of it, that hinted this place had been abandoned for many years. They were as tall as twenty versions of you lined up vertically, and you supposed it was to make any possibility for a Tribute’s escape to be as the thin line of impossibility.

Your fingers curled weirdly at your side, from the tension of your joints. You huffed another air out, your eyes zigzaged around you, scanning the place whole under your heavy gaze. There were a total of six gaps on the walls that surrounded you, so much so it looked like tall hallways, it’s seductive sight whispering to you to cross over them and find out about what forbidden fruit laid at the end of the passageway. It was calling for you.

“Five” ten seconds had already passed. And with that thought, the beat of your heart was drilling in your ears. So much noise, yet everything remained quiet. The wind brushed the cold stones and caressed past your boots. With that you felt the faint finger touches of the breeze, cold and disheartening as it cried out nature’s remorse from having been involuntarily used as massacre artilletry for yet another year.

“Three” your heart beat drums were confusing your already hazy mind, feeling it heavier than what you were used to, and you detested it. You opened your eyes, leaving you with half lidded eyeballs, that were already suffering from blurred nausea. You needed to get out of your hopeless trance, that was whispering and placing bets on another, just how you would die. It was difficult ignoring those voices that screamed louder than messageman through the loud speaker, you needed to cool down your head before the countdown set to zero.

You wished you could've done that. But among the scraping noises from your inner depths, the low murmuring sound of “One” signaled you of something crucial had just started. The monotone voice annuciated the beginning of the Hunger Games. With that, a tear rolled down your stuffed face, its high speed symbolizing the heavy burden that carried the weight of its yearly resolution. The cries and screams of false whisfullness, one that not only happened inside the Arena, but it carried away with the very same distressing message to infect Panem with heartbreak.

And just like that. Bang! Everything started, the televised deaths from countless victims. Most of you were vulnerable sheep, waiting another day to pass and hope the big hungry wolves wouldn't choose you for their next meal, all stuck inside a unfair corral that gave them the advantage, and that meant you wouldn't be able to escape unharmed.

You stepped back, one foot out the pedestal. And before you could run away, another hit of nausea smashed you senses.

Everything was going too fast.

Next thing you saw was Ezra with a machete in hand, on top of a girl from District 12, blood covering whatever was left from her face. A splatter of crimson red across his dilated face, a sly small smile tensing his right corner into a sadistic smirk.

Nyla just got herself a long weapon, something similar of a spear, and was already looking at every individual that laid at her sight, including your petrified form suffering from the fogginess that numbed your brain into submission.

You shouted yourself to run, but you legs could only do that in forms of tiny steps back. You remembered the words that Finnick had told you at dinner, “it’s a bloodbath”. Sufficient to cover everydrop up to the fullest limit. All before the next victim, a fourteen year old boy from District 9’s head, almost split into two when Ava smashed an axe on him. It was like the faucet had been stuck and turned on, the bloody water overspilling to the white tiled floors, and staining everything. An innocent red that by the context behind was suddenly turned into an unforgiving shade of anguish.

You witnessed him tripping over a rooted plant, stubborn on staying strongly still, and cruelly be the deciding factor of his deadly prophecy. He tried to get up, and Ava’s much taller body caged him to the ground. With one swing move she stuck the sharp of the axe between his head, so hard when she tried to pull it out she struggled to do so, with traces of raw meat and the inner designs of his brain flying out, and making themselves present in the swirling thoughts around your memory for your further misery. It naturally splattered across her face from the sheer brutality and gruesomeness of the sin she had just committed. But its not like she cared anyway.

And with that blow, that boy was gone. His vitality thick liquid rowing down his head, and making itself noticed with lines drawing a disturbing picture in his face. The red of the blood had lost its colour, and you destested just how it had become a duller shade of crimson, like it was already in its process to rot away, starting off with the blood under the sunlight.

Ava didn’t need to keep going, but she did. She was an unstoppable force that was ready to take down anyone that she considered inferior to her that walked passed her vision, like a vicious lion with blood running down her chin.

That was it, he was gone from this planet, and away from his homeland, away from his comfort place to battle without choice even when he didn’t want to. He was to never come back to his family’s reassuring embrace. He was gone. Forever gone and to never come back again.

Another two steps back. His lifeless head turned unhumanly to you, his eyes were red as if he had cried many hours before coming to his deathbed. The drops of blood drawing lines from the ears down his cheek and nose. His eyes abnormally placed on yours, void of any terror and pain, just nothing. No happiness not sadness, no anger and not an ounce of fright. Nothing was there, just an empty shell, void of any shining pearl. Just nothing. He was gone.

His limp body was turned to you when you finally woke up from your trance, hyperventilating from the confusing and rapid forms and shapes that curled up and fused with each other, to be mixed and shaken up into colourful fragments that screamed threatening lines into your ears. Nothing made sense.

You trembled your jaw, and another tear followed down to your dry mouth. You opened your mouth, almost instinctively to scream away the distress you had built up over the days. Edna always told you there was no use in keeping yourself troubled by your emotions, and if you needed to release them, to scream away so much you could feel your soul screaming along with your body, let it vibrate in waves through your skin to alleviate it as well. Except this was not the timing to be doing that.

Your hand smacked to your mouth, blocking any sound that would give away your terrified presence. Another swarm of tears threatened to run down your face, this time in pouring rain. You gulped down, and with that you managed to drown back your scream.

Then you came across the picture of another girl. A beautiful redhead. Unreal with lightbrown eyes and pointy features. A beautiful red goddess, ruler of all the invading flames, tamer all any fire dragon she quickly claimed. She was like a blooming poppy when you had seen her in training, even more so in the breathtaking dress she had worn in the interview. A slender and shy girl, that what she portrayed herself as, as an innocent and vulnerable flower.

So why was she looking at you like that?

She was coming closer, a weird deranged expression across her lit charcoal features. She looked beautiful then, because now her animalistic eyes had turned yellow and her irises red in the purest form of insaned rage.

She was coming to you, a long knife in her hand pointed downwards, giving you the full view and the future glimpse of your deadly fate that was going to occur in the next minute or two, giving you an advantage of two seconds to understand the situation you were in. Your survival incticts quicked in, and you were glad your breathing corpse was as terrified as your mind at the oidea of the shapr item in you, in her hand to tear away the protective layers and pierce through your loved organs, circling around into a muchy smelly mess, or on the other hand, the greatest meal for those big and hungry vultures had encountered.

She twitched, and that was enough indication for you to run away, to hopefully be able to see the next twelve hours play out, still alive and well, no matter how lucky or ambitious that may be.

She screamed, more like she roared in pleasured challenge. Everything she ppotrayed herself as; from her shyness, her kindred soul, her peaceful nature, she had none of those adoring qualities anymore. On the contrary, she embraced a new side of her that eat away all the remaining good left of her. It was like she forgot the sympathetic teachings that grown ups had instilled in her. She wasn’t human anymore.

You were running for your life. Being someone with great knowledge about corpses taught just how fragile it was to begin with, more prominent injured become somewhat life altering. From broken tendons that hurt after long working hours, to crystal fragments stuck ti your knee could also be form geometrical pain from the scarring after being sat for a few hours.

And you were sure as Hell you didn’t want to find out, even in the small chance you lived long enough to find out.

You looked behind, wanting to see just how far she was. And to your regret the wild girl was just tailing behind you, a hand pushin forward against the air resistance to grab your forearm. You ducked away and turned to your right abruptly, hoping that would be enough for her to lose sight of you. A destructive shriek was all you heard, you were only frustrating her further, and a loud battling yell came out as a ball of fire that burned away her delicate features

You recognized her to be Linette from Dsitrict 8. You were surprised to say the least, you always had thought of that District to be more tame and peaceful, being in civilised cities and not knowing much about the outside world. They were in many instances at a great disadvantage because of this very fact. They dealed with the beloved Capitol’s textiles, and you cursed at yourself from letting that stereotypical thought question her eagerness and ability to come crashing down on you to kill you.

This girl had gone completely rouge, like another one of the traps that the Gammakers had created to kill you all. She didn’t feel human anymore, but rather another one of the puppets for the Hunger Games its exclusive usage to create as much chaos as it could through the Arena, and you wouldn't wait to find out the lengths she was willing to go as her first victim.

There was yet another sound, and even though your were hyperventilating, it oddly sounded like something good had happened, like you weren’t being chased anymore. You noticed your only pair of legs running, and that stalking demon presence gone you stopped. The air came in an out in ragged and heavy breathes, your stomach churned in pain, and you wanted to puke then. You gulped down that disgusting taste away in hoipes it wound’t later come up.

You looked back and scanned where the threat laid ahead of you, only to find yourhopes to become reality, even if they had made you guilty to have think that way about someone. Tears were swelling your eyes red, the pure of the salt irritating and hurting your scelera like your first attempt at diving underwater and trying to enoucter all sorts of beautiful sea creatures, but instead now, it was due to having a racing mtch with a monster that seeked blood and death.

A sob escaped your lips. Your eyes looked back at the returned concentrated stare of the black eyes you longed to see. His irises that were just below a a black tone, and more so a o dark greyish shade looked over your body in making sure you were in one piece, away from danger and hurt.

You were finally near the person you whole heartedly yearned among the chaotic violence. It dawned on you of the smart move you had done on the tran ride to the Capitol, he could protect you. He’d protect you, so you could later look after him.It ist wasn’t for that, you would most likely be dead in this very instant.

You slumped your shoulders down. And you cried, you cried out so much you felt everything else disappear. You breathed in sharp breaths earning the infamous hissing sounds coming from your throat. You moaned as well, because you were scared of everything at this point, and Vito was your only salvation at this moment.

You just wanted to be back in District 4 and be in Edna’s arms. To squeeze yourself in her body no matter how she retorted back many comments, coming at you in defense for her own personal space, that you were stubbornly invading, not caring that she didn’t want you so close to her.

But you coudn’t that, noy one or the other. This started to feel like a personal vendetta against you.

You should’ve have noticed it then, the way his irises clouded reason. He was away, far away from what was surrounding him; the corpse of the girl he was holding, the screams of pained anguish not so far away from the two of you, the cold stale air brushing his skin. He was simply out and switched off. That should have been a warning, because even though you hadn’t spent that much time together, Vito wasn’t the Vito you had grown accustomed to.

His expression was blank, a single drop of blood coming down his cheek, and yet he didn’t seem to care at all. His hand was queezing the girl’s arm, so much the beginning of the purple of a choking bruise was appearing in her forearm. The red head, though, didn’t try to wriggle her way out of him, instead her fingers wrapped themselves on her throat. Vito had given her life threatening injures, and you knew she was breaths away from death. Linnette gurgled as she looked you, the striking eyes of shock directed at you. She, as well as you and Vito knew she was going to die, and that only turned her bloody mess in a tortural refusal she was going to die so soon after the horn rang.

It seemed she wanted to say something, and you and Vito let the silence preserve for her, but she coudn’t say anything. Her last breath was taken away from her, and now she could only fall to the ground in that. She sat on a fetal position, blood scurring off her fingers that still lay squeezing her throat, trying to somehow stop the bleeding of her punctured vocal chords.

Every word she wanted to say would never be heard, being choked down by the meaty blood. She remained there, her body trembling and you hoped her light twitches weren’t from body spasms in trying to wake her from her slumber.

Another choke. Her veiny red eyes founds yours. Linnette opened her mouth to say the words she so desperately wanted to say. Her teeth were covered in brown red, and as she choke again she spit the red liquid that was accumulating in her mouth, overspilling in to the earthy ground. And along with her cut throat, the large quantity of lost blood made a river down the path you had just taken, going back to the Cornucopia to announce her death to the rest of the Careers.

The iron taste in her mouth was overpowering her senses, and soon, that was all she could think off. Her veins were cold as if someone or something had sucked her dry, and she for the first time appreciated the warmth that blood had provided her in the freezing winter season.

She breathed for air. Tiny gasps but still despairing nonetheless. Of course, the red haird had grown tired, and she lamented that all the air she sucked was to be escaped by the gap that Vito had done to her. There was no use in fighting anymore, she had lost. Tears formed in her eyes only to never be shown to the world. They simply got stuck in her lashes as she felt herself dream to another realm.

But you managed to understand one word she said in all the gurgling and choking mess. Her pink lips were pigmented with that of crimson, and as she spat another line of sticky and thick blood, she revealed the thought she had before she had gone completely limp. “Theo” she said in her final hiss.

Sprawled over the grassy ground and accommodated by a bed of her own blood. Her eyes were wide awake looking away from the two of you, wanting her final moments to be from her own introspective, thinking back to her homeland and family. And as the cold she had never felt filled her to her senses, she wanted her last thought to be of Theodore, her boyfriend from back home.

She had hoped you could relay her final words to him, which only filled her death with so much more unforgiving tragedy. Linette hated herself for not being able to say how much she loved him, she wanted to let him know she would never forget him. Even when they would be separated, she would remember him under the sunlight, while she could only fantasize about him from the moon afar.

Her trembling fingers were the last body partsc for her to completely cease from reality, and she hoped you and Vito could hear her unheard unspoken words. “I’m sorry” and she regretted that plead for forgiveness was turned into her final gurgle.

Linnette was sorry for her survival outrage. She wished for you to understand her reasoning behind why she did it to begin with. It was like a theatrical loving tragedy, making the main character of the novel kill in order to be back for the confort of her partner.

But something you didn’t know was that this story was just like that, a love story filled with the elements of melancholy and despair, all in the name to be close to your partners loving heart.

Before she left for the Capitol and into the death game, Theodore had come to her to lament with her. Theo proposed an idea, something that was on the back of him mind for a while, and he needed to expulse that though to her. He pleaded her to come back to him, that he was nothing but a heavy rock without her. He said “Come back, and let’s get married” that’s all he said, and that was sufficient for Linette to risk everything for him, and for a future life withing the warm embrace of each other.

She apologized to you, but if you looked close enough in the rampage of her mind, behind her heavy circumstances laid the final words for not being able to keep her promise to a loved one. She was sorry becasyue she coudn’t do the task that was placed on her, to come back alive in the security of his sweet kiss. She already missed him, and Theodore could only take on the idea of dying to be near his Darling. He was more than convinced to got through Death’s realm to find her, and come back with her and fullfill their lives together away from anyone, just the two of them.

Vito looked at you, somber caressed his expression by having to see her death, but it was especially haunting the knowledge he was the perpertrator of her murder. His finger dropped the stained weapon, that was swam droplets into the dry leaves of the trees towering you two.

His ragged breathings hinted you he was close behind when the chase occurred, a hunter hunting down a carnivore animal that was close behind your form, as it decided your were the her next meal. You hated thinking that, but you had to accept it. In this secluded place where no one would come to help you, you were at the very bottom of the food chain.

The dilation of his pupils spiraling around at the sudden adrenaline charge that sparked every sense in one singular thought, you. He was worried, and that fear was another loud and harder step to protect you, and with that primal surge of energy he completely ignored the voices of his principles and came running behind until he reached to get Linette.

And he had reached you on time.

You looked back at him, calling out his name in a weak and broken down tone, as a fragile as a ceramic vase being hit to the harsh cold floor. His face said something you coudn’t read, he was completely paralyzed and stoic. His eyes were faded into the high of the clouds. The storm you saw before, merely minutes ago was completely gone now, only left with the smoky clouds after the rain, calm but with a clear hint that a devastating disaster had just occurred.

“Vito?” Another cry left your lips. He looked as dead as the girl by his feet. Cold, unmoving, and hollow behind his eyes. But he was fine, he had to be. Vito was standing in front of you, you were seeing his breaths quickening through the movement of his chest. He was alive and well, only he felt dead inside as all the dead corpses lying around the Cornucopia when he had left it behind.

His irises were nothing you had seen before, none of his lively playfulness, nor the broken pieces of crystals that were crying out in pain. He was away from reality, and definitely far away from the life he learned with his family, a journey with not return ticket from his usual life.

It like his soul had left him.

His hands trembled by his side, the blade just beside his feet not only was stained with Linnette’s blood, but also his concious guilt of self disgust. The very faded eyes were stationed on yours, irises still and yet his pupil shaking like a chemical reaction was happening behind his brain. He was so eerily still it out you on edge, and a clear whisper told your to run away from him, readying your legs for another round of running.

But, why were you scared of Vito?

And yet in that emotional turmoil you wanted to answer, his gaze was still directed at you, with nothing. Your Tribute Partner was looking at a picture of his own guilt, one were an invisible pencil drew him with Linnette’s dead body beside him. But it didn’t stop there, no, the pencil was growing bold and recreated the many more murdered corpses it was predicting Vito would commit.

The blurred drawing of red lines, like that of a a spiderweb of blood decorated in the insides of his brain, showing his admission of a guilty killer. There was no coming back now, he stepped away from the stable line of human morality, and into the the abyss of murderous insanity. He was a murderer, and no matter your denying words he knew you would say to reassure him, it could not erase that simple, yet cutting fact.

“Vito?” you called out to him again, a tint of shakiness painted the wall of your throat, making the cried tone of yours break his heart even more. You huffed air expectantly, he was finally looking at you, the real you and not what his imagination tried to trick him with. He turned his fingers into a fist, obligating himself to feel the prickling pain from the stabbing fingernail on his palm, in a way he was trying to indulge himself in some sort of self punishment, especially after seeing your terrified form and dilated pupils.

And as cruel as it maybe, Vito didn’t mind the signing tunes of gratitude your heart whole heartedly sang to him. Deep in his soul, he knew you weren’t happy to have Linnette killed, but rather for saving you on your assured death scene. His eyes softened after seeing yours, scanning your colourful tones from your broken eyes, at least at ease him you were still alive, even against all odds you were still here. And that’s all he needed to know to feel like he could lift the deadly weight off of him.

Vito called your name. His eyes were still void, and the charcoal irises only made him look like empty black holes, powerful enough to suck you in and grab a hold on you, not matter how much your tried to scurry away from him.

“Run” he said. The new facade of Vito was showing up on the Arena. You half expected it was going to occur sooner or later, but you didn’t want to believe that would come in the form of that stoic expression he was doing. But the words he spoke, those were the hard hitting truth of the fantasy you tried to convince yourself was just that, and unreal expectation that only lived in your optimistic fantasy. The voice that you had gotten used to, was stranger to your ears. It was the sound of a thin thread of frost, creating little drawing of asphyxiating ice by your ear drums.

He didn’t repeat himself, looking down at you with nothing but that disturbed face of his. Following your every move as you cried some more, pleading him to stay with you. But it didn’t work, he was still and convinced of the meaning behind those cold words. And after some low sobs you gathered yourself to leave your friend behind, your only friend, the one you would give your life up in order for him to come back to his family.

His voice was echoing the singular words he said, leaving traces of tears down your cheeks and dampening your whole gear from the neck down. You wanted to scream at him, for ignoring your contractual agreement the two of you promised each other to carry, yet you still obeyed him. Even when his very actions were exactly like sending you to your horrible death.

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TagList -> @mushy-mushroom04 @marvelescvpe @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @thegr8estpuff

#finnick odair x reader #finnick x you #finnick #finnick odair #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #the hunger games #thg finnick #thg x reader #thg

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christinebloodwrittings · 2 months

Text

Till' death do us apart: Chapter 2.

Pairing: Angel Y/n x Alastor Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Warnings: Blood, violence, harsh language, the v's. Usage of she/her pronouns, bc the character identifies mostly as a woman.

Masterlist –– Last chapter–– Next chapter

Taglist: open...

(Picture taken from Pinterest, creator unknown)

“Hell-born, Sinners, Ladies, Gentlemen, and whatever the fuck you are!” The crowd went wild, every single seat occupied. The lights came on, the referee advancing to the illuminated area, with the microphone in hand and a brilliant attitude.

“Here in our humble ring, I come to offer you an event that, if I say so myself, will be unforgettable. I have to show you fighters whose origin comes from Pentagram City, to the Ring of Sloth, and a last-minute addition, which I will leave for last as the pièce de resistance” hungry roars filled the place once again.

“The time has come, welcome to another night of blood, sweat and tears, please place your bets and remember that if your player loses, you can throw stones at her. May luck be on your side, and may the strength of her fists make you millionaires”.

“I hear this is your first clandestine fight, Ricky?”

“Yeah, I mean, in Greed, this type of things are very recurrent, never been to one myself till’ now, still, to think this isn’t managed by Mammon is crazy”

“Well, we have our own thing going on ‘ere”

“Seems like that, okay, so we begin with our first couple”

“Wanna know what makes my games unique?” his friend nods, sweating.

"Unlike normal boxing, hitting the back of the head or behind the head; kicking, either stepping on, or biting the opponent; holding, trapping or grabbing the opponent's arms, hips or neck are totally legal" he announced with a wicked smile.

“So, your players…”

“Either one of them surrenders and gets killed by the crowd, or they kill each other”

You could hear the screams of the crowd through the weak walls of the dressing room, that and how much the demons were beating each other in the ring. They were going very hard at each other, it seemed.

Bloodlust must’ve been the best show this hell-hole could offer, giving that the day before, there was already word around that a fallen angel was going to fight, naturally, sinners lost their minds for that kind of proposal, tickets sold out almost immediately.

“So doll-face, I need to ask ya' a favor” Jambo walked through the doors, dangling his cigarette around in his hand, “I need you to stall the fight, I know it’s a big opponent, but don´t knock him out so quickly, and maybe let him make you bleed a little” he blew a little smoke in your face, a distorted grin adding to his fat face, as he watched your face, no reaction whatsoever.

“A bigshot is here to watch” he smiled in return of your wit, taking a few steps back as he kept gloating about his efforts, but how much does it really takes to properly advertising bloodshed? “Exactly, a true money maker that sick fucker, so the more pain he sees the more he´ll invest, and you’ll get 20% of what he hands out, plus your wager” you nodded, not really caring how high was your cut, in your current state it was better to have a miserable pay than absolutely nothing.

You’ve spent a few days in intensive training, drawing punches to make it seem like you knew anything at all about boxing, was definitely different than waving your spear and oz around. Truth to be told, elegance and strength didn’t go well until Jambo saw you fight, it resembled a ballet, your body moving gracefully and quickly, while your fists could break the earth in two if you wanted to do so.

He loved that.

You took a deep breath, your fingers anxiously playing with the bandages covering your knuckles, they didn't let you wear the proper gloves, according to Jambo, to ensure the most damage to the recipient, however he agreed to the bandages and pads between the joints of your fingers, keeping thus, a certainty that due to an excess, whether due to adrenaline or the tension of the moment, there would be no easy way for you to break your own fingers.

“It’s time” a demoness broke the silence, you’ve been twenty minutes drifting, instead of warming up, “Thank you, wish me luck” you caught the smug smile she shot while watching you walk out of the room.

The bull-like demon awaited you on the contrary side of the squared circle, your breath caught in your throat, not because one good punch at you from his massive humanity could probably hurt a lot, no, that was a fact, but because you noticed Jambo making signals at you, his eyes looking up, making you search in the raging crowd above you, two demons highly dressed sitting in the golden section, the bigshots, you figured.

After the introductions were adjourned, the bell rang, the demon launched himself at you, fully forward hitting your chest with his elbow. You flew against the ropes, using then to propel yourself, a severe punch to the underside of his chin made him fall back against his back.

Mentally you had counted ten minutes, it was time to put an end to the constant violence, the bull took advantage of the second you took your eyes off of it to spit blood, to grab you by the neck and crash you to the ground, a dull sound accompanied your fall, it echoed through the room, a terrifyingly large crack manifesting beneath your head, shattering the floor of the ring.

Your vision clouded for a few seconds, the demon completely deforming, his figure ended up resembling a corrupted dislike of your brother Michael.

His sharp grin mocked you, “So many years of being the devil's defender. Millennia spent training, watching the world deteriorate, unable to do anything for his creations, simply leading them to their eternal punishment. How does that make you feel, Azrael? Are you letting a godless creature win? Are you really going to abandon everything you've fought for? Yourself, your brothers…” he laughed maniacally, your fists cracked due to your strength.

“Your beloved sinner husband?" he rolled his tongue in a sarcastic way on the word beloved, that is what made you lost it.

The demon saw your black eyes turn into a shiny gold color, the whites going completely black, the darkness taking you down into the deepest of the abyss. Your hands weren’t soft and white but black and sharp, breaking into his muscles, “H-Hey, the fuck are you doing!” the demon let your neck lose, air finally making its way into your lungs, giving you free range to let your voice go free in a guttural way, it made the bull shiver and start praying for his life, desperately pulling on his own skin trapped into your iron grasp.

Saying you saw red was an understatement, with a kick the demon broke free, his blood leaving a trail visible in your distorted vision, for you, he had a smirk and your wings in his hand, waving them in front of you while laughing.

“You…are unworthy of all love” you muttered for yourself, the bull looked around as the crowd demanded you to finish him, then his eyes landed on your darkened face, a cold feeling crawling up his spine. “Death, I beg you, spare my life” he cried, “Pathetic” you uttered, launching yourself at him, full speed, crashing your fist into his skull.

The dust from the already broken floor raised up, covering both of you, “Lay still, don’t move, or you’ll be dead for real” you whispered, canceling the nerves and spine of the demon under your heel.

As soon as the dust cleared everyone’s view, Jambo went ahead, taking the hand of the demon into his hands before cheering into the microphone, “He has no pulse, we have a winner!” he pulled your arm up, clearly happy with the result.

A rose fell on your face out of a sudden. The green stem laced with a black ribbon with three V’s embroidered. You couldn’t care less about it.

After the place was cleared, you found your way into the infirmary. There you found the demon, still froze in your work, which you set him free after a swift move of your fingers. His back rose up violently from the bed, his breathing intense and shaking.

“I am truly sorry” you said as soon as he calmed down a little, seeing that you weren’t angry anymore, “I…I have seen you before, right? when I was…alive”.

“Most likely” I would be lying if you told him you remembered every single soul you meet.

“You are Death, the exorcists sent their master to kill us now?” it didn't surprised you that humans like him had little grasp in the concept of death, they chose to believe in whatever makes them feel safer, but the truth was only one.

“I don’t cause the termination of a life, your kind, and time, does that, I merely am a collector. And the extermination was an unknown term for me, until a few days ago.” Sighing, he took your hand in his, “Figuring that out, caused my fall” he hummed in response to your words.

“Are you against it?” he asked, in complete disbelief.

“I think it is cruel enough making sinners spend the rest of their afterlife among people even worse, hunting each other, so that, on top of it, the best and most sensible solution that they came up with is even more blood, pain and fear, they treated sinners like a vermin that must be eliminated, that is not correct, that is not how heaven should keep things in control” your eyes glowed almost like in the ring, making the demon shiver.

Nonetheless, he caressed your face with a tenderness, that could be considered holy, “Thank you” he starte, “If you hadn’t, they would’ve...” you nodded, offering him a sweet smile, “You may not believe me, but it is truly the least I could do in such a conundrum, I am…glad I stopped when I did”, he laughed and agreed with you.

⚰️ 📻

“Hey doll, come ‘ere” Jambo called you as soon as he saw you coming out of the infirmary.

As you came closer, you noticed two demons in front of him, the air thickened more and more as you got closer.

“This are Vox and Valentino, our main patrons, Overlords of hell” the fancy suited man nodded, his head was rectangular and resembled a television, how odd. “Charmed” you lied, feeling the icks as the taller demon eyed you up and down with a smile on his face, and red drool coming down his chin.

“My, my, what a ravishing creature you are” he had four limbs, one of them grabbed your hand, harshly pulled you close, you mad the mistake od flinching at the touch of his golden claws againt the curve of your waist, his smile widening at it.

“How much you want for her?” Valentino asked, not taking his red gaze off of you, “Name your price, shitbag, we don’t have all day” he urged after getting no response.

“She’s one of my best fighters, there’s no way in hell I’m givin’ her away” being under contract with him gave him that upper hand, him thinking he owned your soul.

But how could you? When there was never a soul to begin with?

“Well that can be arranged” the moth pulled a pink gun, and without even blinking, the deafening sound lead to another, Jambo’s body collapsed, lifeless against the floor, “A real fallen Angel video, will make me rich”.

You made no attempt to move, one of his hands was dangerously close to the hem of your scars, if he touched them, you would probably have to clean his rests off the walls.

“No, thank you” the hand in your back crawled its way up to forcefully lift your chin up, “I don’t think you’re in position to refuse us, perra” another word for bitch, is that the best he could do?

After a few seconds of silence, your laughter echoed in the hall, “Go ahead, you two have not a single speck of dirt about me that I care being spread to the masses, not anyone that I care enough that could easily fall into your hands, and there is no amount of torture you can practice on me that will make me change my mind” you hissed at the incremental of his grasp on you, “So, gentleman, what card will you play against me now?” this time It was Valentino's time to laugh.

“You know~, I just remembered I like to play with my toys before sharing" he licked his lips with his long tongue, moaning in anticipation before finishing his sentence, his lips ghosting yours, "Can't wait to destroy you".

“I can already see the title of the film, 'Exorcist, divine punishment' first of two parts" you felt a sting on the back of your neck, then everything began to spin, dizziness took over you, losing strength, visibility,

"You can do better 'Tino" the TV man sassed, taking a strand of your hair into his claws, admiring how soft it was.

“Shut the fuck up Vox, see you on the other side, preciosa” he purred before you lost all senses.

It all fade to black.

#alastor hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin lucifer #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #valentino hazbin hotel #the vees #valentino #voxval #valvox #hazbin hotel valentino

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assiraphales · 5 months

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Do you have any sick!Luffy ZoLu headcanons? If (heavens forbid) Luffy ever catches the Pirate King disease (like Roger) do you think Zoro would cry? Would he get angry (at Luffy or the universe or himself)? I can picture Luffy breaking the news to the crew and laughing saying "It's fine, it's fine" and then Zoro grabbing him by the collar and shouting "It's not fine!" all teary eyed which then makes everyone else cry (specially Chopper... And now I made myself sad af)

…………..well I didn’t (this also sent me down a reddit rabbit hole of discussions about not only only illness but the wear luffy’s fighting style and decisions has put on his body, as well as how age works differently in the op universe ie kureha & garp) but the twisted part about a sickness is it’s not a physical opponent anyone (zoro) could protect his captain from, or sacrifice his life for. and of course luffy, who laughs in the face of death / if it’s his time it’s his time, would accept his fate (imo) fairly well. the crew? the crew would not. (trying not to think about how upset chopper would be to be faced with one of the most important people in his life yet again being taken away by an illness he couldn’t cure)

everyone on the crew owes their life (tho of course not in the sense of a debt) to luffy in one way or another, and they love him so much, but zoro is in the unique position of his goals entwined so much with luffy’s own that his goals have become luffy. he wants to become the greatest swordsman for himself, for kuina, and for luffy. he would become the king of hell for luffy. the quote about what’s the point of ambition if you can’t protect your captain. zoro in the foxy pirate arc saying he wouldn’t be a pirate if it wasn’t with the strawhats. don’t die or I’ll kill you. he’d follow his captain to hell.

before luffy found zoro, he was lost. he knew what he eventually wanted to accomplish (beat mihawk) but other than that? the straw hats gave him purpose. a family. a reason to fight and grow stronger. to grow stronger to protect his family, and his captain. luffy was his priority days into meeting him. loving luffy is second Nature at this point and it’s hurting my brain to try and imagine taking luffy out of zoro’s life because while he’d still have the rest of the crew, he’d be missing his other half. a twin flame extinguished.

long story short no I don’t have any headcanons bc I don’t wanna :(((((

#AJSJSJSJSJJSJW SORRY #I DIDNT ACTUALLY ANDWER THIS BC it made me too sad #one piece #zolu #delete or EDIT later maybe

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v3nusxsky · 1 year

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emily prentiss x pregnant!bau!reader ;; she gets a pos pregnancy test after a few rounds of ivf with emily, but she never got to tell her because she only found out a week after her “death”. (no one knows r’s pregnant only hotch bc of a cryptic pregnancy🤫) and when she comes to work, she sees emily, alive as ever— r’s mad and makes no move to talk to em. emily corners r in the coffee room, forcing her to talk to her and all r says is that the ivf didn’t take. a few hours later, r notices her 7month checkup is in a few minutes, she takes emily with her without telling her wehere they’re going.

- 🐦

Emery Faye

*Authors note~ omg I love this sm and it's something that's not normally spoken of much so I hope I handled it okay*

Trigger warnings~ cryptic pregnancy angst Emily "death" mentioned

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

A baby was always something you and Emily wanted. So when you're first few rounds of IVF failed naturally you were disheartened. Emily had told you of her past and how she didn't want to go through pregnancy again. That was fine by you, you loved the idea of carrying your child for the pair of you, and giving your wife a child to love and care for. It was a long shot, you knew that but you both weren't ready to give up on the idea of a baby.

Until that day, where Doyle stole Emily from you. Her life taken, leaving you widowed. That was five months ago. During, you got depressed and it seemed like the IVF had failed, after all nothing was amiss with your body. You felt like you'd failed Emily by not bringing her child into the world. No you couldn't even get pregnant and now she was gone all because of some serial theorist asshole who wanted revenge on your wife.

Your depressed state was causing your physical, mental and emotional health to deteriorate and fast. You knew you were spiralling downwards with no end in sight, all you wanted was your wife, yet she was gone just like the idea of starting a family. Therefore, you felt as if your purpose in life had died with your lovely Emily.

Hotch was the one to drag to you the hospital, insisting on a check up as he could see how badly you were doing and the guilt of knowing he was hiding Emily from you made him extra cautious with you. After all Emily asked about you all the time, JJ and Hotch filled her in and it was killing her from the inside. You were insistent that you were absolutely fine, no need for such a reaction when you were fine, grieving your wife but absolutely fine.

That was when they told you. You were pregnant. The round had worked, what a cruel coincidence. Emily wouldn't be around to see her child grow up and love them. But you would always tell them of her, and now you had your purpose. Obviously Hotch allowed you time to process the fact before adopting his practical ways of thinking. That was how you decided to hide the pregnancy from the team for as long as possible. Just wanting to bond with the baby and let the hurt and excitement settle down.

Seven months into your pregnancy you were glad your pregnancy was cryptic, it gave you more time to work out how to tell them, after all having a mini Emily could be rather traumatic for the team. Part of you hoped it was a boy to make things easier on others and part of you wanted a baby girl. Reminder of your late wife.

An emergency meeting at the round table was never good, but you weren't expecting to see a nervous looking Hotch and a guilty looking JJ. "Seven months ago I made a decision that impacted the whole team, as you know Emily-" the name came of your late wife causing you to blank out. Emily? And that's when you saw her in the doorway with a guilty and sad expression. "Sweetheart?" She murmured looking at you while the team all exploded in a flurry of emotions. "Heck yeah I got a problem with it" Derek raged, "I'm sorry truly you didn't deserve that" she murmured wrapping him in a warm hug.

Tears silently fell down your cheeks as you left the room, Hotch knew of course, you'd told him of your appointment and he guessed you'd function on autopilot so it was only natural that he sent Emily after you. Some time alone would do you both some good, and it would give you the opportunity to tell her about the baby.

Emily caught up to you, gently took your hand and allowed you to silently lead the way. In the car, Emily settled into the passenger side and allowed the silence to wrap around you both. Truly, there was so much she wanted to say to you but she knew you needed the time and space.

What shocked Emily was the fact you pulled up to the hospital, but she kept quiet just shooting you a questioning glance. The whole process went so much faster than you thought, maybe that's because you felt as if you'd joined another universe, your mind reeling as it attempted to take in the vital information, that Emily was indeed alive.

That was how you found yourself on the bed, the cool gel against your stomach as the babies heartbeat filled the room. "So you have a very healthy little one here, who's more than willing to show us what they are. Would you like to know?" The technician asked you and that was the first time you met Emily's eyes, "shall we?" With a stunned nod you were told that your baby was in fact a baby girl. "Emery Faye" you murmured reaching for Emily's hand. "It worked?" She whispered as if she was afraid it was all a dream. A teary nod was all you offered before both of you glued your eyes to the screen, as your baby wriggled around.

"She's got your nose Em" you giggled and your wife let out a laugh that you'd truly been missing. "I'm so sorry my sweetheart, I wanted to tell you but I couldn't risk him hurting you and now our baby girl" she murmured bringing a hand to your almost flat stomach. "It's cryptic Em, she will start to show more in a few weeks" her hand now laced yours as she came closer and to kiss you hesitantly. The first kiss of many to come. "Emery Faye? You remembered?" Emily whispered against your lips and you nodded. "I couldn't forget Em, I just can't believe you are really here. I just want you safe."

Word count~ 1149

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss x you #ssa emily prentiss #anon requested

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mako-neexu · 9 months

Text

that manga fucking rules so much i didnt even care the handwriting made me slowdown reading what the kanji was and i stared at it 15 minutes per character. i messed up my sleep schedule by reading this but its worth it theyre uploading it gradually but its about 14 out of 89 pages so im looking forward to the rest hehe

im too lazy to typeset so i will describe it instead~ It's your average yakudou comic with guda getting hurt. But its a perspective that i love so far...so i want to ramble about it

but of course it starts with a fight: "Everyday life" "Fighting, getting hurt, healing, and-" then theres a beast approaching her, "sometimes, death"

then it cuts to guda in the hospital bed, waking up 3 days later from her injuries with rider vinci on her bedside in the infirmary, checking her vitals. then da vinci casually drops onto ritsuka that if it wasnt for medea lily she would be alive bc, THE ENTRETY OF HER LEFT HALF OF HER BODY WAS TORN APART BY THE MONSTER and shed have died <3

then she says "anyways, im glad your right hand (command spells) wasn't damaged/taken and your wounds was deep but youre healed now. anyways, you good to go on the next mission?" then we cut to the flashbacks of guda in their moment of "death" at this point i was eating all of my fist... then guda just says "yeah lets go" with a smile

theres so many things wrong with that scene in a single instant but its a drug to me to see this kind of interaction where someone says "thank god your staff is safe but anyways 3/4ths of yourself got blown away but thats fixable <3"

then next was oberon's perspective where he describes her as a self sacrifical idiot, that theres no other word for her as she always comes back with scars and wound from fighting, and he doesnt know just what drives her to come back again and again until shes satisfied. then oberon sees artoria being worried she confesses to him about today's events where "ritsuka and i were walking in town to run some errands but just when i heard screams from ritsuka i was too late to notice"

and when castoria turned around all she could see was Ritsuka getting attacked by the enemy from behind, smiling peacefully as if saying "Ah- this is where i die" and castoria is so distressed and worried and shes crying a little and she talks about hers and oberon's love for ritsuka about protecting her and about her not knowing what to do bc she just wants ritsuka to smile my heart was going to give out for the three of them😭 i love them really much

but then next scene fucks me up even more with obecas visiting ritsuka again in the infirmary, then i find out castoria was also the reason why guda is alive. then da vinci says, "no matter what i'll heal ritsuka as best as i can" then oberon says, "Wow, aren't you so desperate about whether she lives or dies?"

Da Vinci, exasperated but now smiling: What are you saying?? It's just natural, after all...

THEN THIS SCENE KILLED ME LIKE IT KILLED GUDA HHH IM GOING TO DIE TOO

"She is our Master!"

Then Oberon pauses. Then internally he goes, "Our Master?"

...Because isnt that saying:

"Precisely because Fujimaru Ritsuka is a "Master" that she is worth healing."

then the comic ends im dying over here bc its 14 pages so far but i need more to stuff it inside my guts

#fgo #guda comic suffering is the best i love it im going to rughhgfkjhdgkfjdjkdfgnjkdnfbjnkbdfjknbdf #guda #fujimaru ritsuka #fate grand order #gudako #yakudou trio

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