#but chapter 6 will be brutal
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死鬼祭 | Shiki Matsuri
fandom: tokyo revengers
characters: kurokawa izana, kakucho, haitani ran, haitani rindou, madarame shion
pairings: tenjiku x female reader
cw: blood, violence, minor character death, supernatural elements, she/her pronouns used for reader
tags: @akemiixx01
—✧ SUMMARY ✧—
The villagers say that you cursed them all. You believe that they were the ones who cursed you. (Or, in which the circumstances of your unfortunate birth woke a forgotten, slumbering god.)
Very vague depictions of the supernatural here, and a few cameos of specific yokai if you can spot them! Title is based off of a song by KODOKULOVE! More characters may be added as the story progresses.
Read on AO3
Read Chapter One | Read Chapter Two | Read Chapter Three
CHAPTER 肆 FOUR
“Damn, there’s even more of these fuckers around than before,” Ran said as he cleansed the shrine grounds. “Hey, princess— my beloved little bro’s training been paying off yet?”
“Fuck off,” Rindou grumbled from where he sat next to you on the engawa as usual. He clicked his tongue and pointed at the slip of paper you were writing on. “You missed a stroke there. And here— the kanji is wrong.”
“Not again,” you groaned, dropping your brush with an exasperated sigh. Your fingers were already stained dark with splotches of calligraphy ink. “Who decided to come up with this many characters? And look, they’re practically the same, too!”
“Yeah, keep saying that. Just don’t come crying to me when it doesn’t work.”
“C’mon, Rin— don’t be so harsh on her,” Ran said, dusting his hands off and making his way back to the two of you. “Anyways, I’m done. If any more come back, though, you’re handlin’ it. I’m gonna take a nap.” Before either of you could say anything, he plopped down by your side and stretched himself across your lap like a cat. With a contented hum, he let his cheek rest against your thigh and closed his eyes.
Rindou’s brow twitched. “Get off her, you lazy asshole.”
“Nope.”
“It’s okay,” you interjected with a little laugh. “I don’t mind, really. Besides, I think I need a break. We’ve been writing all day.”
Ran cracked open one purple eye. “Yeah, Rin. Let’s have a break.”
“Ugh, fine. Whatever.”
Rindou moved to gather up the papers and stand, but you stopped him by placing a hand on his arm. He glanced over at you with an incredulous expression as you lay down yourself, tugging him down together with you. “Hey—”
“I say we all have a nap,” you announced, beaming brightly. “Izana can’t be mad at all of us, can he?”
“He sure can,” Rindou muttered, but found himself settling down by your side all the same. “C’mere, the floor is hard. You’ll get a headache if you sleep on it for too long.” He shifted your head so that you lay against his shoulder—and at the same time, Ran moved off your lap, wriggling his way up your side and wrapping his arms around your waist.
“The fuck are you doing?” Rindou snapped.
“You’re gettin’ too close. At least lemme have a bit, too.”
“Shut up, you guys,” you grumbled, but you couldn’t stop the giggle bubbling up. “Stop arguing and sleep.”
When Izana returned later that day, he found the three of you still curled up and fast asleep in a tangled mess of limbs—with both Ran and Rindou each clutching one of your hands. He smiled, as he usually did, and as he passed by bent down to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes made a mental note to assign both brothers to housecleaning for the rest of the week.
—✧—
Kakucho steeled his expression when he and Izana entered town together—for him, the first time in a couple of weeks, as Izana had deliberately prevented him from going. Yet, from the state of the village, he could have been convinced that another hundred years had gone by.
What had originally been a flock of malevolent spirits scattered between buildings and people had melted together into a thick, oozing miasma that stretched over nearly the entire area, like if fog had solidified and turned black. The villagers could not see any of it, of course—but the negative atmosphere was palpable. People argued. Children cried. The rest wore a haggard, exhausted imitation of what their faces used to be. Not even a single bird dared to perch on any rooftops.
“You’re concerned,” Izana said, matter-of-factly like he was merely stating the weather. There was no sense in debating it, so Kakucho simply shrugged his shoulders in half-hearted affirmation. Izana’s white eyelashes fluttered as he smiled.
“Don’t worry. She’ll understand,” he said, stepping into the village and breezing past wretched person after wretched person without sparing them a second glance. Kakucho trailed behind him with his mouth firmly shut. “Even if she doesn’t, she will not have a choice. This place is beyond saving.”
Was it? The black-haired subordinate could not help but think back on his master’s previous actions: how he never allowed any of them to cleanse the village; how he never permitted more than one person to patrol the area without him; how he purposefully allowed your tormentors to live; how in spite of his over-protectiveness and constant watchful eye, he never warned you against going back into town until you were violently driven out yourself. He thought about Rindou’s words and how you finally started to trust them, even after all that you went through. His stomach twisted inside-out. Of course, even without having to look at him, Izana noticed.
“I normally don’t appreciate weakness,” the god said. “Especially not at this crucial moment. But, you know, I’m glad. That you care about her so much.”
Purple eyes caught Kakucho’s startled gaze. “I’ve known you ever since we both came to be,” he continued. “Together we learned about the cruelty of selfish humans and the world—yet your heart is still as soft as it was the day you were born. What is yours is mine and what is mine is yours, too. Don’t forget it.”
With that, Izana entered one of the village homes. Kakucho followed instinctively, and it was only when he heard the telltale sound of weeping that he realised where they were. Hunched over the unconscious form of a familiar young man was his equally familiar mother, crying without end. He lay deathly still upon a worn futon.
Kakucho knew right then what Izana wanted him to do.
What is mine is yours.
Your smiling face flashed to his mind—the last living person who held Izana’s heart in her hands. The heart that had been crushed into dust and left to rot over centuries. Without any more hesitation, Kakucho reached into the young man’s chest, gripped that weakly beating organ, and squeezed.
Black ink bubbled up from the corners of his lips, parted to let out one last breath. Out poured more of the putrid liquid, streaming from every orifice: his ears, nose, and eyes, forming a gaping shadow on the floor reminiscent of your mother’s death.
—✧—
Unbeknownst to you, the first stone had fallen. (But in Izana’s eyes, that stone had already tumbled into motion centuries ago.)
It arrived at your doorstep in the form of a loud commotion: a litany of hushed, frantic voices, intercepted in-between by shrieking wails of blood-curdling anguish. Terrified, you found yourself huddled inside of your room once more, mind looping with blurred memories. Shion was pacing irritably in front of the closed door; the second you saw him materialize out of his spiritual form, cracking his knuckles with a feral grin and a bloodthirsty glint in his eyes, you had dragged him inside with you before he could even protest. (Why the others had left him alone with you again, you did not know—although you had an inkling that perhaps they felt he was not competent enough to join them on more important missions.)
“Lemme at ‘em,” Shion growled, a prominent vein bulging from the side of his half-shaved head. “I’ll teach ‘em not to mess with us.”
“No,” you snapped. “No. Pretend we’re not home and they… they might leave. Or at least, buy us some time before Izana and the others make it back home…”
“Why? Why do I gotta wait for ‘em?!”
“Because you’re gonna turn this place into a bloodbath!”
“So? They’d do it too. That’s the fuckin’ point—”
“Yeah, but you would find a way to make it so much worse—”
Your argument was cut off abruptly by the voices outside, now close enough that you could distinguish what exactly they were saying.
“Please!” A voice you instantly recognized pierced you right through the chest. “Please, my son— Please do something, I’m begging you—”
“Ma’am, it’s dangerous! Come home!”
“There’s nothing that witch can do! He’s already dead…!”
In an instant, you were on your feet and pushing Shion aside. He gaped at you, stuck in place with a dumbfounded expression as you shoved open the fusama and ran to the shrine entrance. A beat later, he was chasing after you, shouting in confusion. “[Name], what the fuck?!”
Your response was to whirl around and slam your hand against his chest. Shion only had half a second to glance down at a piece of paper, which had adhered itself to his body, before an electric jolt paralyzed him from head-to-toe and he collapsed to the floor. One of Rindou’s talismans, he thought as he convulsed in place, glazed eyes only able to stare at the ceiling. Unable to move, he listened your footsteps recede. Bastard.
By the time you made it to the entrance, the villagers had already given up on holding the grieving mother back—and when you emerged from behind the door, they cowered and fled. The woman threw herself at your feet, her face a mess of tears and snot, hands curled like claws around your ankles. You crouched down hesitantly, leaning in as close as you could so that you could decipher her through her sobbing.
“Please,” she cried. “Please bring him back! I am sorry for everything we have done! Just please… give him back to me. I have no one left. I am all alone…”
I am all alone.
Your feeble heart shattered and as best as you could, you wrapped your arms around her while she wept into the dirt at your feet. There was nothing else you could do, for even a god such as Izana could not bring the dead back to life. You wondered about the remaining teenagers back at the village; you had not seen any of them during the last time you visited, and shuddered at the memory of Ran’s coldhearted yet gleeful retelling of their injuries. Were they near death, too? Would they be next? How many more people would break just like this, finding themselves at your home and begging desperately for a forgiveness that you still were unable to grant?
“Please, say something,” the woman said, lifting her head to look at your stricken expression. “I will do anything to save him. Please tell me there is something you can do…”
You swallowed. “Ma’am,” you breathed out, forcing yourself to remain steady. “I… I’m not a witch, nor a healer. There is nothing I can do for your son. I’m sorry.”
“No,” she rasped, eyes wild. “No, you’re lying.”
With a growing pit in your stomach, you realised where this conversation was heading yet again. You attempted to wriggle your way out of her grip, still locked like a vice around your ankles. “I’m not,” you protested, trying not to panic. “I’m not lying—”
The relief when she let go was fleeting; you had no time to react when she launched herself at you, shaking you viciously by the shoulders. The force of it sent you careening to the ground, landing you flat on your back and knocking the wind from your lungs.
“You’re lying!” she screeched, spittle flying from her cracked lips, tinged with black. “I’ve seen those ghosts creeping about your shrine! You have been communing with demons, haven’t you?! Give him back! Give my son back!”
This time, both of her bony hands wrapped around your throat. You wheezed, nails scrabbling at her wrists, legs kicking out from beneath you as your vision began to grow spotty. Her shouting grew muffled as your ears began to ring—but it wasn’t just her voice anymore. Your eyes flew open in horror, all the while gasping for air, just in time to witness the first few trickles of a dark substance leaking from the corners of her mouth. Then her ears, her nose, her eyes—and with a distorted cry, it all rushed out of her at once, engulfing you both in a twisting mass that threatened to permeate your own body.
Why did you think you could fix things? Why did you think you could do this alone? Why did you think that there was even hope for them to be saved? Now, because of your own stupidity, you were going to die, and without your belief to keep them going, Izana and the rest of his followers would die, too—
“Tch, tell Rindou that his stupid talismans ain’t SHIT!”
The black smoke surrounding you burst like a bubble, scattering blobs of goo in every direction. Sweet, sweet air poured into your airways as you were abruptly released. One of your hands grasped your aching neck while you coughed and gasped, the other bracing yourself on the ground. In front of you stood Shion, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders, a look of pure fury on his face. And, writhing several meters in front of Shion was the grotesque form of the village woman, now completely covered with a ghastly, laughing mess of demonic spirits.
“I’ll get back atcha for doin’ that, you bitch,” Shion grumbled, turning his head briefly to glare at you over his shoulder, but his words lacked any real sort of venom. With that he turned back around and stalked toward the demons, whose attention was now focused entirely on him. Then, he was onto them.
Shion did not fight like Ran, who moved with a conscious elegance and grace like he were putting on a performance. He did not fight like Rindou, whose form was stable and practiced to perfection. Instead he was like a wild animal, all vicious teeth and claws, ripping through each entity as if they were nothing but rice paper. You watched, wide-eyed and frozen in place, while Shion tore his way through the horde until only the villager remained—still tearfully wailing into the forest, tongue black and dripping liquid soot. He spared you one more glance with burning eyes, only for his brows to furrow and his rage to shift into something else: softer, more muted. Don’t look.
But you did look. Maybe it was the guilt gnawing away at your insides, or maybe you were too enraptured by the sight, or maybe your brain was still struggling to process everything in anything other than slow-motion. Whatever the reason, you watched as Shion plunged one hand down the woman’s gaping mouth, her jaw snapping further open as his entire arm vanished up to his shoulder. Several long, agonising seconds passed before he appeared to grip something—then pulled. With a horrific spray of dark liquid, both blood and enigma combined, Shion yanked her still-beating heart right out of her body. Around it curled a demon, clutching the dripping organ in the imitation of a warm embrace.
“My son,” it gurgled, before Shion crushed it into nothingness.
A heavy silence fell upon the woods. When he appeared by your side next, a bloody hand reached for your face—but quickly recoiling in realisation and awkwardly offering the sleeve of his yukata instead. The fabric brushed against your wet cheeks. You did not know you had been crying.
—✧—
“Can’t believe fuckin’ Shion out of all people saved the day,” Ran bemoaned. “All ‘cause we weren’t home for what, one fuckin’ hour? D’ya think Izana did it on purpose?!”
“That’s what you’re upset about?” Rindou shot him a glare.
“Shut up, Rin. You’re the one who’s mad he didn’t get to see our little [Name] use his talisman on the buffoon.”
“Look, I’m not mad. I just wish I could have seen it in person.”
“Maybe we could ask her to do it again?”
Both brothers glanced over at you, sandwiched between the two of them at your usual spot. But you gave no sign that you were even listening, eyes staring blankly ahead as you sipped a cup of tea. Ever since that incident, the men had been staying home more often than not; instead, Izana, sometimes accompanied by Kakucho, was the one who was absent in their stead. In fact, you had not seen the shrine god in quite some time—not after the evening he spoke with you in private.
“It’s been a while since we’ve last talked like this,” Izana murmured. He was laying on his side next to your futon, one hand propping his chin up and the other stroking your hair. “I take it you’ve been enjoying the company of my servants, however.”
You studied his face through sleepy, half-lidded eyes and slowly nodded. Izana smiled, as he always did, but this time it was tinged with the faintest melancholy. He pinched a lock of hair between two fingers, rubbing them together before letting them fall against your cheek. Purple eyes traced every little movement.
“Soon,” he said, voice gentle like a sweet lullaby. “Soon, the sun will rise… but only after the storm has passed.”
“I don’t understand,” you whispered. “What are you doing…? What are you trying to do?”
“When the time is right, I will tell you, little one. Just know that I am doing it all for you. And for us.”
Izana really was beautiful, you thought to yourself; the moonlight shining through the window illuminated his white hair and lashes with an ethereal glow. In moments like these, he truly embodied the image of a deity. Yet…
“I thought that gods and spirits were different from us,” you admitted quietly. “But now, I think… I think that you’re all just another kind of human.”
“In any other situation, I would be offended,” he said with a small laugh, “but coming from you? I can be convinced to take it as a compliment.” As he spoke, his fingers drifted to your mouth, thumb swiping across your bottom lip. When he leaned in, your eyes fluttered shut.
You awoke to an empty room with the taste of plum sake on your lips.
#tokyo revengers x reader#tkrv x reader#tenjiku x reader#kurokawa izana x reader#kakucho x reader#haitani ran x reader#haitani rindou x reader#madarame shion x reader#IF WAKUI WON'T GIVE MY BBYGWORL SHION THE CHANCE TO SHINE THEN I WILL!!!#don't worry it gets worse from here#im almost done w chapter 5 but i've already written chapter 6#chapter 5 is the calm before the storm#but chapter 6 will be brutal
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sending lots of hugs your way :''3
Thanks, i really needed those. The shock is starting to wear off and i'm getting more and more... emotional :"D How...do they expect us to enjoy this week's Gojo episode when Gege pulled this in the manga. I didn't like to admit it but i did have a soft spot for him, damnit.
#I'm sorry but yeah i'm lowkey tearing up over him now too#re-reading his flashback sequence and getting to the point where he waves Goodbye..#I just can't#i can't hold back the tears when i get to that part..#It's stupid to cry over fictional characters i know but something about stories and becoming so well-immersed in them is beautiful#These characters act as a sort of friend and emotional support for many people around the world#and although Gojo may have not been mine i still adored him to a very big extent#I was willing to see Sukuna get smacked around for 10-11 chapters for the ending of the fight to be satisfying and to NOT have it end on#Gojo's death ; especially the brutal way he had to go; Gege really did not pull back any punches ; This was the most unexpected thing.#i'm still lowkey hoping gojo makes a binding vow ;sacrificing his limitless+6 eyes in return for getting his body healed up and to- SURVIV#That would be a great way to keep him around please Gege just..don't let him die like this..His kids need him.#Nerf him Sure ; Make him second to Sukuna in terms of being the strongest but don't actually kill him off like that ah :')#I guess this means that Gojo is my no.2 Favourite character in JJK i can't really deny it anymore#ooc#answered ask#thanks for asking!#<3 hugs for you too incase you're suffering too
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i've reached that point in my red dead playthru where i hate all the missions and wanna crawl out of my skin because the game does such a good job at making the environment so fucking hostile. i don't wanna do this anymore dutch, you bonked your head too hard and nothing you say is making sense! also tilly won't talk to us!
#/b#i hate it here#like i love it but lsdfjsdlfjsdfsdf WEEEEEE#chapter 6 is so fucking brutal#i hate it here (beaver hollow)
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Princess
One of the series I'm currently working on, hope you enjoy it. I’ll be posting every second day until I make more progress so I can post every day.
Azriel x f!Reader
Masterlist
Summary; Reader is Mor’s new friend that she found in the winter court while she was away for business. Y/n has been raised as a princess since her parents wanted to wed her to a noble fae in order to climb the social ranks. When her parents are brutally murdered y/n is left alone without a clue about the harsh reality or the brutality of the world. Mor finds her and takes her back to Velaris afraid of what might happen to her if she was left to live on her own. Will y/n survive the hate she will receive from certain members of the inner circle -including her mate- regarding the way she grew up?
Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse and death, swearing, smut(18+)
Any chapter that contains smut will be marked with *
Series masterlist
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14 (coming soon)
If you like my work send your requests. It will be my pleasure to deliver your fantasies with a touch of my own. Bat boys requests are welcome! 🖤🦇
#acotar#acotar series#azriel#azriel acotar#azriel angst#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel x reader#feyre archeron#rhysand#cassian acotar#cassian#nesta x cassian#nessian#amren acotar#amren#amren x reader#inner circle#nesta#mor acotar#acotar fanfiction#nesta archeron
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Transformers Prime has a disappointing fandom
I have never been so disappointed with a fandom as much as now…
After being a part of fandoms like The Owl House and Rise Of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and having absorbed the endless anguish of their most tragic characters artistically reflected by their fandom, I can say that it is disrespectful to Transformers Prime that it is not made enough anguish.
Where are the Bumblebee fanfics, fanarts, analysis?
HE HAS ALL THE JUICY CHARACTERISTICS OF A TRAGIC CHARACTER WITH EXPLOITABLE ANGUISH:
1) In several chapters the other bots express themselves and refer to him as much younger than them. HE IS A CHILD SOLDIER.
2) He was interrogated and tortured by the leader of the enemy group, with whom he had to continue fighting constantly.
3) As a result of the torture his larynx was destroyed, and the level of damage was so brutal that his voice box could not be repaired for millennia.
4) He was forced to leave his home planet because it had been destroyed and he had to take refuge on another planet. Now he is not only a child soldier, but he is a political refugee.
5) One of his comrades in arms, friend and family member died without him being able to do anything to prevent it. Obviously Bumblebee has lost many more teammates and friends in the past, considering how small Team Prime is.
6) He had to watch his leader/father figure almost die from an infection and the only way to save him was by entering the mind of the guy who tortured and incapacitated him to obtain information.
7) He was possessed by that same guy (seriously, Megatron leaves the kid alone) and forced him to hurt two of his friends, and everything else Bumblebee went through in the middle of the possession is up for interpretation, FANDOM WAKE UP.
8) THE SAME GUY WHO INTERROGED, TORTURED, MUTILATED, INCAPACITATED AND POSSESSED HIM, attacked him for fun and on the spot fatally injured his best friend/protege/younger human brother. Then the child abuser made fun of him in his face for it.
9) Not even 24 hours had passed when the unmentionable went to his hiding place, his SAFE PLACE, in search of an alliance, which he then betrayed because he kidnapped Bumblebee's father figure in front of his eyes.
10) He is mutilated again, he temporarily loses his T-cog, his feelings of insecurity within the group deepen slightly and when he goes to retrieve his T-cog he sees how it is almost destroyed. No one talks about Bumblebee literally holding one of his organs in his hands, it's like you see someone hugging his lung or something.
YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN, that apathy towards oneself and dehumanization (?) has POTENTIAL, if the child did not mind having an organ of HIS in his hands, I can already imagine how he reacts and treats his physical and emotional wounds. He is the type of character who hides his injuries, jokes about his traumas and in doing so traumatizes everyone around him, has a terrible sleep schedule due to nightmares, frequently dissociates, and has zero sense of self-preservation (canon).
11) This is not a trauma, but it also has the potential to cause distress in the fact that he was probably used to getting more attention for being the youngest, but suddenly this guy, Smokescreen, the same age as him, appears, and Everyone expects Bumblebee to be the one to guide the rookie, so every time the rookie makes a mistake, it will be Bumblebee's fault. Also, the new guy who never actively participated in the war, compared to Bee, who was born and fought in it all his life, turns out to be the one chosen to be the next Prime. Actually?
12) The base where he lived most of his time on earth was destroyed. It may not sound that bad, but as someone who recently lost their home to armed conflict, I can tell you that it hurts a lot.
13) He was separated from his team for a few days and when he found one of his teammates, his second father figure tells him to go away, to stay away and discourages him. Bumblebee must have felt bad because the one who convinced Ratchet to help them was not him, but Raf.
14) Other traumatic things must have happened that I don't remember, the last time I saw the series was in 2022, okAY?
15) They kidnapped their second father figure.
16) THE SAME ONE WHO INTERROGED HIM, TORTURED, MUTILATED, DISABLED, POSSESSED, HARMED HIM AND HIS FRIEND FOR FUN, KIDNAPPED HIS TWO PARENTS AND DESTROYED HIS PLANET, shot him three times, almost four, in the chest and killed him temporarily.
17) Megatron deserved it and it was more than satisfying and well done that it was Bumblebee who killed him, put an end to his power and the war, but knowingly killing can be traumatizing. Bumblebee killing Megatron in retaliation is also an ignored trauma.
18) He had to see Megatron's revived body being controlled by a god of destruction, who seemed to have something personal against him. At one point during the chase, Bumblebee thought his friends were dead.
19) He became the team leader in Optimus' absence, he was inexperienced and as a result he had two anxiety attacks in the same scene.
20) Optimus, his father figure, sacrifices himself to revive the planet.
so whERE ARE MY FANFICS? If anyone has recommendations, wants to write something individually or wants to collaborate, please write to me. This can't stay like this friends, Transformers Prime is not going to return as we would like, we the fandom have to bring it back.
Pd: English is not my native language nor do I have command over it, do not judge me for any error or lack of logic
gracias
#transformers prime#Transformers#Tfp Bumblebee#Transformers Bumblebee#maccadam#Tfp Megatron#Megatron#tfp smokescreen#tfp optimus prime#Tfp Ratchet#I want the simulation of torture and the consequences of it#Fandom#you have to wake up buddy
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Fight for Carnage
Pairing: Mentor!Coriolanus Snow x Mentor!Reader
Chapter Synopsis: The Admirer
Warning: angst, unrequited love, mean Coriolanus Snow, academic rivalry, elitism, injuries, greed, mentions of death, Capitol cruelty, spoilers
Word Count: 1296
1 of 6
Before the onset of the Dark Days, Panem has seen no better tag team than that of Crassus Snow and Thanatos Swansworth, your father.
Men who helped shape the society, who kept the rebels at bay by putting a leash on them. They were the lightbringers of the Capitol and the harbingers of death to the Districts. They were well respected, or feared. Nobody really cared to understand the difference.
And to you and Coriolanus, they were people to be highly looked up to, they were not the best fathers but they were great men. And being their children, given the task to take up the challenge of reviving their legacy is a dream.
Although, it was never that easy.
Coriolanus Snow is your classmate in the academy, but he never really liked to socialize with you. It was a great insult to you when he once left your company to seek out Sejanus, a person he claims only to tolerate.
It did not deter you.
In class, you tried to offer smiles to him, asking him about his day, and he would respond to you curtly.
When there were gatherings, you tried to get him to make you his date, lingering by his side like a desperate little puppy, but it was always Clemensia Dovecot, his class partner who got the honor of having an arm looped around his.
It hurt you deeply. Especially when you always believed as a child that it was him you would marry. Your fathers loved to bring it up in every opportunity they had. They say that you and Coriolanus are one and the same.
Coriolanus disagrees with that.
Aside from having dead tyrant fathers, you had nothing else to sympathize over.
He had chosen his friends well. They were promising individuals, truly in the path of being the next great leaders of Panem.
And you, of course you were an exceptional student, someone who made it into the Academy’s top 24 best-performing students.
The news of having to become mentors in the 10th annual Hunger Games made your stomach turn.
Death was not foreign to you, your mother made sure you watched every single game. She said it was a way of honoring your late father. She has done it every year until she followed your father in death.
As a child, you had to develop resistance to brutality.
And the thought of having to take part in the backgrounds of such savagery did not affect you. The task, however of having to make your first step into the path your father wanted you take, had you completely anxious.
They had given you a young boy from District 8. He was plain. You saw no potential in him. Not that you voiced that out when they assigned him to you. It was only when you got to talk to him and he told you interesting things you can do with a sewing needle that your interest was piqued.
Coriolanus was invested in his tribute.
You saw it, heard it, as you passed him in the cafeteria when he had his luncheons with Sejanus. The way he looked at Lucy Gray’s eyes, the way they talked with such familiarity. You had trouble hiding a sneer. Surely, he would not stoop so low as to trick a woman’s affections just so he can come out as the victor.
When the games started, Cooriolanus became more and more detached, jittery, always on edge, as if using every moment to scheme.
That evening, you chose to rest early so you can come back before the break of dawn.
You were alone when you arrived, and you were met with the battered face of your tribute. Had it not been for his clothing, you would not recognize him with how bad his face has suffered from the brutal blows.
You stand in front of the screens, your body rigid as you cross an arm over your chest to support the other. You saw your father doing it often when he was plotting with Crassus. He often had a thumb under his chin and his index pressed in his lips as if to silence anyone who dared disturb him, and overtime, you managed to acquire the same gesture.
Your eyes were calculating as you watched every detail around him. It was a bloodbath around him. From the looks of the splattered blood, the culprit did not hold back. And the weapon, it was lying on the side, the concrete painted crimson.
Your narrowed eyes squinted at the other tributes, hardly anybody moved from their spots. Who could have done it?
You stood in the middle of the stage, eyes on every screen. Most of them had their own chosen weapons. What could have happened that your tribute had to die such a slow and brutal death. A pitchfork to the heart or an ax to hack his throat would have been better, at least his suffering would have been short.
Coriolanus Snow arrived after you. His eyes were blown, his forehead sweaty, and his shoulders stiff. He made no effort to acknowledge you first, you decided to do it for him.
“How have you been?” You ask gently. “I see your tribute is still cooped down there.”
He glances at you and at Lucy Gray on screen. “Yours?”
“Dead.” You smile at him.
The stillness in his movement did not go unnoticed by you, so did the grimace he pulled when he moved his shoulder wrong. You did not hide the way your eyes scanned his posture and he was watching you as you did so.
“Where were you last night, Corio?” Your smile is still on your face. Tone similar to the usual one you used when you ask for extra notes in class.
“Library.” He spoke with practiced calmness.
“In the middle of the night?” Your brows frown playfully. “And in the middle of the games?”
His back straightens at the tone of your voice.
Coriolanus Snow always detested how you were your father’s daughter. It was unfair to you, of course. But how is it that you, the daughter of Thanatos Swansworth did not have to suffer like him when he also lost his father. You were a sweet little girl. But the way you are at this moment, he started second guessing everything he knew about you.
“Were you scouring for strategies, you sly little fox?” You giggle as you walk over to him.
Coriolanus did not respond.
For a moment you just look at each other. His eyes are as glacial as you remember. He really is attractive, his ambitious nature even more so.
You squeezed his arm and the way your eyes darted to his shoulder had him holding his breath.
“Promise me you will not do anything stupid again, please?” You say with your voice barely above a whisper, almost begging him. He tries to break free but you pull his coat with your free hand, you are gripping his arm now. “Please, Corio.” You press yourself closer to him, eyes searching for something that is clearly not there.
He grabs your wrist tightly, making you let go of his coat. His eyes are not fazed with the unshed tears in your eyes. As his lips remain a firm line, you shy away from his cold gaze, feeling utterly pathetic.
But you will not let him see that he got through you.
It never ceases to amaze him how you can pull such authentic looking smiles.
“May the odds be ever in your favor, Coriolanus Snow.”
You stand on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his jaw and you leave him there with his thoughts building up a storm inside that golden head of his.
Hunt for Glory
#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow x reader#tbosas#academic rivals#the hunger games#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#hunt for glory
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PICK A CARD reading
How do other people see you?
Pile 1 -> Pile 2
Pile 3 -> Pile 4
Decks used: Dark Wood Tarot & Green Witch Oracle
TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC
Pile 1
Strength & Banana
Main Star sign energy: Leo & Cancer
Hi, Pile 1, Banana is the card of duality and so I think that it may be that people see you in very different ways, like you're not very consensual to the general public. The people you meet can't really decipher you, some perceive you to be incredibly nice, while others find you off-putting. However, with this card and Strength I also feel like people turn to you a lot for advice. People find you to be very wise, and most of all, impartial. They trust that you will see things from every perspective and offer the best advice you can. This also means that some people see you as a devil's advocate, because you insist on giving voice to different points of view.
In general, I think that people perceive you as being very outspoken, you don't shy away from conflict, but you don't go looking for it either. It's just that it naturally finds a way to you and you can't help but stand up for yourself and others. I also feel like other people find you to be a very calming presence, I think that it's mix of it just being your vibe, but also that they know that they can count on you to help solve any problem that might come up.
A bit random, but I think that you are known to make dirty jokes and also your sense of humor is very underrated, kind of deadpan and sometimes others can't tell if you're being serious or not.
Other people see you as being very confident in yourself, even if you don't feel like that. There's a sort of confidence that shines through you. Also, you are known as being very loyal to your friends.
Pile 2
6 of Cups & Lemon
Main Star sign energy: Gemini, Scorpio & Cancer
Pile 2 the first thing I'm getting with your group is that you have big Cancer energy. Being with you feels like coming home. I think that the people closest to you feel almost "mothered" by you, I mean this in the best way possible, they know that they can count on you to make them a nice cup of tea, pull out a blanket and hear out their problems. You have a very safe presence.
Some not so nice energy that is also coming through is that some people think that you're stuck in the past. This sentence is coming through very clearly like this to me, but I think that it will apply differently to each of you. It might be a bit literal, like you refuse to embrace new technologies for example or it could be more like you are frequently reminiscing about the good old days. I think that sometimes you are seen as being a bit sad, like filled with ennui if that makes sense. Despite that, I think that you are someone who remembers. You always know your friends birthdays and you remember the little details about their lives, and they appreciate this so so much.
With the lemon card I think that you are very talkative, but only when you feel comfortable. And the interesting thing is, when you get to the stage where you're really really comfortable you start to hold back less and less and you end up being a bit mean with your words. You're not trying to be mean, but they might sting a bit because you're brutally honest. Also, with lemon being the card of cleansing I think that your friends perceive you as being very good at cleaning. I mean this both in a literal sense (lol) and metaphorically. You're good at closing old chapters and cleaning out the old to bring in the new (with a twist too, because you always make space for the memories). You give me this vibe of it doesn't matter if it was good or bad, it matters that it happened.
Pile 3
Empress & Orange
Main Star sign energy: Virgo & Taurus
Pile 3 people see you as being full of life and energy. You are the life to her party, even if there isn't a party, you know how to cheer and pump up the people around you. I also think that people find you very charming and they love to hear you talk. In fact, I think that others love being around you and being around your energy, because it's just so big. Do you know that poem about the orange? In this metaphor you are the orange.
There's also this really interesting vibe that you are very sensual, it could be like sensual as in sexy, but like sensual as in using your senses. You love eating, you love listening to music, you love pretty things. I think that your friends and acquaintances even always ask you about restaurant recommendations and stuff like that. Also, other people love your style and your aesthetic. In fact, they really admire how cohesive you look.
Others also see you as someone who is incredibly creative and that is always filled with ideas. Honestly I think that most of you are either studying arts/design/etc or you work in those areas. You are known for your work. There's also this thing that if one of your friends has a problem they will come to you if they need an out of pocket solution. Like, you always have one. Your friends love your sense of humor, it's always so random and unpredictable. And I honestly think that you might be very popular on social media.
Pile 4
7 of Swords & Pea
Main Star signs energy: Pisces & Aquarius
Hey pile 4, you are the embodiment of chaotic energy. I don't think that anyone can pin you down, and when someone thinks that they have you figured out you immediately prove them wrong. This is big Aquarius energy honestly, not with the chaos, but with the fact that you see things in such a different manner that no one can predict what you are going to do or say next. I also think that you're the type of person to lie for fun (nothing serious of course, but just making up a whole different life to some stranger you'll never see again).
You are filled with ideas and people find you to be a good communicator. In particular I think that you're good with speaking and writing. There's also this vibe that your friends never know when to expect an answer to their texts, it could be immediately or three weeks later.
Your mind is very very busy, always buzzing with new ideas and scenarios and I think that sort of comes across to other people who think you are a bit scatterbrained. Also, people think that you are very smart. I am also getting this vibe that you have a sharp tongue, especially when it comes to social commentary. Sometimes you'll make a sarcastic comment about something around you, but not everyone will get it and those people find you a bit weird. You may get lost while telling a story, going on multiple tangents to explain your train of thought. And I also think that you get distracted easily. Some people find that a bit annoying, but your friends find it endearing.
There's this type of trickster energy here with the 7 of Swords so it might be that you are known for pulling pranks on your friends. Your presence is very fun, but sometimes a bit unsettling because again, no one knows what you're going to do next.
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Nightfall Heir
Chapter 1
🔞 MDNI 🔞 NSFW
Warnings (as a whole): Explicit sexual content, Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, Angst, Blood kink, Kidnapping, Pregnancy and Childbirth
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 |
⭐Here is the story on Archive of Our Own ⭐
Summary: Two years have passed since the events surrounding the destruction of the Absolute. Baldur's Gate is slowly rebuilding itself from the rubble, and you and your companions have established yourselves within the city to help in its restoration.
You and your vampiric lover, Astarion, had been nigh inseparable since coming back together. Yet a certain turn of events saw to your kidnapping and then... to your unexpected pregnancy.
🔥Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! 🔥
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As you lay in Astarion’s arms, you relished in the bliss that coddled your heart.
Alas, your mind wandered. It had not always been like this.
Blissful.
Your memories vividly recalled the time you had first laid with him, the time where the soft glow of fireflies had danced in the air, casting shadows that whispered secrets into the grass beneath you. The subsequent times thereafter had also been a symphony of sensations - feverish rustling of bedsheets, and the intoxicating scents of his cologne mingled with the musky aromas of passion. Back then, Astarion had always assured you that your very essence would be enveloped in a euphoric blend of pleasure and ecstasy. However, beneath the surface of those passionate encounters lay a web of deception. Your trysts had been nothing more than a meticulously crafted facade, a mask to conceal the collective traumas that haunted you both. Astarion had sought protection and trust from you, while you had yearned for a semblance of true companionship and belonging from him.
Still, the scars you both carried were etched into your souls, impossible to conceal. They were etched into the very fabric of your beings, leaving invisible wounds that refused to heal.
You flinched at the painful recollections as you looked up again at his peaceful, sleeping face. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took in a deep breath. His scents of bergamot, rosemary and aged brandy eloped you with a warmth like a midsummer’s kiss. His enchanting perfume restored a sense of peace. Yet, the darkness that still lingered in the back of your mind clawed its way into your consciousness once more.
Shuddering, you pressed yourself harder against his body to shield yourself, and though, in his sleep, he tightened his arms around you, you felt your walls again crumble. As the salt of your tears stung at the corners of your eyes, your unscrupulous mind continued to ravish your heart…
You were flung back to your childhood, vividly recalling the relentless barrage of blows, the sound of bones cracking, the scathing verbal assaults, and the relentless condemnations. The overpowering stench of sweat and blood used to fill your nostrils as you were forced to confront opponents far stronger than yourself, all for the perverse amusement of the masses... enduring unspeakable torment that had assaulted your body and mind alike. Such was the brutal reality of the Drow society that had shaped your upbringing. And yet, your tortures were not so different to that of which your lover had suffered at the hands of his old tormentor, Cazador.
The torment you had both endured had left deep scars, which had resulted in your eventual separation. The memory of it lingered, triggering a silent sob from you. In the past, you and Astarion had made the mutual decision to remain ‘just companions,’ driven by guilt over having used each other as shields for your sufferings. It had seemed like the ideal solution, a way to aid in healing. But unbeknownst to either of you, it had only exacerbated the anguish, a truth you both refused to acknowledge, even to yourselves.
At least, not until the events in Cazador's gloomy prison had unfolded.
Your mind, shrouded in darkness, conjured up a vivid and haunting replay of the events...
Your heart had been torn asunder as you had watched Astarion confront his old, wicked master. The anguish inflicted upon Astarion had been unbearable, a raw wound visible in your eyes. Alas, the hunger for power had consumed him, a voracious appetite for ascension that had wrapped around him like a suffocating web. In a mere breath, the Astarion you had known and loved had vanished. The vibrant essence of the witty, sassy, and flamboyant Elven vampire you cherished had been replaced by a feral beast. The sight of his former slaver, now succumbed, bloodied and kneeling, blurred the line between captor and captive.
You recall having exerted every ounce of your strength, having plead with Astarion to resist the seductive pull of power, to spare the lives of the countless thralls and spawn. The weight of this decision had threatened to consume his true self, which would have rendered him unrecognizable. Unimaginable sorrow had consumed you as you had contemplated the magnitude of such a loss.
The anguished cries that had escaped him as he struck down Cazador had reverberated through your being, threatening to shatter your very core. Even though Astarion had eventually yielded to your pleas, a deep resentment had grown within him towards you.
Your mind then shifted to when you and your companions had returned to the Elvensong Tavern nigh your vampiric companion. Your body had trembled uncontrollably, with tears streaming down your face, your sobs wracking your entire being. The weight of your despair had felt like an unbearable burden, threatening to consume you entirely. You remember the painful pounding of your heart in your chest, the rhythm deafening in your ears, and your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to regain control. Halsin’s sudden powerful embrace had provided a sense of stability, and his firm hold had offered a sense of security that you had desperately needed in that moment. He was, in fact, the only companion strong enough to hold your arms to prevent you from burning down the place in your despair. You recalled the surrounding room blurring as your vision had become clouded by tears; the world reduced to a haze of pain and anguish.
The others, your companions, had surrounded you, and eventually their presence had become a comfort amidst the chaos. Their words of reassurance and support had washed over you, their soothing voices attempting to ease the torment that had consumed your mind. Though their words had been barely audible through the fog of your despair, their presence alone provided a sense of unity and shared strength.
Sighing inwardly as you nestled yourself in the crook of Astarion’s shoulder, you remembered that back in that tavern on that night, time had seemed to lose all meaning to you. You had continued to tightly cling to Halsin as he cradled you, and your body had gradually succumbed to exhaustion.
After what had felt like an endless stretch of time, Astarion had finally returned. You recall that the room had been dimly lit by then, and the dancing candle light had cast long shadows on the worn wooden floor. You had heard the faint echoes of his fervent apologies, his voice trembling with remorse. The weight of his rage, which had been directed solely at you, had torn through your heart like a sharp knife. Truly, you hadn’t blamed him. It had been a battle within himself, a struggle to maintain control. Nevertheless, it had still shattered your already delicate heart and mind.
And then you recollected, amidst the heaviness of the situation, he having expressed his gratitude. The words had hung in the air as he had thanked you for rescuing him from the brink of losing his very self. You had saved him from becoming a reflection of the one he despised most in the world. Cazador Szarr.
Late that same night, under the glowing moonlight, he had guided you through the calm silence of the local cemetery. After having reached a secluded plot, he had unveiled a tombstone that had been crafted for him upon his ‘death’ as a mortal elf. The tombstone had stood there, adorned with weathered vines, a testament to the passaging of two long centuries. The air surrounding you both had carried a hint of mustiness and an earthy scent, mingling with the faint aroma of decaying leaves. A chilling breeze had whispered through the graveyard, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Astarion’s voice had broken the silence then, and he described how this tombstone represented not only the end of his previous life in Cazador’s clutches, but also the death of the creature he could have become had he ascended. In that moment, he had realised he was no longer a mere spawn, but finally, truly free.
And as he often reminded you, even now, it had all been because of your unwavering perseverance, infinite patience, and resolute devotion. Your enduring devotion to him. For that, he had fallen profoundly for you and had not hesitated to confess his adoration right in front of his grave. He had not hesitated to guide you down onto the mound of earth, where your bodies soon intertwined with an intense fervour, either.
You remembered the fierce emotions that had flooded your body. Every touch and every caress from Astarion had sent shivers down your spine, electrifying your skin and loins with an unbearable ecstasy. The air around you had seemed to crackle with an intoxicating energy, as if the gods themselves had acknowledged the depth of your connection.
Your breath had hitched with each movement, the anticipation coursing through your veins. The taste of passion had lingered on your lips as a mix of desire and a hint of rebellion. The gritty texture of the earth beneath you had only heightened the rawness of the moment, grounding you in the physicality of your love.
You bit your bottom lip with the memories which now overwhelmed your senses. You felt it all again. With each feverish thrust, the passion had intensified. The heat between your bodies had grown to burning new heights and had wrapped you both in a cocoon of shared desire. Astarion’s touch had ignited a fire within you as his hands had explored every inch of your body with a frenzied hunger. The world around you then had faded into a blur, leaving only the two of you entangled in a dance of unbridled passion.
In that moment, the boundaries of time and place had ceased to exist. Moans and gasps had mingled in the air, a symphony of pleasure and longing as you had moved together with an unspoken understanding.
It had been just you and him in that graveyard, your souls entwined as one. The world could have crumbled around you once again, yet you would have remained oblivious, lost in the sheer intensity of your love.
You trembled at the memory of the last echoes of ecstasy fading away, and the intense heat between your thighs after he had filled you. You had found solace in the knowledge that your devotion had been reciprocated with equal fervor.
As your mind floated back to your present time, you shivered again at the sudden delicious tingle at your junction, a soft moan escaping your lips. You froze, glancing up at your sleeping lover, hoping you had not been loud enough to stir him, but he was as still as the tombstone that adorned his grave. Which brought your salacious thoughts back to that night. That night had cemented your relationship once and for all. He was now yours and you were now his and the both of you had been inseparable since that night two years ago.
#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion x you#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate fanfiction#astarion daddy#Astarion as a daddy#Astarion and Tav have a child#Nightfall heir#bg3#dadstarion#astarion x halsin x tav#astarion x dark urge#baldur's gate 3 fanfiction
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In World War II, Nazi Germany established brothels in the concentration camps (Lagerbordell, Sonderbauten or Freudenabteilungen "Joy Divisions") to increase productivity among male inmates.
In the end, the camp brothels did not produce any noticeable increase in the prisoners' productivity levels, but instead, created a market for coupons among the camp VIPs.
Here's a few of the locations where this happened:
Mauthausen/Gusen, Auschwitz, Buchenwald, Neuengamme, Dachau, Dora-Mittelbau, Sachsenhausen, Flossenbürg and others
The women forced into these brothels came mainly from the women-only Ravensbrück concentration camp, except for Auschwitz, which "employed" its own prisoners.
In combination with the German military brothels in World War II, it is estimated that at least 34,140 female inmates were forced into sexual slavery during the Third Reich.
The brothels form the subject of "Das KZ Bordell" (The Concentration Camp Brothel) by Robert Sommer, a book that has been hailed as the first comprehensive account of a little known chapter of Nazi oppression in World War Two.
It explores the origins, structure and impact of the "Sonderbauten" (special buildings) run by Heinrich Himmler's SS in Germany and Nazi-occupied Europe.
"In the collective memory and written history of World War Two, the camp brothels were for a long time taboo," the 35-year-old Berliner told Reuters. "The former prisoners didn't want to talk about it: it was a difficult subject to handle."
"It didn't fit so easily into the postwar image of the concentration camps as monuments to suffering."
According to concentration camp survivors the women in those brothels were replaced every 6 months and the women who got replaced were killed in gas chambers.
It is important to note that we distinctively speak of sexual slavery here and of rape.
I wanted to point this out especially because I have been seeing liberal feminists talking about this topic, calling it "forced sex-work", "forced sex-labour" etc.
It is beyond disrespectful to call these female victims "sex-workers" or "employees" when their sexuality was brutally exploited, their diginities taken, their health was sacrificed, they were raped repeatedly and then executed after 6 months, even though they were promised to be released after those months. But those promises of course were never honored.
Liberal feminism and radical feminism differs a lot when it comes to views on the topic of prostitution but this does NOT excuse labeling victims of abuse and rape as "sex-workers" or calling their suffering "forced sex-labour."
#feminism#radical feminists do interact#radblr#radical feminism#world war 2#radical feminists do touch#radical feminist community#radical feminists please touch
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Thinking about Lenny and Sean.
Thinking about how Sean, representing the liveliness and optimism of the gang, has to be unavailable in Colter, just so that we, upon arrival in Horseshoe & his return to the gang, can really remember Colter as a dour opposition to the light, fun, easiness that is Horseshoe Overlook.
Thinking about how Sean is the last to be introduced and the first to die; how he HAS to be the first to die, as the most light-hearted, easy-going, fun-loving one of them. Every camp after Clemens Point is decidedly more dour, less light, mirroring what they have lost with his death. Even the two parties are noticably different, from Sean's party in Horseshoe being genuinely fun and full of hope, to Jack's party, while starting as well as one could hope, being marred by anger and sorrow; fights, and sadness, and quiet. It ends in a storm which cuts the party off; sends everyone inside and to bed, where Sean literally stays up singing and drinking until light. The game is telling us that things are no longer the same, through the environment. Things have changed, irrevocably, and they will only get worse from here on out.
Sean dies at the game's halfway point; end of chapter 3 of 6. He is the first to die of the gang members we truly get to know. It is surprising and jarring and grotesque. The effect is IMMEDIATE, although subtle, but absolutely there. Sean dies, and the dread starts creeping in. His death is the underlining of Arthur's kidnapping; Arthur might be fine for now but that doesn't mean things aren't getting worse.
Then Lenny, who alongside Jack represents the future, and the gang's hope. Note how they're both acknowledged as exceedingly smart; Jack for his age, and Lenny just in general (though he is also young by everyone's standards), and that Hosea is fond of both of them. The critical difference is that Jack represents youthful innocence in a way Lenny doesn't; Lenny is fully aware of what the gang is, what it does, and why it exists. He is seen talking about and understanding the societal factors that have led him to this way of life; specifically pointing out the impact of slavery and its abolishment on his quality of life as a black man.
Lenny is the only one who can be seen challenging Dutch at an intellectual level. Lenny dies, and there's little rationale left in the gang. And we are immediately treated to watching the start of Dutch's more rapid decline in Guarma. Lenny is buried next to Hosea, the (arguably) oldest gang member, with the most experience to guide them. There goes the future and past of the gang; the only voices which arguably could've made a difference.
He is also, notably, the only death who is not given a cutscene. Blink and it's done, and you're left in shock and disbelief, watching Arthur stay until the last second to not let the youngest member of the gang die alone.
So what's my point here? Well, I think it's worth pointing out that these two, alongside Molly, are the ending notes of chapter 3,4, and 5, all setting the tone for the chapter to come. Each signify the further detoriation of the gang -- they lose something with each death; a life and gun, sure, but also what that person in part represented. Optimism, reasonability, compassion. And each death is brutal; sudden; jarring, in distinct ways. Then, at last, Arthur is the final death, at the end of chapter 6. The gang is already done, by that point.
I also in part think it's interesting that part of the reason Sean and Lenny die is their own flaws. Sean's easy-going inattentive nature leaves him wide open, too busy making a quick-witted quip to keep an eye out -- even when Arthur, the most senior member among them, makes it clear something is wrong, which SHOULD put one on guard in that situation. Lenny, who believes himself lucky and intelligent, also has a sense of arrogance and recklessness which has him running headfirst into danger without looking.
I love them a lot, but I think their survival inherently would mean a very different story from the one RDR2 is. Also think they absolutely would have sided with Arthur in the end, but those are both completely different rants I'll save for another time :'^)
#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#sean macguire#lenny summers#teki talks#long post#IM BACK IN THE FUCKING KITCHEN AGAIN#its another late night rant i keep doing these#rdr thoughts
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The Man and the Golden Gift
[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]
[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, violence, trauma, mourning, description of murder and wounds ]
[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, verydark Aemond. ]
This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.
Series & Characters Moodboard
Lady Walford Moodboard
Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard
Part 1 - The Man with the Black Mask | Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 3 - The Man with the Lost Soul | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Mouth | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 10 - The Man in the Black Gloves | Part 11 - The Man in the Death Cloak | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair | Part 13 - The Man with the Fiery Gaze
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
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He was unable to explain to Criston what he felt as he pulled the mask from his face in front of the King and saw the realisation in his eyes that justice has finally reached him.
He was sure he was smiling broadly when, before he could get anything out of him, his dagger slashed his throat, ruby thick blood beginning to flow from his wound onto his blue, gold embroidered robe.
He clutched at the place of the cut, got up from the table and fell over, choking, probably trying to call out to his guards, but all that came out of his mouth was a grunt. He stood over him and watched him die, his pupils slowly became empty as the life drained out of him.
He wanted to wait another week until the troops they were waiting for arrived near the city, but after what his future wife had done, he could not wait.
He was furious because she reacted to the sight of his face, of his scar just as he had feared, because he desired her, because he needed her, and she now abhorred him, could not even look at him.
He knew this would happen, but he felt pain and disappointment anyway.
He thought that what she felt at the sight of him didn't matter − he had already decided that their marriage would not only be purely physical but also political, and although he hadn't shared his plans with his lords, even if he wanted to he wouldn't be able to bear the presence of another woman beside him.
He had united with her through death, grief and blood.
They had long been one.
The nuptials were a mere formality.
Having performed his miraculous act of revenge, he put his mask back on and left the chamber as if nothing had happened, knowing he had little time. He found the ghosts who were involved in his plan and instructed them to spread the word that it had begun.
Criston at the head of his army appeared at the walls of his city within hours, at the same time panic had set in in the fortress − the guards knew that one of the ghosts had killed the King, but they did not know which one because they all looked almost identical.
The first battles began, bloody and brutal − his men, his befriended servants, the ghosts and the guards murdering anyone who fell into their hands.
He did, however, instruct them not to enter Lord Walford's daughter's chamber and to lock up his son.
They succeeded in accomplishing what he had done eight years before, which was to have the effect of surprise; no one was prepared for the King to be betrayed by his own ghost − they no longer knew whom to trust, and the royal guard and army were looking for guilty parties among themselves, unable to put up any real resistance to them.
Long hours passed like minutes, and when at last he stepped into the chamber where his father had deliberated with his advisors years ago, the lords and his allies were already waiting for him.
The fortress had been conquered, their armies were taking over the city.
It was done.
He took off his mask and threw it on the table, feeling free, feeling relieved, feeling satisfied. All those present bowed before him and called him their King, he, however, was thinking of only one thing.
"Bring the daughter of this traitor here."
As she entered the room, led by Criston, he was struck by the fact that her hair was loose, on her body apart from a thin nightgown only a robe tied at her waist. He felt his heart beat harder in excitement as she looked up at his face, fearless, emotionless, confident.
He knew that she was not afraid of death.
That if he decided to end her life, she would accept it with peace of mind.
She was a walking dignity.
"How dare you look straight into the face of your King, traitor!" Shouted one of the lords loyal to him, snapping him out of his reverie as he tried to grab her arm − he furrowed his brow, seeing this, feeling discomfort.
She was his.
"Don't touch her." He said coolly, warningly, with no intention of repeating himself. The man froze, looking at him over his shoulder in disbelief, pointing his finger at her.
"She should be searched immediately, Your Grace. She may be hiding a dagger in her sleeves, we do not know what she will do." He said with certainty in his voice, his gaze directed at her again, her face expressing absolutely nothing.
"Leave us alone. Immediately."
"But, my King…" He heard Ser Criston's voice, but he glanced at him with such a look that he only swallowed. He nodded, leaving first, followed by the other men, who walked hesitantly behind him, looking at Walford's daughter with distrust and displeasure.
The door closed behind them at last and they were left alone.
They stared at each other in silence − his lips pressed together at the thought that he no longer saw the fire and tenderness in her gaze that he had seen over the past few weeks, that he now disgusted her.
What she thought of him didn't matter, however, he still felt a humiliating sense of disappointment.
What had he expected?
He hummed after a moment, deciding he would get to the point, running his fingers along the table top, not wanting to waste either his or her time.
"I understand your disappointment and your grief. In truth, I have procrastinated too long, but I did it with our future in mind. I wanted the takeover of the throne to proceed without…unnecessary disruption and, as if to put it, dramatism." He said calmly, wanting to briefly explain the whole situation to her.
He expected questions from her, but she said nothing; she stood on the other side of the table with her hands folded in front of her, upright and proud, looking at him calmly. He licked his lips in irritation, wondering if she was trying to get him off balance.
"Aren't you going to say anything?"
"Is he dead?"
He blinked and snorted under his breath, amused to hear how indifferent and soft her voice was, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the thought that, as he had suspected, her father's death had not particularly bothered her.
"I killed him a few minutes after I left your chamber." He said lightly, cocking his head to the side as he watched her reaction, however her face remained equally calm, as if this information had made no impression on her.
"How?" She asked with emphasis, as if she expected him to do the right thing and he licked his lips at the thought.
"I cut his throat." He hummed with delight, recalling the scene, that wonderful, sweet feeling of achieving the revenge he had so dreamed of. She lowered her gaze, as if musing for a moment, and then raised her eyes to him again, her brow furrowed slightly.
"Good. What about my brother?" She asked firmly, a note of threat in her voice from which he tightened his lips.
"He's in a safe place."
"I want to see him."
His lips twitched in a dangerous grin and he squinted, looking at her watchfully.
If she thought she was going to put conditions on him, she was wrong.
"You'll see him once we get everything settled."
Her look changed, her eyes got bigger − he could see the surprise in her gaze, as if she had no idea what he meant.
He felt irritation at the thought that she had already forgotten what she herself had asked him to do, and what he had promised her.
"We need to discuss the details of our nuptials and coronation in the coming days. They should take place as soon as possible." He said dryly, looking away from her towards the flames, feeling his heart pounding fast, unable to bear the humiliation if her reaction was as he feared.
"I don't expect your pity. I will not tell anyone about what has happened between us, I will spare myself this humiliation. Send me back to the monastery or wherever you see fit." She said with a kind of weariness from which he felt a tightness in his throat − he looked at her shocked, not believing what he had heard.
Send me back to the monastery or wherever you see fit.
She did not want to be his wife.
She didn't want to be his queen.
She didn't want to be his.
"Are you that disgusted with me?" He asked furiously, clenching his hand into a fist, feeling a squeeze in his heart and discomfort in his stomach, unable to contain the terrible, hot feeling of disappointment that shook his muscles.
She looked at him in disbelief, her lips parted in surprise and suddenly she laughed pearly − he felt his lower lip tremble at the thought that she was mocking him.
"With you? I'm disgusted with myself." She said touching her hand to her chest.
"I believed you like a naive little child. Aren't you tired of lying?" She asked with a pain, sadness and regret that made him breathe loudly, looking at her with wide eyes.
He stood up suddenly, roused by some brutal, sharp feeling that surged through his body, and after a moment he was in front of her, his large, rough hand clamped down on her slender, soft neck − she drew in air loudly, looking at him helplessly, grabbing his wrist, however, not trying to defend herself.
"Lying?" He hissed furiously, aggressively lifting the material of her robe and chemise in a swift motion, his free hand pressing between her thighs, he heard her squirm in terror and surprise.
He sighed quietly in relief as he felt her sticky moisture under his fingers, teasing her pearl with slow movements, his hand rising from her neck to her cheeks and cupping it, forcing her to look at him.
"That's what you call a lie? Hm?" He growled enraged, his fingertips rubbing her with an increasingly loud, wet click of her juices − she mewled helplessly, surprised as he slid two fingers deep into her tight, fleshy insides, his manhood throbbed hard in his breeches as he felt her clench around him.
"Don't you want this? Do you want me to stop? Come on, fucking get it out of you." He hissed, grabbing her hair, pressing his forehead against hers, looking directly into her eyes, wanting to read anything from them − her pupils were dilated, her gaze clouded, her cheeks flushed with exertion and emotion, her wonderfully plump and shiny lips slightly parted.
He sped up, sliding his fingers in and out of her faster and faster, pressing and kneading intensely on the spot inside her from which quiet, helpless whimpers erupted from her throat.
"− ask your husband, tell him what you want − come on, you know I'll give you fucking everything −" He growled almost in despair, wanting nothing more than for her to tell him that she still wanted him, that she wasn't disgusted by him, that she still believed, as he did, that they were the same, that they were made for each other by the gods, that they were one.
He felt her hands tighten on his tunic, her hips begin to respond to his treatments.
"− please, husband − please, tell me you didn't plan this −" She mumbled out with a pain from which he felt his throat tighten − he chuckled involuntarily, clenching his eyes, wondering if she even realised what she had done to him.
"− planned? − good gods −" He murmured lowly, massaging her insides with intense, sure motions, her tight walls clenching against him greedily, his hand all sticky from her moisture. "− I almost lost everything − because of you − for you − do you understand? − say you understand −"
She nodded quickly, looking at him in disbelief − he drew in the air loudly and felt a powerful shudder pass through him as her small, soft hand touched his cheek, running her fingertips over his scar in a tender, light movement. He moaned weakly, feeling his cock pulsate hard, and thought with pain that this was what he needed, that he wanted more.
He leaned forward and dared to brush his lips against hers, feeling her warm breath on his skin, her lips wonderfully moist and soft. He rubbed them again and again, her lips beginning to respond to him tentatively, until finally they clung to each other, embracing tightly in each other's arms, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat.
He heard her sigh in relief, her hand running suddenly over the bulge in his breeches − he suppressed a groan, feeling a strong shudder pass through him.
"− please, husband −" She babbled pleadingly. He sighed with satisfaction and relief at the thought that her distance, her trepidation, her coldness was only due to the fact that she was as afraid of trusting him as he was of trusting her, that living with a perpetual sense of betrayal made it seem to her, for certain, only a matter of time before it came from him.
He assured her with the deep, sure thrusts of his hips into her tight core of the permanence of his feelings, panting along with her − he rooted into her with ease, her moisture running down her buttocks making their bodies slap against each other loudly, her hands stroking his hair and cheeks, their lips dancing and rubbing against each other between their ragged, heavy breaths.
"− you're fucking leaking − that's what you call lying? −" He hissed into her mouth, speeding up, her walls clenching around him greedily, making the heat flow through his entire body − he lost the sharpness of mind, focused only on the natural instinct to root deep into her.
"− you're mine −" He muttered, only to come deep inside her after a few desperate thrusts, filling her at last with his seed, her body arched in pleasure and trembled in his arms, her fingers clenched in his hair.
He looked at her, strangely calm and assured, seeing in her eyes what he craved, the same warmth and devotion, the promise of tenderness and security. He licked his lower lip feeling her fingers run over his scar again, thinking about how he wasn't going to make her look at it.
"− I'm going to wear an eye patch every day −" He said indifferently, but she shook her head, furrowing her brow, startling him completely.
"− not in front of me − not in front of your wife − my husband will never hide his face from me again −" She whispered and just hugged him embracing his waist.
He felt a tightness in his throat at her words, some kind of hot emotion, clenched his eyes and cuddled his face into her neck, thinking only of the fact that without her it all would be pointless.
"I have a wedding gift for you."
The sight of them walking down the corridor together caused consternation among his lords, but they dared not say a word when he led her into the chamber that belonged to his mother.
The woman who had saved his life that day was standing facing the window. She turned towards them when she heard the sound of the door opening, looking healthier and more confident than when he had last seen her − her hair was combed into an elaborate bun, her long, dark blue gown with sleeves reaching down to the ground emphasising her slender waist.
He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his future wife and saw that she stood still with her mouth wide open, trembling all over as if she had really seen a ghost, her eyes big and filled with tears. She pressed her hand to her face in a gesture of disbelief, a sort of mumble came from her throat, and then she threw herself with a sob into the arms of her mother, who embraced her tightly.
He looked at them and thought only of how all his life he had dreamed of such a miracle for himself, of how one day someone would lead him to a room where it would be his mother waiting for him.
He swallowed loudly, realising with a clenched throat that it would never happen, but he had no regrets about sparing this suffering to the woman he had chosen to be his queen.
He wanted her to know that he could also be merciful.
That although cold and cruel, he was not heartless.
He decided to leave them alone and give them some privacy.
That same night he came to her, to her chamber − she raised herself on her arm when she caught sight of him, something in her eyes that made him hot.
"− my King −" She whispered softly, warmly, with longing, desire and promise − he felt the way she said those words in his cock, which throbbed hard in his breeches.
He approached her without a sound and parted his lips in a sigh of delight as she immediately rose up on her knees, her hands without question reached for the clasp of his tunic, undoing it with ease, untying his breeches.
A low, surprised moan escaped his lips as her hand immediately grasped his manhood and squeezed it − it throbbed hard in her grasp, his hand involuntarily reaching for her cheek, his thumb running over her soft, warm skin.
He pressed his lips together and let the air out loudly, holding back the groan that wanted to escape his throat when her head bent down, slipping the fat, pink tip of his cock into her warm mouth.
"− fuck −" He growled in pleasure, feeling a powerful shudder run through him as her tongue began to tease and lick him, his fingers moved up and tightened in her hair − he stared at her in disbelief, feeling his heart pounding fast.
"− do you wish to show gratitude to your King? − hm? −" He exhaled and she nodded, breathing rapidly, her eyes closed. He sighed loudly as she slid his hard, swollen manhood deeper between her lips and began to suck it, squeezing the part she couldn't fit in with her fingers − he tilted his head back, horrified at how much it aroused him, how hard he pulsed in her throat.
"− gods, fuck, slow down −" He mumbled, despite his words involuntarily starting to rock his hips inside her mouth, slapping the head of his cock against the back of her throat.
She moaned with the effort of feeling it, refusing to stop − the sight of her sweet lips clenched around him, her innocent face between his thighs was something he couldn't deny himself despite wanting so badly to come deep inside her.
"− thirsty for my seed, hm? − do you want to taste it so badly? −" He muttered between desperate thrusts, clamping both hands in her hair, his swollen length rooting into her mouth with a loud, lewd click of her saliva.
He groaned low as her hand began to squeeze him more intensely, soaking his cock between her lips − she nodded, bringing him to the brink of fulfilment.
"− very well − swallow it, swallow it all − oh, gods, fuck-fuck-fuck −" He breathed out, feeling the pleasure shake through him as his spend finally spilled deep down her throat − he heard her struggle to take in what was flowing out of him, not letting even a drop go to waste.
He stroked her head, looking at her with pride, affection and tenderness, rocking his hips in her mouth for a while longer, listening to the wonderful sound of swallowing.
"− you will make a fine Queen −"
_____
Aemond Taglist:
(bold means I couldn't tag you)
@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes
#aemond fic#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen#aemond x oc#hotd aemond#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell fanfic#aemond kinslayer#prince aemond#aemond#aemond one eye#aemond the kinslayer#dark aemond smut#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#ewan mitchell smut#hotd smut#dark aemond#dark aemond targaryen#dark aemond x reader#modern dark aemond#dark aemond angst#aemond targaryen angst#aemond angst#hotd angst#aemond fanfic#aemond fandom#ewan mitchell fandom#house of the dragon fandom#hotd fandom
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MDNI - Naïve!Jungwon 16 …because Jungwon took off his glasses and said “I can’t be a villain” in his Weverse live today....
a/n: AHHHHH, I love it when they say things that make my ramblings seem… umm… not completely delusional... ANYWAYZ... Final chapter friends. Thank you for reading.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15
Jungwon made your birthday extra special. Breakfast in bed and flowers. He took you to the movies and then to your favorite restaurant where he officially proposed. The patrons cheered and congratulated the two of you. You were as giddy as a girl could ever be. Jungwon barely closed the door to your apartment before your clothes were coming off. Your little red dress sails across the room and you’re left with nothing but your stilettos. The birthday cake, he baked (and almost burnt) will have to wait. You tear his shirt open, buttons flying.
“Damn!” Jungwon raises an eyebrow before pushing you gently onto the couch. He peels his shirt off and quickly removes his pants and underwear. He’s on you in an instant, kissing you like his life depends on it. You wrap your legs around his, taking out the lamp on the side table in the process. You both hear the shatter and burst into laughter.
“This is why we can’t have nice things, Noona. You’re an animal, baby,” he says, teasing your wet pussy with the tip of his cock. You give a playful growl before covering your face with embarrassment. Jungwon smiles.
“But I have you. What does that say about you?” you ask him.
“Well, you did try to break me too…” he says, sinking into you. He kisses your ankle, glasses askew. Jungwon immediately starts at a brutal pace. You grab on to anything you can. Hands landing on a couch cushion above your head. “Look at you now. Hmm? I own this pussy.” he groans. “Say it.” Your body is quaking beneath him as your words get tangled up in cries of pleasure. Too close already.
“Fuuckk, I’m yours. Wonnieee,” you cry out as he fucks you through your orgasm. Jungwon bends over to kiss you, stealing the moans escaping from your mouth.
All showered up and comfy in pajamas, Jungwon leads you into the kitchen for your birthday cake. “You don’t have to eat it if it’s gross. I tried my best,” he says shyly. You kiss his cheek.
“I know you did Jungwonie.” He lights the candles. You close your eyes tightly to make a wish. There’s not much to wish for. Jungwon has given you everything and more. Love. Happiness. Protection… that’s it. You blow out the candles.
“What did you wish for, baby?” Jungwon smiles, kissing your cheek. You cut into the cake, putting a piece onto a plate before swipe icing off the cake with the knife. Placing the blade on your tongue and slowly licking the icing off while looking into his eyes.
“I wish that no one ever finds out what you did to Kyle,” you say softly.
--------------------
@nyfwyeonjun @maymarrylhs @nyxtwixx @wildflowermooon @ilabjungwon @enha-ism @belowbun @emikotakayami @mydearestwonnie @woniesprincess04 @snoopypupp @moonlightndaydreams @daydreams-after-dark
#yang jungwon#enhypen yang jungwon#jungwon smut#jungwon x reader#jungwon scenarios#jungwon#enhypen jungwon#jungwon enhypen#yang jungwon x reader#yang jungwon x you#jungwon x you#yang jungwon imagines#yang jungwon hard thoughs#jungwon hard thoughts#jungwon hard hours#enha scenarios#enha hard hours#enha hard thoughts#enhypen au#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen hard hours#kpop smut#enhypen smut#enha smut#yang jungwon smut#enhypen#enha#enha imagines#enhypen scenarios#kpop imagines
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Misplaced
Misplaced is a fantasy romance interactive fiction WIP, wherein your choices not only determine your own fate, but that of an entire kingdom. Let me take you an adventure filled with both whimsy and tragedy alike.
The current public demo goes up to the end of Chapter 6, available here: https://calliopefiction.itch.io/misplaced
The demo on patreon goes up to the end of Chapter 7: https://www.patreon.com/CalliopeFiction
The Story:
For decades, the human kingdom of Gaiapeia has been fighting against the fae living in the surrounding lands. How this conflict started depends entirely on who you ask.
You are the child of Lady and Sir Grahm, a noble familiy who has been serving the crown for generations. Eager to follow in your father's footsteps, you have been training for years to become a knight worthy of being Prince Az'Lean's Champion - his right hand, his closest confidant, the one who protects his life from the growing danger of the fae.
When the time finally comes and you are chosen for the position, it's a dream come true. You couldn't be happier. But just one day later, on your 21st birthday, a terrible truth is revealed to you.
You are a changeling - a fae child that was smuggled into a human family with only one purpose: to gain the prince's trust and use it against him.
A war between humans and fae is surely brewing and the outcome depends entirely on you.
Features:
Customize the appearance of your MC, play as non-binary, female, or male and romance whoever you like however you like, including the choice for asexual or queer-platonic relationships.
Enjoy the story without having to worry about stats - you will be a competent knight no matter what. There is no failure or success, only different choices and their outcomes.
Shape your personality, and your trustworthiness, with your actions. Other characters' disposition to you will change depending on how they perceive you.
Pick a side early on, play the long con, or refuse to make a choice at all. There are multiple split paths that will feature the same romancable characters - but their relationship to you might vary greatly (including villain romances).
Romance:
Vynn (nb):
Vynn is one of your fellow knights and a long-time friend. Unlike you, they aren't a knight by choice and don't care much for fighting. You get the feeling they'd much rather be a bard if they could, seeing as they love playing the lute, spinning epic tales and generally being a source of levity. They are fiercely loyal and good-natured, though there is that bit of resentment that will never quite leave their heart.
Prince Az'Lean (m):
Az'Lean is your prince, the one you are sworn to protect. At a glance, he is the very picture of a fairytale prince: charming, chivalrous, and powerful. He is an excellent fighter, loves animals, and prefers to be treated like an equal. Anyone who cares to look will soon notice the darkness lurking beneath that shining exterior, festering ever since the death of his mother.
Lady Meave (f):
Maeve is a powerful dryad who was sent to educate you on the ways of the fae. She is usually playful and soft, but can get eerily intense at times. As much as she cares about decorum and courtly things, she finds joy in the simplest things and easily turns into a giggly mess. For all her humour, you can never quite tell if she is being serious. Sometimes it feels like she's just playing with you.
Thianne (f):
Thianne is a sorceress and one of Az'Lean's most trusted advisors. She is intelligent and hard-working, though sometimes at the expense of her own well-being. Although she comes across as abrasive and rude, she is always willing to help those who need it. Her dry sense of humour and brutal honesty have endeared her to just as many people as they have made her enemies.
Lester (m):
Lester is a half-fae servant, working in the castle. As with most half-fae, his presence isn't entirely welcome and his reasons for being here seem complexer than he lets on. Lester is known for his mischief and his crude humour, often pulling pranks that border on malicious. Despite the way he presents himself as laid-back and uncaring, it's clear that there's a lot he isn't opening up about.
Warnings:
This story contains potentially triggering content. There will be graphic depictions of violence, death, discrimination, body-image issues and mental illness (including panic attacks, suicidal thoughts and paranoia). Discretion is advised.
Support:
Thank you so much for showing any interest in this project at all! If you would like to receive biweekly update posts, participate in polls, and get access to bonus short stories, consider supporting me on patreon: https://www.patreon.com/CalliopeFiction
#interactive fiction#interactive novel#twine#cyoa#dev log#misplaced#writing#fantasy#fae#romance#if game
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Deceit
Mafia!au x Steve Rogers
CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.
divider by @firefly-graphics !
Taglist 🏷️ (send an ask to be part of my taglist for this series!)
@tinkerbelle67 @patzammit @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory@nomadstucky @nessie2183 @shamelessfangirl-3 @namelesssav @marvel-phoenix @euphoric-goddess @roseeatta @abschaffer2 @louderfortheback @stupendouslovegardener @wandamaximoff-simp @thedonswife13 @hpsimpspot @samsgirl93 @cynic-spirit
Bucky is quiet the ride over, dark steel greys surveying the road eagerly, like he was waiting for someone, or something to give him a reason to jump out and spill blood.
The wheel wains in his grip, and his dark hair falls over in waves, pushed back behind his ears and smelling of pine nut and mint. There's a hint of a smile on his face, he knows you're watching him.
You avert your gaze quickly, looking towards the mountain trees on either side of the asphalt road ahead.
The relief you had thought would fill you as Bucky pulls into the potholed road of your apartment is blank, and your chest fills vacant without the heat of it. Your mind is restless, and the entire ride over had given you ample time to think over everything that had happened earlier.
You had folded and unfolded every piece of information Bucky had told you about Steve and all it had done was make you feel like you were intruding, like you were given privy to something you had no right knowing. Like peeking through the cracks under closed doors as a child listening in on their parents.
Where your street had once been busy with loitering huddles of gaunt faced men, a quiet murmur settles over the ground floor of your apartment complex, all the way up to the hallway to your place.
And as you pass by a few stragglers who blanch when Bucky shifts his hard gaze towards them, stuttering over their own feet and rushing back to their alleyways, you have an inclination that it was all Steves doing.
His reach was absolute.
You didn’t know what to feel, you’ve known displacement for too long.
Separating from your betrothed, separated from the life you had been half folded into, separating from the very syllabus of your name.
The spaces between the letters get further and further as the years go by. Until you can hardly remember if your namesake is really yours, just a frightening sound that came out of your husband's mouth.
This is different though. Until now, your instinct has always been right. And yet, when you think of Steve? When you try to find footing in your gut it comes up wobbly and unsure.
Was he something more than he let on? Did he only uncover pieces of himself for his own benefit?
Bucky had told you he had lost his own wife, and young too. Forced to be exposed to the brutality of the world before he could even get a chance to indulge in youthful recklessness.
You feel a sense of empathy for him, but also, also surprise. It isn’t the murder, or your own husbands doing that causes a slight slip of your heart. The truth is much more foolish instead.
There was a time Steve was ready to forsake this entire life, live forever looking over his shoulder, turn back on tradition that was as deep as marrow, all for love.
You could laugh if you had remembered what that felt like. The thought outright unnerves you. Steve? The gluttonous leader who held sanctions of New York with an iron fist?
It drives a pit in your stomach when you think too hard about what it means.
There’s a fiery jealousy that swarms you, you had never understood the wielding power that love carried all your life. It was a feeling, just like any other was it not?
Yet it had men like Steve falling to his knees!
And all that swarms your mind is how it’s so unfair, that you’ve never experienced such a thing. That you may never will. Forced to succumb to the life that was only half yours, down a path so far the ground had changed beneath you.
What did it feel like to give in? To show all your misgivings with unabashed apprehension? To let yourself, all of it, to another person?
Anything close to a love like that had come from the faded memories of your father, his warmth and deep gritted protectiveness over you. And that had been stripped from you quicker that you were able to forsake it.
You suppose that wasn't meant to be dealt in your cards, which you had come to understand were drawn years ago. You lie to yourself, but during some nights the aching desire to feel something, to taste the deep gripping love that had caused even Steve to lose focus explodes deep in your gut.
Your longing for connection was something you hid well, and god didn’t you get awfully good at hiding these years? Fit yourself in nooks and crannies that were too small, smoothed out your jagged edges to click into the puzzle pieces.
And yet, the empathy you had silently shared, the intimate conversation you had had with Steve in your mind is stamped out with swiftness as Bucky walks you to your door.
That was then, now Steve had made it perfectly clear where he stood. The cool indifference and hardening this life caused had stolen any shine or hope that Steve may have held those years ago. Everything he did now was calculated, for the betterment of broadening his kingdom.
He might as well have died along with her.
Bucky leans against the hallway, eyes surveying the decrepit halls lit by overexerted linoleum lights. You hesitate a moment, before popping your keys into your door, twisting it this way and that to get it to open.
You flinched as the door opened wide, almost like you were expecting someone to be standing right behind it, waiting for your arrival before pouncing. You’re a child, waiting for the ghoul in the closet to jump out.
Yet all that is there is the same peeling walls of your small entryway and some shoes and a coat strewn to the side in your haste to get to the diner early those days before.
You’d much prefer the monster.
Days, it had only been days, so why did it feel like a lifetime since you stepped foot into your home?
You don’t know what you were expecting, for your apartment to change when you had been kept away from it unceremoniously? For someone to have cleaned out the dishes lying in the sink, and ruffle the pillows lying on your old sofa?
You had craved mundanity for so long, craved consistently at a time where you didn’t know which face of your husband you would meet those days.
When the monster living underneath your husband's skin would jump out.
But now, you crave something more. It simmers right under your skin, deep within your chest and its shadowy fingers flutter over every inch of you.
Your apprehension is evident by the way Bucky shifts his way towards you stuttering frame.
“Hey, I wouldn't be so keen on coming home to this place either. Those carpets don’t look that inviting" Bucky replies, there is a sight lilt in his voice as he drags his eyes across your depressing furnishing.
You cut your eyes towards him, narrowing your lids.
“Not everyone lives in an exorbitant palace you know” You gruffly reply, shuffling into your door in a way that was more spite than eagerness.
Bucky breaks out in a grin that takes up half his face, his hand stuffed into his suit pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.
“Talking like a woman who hasn’t done just that half her life” Bucky replies, cocking his head to the side.
Oh right, your husband's estate that took up half of the city. One that was never, and would never be in your name.
You drop your handbag onto one of the hooks attached to the hallway, turning towards Bucky with a sigh.
“That’s different” You reply evenly
“Oh yeah? How so?” Bucky murmurs, eyes shining with a smile
“I was never welcomed in that home- house. God it would never be a home no matter how many architects and designers dressed it up. You think I escaped ‘cause it was my safe haven?” You cock your head to the side and Bucky’s face evens out. The smile adorning his features morphs back into his face as a look passes through his eyes.
“You don’t have to worry about that with Steve-”
“Oh yeah? Because he is the most upfront person to talk to. Right. This place, as depressing as it looks, is solely mine. It’s the only thing I have on this goddamn earth that hasn't been mauled and changed with my husband's fingers. Or the life he leads. You might not understand it, how important that is but-”
“I do. Trust me” Bucky replies, cutting you with and he offers you a nod that was more understanding than half the world's he promised to you.
Can I? You wonder thoughtfully. Was this just a part of some elaborate plan that Rumlow had clued you on? You were everywhere all at once, topsy turvy and turned inside out. This was the life you had to live now.
“Good” You say instead, wringing your fingers as Bucky’s phone begins to buzz from his pants pocket.
You wait for him to reach for it immediately, but he doesn't, just remains quiet as he taps his foot against the hardwood floor. There seemed to be a look of understanding that passed between you when he had racked his fist against the wall adjacent to your door.
The blues of his eyes twinkled under the sun peeking through the hallway window, and you didn’t realize it then but it was trust that shined in his eyes. Like the words he had shared with you warranted the same secrecy he held with the other men he worked with.
You had paid in flesh and blood for your silence, what more was another pound?
The ring runs through, and the silence soon returns between you both.
“I’m not going to the mouth off to half of Brooklyn that their most influential business man likes painting” You reply with a murmur, eyes darting left and right as if neighbors were listening in. Enough of them had watched you walk to your apartment door, eyes strained on Bucky and his shoes that shine too bright. Faces that had never even said hello had craned their necks as you passed, of course. Whispers of inquisition under their breath.
“I know you won’t” Bucky replies instantly. “Just- let him explain the rest of it, yeah? ‘S only fair you hear it from him”
“Fair?” You raise your eyebrows, “You’re talking about fairness now? Bullshit. If you were guided by some moral compass I wouldn't have been forced into this, you wouldn't even be in this life” You snark unconsciously.
Where does this all come from? You hadn't even raised an eyebrow at your husband, and now you were bad mouthing a man with a gun poking through his waistband. You look down, staring at the unusual stain in the hallway carpet you never quite knew what was. The anxiety and timidness you were used to coming back tenfold.
Bucky doesn't retaliate, just looks towards you with a feather-like smirk.
“I was wrong about you, y’know?” Bucky whispers, leaning in as if he were divulging in a secret he couldn't let be spoken in the open air.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re everything like Steve.” Bucky replies thoughtfully, a far away look taking over his dark features.
He’s miles away, reminiscing about parts of Steve that had been left in the dark. He looks younger than, when you notice the way his eyebrows scrunch and his locks fall flat over his face.
But it's enveloped back into Bucky in a second, a sad smile replacing his grin.
“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call”
Giving you one last nod, he turns back towards the hallway entrance and it takes you a few moments before you realise.
“But I don't have your number!” You call out, leaning out your door
His brown locks shift as he turns back to you
“You sure about that?” A raise of his eyebrows at the ping of your phone, waving you with two fingers.
You don't have to pull it out to know it's him. And you can't help but let out a chuckle before turning back and shutting the door firmly.
You find yourself accompanying your time scrubbing down the floorboard and yellowed walls of your home, filling your hours since Bucky had left with meager tasks. It helps you think, concentrating on little chores around the house so you don't have to think about the thoughts that rattled loudly in your mind.
It’s still well into the morning, and as the sun filters through your drapes you lean back on your heels nodding accomplished at the glint of the shining floors. The walls were an impassive yellow, never yielding no matter what cleaning products you threw at them, but beyond the old entryway carpet the apartment was lined with pristine hardwood floors that shined with a little elbow grease.
Not that shitty huh Bucky?
Wiping the sweat that had grown increasingly uncomfortable above your brow, you make way to your small enclosed kitchenette, swiping a cup from the drying rack before you watch the water fill to its glass edge. You gulp half of it down, before your much needed break is interrupted by the faint buzzing of your phone emitted from somewhere in the living room.
You forage for it quickly, searching till you find it wedged between the cracks of your couch. You pause for a moment, considering whether it might be Bucky, or Steve calling but as you see the vibrating screen of your manager's face you slide the receiver across the screen.
You brace yourself for the inevitable screech of her voice, you haven't been to work in days, an irregular for you considering the mountain of bills that left your bank account squandered each month. You needed this job, and now Steve hand upended your life, you fear it’ll slip through your fingers.
Manager calls, you pick up, she’s very quiet and apprehensive and is all sweet in a a way you remember she never had been before. She’s almost scared to talk to you, asking about a shift you could cover and you say yea without thinking. You need a distraction. Even if Steve had made it clear you no longer needed to worry about work.
“Hello?” You reply, eyebrows furrowing at the beat of silence that fills the space usually used up by ** loud un yielding demands.
“Y/N? Hey, how are you doing” Replies carefully, as if choosing her words.
“What?” You blurt out
You can’t help the confusion that puzzles your voice, who was this person? In the months you had spent working at that dead end job not once has she ever asked how you were. Not when you had spent half your break with your head in your toilet the first few months you had escaped. A cat on edge, nerves frazzled by even the slightest heavy stamp of a dress shoe.
What had changed?
You don’t have to kid yourself, you know the answer deep down. Him, it always goddamn is.
“Sorry, uhm I’m been doing good” You reply “I apologise for kind of just disappearing on you and the Diner”
“Oh that? That’s totally fine, once your friends cleared that up” 8 gulped, the sharp exhale of breath filling the receiver at the mention of this friend of yours.
“Friend?” You reply
“Don’t worry about it, I’m glad your doing alright. Uh-, so uhm ’s sister dropped her kids off at 4am last night at hers, she cant her shift. And * got SAT prep. Can you fill in if possible it’s totally okay if you can’t, I needed to stay back a few anyway-”
“Sure”
You needed the distraction, you felt stifled in the walls of your apartment. It wasn’t meant to be a prison, and yet the only time you felt truly free now was when you slammed the door behind you.
“-oh, Oh thank you! Thank you so much. If you could come in at 12, it’s just the afternoon shift. And if you need to leave for whatever reason it’s totally fine you don’t even have to tell me-“
“Mare?
“Yes?”
“Relax. I miss the diner and it’s crappy linoleum lights anyways”
Mare snorts into the receiver “The teams missing you too”
After passing a few more instructions on the wave of Russian tourists coming through Brooklyn this time of year you let your phone clatter onto the coffee table.
Sure, your manager could be a pain in the ass but being passive aggressive didn’t warrant a mob leader holding you at gunpoint.
You wonder what Steve had said to her to cause her to be this shaken up, she was the most stubborn woman you’ve ever met. It couldn’t have been easy to have her yield, at least not without some sort of real threat.
Especially in New York.
You rifle through your bag before grabbing your work uniform. The musty smell of old oil and grease makes you throw it haphazardly into the laundry basket before reaching for a clean shirt.
You try to look presentable, washing your face with the bathroom tap that never not juts out cold water. You avoid your reflection when you pay your face dry, which is interestingly enough, hard to do since it’s well..your face.
Drawing the wisps of coils that spring free you pull your hair back into a bun. You don’t bother with makeup, it never quite sat right on your face when you did it. Reaching for your bag and throwing your phone and the rest of your miscellaneous, you hurry down the steps of your apartment complex.
Popping in your earphones as you step into the train carriage, you memorise the dock and pull of the train ride till you feel your stop. Your music swims through your veins, and you breathe it in before opening your eyes to the tram doors opening.
#bucky barnes#james bucky barnes#neonovember#chris evans#sebastian stan#marvel masterlist#marvel cinematic universe#duplicity#neo writes#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers fic#steve rogers x fem!reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x black!reader#steve rogers x black!fem!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes x black!fem!reader#mob!steve x reader#mob!bucky x reader#mob!steve#mob!au#mob steve rogers#mafia!steve#mafia!avengers#mafia!au#mafia au#mafia bucky#mafia steve rogers
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Princess
Azriel x f!Reader
One of the series I’m currently working on. Enjoy!
Summary; Reader is Mor’s new friend that she found in the winter court while she was away for business. Y/n has been raised as a princess since her parents wanted to wed her to a noble fae in order to climb the social ranks. When her parents are brutally murdered y/n is left alone without a clue about the harsh reality or the brutality of the world. Mor finds her and takes her back to Velaris afraid of what might happen to her if she was left to live on her own. Will y/n survive the hate she will receive from certain members of the inner circle -including her mate- regarding the way she grew up?
Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse and trauma, swearing
Masterlist.
Princess Masterlist.
Chapter 6
No matter how hard you tried to block the bond, Azriel was practically shoving all his feelings to you. Anger, disappointment and resentment.
“Yeah I know how you feel about me shut up” you screamed hoping he could hear you. You shook your head and chuckled.
I’m going mad. Look at me I’m alone in my bedroom screaming. You thought.
Nah that’s just the effect Azriel has on anyone.
You froze. Did your brain just reply to you? Your brain is male?
No darling I’m not your brain. You are practically screaming all your thoughts for every daemati in Prythian to hear.
Rhysand?
Yeah, since you destroyed my peaceful nap why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?
You huffed.
Azriel is bothering me. I don’t want that stupid bond. I don’t want to be tied to a male now that I’m taking control of my life.
Azriel would never try to control you, on the contrary he would love to help you become stronger and independent.
He didn’t comment on the bond, so he already knew you figured.
He resents me, and even if he didn’t how could I be with a male that treated me like shit ever since I stepped foot in your court.
That’s between the two of you. Now next time you decide to think so loudly please raise a shield around your mind I really need my beauty sleep.
You snorted at that, and a smile appeared on your lips.
How do I do that?
Think of a wall around your mind.
Okay thank you.
I hope everything works out for the two of you.
You didn’t reply.
You glanced outside and noticed the sun setting. You realized that you had stayed in your room for the whole day and with a sigh you got ready.
You peeked your head out of your room checking for any sign of Azriel, when you were sure that he wasn’t lurking around you stepped out and started walking down the hall. You found the door of the house quite easily and stepped outside.
10.000 steps. I can do this.
You started walking down the stairs, at some point you lost count of the steps, you were panting, and your knees trembled.
I can do this.
You gritted your teeth and forced yourself further down. Black dots appeared in your vision, and you felt yourself slipping, you tried to grab the stones around you but you couldn’t hold on. You closed your eyes waiting for the impact. Something hard hit your back and then strong arms wrapped around your waist. You opened your eyes again and you were in the air. Azriel’s scent of cedar and whiskey filled your nostrils and your body relaxed automatically.
When your feet touched the ground of the main street of Velaris Azriel gripped your elbow and turned you, so you were facing him. His face was filled with anger as he stared down at you.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” He growled.
“I just wanted to go for a stroll in the city, I didn’t want to bother any of you.” You confessed. Your voice steady and loud and you kept your eyes on his as you spoke.
“Did you really believe that you could go down 10.000 steps?” He exclaimed and threw his hands in the air making some faes look at the two of you.
“I don’t know I just wanted to try” you glanced at the ground as you realized how stupid it was.
“Next time find one of us, and if you can’t just pull the bond” he was calm now. His hand moved to your face, and he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Thank you” you smiled and stared into his eyes.
He held your stare and you both stood there frozen for a few minutes. Nesta’s words replayed in your mind making your heart clench. You took a step back and cleared your throat.
“I should go, you probably have more important things to do” you said and hurried off before Azriel could reply.
You strolled around the city, smiling at the small children who were running around the streets. You found Rita’s easily and stepped inside, your eyes immediately scanning the bar searching for Aeden. You spotted him and walked to the bar, taking a stool and sitting right in front of him.
“Do I expect the lovely company of the shadowsinger too or just you?” he quirked a brow.
“Just me” you smiled.
“Okay then” he returned your smile. “Mood?”
“Hm definitely better than the last time” you replied.
He grabbed two bottles and filled two glasses, he grabbed a straw and stirred, placing it in his mouth when he was done and tasting. He hummed and placed one of the glasses in front of you, keeping the other for him.
“Did I get you in trouble with the shadowsinger?” he asked with a worried expression.
“Not at all, he just took me home and let me sleep” you shrugged.
“Okay then.” he replied and then stared at you. “I don’t think that this was how a babysitter would act…”
“I know. He is my mate” you replied, and Aeden choked on his drink.
“You could fucking start with that” he exclaimed. “You tell me that you have a babysitter and never mention that said babysitter is the fucking god of death, and now you let me speak about him without mentioning that he is your mate” his voice was practically a high pitch noise at the end of the sentence.
“God of death?” you furrowed your eyebrows and Aeden nodded.
“Anyway, I didn’t think it was important, I’m going to reject him” you shrugged.
“Why?”
“You just called him the fucking god of death and now you’re asking me why?” you snorted.
“You females love dark and dangerous males.” He replied.
“True, but only when they treat us differently than everyone else. In my case this doesn’t happen, he is making my life a nightmare.”
“But…why?” Aeden’s face was filled with confusion.
“I don’t really know. I suppose he doesn’t like the way I was raised, and he thinks I’m weak.”
“That’s not a valid reason” he shook his head.
“I know!” you huffed “What about you? Do you have a mate?”
“My mate died in the war with the king of Hybern” Aeden frowned. “He was an Illyrian warrior.”
“He?” you asked with wide eyes.
“Yup, my mate was a male”.
“I didn’t know this was possible” you said.
“Two males falling in love?” Aeden quirked his brow.
“No, I know this can happen, being mates I meant” you explained.
“Oh yeah I didn’t know either.” He shrugged.
“So you prefer the company of males, or it was just the bond?” your question was genuine, and Aeden smiled.
“Trying to get into my pants dollface?” he asked and chuckled by your shocked expression. “I like both males and females so you might actually have a chance” he winked. You shook your head with a grin.
“But if I was in your place, I wouldn’t lose the opportunity to get that shadowsinger into my bed. He is so fucking hot” he continued.
“Tell me about it” you mumbled and then gasped, your hand shooting up and covering your mouth.
Aeden burst into laughter at your confession and clapped his hands.
“Shut up” you whined and hid your face with your hands.
You stayed with Aeden for a few hours and when the club filled with faes you kissed him goodbye and left. You really enjoyed your time with him. You walked around the city with a smile on your face, happy that you made a new friend. As the night settled for good you reached the first steps of the house of wind and glared at them.
One day. You thought and glanced up.
You didn’t want to tug the bond in case Azriel was with Gwyn, you didn’t want to interrupt them especially if Gwyn has feelings for him. You ignored the ache in your chest at the thought and opened the shield around your mind.
Rhysand! You shouted.
You don’t have to shout. He whined.
Sorry, I need someone to take me to the house.
Okay.
The beating sound of wings filled the silence and Azriel landed in front of you.
“Rhysand called me” he explained when he noticed your confusion.
The first buttons of his shirt were undone, his toned chest on display and his hair a tangled mess. You bit your lip and removed your gaze from him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t want to interrupt” you said.
“Interrupt what?” he asked.
“Whatever you were doing.” You replied and stepped closer. He picked you up and shot to the sky. When you landed you quickly removed yourself from his arms and walked inside.
“You’ve been drinking” he noted.
“Yeah I was at Rita’s”
A low growl escaped his throat.
“With that bartender?” he asked, and you snorted. The nerve that male has.
“How’s Gwyn?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Azriel stared at you with a confused look.
“Okay I guess?” he replied, “How is that relevant?”
“Forget about it” you sighed and started walking towards your room.
“Why did you ask me about Gwyn?” he pressed following you.
“Because I know you’re fucking her.” You shouted.
“What?” his eyes narrowed “even if I did, its none of your business”.
“The same goes about who I am fucking”.
In a blink Azriel had you pressed against the wall , his face inches away from yours and his shadows covering both of you. You could only see, feel and smell him, nothing else.
“Are you fucking him?” he snarled.
“Its none of your business” you smirked surprising both you and him.
“Answer me” he yelled and punched the wall beside your head. The spot on the wall collapsed and you flinched. His face became red and his eyes watered.
“Fucking answer me” he yelled again, and a few tears escaped.
You gaped at him. You couldn’t understand why he was acting like that.
“Azriel you’re scaring me” you whispered.
He stared into your eyes for a few seconds and pushed himself off you. He gestured at your door, and you walked in shutting and locking it.
You leaned against the door and closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself.
You heard a small thud, and the door shook slightly. You felt his presence through the bond and realized that he was leaning against the door too.
What’s happening? You thought and a tear escaped.
If I forgot to tag someone please let me know!
I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
@glitterypirateduck, @zara-aliza08, @mika-no-sekai-blog , @purpleshoelaces , @act1839 , @fasoaurore , @pinksmellslikelove , @bunnyredgirl , @lectoracronica , @tuggboatfishin , @sunnysideup000 , @blessthepizzaman , @universevsd , @raisinggray , @ssmay123 , @kalulakunundrum, @justasillylittlegoofyguy , @tsunami-of-tears , @just-a-social-casualty-1 , @thelov3lybookworm , @saltedcoffeescotch, @justdreamstars
#acotar#acotar series#azriel#azriel spymaster#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel angst#azriel x reader#rhysand#feyre archeron#azriel fanfic#acotar fanfiction#shadowsinger x reader#spymaster#acomaf#acowar#a court of thorns and roses#acosf#a court of silver flames#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#the night court#night court#feyre cursebreaker#nesta#cassian acotar#cassian#nessian#feysand#velaris
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𝑩𝑶𝑹𝑵 𝑻𝑶 𝑫𝑰𝑬
chapter 1 in the 𝑩𝑰𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑨 𝑭𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 book
When you are born in one of the districts in panem you are born to die, wether or not you are reaped or not.
if you aren't reaped you live in poverty and starve to death unless you're in a capitol district and if you are reaped and some how win the games the suffering never ends.
13 year old persephone sat one of the multiple rows at her second reaping, somehow making it through her first despite her name being in the bowl eight times due to her being caught multiple times trespassing, but now at 13 and her name being doubled in the bowl now at 16 pieces of paper.
"Hello! Hello! welcome to the 66th annual hunger games!" Says the district four escort who's name persephone couldn't care to remember
tuning out the screeching of her voice and deciding to take a look at her surroundings and everyone around her, she makes eye contact with last years winner, Finnick odair. She wouldn't deny that he was unbelievably attractive, but then she remembered she was being sent to get killed while he watched.
I hope i at least look good while being brutally murdered since the whole country was going to be watching she thought.
when she snapped out of her thoughts she saw that finnick and her were most definitely still in deep eye contact, he gave her a challenging look almost expecting her to look away first but she sent that look back 10 times harder, making him furrow his brows and quickly look away just in time as the movie about the history of the games ended
"well! let's get started with this years tributes, as always ladies first" she said as she dug her hand into the bowl
persephone wouldn't be surprised if the half the bowl was just her name
"and this years tribute representing district four is" she says unraveling the paper
"Persephone Levito!" it almost felt as the whole room went quite as the young girl was well known throughout the district for singing by the beach and her outfits, but before persephone it was her grandmother, she was well known and well loved and when she passed it took a toll on everyone in 4
Not surprised she rolls her eyes before remembering her act she needed to put on
eyes watering she slowly walks up to the stage wrapping her arms around ber self slightly shaking
she imagines she looks like one of those gross old chihuahuas her neighbor has
"hello dear, and how old might you be?"
"thirteen" she shakily exhales
"Lovely! and now on to our male tribute!" she smiles like she didn't just send a child off to her death
"and the male tribute representing district four is.. Christopher Monroe!"
if it was possible the day just got twenty times worse.
persephone knew christopher and she fucking hated his guts, they went to school together and he was the most annoying, obnoxious, disgusting specimen she's ever had to be around.
"These are our 66th Hunger games district four tributes! you may now shake hands!" she says
as they grasp hands she grip as hard as she can without breaking his hand while still maintaining her good girl façade
he pulls away as soon as possible and then they are pulled into the back to head to the train, all tributes are allowed five minutes to say goodbye to loved ones but persephone couldn't give two shits about her family as they never cared for her.
immediately heading to the train she walks inside and sees multiple blue velvet couches and a rectangle dinner table, deciding to pass time she looks around being nosy, as it was what she was best at.
about 6 minutes later everyone starts coming in including what she assumes are going to be her mentors and the escort who's name she learned was Anya
"Well hello, lovely's, please meet your mentors for your games, Mags flanagan and Finnick Odair"
persephone felt a switch flip in her, it was almost like a different person, the persona she had to put on to even attempt to make it past the bloodbath.
looking up from her empty plate she gives them both a small smile
"Please introduce yourselves guys" anya says smiling with a slight aggressive tone almost like they are embarrassing her when persephone never even met her let alone know her name until 2 minutes ago
"Christopher Monroe, Big fan of yours finnick" the boy spoke with a sickening tone of confidence
finnick gave him a awkward smile almost like he was embarrassed for him and he then looks to persephone
"Persephone Levito" she says with a shaky voice
"Yeah i know who you are, i would see you at the beach when i was younger" finnick says in the softest tone trying to comfort the clearly scared young girl but at the same time he feels as if there's something off about her
christopher looks over at them rolling his eyes in annoyance at the girl.
finnick and christopher make small talk while persephone puts an awkwardly small portion of food on her plate sampling each thing on the table and then sections them off into perfectly even sections
finnick can see what she's doing out of the corner of his eye and he furrows his brows taking a glance at the girl before cutting christopher off of his ramble that he was barley listening to
"Let's talk strength and weakness, chris would you like to go first?" finnick asked
smiling cockily he starts listing off his strengths while persephone struggles to not roll her eyes at the boy.
tucking her legs under her oversized white button up she listens to every word chris says despite hating his guts she had to know what she was going up against.
and him being the fucking dumbass he is he starts listing off every weakness he has but something that did make her start thinking was when he said that he had to get surgery on a tendon he had in his knee as he tore it when he was younger and immediately after he said that he said it was hard to use his dominate hand so he wanted to get better using his left because he broke a bone in his right and it was harder to use now
"what about you persephone?" finnick asked her
"yeah what about you" chris says smirking like he didn't just make the biggest mistake ever by him practically telling his whole fucking life story when all finnick asked for was strength and weaknesses
but who is she to talk, for all she knows chris could kill her the moment the game starts
"Um - i don't know, i guess i'm good with tying knots" she says with an embarrassed smile resting her chin on her knees forcing herself to not stab chris in the eye when she hears him scoff at her
"it's okay, that's what me and mags are here for, we are going to try our best to help you survive"
he says placing his hand on mags' shoulder
to be honest persephone forgot mags was even there with how quiet she was but she was cut off from her thoughts by the voice of anya
"I think it's best we all get some rest so that we are ready for tomorrows parade!" she says
persephone is the first to get up and leave the table.
walking to the room that anya had showed her earlier she looks in from the door way and then looks over her shoulder to see finnick looking at her, the look she gives him before waking into her room has him in deep thought, like she knew something he didn't. he's never been more confused by anyone in his whole life let alone and girl who was a year younger than him.
★ ✰ ★ ✰ ★ ✰ ★ ✰ ★ ✰ ★ ✰ ★ ✰ ★
The day after the parade was the first day of training.
walking into the training room with a few of the other tributes by her side she looks around at all the the different stations.
deciding to walk over to the knife throwing station she already knows she's going to have to embarrass her self in order to not seem like a threat.
persephone does a bit of each station before looking at what the other tributes are doing, of course she sees chris with the careers at the archery station.
keeping an eye on each one to see what skills their best at.
when she was younger, her grandmother would train her every day until the day she died to make sure if she ever got reaped she would be prepared, she's learned her way around the different weapons.
Day two goes by smoothly besides the fact that the careers and their groupie which unfortunately was her district partner were making fun of her the entire time.
Waiting for her name to be called for individual sessions she starts thinking about stories her grandma would tell her before bed and the disappearance of the 10th hunger games victor
"Persephone Levito"
snapping out of her thoughts she walks into the room taking a look at the different supplies laid out, making her way to the spears she grabs three and stands a few feet away from the targets.
she lazily throws each of the spears cringing as she misses each each target, she finishes her session as soon as possible due to the unbearable embarrassment she was feeling despite the fact that she was doing it on purpose.
sitting in a large room with chris, finnick and mags in front of a large TV awaiting their scores.
Ceaser begins listing off the tributes and their scores and then gets to district 4 "District four! Christopher Monroe with a score of, 8!" finnick and mags both congratulate him as he cockily smirks
"Persephone Levito with a score of 3!" with a thin lipped smile she looks over at finnick who gives her a look of pity.
The last of the days have been a blur especially with the interviews.
her last day at the capital has been pretty shitty and even more with the fact that everyone is treating her like a toddler, she's had a few more conversations with finnick but just briefly, and mostly just him telling her how to survive out there.
standing in a small metal room with her stylist who she's grown quite fond of
"what can you tell me about the arena?"
"it seems like it's going to be a constant change, you may be looking at forest mountains based on the shoes, weather may go from cold to humid because you have removable layers."
60 seconds
"good luck persephone, i know what you're doing i strongly believe i'll see you after the games"
her stylist stella tells her in a shaky whisper
"i'll see you later" persephone smirks before walking into the clear tube
Being lifted up into the arena she can already feel the cold breeze, looking around she sees fog, thicker in certain areas thinner in others, not bothering to see the other tributes next to her, her eyes narrow to the cornucopia, eyes landing on a belt with multiple daggers and knives and a back pack.
She realized she probably made the biggest mistake of her life by not making any allies
fuck
ladies and gentlemen let the 66th hunger games begin.
as soon as she heard the gong go off she ran as fast as she possibly could, her legs practically going numb she runs into the cornucopia grabbing the belt and then going for the back pack but a force pulling her back has her heart skip a beat, not even bothering to see who it is she grabs a small dagger stabbing it into their pulse point, blood spraying all over her, her eyes dart around landing on a career coming straight for her.
Grabbing a another knife she throws it landing directly in between his eyebrows knocking him down but she then feels her airways being cutoff by someone putting her in a head lock, kicking her legs up and pushing off from the metal wall they both fall down, having to think quickly she grabs a longer knife from her belt she stabs it in the tributes gut she drags it up all the way to just below the sternum of the girl who she recognized was from district two, hearing ber ear piercing screams felt like she was about to go deaf but they soon stopped once her eyes rolled back in her head.
Looking up persephone sees that everyone has left the cornucopia and she sees chris and the tributes from 1 and the boy from 2 running into the forest.
collecting her knives and grabbing anything else she finds to be helpful she makes her way towards the foggy woods opposite of the way the others went.
after what felt like a few hours of walking she comes across the end of a rocky hill which leads to a water stream. her blonde locks look like they have been dyed red and brown.
walking down the hill she goes straight for the water immediately dipping her hands in the wash off all the caked on blood and then collects some of the water in a water bottle she found in a back pack she stole from one of the tributes.
mentor viewing room
finnick has been in staring off into space ever since the bloodbath ended
the once scared blonde that barley spoke two words was now covered head to toe in blood that wasn't hers
he didn't know how to feel, proud? scared?
he settled on proud for now and just decided to see where it would go.
arena
a day has passed and so have four more people at the hands of persephone, she's washed her skin off a few times in the river but some sections were still stained red.
the day was pretty boring as nothing had happened but she was woken up in the middle of the night to harsh whispers and leaves rustling.
"she's asleep we can just kill her now, it's easier if she doesn't put up a fight" she heard a feminine voice say
"okay fine, do you wanna do the honors?" she heard a male voice say, she can practically hear the smirk in it
tightening her grip on her knife she shoots up immediately stabbing the male in the esophagus hearing the canon go off she then hears his partner scream, persephone slaps her hand over the girls mouth and then proceeds to stab her straight it the tit where she knows it hurts and then continues once she's on the floor. when she's done the girl at least has 7 stab wounds on her.
gathering her stuff the starts making her way in the opposite direction as the scream most likely drew attention.
Another day goes by and many more dead, sometimes done by others, most of the time done by persephone.
With almost everyone dead all that's left is chris and the one of the careers.
after waking around for a few hours she hears two people arguing. Climbing up the nearest tree as fast as she can she gets as high as possible and looks down at the last two standing. Fucking dumbasses, they aren't even aware of their surroundings.
Deciding to have some fun messing with them as it was once again night time and they couldn't see her. Throwing a stick on the floor next to them and them being the dogs they are they run straight to it giving her enough time to climb down the tree as quietly as possible.
"HELLO? YOU CAN COME OUT WE DONT BITE" chris yelled as they both laughed and for once in the games the whole arena got quiet, no birds, no crickets, just the sound of heavy breathing
"psst!" the girl from one turned around frantically ready to fight but that was soon ended as a gut wrenching scream was let out.
persephone stabbed her repeatedly in her torso, the clouds now moving past the moon letting the moonlight shine through which let her see a lot better.
Chris jumped on top of persephone pulling her off of the girl she just murdered, putting his hands on her neck once again having her airways cut off for like the fifth time, having to react quick she knees him as hard as she can between his legs which knocks him off of her.
she swears they have been having a wrestling match for what feels like forever. frantically looking around
to see if she can find anything that would kill him her eyes land on a sword that the other girl had persephone tried to reach for it but unfortunately for her chris also had his eyes on it and immediately pulled her back which led to her literally face planting on the dirt, he begins choking her again
"jesus- fuck why does everyone go for the- neck" she says in between wheezes. she remembers when he was talking to finnick how he said his weak spot was his right arm, despite the fact that both her arms had multiple gashes and stab wounds she builds up as much strength and punched her hand into his elbow dislocating it which makes the most disgusting pop noise that makes her gag
"you dumb fucking bitch, you broke my arm!" chris says practically spitting him her face. rolling him off of her she grabs knife that was still lodged in the girl from 1 she stabs him on his side but he didn't go down without a fight, he threw persephone off him him and stood up, now fighting standing up she continues to stab him wherever she can get her knife through but he still has a tight grip on her, at this point she doesn't even know how he's alive, there's blood pouring out of his mouth and she's sure she hit every major organ
"why.... won't- you.. die. FUCKING HELL ARE YOU IMMORTAL OR SOMETHING?" she says between gasps with one swift slit to the neck the cannon finally goes off.
there's a moment of silence before the announcer comes on
"ladies in gentlemen, your victor from the sixty sixth hunger games! persephone levito!!!" she hears the voice say
"FUCK" where the last words she remembers saying before passing out.. face planting the dirt.. again.
hi queens so this was like the introduction to my new child persephone and how she became a victor, there wasn't much finnick but there is definitely going to be a lot more in the next chapter, the next one is going to be briefly of the 74th games but just for her mentoring purposes but it's mainly just gonna be other stuff, anyway!
WC: 3168
© mystargirl-interlude
#finnick odair fanfic#finnick x reader#finnick odair x reader#sam claflin#thg#the hunger games#the hunger games x reader#josh hutcherson#katniss everdeen#finnick odair x oc#finnick odair smut
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