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#so he had no choice left. it was either that or he'd get kicked out along with his sister. who was still struggling a lot w/ addiction

the-modern-typewriter · 1 year

Note

Hello! I’ve recently fell in love with your blog again after not being on tumblr a while. Your writing scratches my brain in just the right way and reading your posts is all I’ve been doing to pass the time at my cubicle recently. One of my favorite niche tropes is when the two romantic rivals in a love triangle fall for each other instead of the person they were originally pining for. I was wondering if you would write a snippet based off of that prompt? super excited to see what you come up with if you do!!

"I said you can have her, if she wants you."

It was raining. A pathetic fallacy of rain. A spitting, upchuck of misery. Langston dragged a hand over his face, glancing up at the lack of retreating footsteps. Back out the rain. Back to the party. Back to her.

Nate stood awkwardly in the downpour, resembling nothing so much as a drowned cat - feline elegance turned into something sad and soggy.

"It's okay," Nate said. "I mean, if you really love her...I wouldn't want to get in the way."

Langston had thought he did. He'd been sure of it three months ago. But now...he studied Nate, heart thumping something stupid in his chest. He hadn't expected that.

"Seriously?"

Nate shrugged, wrapping his arms tight around himself to ward off the chill. He had nice arms. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I don't want to be the consolation prize she has because you left."

"I don't think you're anyone's consolation prize," Langston scoffed, before he could stop himself. "I mean, look at you."

"...What?"

Langston coloured. "She'd be stupid not to pick you!"

Nate blinked.

"I mean - you always show up for her," Langston said, his throat feeling tight. "For anyone who needs you, actually. And your art is amazing, man. So, you're like ridiculously talented and handsome and actually a good guy." He shrugged, colour creeping up his face despite the chill as Nate stared at him. "I just mean - I get it."

He thought maybe he should start walking. Start running. Hadn't he left to get some air? To get away? To maybe not picture the two of them kissing?

He hadn't expected Nate to be the one chasing after him. Not that he'd expected her to, but...

Well. After all the chasing he'd done, maybe it would have been nice. Maybe it could have meant something. Instead, it hurt to even think about her name.

"Do you want to go grab a drink?" Nate asked.

"...what?"

"Bloody tragic out here," Nate said. He swept over, patting Langston's shoulder as he passed. "C'mon."

Dumbly, Langston followed.

They ended up at the local a few streets away, ensconced in a cosy booth with two beers and the central heating on full blast.

"Honestly," Nate said. "She's kind of pissing me off in how she's treating you. Us."

It wasn't the opener that Langston expected. He raised his brows.

"I mean, it's not really fair, is it?" Nate pressed. "The way she's been jerking us around? Pitting us against each other?"

"It didn't feel...great," Langston allowed.

He'd thought, two months ago, when he first felt things beginning to shift beneath him, that if she really loved either of them that she would have made a choice. Better to let down one of them, right? But every time he thought she'd chosen, suddenly it felt like she was in the middle again. It was driving him bananas.

Then, the more he'd seen of Nate, of how hard he'd tried to be good enough for her, the more he'd realised that actually Nate was fantastic.

"We deserve to feel great about ourselves, right?" Nate exclaimed. His conviction was a little infectious, so Langston nodded. "Because, you know, you're a great guy too." Nate nudged his foot under the table. "You're so smart. Funny. And, you know, you show up too."

"It's what you do when you care about someone," Langston mumbled.

"Right!" Nate said.

It struck Langston, suddenly, that Nate really was there. He'd left the party for him without a second glance.

"Thanks," he said.

"I wasn't going to leave you out in the rain like a kicked puppy, mate." Nate held his beer up to clink. Langston did and took a swig. "Cute as you are," Nate added.

Langston promptly choked on his beer, coughing.

Nate grinned. "Cheers."

"Bastard."

Nate laughed. His eyes shone. He continued to study Langston for a beat after his laugh faded, his head tilted to the side.

"So, just putting this out there," Nate said. "But you know I'm bi, right?"

"I..." Langston felt a little lightheaded. "I did know that, actually, yeah."

She had come to him about it when she found out. He'd already started noticing Nate at that point, but figured it was only because the other man was his rival or some such. Then she'd told him that and it was like his whole world tipped sideways into crisis mode. He'd catch himself watching Nate wrap an arm around her shoulders, and feel something burn in his chest, and have the slowly dawning realisation that he wasn't sure which of them he was jealous of.

"Cool," Nate said.

They talked, for a while, as they drank their beers. About her, but about other things too. Langston slowly felt the crushing weight of the party ease, felt himself relax into Nate's company in a way he'd never fully done into hers by the end. He'd always felt like he had to prove something.

"You really would be a very good boyfriend," Langston said. "I've been thinking about that a lot, this last month or so."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm."

"I was very impressed by the time you fixed her car. I'm useless at that." Nate's gaze roamed over him. His voice lowered, soft. "You as good with anything else as you are with your hands? I've been wondering."

Langston swallowed. "You've been wondering?"

Their eyes locked across the table.

Nate was at full force, now, without the rain. Smirk. Teasing eyes to make you want to die. His hair had dried with the most adorable damn curl. Langston wanted to touch it. He couldn't even blame the beer. He wasn't entirely sure he could blame heartache either, because his insides were fizzing.

He wasn't sure which of them leaned in. It was not the most romantic of first kisses. It felt good though.

He dragged his thumb along the curve of Nate's face and watched the other man shiver.

"I've definitely been wondering about that," Nate said, low.

"We're not going back to the party, are we?"

They were not going back to her, were they?

"No," Nate said. "I definitely shouldn't think so."

Langston leaned in to kiss him again.

#m/m #writing #story #love triangle #fic #fiction #creative writing #lgbtq #romance #short story #writing snippet #story snippet

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angelynmoon · 10 months

Text

Eldritch Steve verse

Part 5

She thinks of him from time to time, her child, the one her husband calls a monster, calls it instead of him.

She knows he's not her child, not by birth or blood, no, he's hers by choice, by wishes whispered in the dark of night to the deep woods. She'd prayed to the right god when she was young, prayed and prayed for a child of her own that never came.

Then she turned to other gods, darker gods that had not answered her either.

So, she'd whisper to the darkness, her hopes, her dreams, her wishes. She'd leave offerings at the edge of the treeline and wish.

And for years those wishes went unheard, unanswered.

Until the day she saw the monster, the wisp of shadow and too many eyes, too sharp teeth and danger and looked too long, too deeply, and saw her own desires, her own wishes, only there was a grief too deep to understand, too raw to be seen, and yet, she saw, she felt it in her own heart as year after year passed with no child to call her own.

That first night she ran, the pain and grief echoing in her own heart too much to reach out. Her tears soaked her pillow that night and she could almost imagine an echoing scream from deep in the woods.

But the nights that followed that first night saw her leaving plates of food at the treeline, finger sandwiches with the crusts off and cut in triangles. Sandwiches that lay disected in the mornings, meaty insides eaten while the rest was discarded.

She began cooking roasts again, meatloafs, and meaty casseroles, plates left out at the treeline, hoping to entice the shadow monster closer, hoping that, maybe, if she was kind enough to it, (she hadn't know he was a he then, so it she had called the shadow,) that she might ask it for what she'd asked all the other things, gods, fae, anything that might grant her wish, that it might give her the child she desprately wanted.

She was patient, she waited so long, she could wait until the creature trusted her.

What she never expected was that the creature would become the child she so dearly wished for.

It was strange, those first few weeks, learning what her special child needed, learning to undercook her roasts just enough that neither husband nor child would get sick, learning how to hide her child's unusual quirks from nosy neighbors, teaching her child to come up for air before too many minutes passed when he played in the pool.

No, she had always known what her Steve was, she'd wished for him so much, so badly, that she didn't care he was a monster, didn't care where he came from, what he was, he was hers, her baby, she loved him in ways she didn't think she'd ever be able to love a child of her body, her blood and so, fearing a child of such, she'd removed all possibility of it, her monster would be her only child.

And every now and again, in her hotel room, alone and away from her adulterous husband, she thinks of her child, her monster, if she's feeling lonely enough, she'll call him, and they'll talk for hours until time has her drifting off to sleep, but on nights like this, when she's feeling restless and worried for no reason, she'll wait up, waiting for the inevitable call from her child, he always knows where she is, what the extention is, when her husband is busy with the flavor of the week.

Her husband has not shared her bed since he fled Hawkins with her screaming at him from the backseat where he threw her after seeing what her son really was.

She'd watched her son get smaller and smaller from the back window, trying to break it open to get back, but it hadn't even cracked.

She'd asked Steve later if he'd stopped it from breaking, he'd told her he hadn't wanted her to get hurt.

She hadn't known it was possible to love her little monster any more than she already did until he'd said that tiny sentence after watching her husband drag her kicking and screaming from their home.

She never did forgive her husband for hitting her son, but she knew what had made her son take a chunk out of her husband wasn't that he raised his hand to him, no her Steve would have ignored that like a horse ignores a fly, batting it away but otherwise unbothered by it, no, what had her child reacting was her reaction, was her stepping between her husband and her child and her husband slamming her into the wall hard enough to make her dizzy and hit the floor, her husband hadn't laid a hand on her since, except to get her in their car to flee, blood leaking down his leg, staining the driveway.

It had never washed clean, part of her was glad for that, her husband never retuned to Hawkins to know that, but she had, she had to make sure her monster was doing okay.

But the money was hers, it was her house, her business and she would not disown her child, and she would not divorce her husband like he'd asked, no, it was a far worse punishment to keep him close, to remind him that their child was a monster, that all they were working for would eventually belong to the creature that had had a taste of him.

Oh, she would give him his divorce when she was good and ready to be rid of him, when she had no further use for him at her side, when her child's empire was set in stone and her husband's disappearance after their divorce would go unnoticed but that was not now, no, her husband still had his uses, for the time being.

But for now she sits up sharply as her phone rings, her monster is calling, she wonders if he will tell her more about that Munson boy, wonders if he knows that he's in love with him, wonders if, perhaps she will be a grandmother one day soon.

A mother can hope, can't she.

A/n: umm, enjoy.

@addelyin @merricatty @lesbiabrobin @apuckishwit @0o-mushroom-o0 @starlight-archer @darkwitchoferie @just-a-tiny-void @swimmingbirdrunningrock @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @goodolefashionedloverboi @adhdsummer @purpleanimeoverart @space-invading-pigeon @lilaclilyroses @nohomoyesbi @plantzzsandpencilzzs @subversivecynic @flusteredcas @persnicketysquares @freddykicksasses @little-trash-ghost @korixae @cupcakesnwhiskey @cats-ate-all-of-my-pasta

#eldritch monster steve #steddie undertones #upside down creature steve #steve harringto has a good mother #steve harrington's mother #part 5 #From the Rot

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 1 year

Text

Teeth

Part 8!

Werepanther! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Robbery, knives, angst.

A/N: Look, *deep breath* I'm sorry.

I should just forget about him, you think to yourself on the walk home.

It was embarrasing, you hadn't seen him in days since he left you in that elevator, and the absence of him managed to make you feel even worse.

He hadn't been home either, you'd kept the curtains parted so that you could catch any movements in his windows. So far, nothing.

It had made you feel so upset and you couldn't even figure out why. Maybe you were getting too attached to him.

Exposing yourself so intimately, sabotaging your work relationship and there was nothing to be gained from it anyway. He just wasn't interested in you like that.

You were maybe a little glad too, at least you knew you weren't in any trouble for the little show you'd put on.

Or were you?

What if his stoicism towards you was because he was planning to fire you.

No, no, it made no sense, his phone call after he'd seen you had been too intimate. If there was going to be any consequences, it would have happened by now.

Right?

Ugh, you didn't know, and you just wanted to forget this had ever happened.

You sigh, tugging your phone out and absentmindedly trying to book an appointment with your therapist. Maybe she would help you feel better about your new work environment.

Your shoulder bumps harshly into someone, and you raise your head to apologise.

You've made a wrong turn somewhere, too taken in with your phone to notice that you've turned down an isolated alleyway.

"S-sorry." You murmur, backing away, only to bump into another figure.

Holy shit this was bad.

"Give me the bag." The first man says evenly, angling his head toward the pale pink handbag hanging off your elbow.

"Please, I don't want any trouble." You say, pocketing your phone quickly, carefully pressing the power button a couple of times to send a distress signal. You had it set so that Dani and Amy would receive alerts if you needed help.

The first man, pulls a knife out of his pocket, you watch warily as the blade springs out of the handle with a wicked glint. You can feel your phone begin to vibrate endlessly as your friends try to call to figure out if this was accidental or not.

Your heart is racing, but you find that your thinking is razor sharp, only a little bit of panic swimming through you.

If there had been only one man, running would have been a good option, but with the second man at your back, you have no choice but to surrender your bag.

Your work laptop was in there, and your wallet, you really hated to lose either one of those things.

The man takes it from you and then steps closer, his knife still pointed in your direction.

"Now the jewellery and the phone." He prompts.

Your hands shake, you needed to find a way to keep holding onto your phone.

You tug your watch off easily, and your earrings, they were just cheap pieces that were your favourite, but ultimately replaceable.

The panther necklace, was not, and you would not give it up without a fight, however stupid that would be.

You extend your watch and earrings to the man, letting them slip from your hand at the very second and watching it fall.

It's that moment, with one man distracted, you turn to run.

The other man is fast, he reaches for you, pushes you into the nearby wall.

You're stunned for a moment, and you feel the scrape of his nails as he tears your necklace off your neck, and when he gets in close to grab your phone, you bring your knee up to kick him straight between the legs. He bends over in pain, and you take the opportunity to slip away, running as fast as you can out of the lonely alley. You don't stop until you're out in a public place.

You reach for your phone, pulling it out, several missed calls from both Dani and Amy flood your phone.

You update them quickly, and they direct you to the nearest police precinct.

As you head there, you dial Anvil's IT department, explaining the situation so that they can restrict access from your account to the server.

You're sitting in the precinct when Amy makes it to you. She takes you into a hug, pulling back to study your form.

Her eyes catch the two deep scratches on your neck, short red lines where the man's nails had clawed into you while ripping your necklace from your neck.

She hugs you again tighter than before, surprising you with her strength.

"I'm okay." You mumble against her shoulder.

Honestly, you couldn't feel a thing, your emotions had been shocked numb from the minute you'd seen the knife.

What rotten luck, to have experienced what you have, essentially hitting some type of morbid trifecta, a murderer, a stalker and now a thief.

You find yourself laughing into Amy's shoulder, and you can't stop.

She pulls back in shock, looking up at you.

You laugh harder when you see the concerned expression on her face.

"There's too many plot points," You try to explain to her, though you're not sure you're making any sense, "If my life was a book this would be a shitty amount of coincidence."

There's a quiet silence as she takes in your words, observing your laughter, and notes the way your eyes fill with tears.

"Oh love," She murmurs after a moment. "Multiple bad things happen to people all the time."

Your laughter turns sour, something awful fills your throat, your lip trembles for a small moment as you fight the emotion, and then like a dam breaking, it spills from you in little sobs.

"This is too much," You gasp, feeling her arms squeeze you tighter as you cry, "Why do these things keep happening to me?"

You cry harder against her, she soothes you with her embrace.

"They took my necklace." You say sadly against her.

She makes a sympathetic sound. She knew how much it means to you.

"We'll get it back, love, didn't you have a tag in your bag just for this reason?"

"Yeah," you sniffle, "there's one in my wallet, I gave the cops access to find it, and Anvil also has something on the laptop."

"See? Don't lose hope yet."

You sigh, there was a location on your wallet and laptop, but there was no guarantee that the necklace would even be in the same place. You felt so disconnected now, so unsafe. There was no panther coming to protect you here.

"Why don't we go home? If the police find anything, they can call you. Waiting here is too tedious." Amy suggests, and you nod in agreement, sniffling a little and pulling away. She tugs a tissue from her little bag and you accept it gratefully.

You don't live too far from the precinct, and a ten minute drive in a taxi and you're there.

Amy doesn't leave you, and Dani arrives when you're in the shower.

You sit with them, enjoying tea in your living room, and after a long talk about your ordeal, and the endless reassurances from them that you're safe now, they decide to distract you with Studio Ghibli movies.

It sort of works, though your most recent ordeal reminds you of your past ones.

Somehow, you think that your past experience with the murderer, made this one more manageable, it's probably why you had a clear head from the moment the man pulled out the knife. However bad this was, it was nothing compared to being hunted in the woods at night.

A knock at your front door startles you, and you jump at the booming sound.

Dani reaches to pause the movie, and for a moment you're too stunned to move.

"Who is it?" You call, pulling the sheets away from your body and rising to a stand.

"It's Billy." He answers, voice muffled through the wood.

You suck in a breath, trying to ignore the shocked expressions on Amy and Dani's face, making your way to the door and taking a small breath before opening it up.

You don't get much of a word in before you're being pulled right into his arms.

You stand there, shocked beyond reason as his arms encircle you. Your body responds eagerly to his embrace, relaxing against him so easily that it would scare you if you could be anything other than shocked.

Your arms lift, wrapping around him to return his hold, wondering how on earth you ended up in this position.

It feels so right to hold him, to pull him even closer and feel him respond by tightening his embrace, until it feels like a hug between old friends.

His scent wraps around you, and you rise onto your toes, eager to catch more of the jasmine and oak that his body smells of.

How on earth does he make you feel so safe? So protected in a way you haven't felt in such a long time.

"Are you hurt?" He asks after a moment, large hand cupping the back of your neck as you pull away.

"I'm okay." You say simply, watching the way his eyes roam down your face and stop at the scratches on your neck.

He lets out a slow breath, fingers trailing over your neck, his thumb brushing the deep welts.

You gasp when his thumb swipes a little too close, a frown forming on his face.

"I lost my company laptop-"

"-That's alright," he soothes, "It's not the first time, and my consultant helped me put some vigorous security protocols into place."

You find yourself grinning at him, and he smiles back.

"If you need anything, anything at all, please call me."

You take a moment, looking into his eyes, trying to figure out how he could be so cold one moment and so surprisingly warm the next.

"Okay."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

He lets out a shaky breath, before you know it, he's placing a careful kiss to the top of your head and your heart is doing rapid palpitations at the sensation.

You say goodbye to him as you close the door, waiting a moment before snapping the lock shut.

You turn in shock, leaning against the door, eyes wide and breathing rapid.

"Ohmygod." You rush out, turning to look at Dani and Amy in a 'can you believe that just happened?' type of way.

"I thought you said he doesn't like you." Dani says with a tone of confusion in her voice.

"He doesn't." You answer, not fully sounding quite so sure.

Amy huffs.

"I don't know about you, but that man quite clearly and obviously wants you bad." She states.

Oh how you wish it were true.

You're barely able to sleep all night, despite the fact that you know both your friends are asleep in other rooms or your apartment. You're less lonely than usual, and arguably a little more safe, and yet still, you can't relax your body for long enough to sleep.

The only thing that really calms you, is the reminder of what it was like to be in his arms.

You roll onto your side, pulling a pillow as close to you as possble, wrapping your arms around it and imagining that it's him.

Your brain refuses to accept the placebo, too focused on what's missing, his scent, his hearbeat, the warmth of his body- you flop around angrily, deciding to watch videos on your phone instead of sleeping.

You don't notice it's morning until you spot the sunlight spilling through the gaps in your curtains.

You let out a long sigh, sitting up and moving to your living room.

Both women are already awake too. Amy takes one look at you and sighs.

"Not a wink, huh?"

"You know me so well." You reply with a teasing smile.

They both have to get to work, and you reassure them that you're actually not doing so bad, you'd been able to get a few days off of work yourself.

"Call us if you need anything," Dani says, kissing the top of your head as she leaves, "Or call that hot boss of yours."

"He doesn't like me like that!" You call out to them as they leave, and you hear their laughter through the door, no doubt disagreeing with your words out of earshot.

You sigh, sipping on your coffee with indignation.

You spend the day lazing around, looking up the application processes for getting new identification and replacing all the additional cards you had in your wallet.

You'd already called the bank and put in a request to freeze your cards, still holding out hope that you might be able to get your wallet back instead of having to go get new cards for everything.

You frown, raising your hand to your neck, feeling for the necklace you lost, hating that you felt like something was missing all throughout the day.

When you get a call from the precinct in the afternoon, telling you that your bag had been recovered, you'd been so happy to hear it.

You'd gotten dressed, grabbed your keys and your phone with the intention of grabbing a taxi on the street, but suddenly found difficulty in actually leaving your apartment.

What was going on with you?

The idea that leaving your place meant you were at risk of being attacked again sent so much fear down your spine that you shut your door and curled up on your couch in distress.

You were scared.

Simply put, the very thought of being out in the open, so vulnerable, filled you with trepidation.

Someone could attack you again, maybe even finish the job this time. The photo of you leaving Amy's apartment comes to mind.

You didn't know if someone was still following you. What if they were? What if they were waiting for you right outside?

How many close calls could you have before you ran out of luck?

The memory of his voice comes back to you.

"Promise me." He'd said.

You take a deep breath and pull out your phone.

A/N: Don't hate me

#werepanther!billy russo #monster!billyrusso #monster!billy russo #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #billy russo smut

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northlt · 1 month

Text

Rosekiller one shot

Tw: death

Barty goes to war, he doesn't have the money nor the influence like Evan does to avoid it forever. He has to.

He goes kicking and screaming and fighting the whole way but he has to go.

When they were younger, not yet directly touched by the conflicts between countries , Barty told Evan about his fear, his only fear . Death.

He never understood his father's points about fighting for honror or dying for their country. He was a child and like a child, he was scared of dying. What would come after it? How would hsi loved ones react? What would he leave behind? Why would any higher power take young lives anyway?

Questions plagued him and Evan didnt have the answers to any.

And now hes in an active war zone, death at his doorstep.

Honestly, Barty doesn't give a shit about either country, doesnt give a shit about his fellow soldiers or his fathers orders to make him porud.

He'd much rather be next to Evan, with the boy's hand in his hair. Evan would drag his fingers across Barty's skin in a manner he deemed utterly sinful.

Even now if he closed his eyes he could pretend the taller boy was in front of him.

Evan was older, although just by a few months. He was all wide shoulders, lazy grins and shy smiles. And his hands, arguably Bartys favourite part of him. They could caress and hold, they could mend and take care but they could also wield an axe and a gun, they could make Bartys mind forget everything and anything, dragging low groans from his throat. They could make him whine and beg, they could steady him or bruise him.

Its these things he thought of late at night under the cover of darkness. Evan.

Just the man, just the name.

Somehow it was always Evan he thought of when things got difficult.

Barty writes to him, for his own sanity. The longer he stays there, the more he loses it.

War is no place for him. Its too bloody, too noisy, too scary. He wants Evan.

He wants to be held, strong arms pulling him close. He wants to be safe. He wants to laugh at Evan's stupid jokes. He wants to kiss Evan, to touch him, to hear his voice.

His body and heart aches with longing.

He doesn't care for the other soldiers who laugh too loud and never sound like Evan. They're terrified of him, of the way he takes life after life in the warzone.

But violence was never his first choice, it was love.

So he writes and he writes and he writes. He never had a liking for literature like his friend Regulus, but he manages fine.

"My only solace is that you're untocuhed by Bellona, by the bloodshed of Mars" He writes. "Although, darling, you'd look divine covered in crimson"

Fuck he loves Evan. And he misses him so much his bones echo with desire.

"I think of you everyday, sunrise to sunset and take a break for dusk, only for you to be in my dreams"

He addresses them to E, his E. Thats all his fellow soldiers know Evan as. "That crazy one's darling E"

Barty hears them wondering about E's name, about how someone could have won Barty's cold heart.

Eloise, perhaps? or Elizabeth? Eleanor, Edith, Ella, Emilia, Emma, Eliza, Elliana, Ellie, Emily, Evelyn, Eden, Esther.

Evan.

Evan Rosier.

They wouldn't suggest a man's name.

Its a cruel, cruel world they live in, and Barty has never liked it. But Evan always managed to drag out the optimist in him, the mischief and sarcasm he thought he left in his childhood.

"Most of all, its boring, my darling" he writes, "So fucking boring. We barely fight and when we do, we win. Mostly. You'd call me a narcissist and egotistical, but I know my worth. The rest of these soldiers don't know their left from their right"

He tells Evan everything, even if he doesn't always get letters back. Mail gets lost on the way a lot. Sometimes Barty gets upset when Evan doesnt respond only to descover the ship went down. Sometimes Evan writes strong words about scaring him because Barty never replied to his letter, and Barty sends back a response about how he never got it in the first place.

"Really hope the ship doesnt go down again. Such a nuisance, catching you up on everything again" He scribbles down, imagining the expression on his lover's face when he reads it.

War is brutal and unyielding. It stretches on forever. Barty doesn't see himself getting out of it, not now, not ever. But he doesn't tell Evan that.

"We'll go watch a movie when I'm back" he makes false promises, "and kiss in the rain, your lip between my teeth. Just the way you like it. I'll kiss you in front of my father, I dont care"

War is brutal. it takes and it takes and it takes. Are there really winners and losers when the only ones losing seem to be the soldiers that lose their lives?

"My dearest E, I miss you like the sea misses the earth. The water shaking with anticipation in clouds, desperate to return to the ground as rain"

Barty is going to die, he knows it.

There's only way out of this war and its by taking Thanatos' hand.

"Regulus sent me a summary of his reading again" Barty writes, "Some old man a hundred years ago wrote about a man and a woman in love and somehow Regulus made it my problem. Try to punch some sense into him. But don't tell him I might be hooked onto what happens next. Its a guilty pleasure"

Barty doesn't have many guilty pleasures.

You could argue Evan was one of them, but he's not. Barty has never once been guilty about loving Evan, never.

"Regulus wrote to me, telling me Melpomene is the muse of tragedy" Barty could have been jealous of his friends, the ones who didn't have to come to war, didn't have everything stripped from them. But he's glad he's the one suffering because that means Evan doesn't have to and Regulus can keep reading his little stories. He'd die in war a thousand times over if his friends stayed safe. "Melpomene must have gotten quite the story from us"

Evan fills him in on gossip, Dorcas in love with someone, Pandora and her new inventions, Barty wishes he could be there for it all.

Evan can't draw for shit, but his stick figures could rival Michaelangelo for all Barty cares.

Evan, Evan, Evan, Evan. Its all he thinks about, like a broken record spinning and repeating the name. Evan.

He's so much more than a lover. He's a part of Barty. He's seen the good bad and the ugly. He's stuck around for it all.

"Im angry most of the time" He scribbles one night, shaking from barely contained fury after a mission gone wrong. "Angry because my father is the biggest piece of shit to ever grace the earth. Angry because I want you I need you in my hand, in my arms, in my bed bext to me. I'm angry because the world was never kind to us. I'm angry because I wish I could kiss you now. I would. I'd kiss you in front of the world, grab you by the jaw and not let go. I want to taste you, I want you to linger on my tongue, to ruin my life. I'm angry because..." because I'm scared.

Barty never lets anyone see the letters Evan sends, scowling at anyone who ever tries to peek. He's got quite the reputation now. He'd cut off a finger or two before he let anyone have a taste of Evan's words. They're for him. Just for him.

"Come back" Evan writes, "Come back or I'll publish your writing for the world. Let everyone see how embarrassingly in love you are. Regulus alone would have a field day with the poem you once attempted"

Barty laughs because he can't help it. Its so on brand for Evan to threaten him with that.

"My writing is scacred, how dare you?" He writes back. "Maybe that would help the world understand us, though. Maybe one day there would be a world free of war and hate. And just us, together, kissing in front of my father as I flip him off"

"You'd look sharp in a suit on our wedding day" Evan writes back. "I'd love to see you in it. I'd love to take it off"

Fuck.

"Darling, I'd wear a wedding dress if you wanted. I'd do anything for you (and if it pissed my father off)" Barty scrawls with a rare smile on his face.

The last letter Evan Rosier ever got from Barty Crouch Jr was about wearing a dress to their hypothetical wedding.

Decades in the future, when they're all well and gone, buried so they're only dust and bones, their letters are found again.

Love letters from wars always fill people with a sad and romantic feeling. They always remind people that love is eternal, the only constant in the world of destruction and tragedy. No matter how it ended, at least the love was there.

Historians scratch their heads over who the "Darling E" was. Some say Eloise or Elizabeth? Eleanor, Edith, Ella, Emilia, Emma, Eliza, Elliana, Ellie, Emily, Evelyn, Eden, Esther.

Evan, says one.

Evan Rosier. Barty Crouch Jr. Decades after theyre gone, their love makes headlines. Flirty and sweet, cute and filthy, rebellious and devoted, they call the pair.

Barty Crouch Jr died at war, bleeding out in pain, supposedly with his eyes wide in fear and fingers digging into the earth, desperate to live.

Evan Rosier died not long after, peacefully in his bed. Heartbreak, the doctors said.

Their letters were found in a house that used to belong to their mutual friend, Regulus Black.

#inspired heavily by Gilbert Bradley and Gordon Bowsher's letters #barty crouch junior #rosekiller #angst #in my feels #regulus black #evan rosier #marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards #the marauders #one shot

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hwajin · 1 year

Text

#! — ʟᴀsᴛ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: jisung x virgin!fem!reader

wc: 1.2k

warnings: first time/ losing virginity, PROTECTED SEX i've never written protected sex before oml, very soft tho

req!

"Alright... are you ready?"

When you have laid on the bed, your boyfriend hovering above you, lips greeding to taste the other, to inhale every scent and breath and sound, you had known what'd come next. Known because the wet patch between your heated thighs was insufferable, known because Jisung's hips seemed to grow a mind on their own, known because your thoughts went further and further and further, drawing sinful pictures that promised so much more than what you as of now been used to.

And then you have called out that you have never done this before. That you have never been this close to another, never flushed bodies so closely you could barely catch your breath. That you have never kissed anyone this hungrily, in such intimacy, in such want and hurry — hurry, not because you wanted to get it done and over with; hurry, because you needed more, so much more than you were getting, a type of satisfaction you have only ever heard about, not yet experienced.

"Ji wait-- I'm —. I've never done this before...", and then quiter, as though embarrassed, "...I'm a virgin. This is my first time."

And to say all hell broke lose within your boyfriend was an understatement. When thinking about, he didn't care, not really. Not about the fact that you have never gotten around to experience such intimacy with another person, that you were a late bloomer, not screwing around much as a teen, and maybe too busy when you entered university and jobs, adulthood. And not about the fact that he would take your virginty — he hated viewing like that. Because it wasn't something he could be taking, possibly, it wasn't in his power. Rather — and he liked that point of view a lot better — it was you who gave him a piece of yourself, willingly, because you wanted him, trusted him, saw him as your right choice.

And with it, there was a certain nervosity. One that he tried overplaying for the sake of you, one that he didn't want to allow to get to his head. Because screwing it due to his nerves, giving you a bad experience because he couldn't keep it together — he wouldn't be able to excuse himself that, ever. Jisung didn't want to show you a first bad example, didn't want you to go home with disappointment lingering within — simply put, he wanted, needed, desperately so, for you to be able to announce to your friends that your first time wasn't as bad as it so often turned out to be, that you were left satisfied, that he managed to leave you satisfied, and coming back for more.

And in the same breath, he knew sex wasn't about the performance. Knew that the more nervous he grew the worse he'd make you feel — because sex wasn't about proving, anything to anyone. Sex was exploring, together, even if it meant taking a while to figure stuff out; and maybe that was the best part of it all.

"Yeah... I'm ready. Just- go slow. Please."

You had noticed Jisung's change in behaviour when you have announced the news. You didn't plan to say much initially, thinking the simple fact that you've never got laid before might take away a certain easiness, might make the both of you uneseccarily giddy and nervous — and yet the words have left your lips faster than you could think, even. But you didn'r regret it. Most partners prior momentarily grew all sorts of strange whenever met with that simple of a sentence. Either didn't understand, couldn't possibly get it into their head that not every person has fucked someone with the ripe age of 16. Or — and the scenario that you despided so much more, by any means — they got a kick out of it. And though Jisung did have a reaction to your words, it was one that you adored, if anything. He had moved more carefully suddenly, a nervousness behind his eyes you sensed right away. But despite that, despite his obvious change in demeanor, he hasn't said any more than "I'll go slow... please tell me whenever I should like, stop. Or go slower. Just tell me." There was no cockiness, no play of ego or power. And that alone made you feel the most secure about your desicion.

You were long naked at that point, and anticipating. Bodies hot and both of your nerves calmed, replaced by need rushing through your veins. And your boyfriend was going slow, keeping his promise. With every inch he moved further, and a bit deeper he made sure to give you time, to get you to understand the feeling, to get used to the type of stretch you've never experienced like this before. Not painful necessarily, yet a burning in your thighs and abdomen — and you liked the feeling already, knowing it wasn't half of what was yet to come.

"You- you good?"

He was breathless, the excruciatingly slow pace getting to him. And it was sweet he asked, in the first place, as if your whines and whimpers of pleasure weren't enough of an indicator, were saying more than words ever could. You nevertheless hummed out in agreement to his question, unable to react any further — your body as though burned in desire, in overwhelming satisfaction, contracted and squirmed under Jisung's touch. And your knuckles turned white when your boyfriend finally bottomed out, after teasingly long moments of testing the waters. And your fingers entangled in his hair when he set a slow pace, ready to blow right then and there already, yet keeping his composure — for the sake of you.

He was a goner as were you, the rich feeling of him against your insides so all intaking, so strange yet strangely familiar already that your head fell back into the pillows. You couldn't bring yourself to open your eyes, as badly as you wanted to see your lover, trace his feautures and remember his face in a moment so vulnerable and intimate like this. And your fingernails clawed into Jisung's shoulders, the stinging pain nothing but egging him on, increasing in speed minimally, checking for a sign of discomfort in your behaviour. When he didn't see one, met only with a sight so incredibly sinful and seductive, your skin glistening in sweat, slightly reddened and mouth parted, calling out his name and sounds as sweet as honey he only moved faster, this much deeper, this much more precise. Two of his fingers found your clit, trying to push you over the edge — because he himself was so close already, could barely keep it in, yet he didn't allow it himself to let go first, your pleasure his priority.

And then your body nothing but shuddered up, thighs shaking against Jisung's sides, your back arching and a drawn out moan leaving your throat, the sound hitting him right in his core. It was so deeply filled with emotion, with pleasure and need and love that it didn't take him any longer than seconds to follow you, filling up the condom, imagining it were your insides he painted white instead. Jisung thrusted a couple more times, until your body was writhing in overstimulation, until his legs gave out and his limbs became heavy and numb. You were laying side by side, hands still touching because you didn't seem to have enough of each other yet, and reassuring words rolled over lips; "You okay?", "You came, yeah?", "You need something, water, some food?", "You wanna go clean up?" — and you've never been so sure in your decision, to have trusted Jisung, to have let yourself go into him entirely.

@etherealeeknow @linoskitty @unexceptional-h @rseanne @diue @es-kay-zee @urcracksisx @jeyelleohe @yunkiwii @meloohmel @nyrasneedy @seochhj @spidercomics @chans-starlight @angelwonie @lix-ables @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @sstarryreads @svintsandghosts

#han jisung imagines #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung scenarios #skz smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines

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atarathegreat · 6 months

Text

ZombieLand Tokyo Revengers

Per Anon request. FT: Sanzu Haruchiyo and Baji Keisuke.

Plans. You had so many bright plans for the future you were going to have. College, a career, family, even your husband. But everything was shattered when the epidemic swept through. There was nothing else to call it, there was no start, and seemingly no end. All you could do was survive. For years it was you and your husband against it all, until you got separated.

Sanzu couldn't do anything but laugh as he was ganged up on by this group. He was looking for a damn meal, anything to fill his belly while he trudged on. "You dumb fucks! I have nothing left to lose!" He cackled, "I won't surrender!"

And he wouldn't. He would fight until his body gave out and he was given no choice but to pass out.

Fuck, he missed his wife. Her smile, the way she laughed, and the gentle way she spoke in the night. Sanzu could almost feel her fingers ghosting over his scars and her breath against his ear as she whispered her nightly "I love you." It was the first time in years he'd had a good dream about her, and he preferred it to the nightmares he always watched of losing her all over again.

Four years Sanzu had been alone. Four years he wandered desolate towns. Four years he joined little groups for small periods until he separated again. Four years without the only thing that made him want to live. So why did he keep fighting? What purpose did he have to find food and water, shelter and people? He promised her.

"He's fucking crazy, we should be tying him down or something!" A panicked voice woke him, but he stayed still and silent, "He took out some of our guys! Our best guys!"

"Shut up. The boss wants him loose, so he's loose. Just remember what she said, okay?" A calmer voice invaded, sounding younger than the first, "You'll be good, trust in her judgement."

A door closed and Sanzu opened his eyes. The room was dingy, but well lit and smelled nice. He sighed and sat up, ignoring the terrified man who gripped his shotgun.

"Cute decor." Sanzu scoffed, eyeing the makeshift desk the man sat at, "Who made that? A blind grandma?"

Rustling took the place of where a reply should've been as Sanzu stood and stretched. A freshly made and destroyed bed with a milk crate as a nightstand. He stepped carefully around, easily finding his belongings and inspecting everything to make sure none of his things were taken. "What type of prison is this? You morons always let your captives keep their weapons?" Sanzu held up his blade. He didn't have near enough strength to attack, but hopefully he could scare this man who was already shaking.

"Fuck are you doing?" Sanzu raised an eyebrow as he finally noticed the guy standing and holding something out at him. "Fuck is this?" He took the object inspecting it, becoming angry, "Where the hell did you get this?"

It was the wedding band he'd bought for his wife, the sterling silver hugging the pink stone perfectly. "Where did you get this?" Sanzu growled, adrenaline dumping into his veins as he glared at the man and moved forward. How had his wifes ring ended up with this random man? Either way, Sanzu followed him, at the very least he could kick this "Boss" in the teeth.

He was busy staring at the ring when he walked through a door, voices assaulting his brain, so he grumbled and looked up.

"Hey, Zuzu." His wife was leaned over a desk, two men sat before her in abject fear.

Another day without sunlight and it was killing Baji. It wasn't his fault he was holed up, that's what he told himself, anyway. Scavenging never ended well for him, not since his wife disappeared. "Day seventeen, losing my sanity and speaking to myself." Baji muttered, keeping his voice quiet so the walkers wouldn't hear and go back to beating on the door.

It wasn't all bad, the only silver lining being that he was slammed into a pantry and his wife had taught him to ration early on. Food and water had lasted him this long, but he was going to take matters into his own hands if he didn't feel a nice breeze, and soon.

"You all sound so stupid..." He cursed the dead that stumbled around outside, "Moaning and groaning as if you have troubles anymore. The only thing you want right now is a bite of my damn femur."

Baji despised what the world came to, how it took his wife from him. It had to have taken her. She wouldn't have left on her own, would she?

He decided to lay back and close his eyes, skipping his meals for the day. It wasn't the smartest thing for him to do when he was already malnourished, but he just wasn't feeling like surviving.

Every time he closed his eyes, every time it was silent, all he could hear and see was her. The beautiful blue dress she'd wanted to get married in, her makeup done perfectly to match the deep navy. It was the same thing Baji always saw. Any moment now she would recite her vows, handwritten on the lined paper that would be tear stained in seconds. But, when she spoke, it was wrong.

"I've got you, Baj, I've got you." She sounded winded, tired and weathered, "Please, don't be bit, don't be bit." That voice...it didn't match the beautiful woman standing before him. Her tone was wrong, making her tears look horrified instead of happy. It ruined his wedding day for him.

A cold wash cloth was quickly held over his eyes. Baji would know those hands anywhere, no matter how long he had been away from them. "Y/n..." He whispered, letting his hand swipe up her arm so he could feel her face, "Shit..."

Navy blue filled his vision and he swore he could smell her perfume. Yet, he didn't wake up to the wedding bells or her smile. A faint humming was reverberating around the small room he was in and it helped him to wake up, along with the smell of cooked food. A splitting headache was ripping through Baji's skull, "Damn it."

"Don't stress your eyes, Baj." It couldn't be, it wasn't possible, "You'll make it worse."

"I love you." Baji whispered.

Her laugh, fuck, her laugh was like hell had opened and let him glimpse heaven. "Hold steady, you're too thin. You need to eat." Baji couldn't care less about what she was saying when he could finally feel her smile again.

She laughed again, wrapping her fingers around his, "Eat, Baj, we'll get you strong again."

Man, I got bad writers block in terms of characters to use...

#anime #manga #x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader #fanfiction #apocalypse #sanzu haruchiyo #keisuke baji x reader #baji keisuke #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #x female reader

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artdivadej · 1 year

Text

Survivor’s Remorse (V)

Part 5

NSFW | 18+ | PTSD| Torture

Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

I'd been sent to join the Victors Squad in the Capitol by Coin, not that the witch gave me much choice. It was obvious that she liked Peeta and despised me but wasn't sure he'd back her if it came to a vote of who to run a new Panem. I was the clear solution to that. Send the hijacked psycho to take him out because she can't control herself while so close to her torture chambers. The woman thought I was stupid but I didn't care. Anything to get some sun on my skin. Anything to breathe fresh air and get out of that fishbowl of a room I'd been locked in.

When I'd been shoved out the back of the Humvee, I'd rolled onto the ground none too gently, but I was used to this type of treatment. I propel myself upwards using my bound hands beneath me, legs sliding out behind me in my usual protective crouch, right leg extended and left bent to my chest, hissing at the asshole who pushed me.

"You've gotta take her mouth guard off too Keil" Ryan sighs looking at him with annoyance

"I'm not going by that bitch's mouth. Let her new perfect Victors Squad take care of it" Keil snorts attempting to climb back in only for Ryan to block his path

"She's got a name. And she saved our asses. Twice. Show her some respect"

Keil looks like he'd love nothing more than to kick me again but he does eventually come closer and kneels in front of me, his curled lip conveying his distaste for me. I wish Ryan had been around for the first leg of this journey. Maybe Keil wouldn't have kicked me around so much if he had.

"If you bite me" he warns

"I doubt you'd taste any good" I snort, lisping around the mouth guard

"Pfft. Open your mouth"

I comply, having to fight the urge to gag when he roughly shoves the metal bar between my jaws, smirking at my look of disdain. I fight the urge to flinch, not wanting to be slammed onto my back again, as his hand comes towards my face. When he clicks them off, Keil holds them between his index finger and thumb with a grimace. I spit the bar out and flex my jaw, rolling my tongue over my teeth happily. I don't care how gross my saliva is to him I'm just happy to have control of my mouth again. He turns me around aggressively and shoves it into my bag before yanking me to my feet by my backpack strap. He and Ryan are behind me as we walk towards a large awning about a thousand feet ahead.

Then I see them and the blood in my veins freeze just like they do.

Katniss raises her bow, Gale his crossbow and the rest, their guns. Only Finnick remains leaning against one of the posts, appearing at ease while watching me with amusement. It's Peeta's eyes I find next and it makes my blood run cold. The realization slaps me in the face when I see there's not a weapon in his hands either and it's clear he's struggling not to come over to us. Coin really sent me here to die huh? No reason not to give the woman what she wanted I suppose. Who even was I really? No one of real importance now that my purpose had been served.

I hold up my cuffed hands as a sign of peace. Boggs comes over demanding to know what's happening. Keil shoves me forward with the butt of his gun so that I stumble toward them and I have to resist the urge to snap my jaws at him. This is humiliating enough. I don't need his fucking help in making it worse.

"Your problem now. Coins orders" he sighs happy to be rid of me

Should've let that fuckin pod kill him 2 days ago is what I should have done. Boggs assigns me a tent, telling me to set it up while he goes to confirm the order. Unlike Keil, his tone is soft like he's actually speaking to a person. Thankfully Keil and Ryan take their leave but I feel everyone's eyes on me, their weapons lowered but still in hand. Clearly, I'm not too well liked anywhere.

I move over to the outskirts of their tent circle and start trying to build mine off to the side of it. I'm aware no one will want to sleep near me. It's not personal. I'm just a fuckin wild nutcase and they're soldiers meant to be ready for anything. As the rope falls between my shackled nails again, I huff in frustration, knowing this was going to take most of the day.

I'm still sitting off the to the side fumbling with my tent around my cuffs clumsily when I hear a crunch behind me. My eyes sweep up fast as I slide my leg around in a circle out behind me so I'm back in my defensive crouch. They land on a smiling Finnick, his blue-green eyes twinkling happily, unlike everyone else's that only watched me with distrust and fear. I quickly relax and smile back at him, genuinely pleased to see him. Finnick was used to psychotic people, there was no judgement in his eyes as he knelt beside me, wordlessly helping me with my knots.

"Thanks Finn" I sigh once it's all set up not noticing his smile at my slip of the familiar nickname

"My pleasure. How you settling in?"

"Aside from everyone here wanting to slit my throat the moment I close my eyes? Peachy" I roll my eyes

"That's not true"

"Of course it is. Coin clearly has an agenda sending me here. I don't expect to make it back to 13" I shrug honestly "I'm fully aware this is the last stop on my Victors Tour"

I feel the traitorous tears burn the backs of my eyes; my throat raw as I shake my head to clear it. I feel resentment and self-loathing well in my chest. It pisses me off. I bite down on the core of my restraints giving a tentative suck. Finnick watches me curiously for a moment, allowing me to release it undisturbed. My body slumps a little against his, head lolling heavily on his shoulder. I can't help it. The sedative is quick acting, not as potent as it used to be, thankfully. I don't care that my sudden chomp has startled everyone or that I can feel them watching me warily because I'm so close to Finnick's neck. Finnick appears to be truly unbothered by my proximity or my antics.

"Like it's my fault I'm mind fucked" I hiss under my breath

"I have no plans of you dying as long as there's breath in my body"

"Thanks Finn but I'd rather you stick around for lil red. Wasn't exactly a cake walk bringing her to you"

"I hear you did a lot more than just protect her"

"Doesn't matter." I shrug

At least I made sure that someone walked away from this knowing and understanding what love is. Who they were. Knowing that when they need to break, they actually have the pieces to put themselves back together again. That was enough.

"It does to me" he shakes his head, leaning his cheek against the top of my hair

"Just be good to her. I tried too damn hard to bring her back to you in one piece for you not to"

"It's a promise"

I'm sleepy but I can't relax with all these eyes on me. I need a distraction.

Finnick taps at my cuffs curiously, so I lift them high for him to see. Beetee has made this set another pretty shade of blue to match the collar on my neck and the mouthguard now in my tent. My nails are covered because it'd been two weeks since I'd been around Prim to have them cut so they were sharp again.

"Doesn't it hurt you to bite these?"

"No. Beetee has put a sedative in them for me, right here" I drop my wrists so the cuff's center sits in his palm

It's fatter at the center with two matching holes on either side a soft orange, they glowed in the center.

"For when I feel myself losing control. After...I lost it at breakfast with you guys. He made me a new mouth guard too"

"I wouldn't call you attempting to air dirty laundry, losing it" Finnick chuckles handing me a sugar cube "It'll help wake you up a little"

One day I'd find out where he kept those stored.

"You weren't there...after. Totally lost my shit after I remembered some stuff about the Training Center. Johanna had to knock me out"

***

Haymitch interrupts at this. He'd come in after the fact but had never been told just what had set me off. He never pried. Always let me tell him things on my own time and the way I wanted. Another thing I genuinely love about my adopted father.

"What happened at breakfast? You never did tell me"

Peeta is shaking his head against the top of mine but he doesn't stiffen the way he did then. We've talked about this. Haymitch and I haven't. I take a deep breath and start in on that one. Might as well get some of the trackerjacker enhanced mutt version of me's memories out now before they threatened to smother me at the Capitol. Because I was going. I'll be damned if I spend that amount of time away from Peeta and they both knew it.

"I was cruel to everyone that day" I admit honestly shaking my head with shame "Most especially Peeta. I wanted him to hurt the way I was...even though I didn't understand it at the time. Still shattered beyond repair"

***

I was fucking starving and sick of waiting for Prim to go get some food. They'd finally actually had to adjust my food to meet my carnivorous needs and I was ravenous. I'd been allowed to walk around my room unrestrained and even get some sketching done this morning to test my motor reflexes further. They took my pencil immediately afterwards though. Prim was unusually late today, must have been put back in the rotation this week.

Yeah, screw this I'm starved.

I threw my pillow at the glass and demanded my shock collar so I could get some god damn food. It was still early hours so I was usually permitted to eat there with Prim because there were so few people there, already out for whatever work detail they were on that day.

Within 10 minutes two familiar soldiers came in. They knew better than to have my watch be men. They learned that lesson quick when I would tuck myself into places they could never hope to fit or reach. I'm much too wily and quick for their bulky bodies. These particular women were used to me and I liked that they didn't look at me like everyone else that was forced to watch me did. There was no pity in their eyes and they were genuine in trying to understand me.

The blonde was Flira. She didn't talk much but was the reason I'd been able to get my collars crafted by Beetee. She listened to me when I'd been a screaming lunatic those first couple weeks. It was clear I still trusted some people irrevocably. Beetee was on that very short list. Apparently Flira was a pretty high-ranking officer so she spent a bit of time with him for weaponry. Why she enjoyed spending time babysitting me was beyond my realm of reasoning. She'd attempted to put in a favor but he claimed I'd saved his life. Quite the opposite in fact, but I appreciated the sentiment all the same.

Now, since the last problems were my hands and teeth, a small jolt of electricity or a shot of morphling could stop that in a second. Much better than getting knocked unconscious with a baton again. I was grateful for them. They were pretty and functional without making me feel like the wild fox they'd wickedly dubbed me at the Training Center. Much thanks Beetee. A girls gotta have something pretty even if she was a monster mutt now.

In the red head Juni's hand was my collar and mouth guard.

Ok I hated the mouth guard. The way they'd strap me down to put it in always gave me flashbacks to my torment. It made me feel like less of a person to them too. Just some caged wild animal. I already had to wear the collar, was the muzzle fuckin necessary for breakfast?

I didn't realize I'd said this all aloud until they exchanged a bored glance between them before passing it back to a nurse who'd been nervously waiting at the door for me to be restrained. I shoot Juni a grateful smile and hold my hands out for my special restraints. My nails had been modified to always grow in a stiletto shape but Prim kept them rounded and short so I didn't have to wear the nail guards much. Today Juni leaves them off as she clips my adjustable restraints into place at my wrists.

Today's looking up! Gotta keep up the docile thing so it can stay that way. Lifting my chin obediently, I allow Flira to brush the hair from my neck as she secures the collar in place.

This one is a beautiful shade of blue that makes my head heart thinking about why I like it so much. Beeta making my restraints really makes me happy. They're personal, he cares that anything made for you is for you. I wish I could see how he was doing. Maybe if I behave today, I can ask? Pfft yeah right. He was important. I really wasn't.

I do hope I get to catch a glimpse of Johanna. I haven't gotten to talk to her in a while. I need to see her alright with my own eyes. Hopefully they were treating her right. I didn't want her caged and hurting like me. She'd had too much of it for my liking as it was. She was a bird that needed to be free in the trees, like Rue. They just flew through leaves as if they had wings, weightless and filled with sweet air. To think of her trapped in a white room like this, a two-way mirror for people to gawk and laugh at your misery. No, I wanted sun on her skin. It clicks that I have my bargaining chip. I have something I want from Coin now. Now we can negotiate.

"Ok, ok, ok I'm all cuffed up can we go? I'm starving!" I moan shaking my wrists back and forth as I bounce on the balls of my socked feet excitedly

"You have got to wear pants today." Flira sighs pinching the bridge of her nose as Juni takes the sedative shots from the nurse and shoos her skittish presence away. They always irritate her and this pleases me.

I'm not too keen on clothing but since I rarely get to leave my cage, it's not really that much of a problem. I wrinkle my nose but snatch up a pair of 13's ugly pants I'd shredded into shorts.

"No. Coin will kill you"

I snort and pull them up my legs, admiring how they make my fattening ass look.

"Not if she wants her precious mutt to cooperate" I sing throwing her an impish grin over my shoulder.

They roll their eyes at me but resign to let me stay shoeless and hurry me to the cafeteria, probably hoping we can get this over with quickly before their caught being so nice to me. I don't know why they risk it but I like that they were willing to get in trouble just to give me back some simple freedoms sometimes. Luckily for them it's practically empty but I don't really peruse the area. Not important right now. The smell of meat smacks me in the face making my mouth water instantly. Flashing my bracelet when the cook comes out, I practically drool at the meal he drops in front of me a minute later. 1 full turkey leg, a chicken thigh, and some beef soup that I can see vegetables floating in. My nose wrinkles at this. There's a cup of fruit that also makes me visibly gag.

Maybe I'll be able to convince Juni or Flirn to eat them? Food is too precious in 12 to waste but in 13 its practically a war crime. I wish they'd just stop giving them to me for a while. I take my cup and then seek out an empty table just happy to have my fill of meat.

Then I hear a booming, hearty laugh that makes my heart pound and my muscles constrict as if I'd been ensnared by a vicious anaconda. I know that laugh. Then, I see them.

It's the mutt sitting to the left of Katniss with Gale at her right. Finnick Odair is beside Gale, Annie tucked into his side, smiling adorably at whatever he's whispering in her ear. My eyes lock onto the cozy trio that Is the mutt, Katniss and Gale. His arm brushes hers occasionally as they speak to one another and I feel a thick disgusting jealousy welling in my throat that burns me to the core.

I don't know why I care so much but it pisses me off.

The bench of their table closest to me is full of heads I recognize too. Yulin on the end is sitting beside Delly, both District 12 residents. It's with a giddiness starting in my belly that fills me up with pure joy when I find exactly who I wanted to see beside Delly,

"Jojo!" I call out excitedly

Her head whips up as she drops the spoon in her hand, her growing curls make me grin as they bounce around her whipping face. It's Peeta who looks up first, seeing Johanna respond to a name that was most definitely not hers. When his eyes lock on mine I feel fear, hatred, jealousy and....longing well in my chest as his face frantically searches mine. It's Katniss' hand on his shoulder, trying to see what's got his attention that drives my feet forward. When Johanna turns around, I'm grinning wickedly down at her.

"I see they let you out your cage for once" she beams back

"For a little while. I can't sit without your permission though" I explain tilting my head behind me where I know Flirn and Juni will most definitely be hovering.

"Are those shorts?" she cackles

"No one was supposed to be here" I shrug, privately enjoying the way everyone's eyes roam up my exposed thighs, littered with fading bruises and wounds from my imprisonment.

I like that I can feel all of their terrified and confused eyes on us while we pay them no mind. All these scars? I earned every single one of them to protect all of their precious people. So... Fuck them.

Everyone else was all the things in this moment that I'd been for over 6 months.

Irrelevant. Discardable.

"Sit. Sit" Johanna pats the seat excitably and I plop down happily.

Flirn and Juni relax and give me a nice berth of space. I've talked to them a bit about my imprisonment time with Johanna. They know she can subdue me, if necessary and that I would welcome her over anyone else knocking me senseless. Or Primrose. But she's not available today.

I sweep my eyes up the table where Annie sits, openly staring at me with those wide jade green eyes, that seemed much clearer today. Good. She's finding her way with Finnick as her sound minded compass.

"Hey lil red" I grin, pleased to see her still unharmed. "You're lookin good"

"I am. Thank you for that. How are you?", she nods softly with a smile

This startles everyone at the table as they look back and forth between us.

"Meh so so. Best place I've been strapped down in thus far though" I laugh

Johanna snickers beside me and I'm pleased to see she's reaching for my fruit cup. After she dumps it into hers, I bump my forehead to her temple in thanks. She knocks back and I smile to myself. Jo knows I can't stand the sight of vegetables right now and she needs the fattening up anyway.

When I look up and a little to my right it's to lock eyes with Peeta. I'd wanted him to feel like I didn't care he was in close enough range to wring my neck with those big old paws of his or that I was truly terrified of him. I didn't want him to know that seeing him cuddled up with this girl made me want to rip my heart out and throw it at his feet.

I'm angry and I shouldn't be. I don't like this boy. Right? I don't want him. Right?

RIGHT?!

I look back at my food and pull another large hunk of meat of my turkey leg up with my nails, (I hate silverware) and can feel everyone's eyes on me, but it only makes me angrier. They want a show I'll fucking give them one.

"That's a lot of meat" Delly inserts quirking her brow at me inquisitively.

"Gotta catch up. They didn't exactly give us much to snack on when they were shocking our wet bodies with cattle prods" I explain in a bored tone as Johanna snorts next to me.

Annie flinches at the end of the table but I don't pay it any mind. She was fine. Safe and unharmed. I took great lengths and many an unwelcome touch to see to that. You're fuckin welcome Odair.

"But why meat?"

"All they gave me were vegetables the entire time I was there. The only protein was an egg a week. I need more protein than most" I explain to her genuine curiosity, seeing no harm in being nice to this doe eyed girl who honestly meant me none.

"Why?" Gales asks curiously, his stormy dark grey eyes looking me over like a science experiment

For fucks sake I'm wearing a collar. Does it need more explanation? I quirk a brow at him and pull my top lip back from my left canine since it was closest to his range of vision, fattening it a bit before tapping it twice. I hear everyone's gasps of surprise seeing I can change their size at will but I don't speak on it further. It's the only explanation I care to offer at the moment. I can feel them burning with questions but they dare not ask.

I dip my meat in the soup, making a spectacle of it as they all continue to watch me. A strange sideshow to their normally quaint mornings being all coupled up and fucking happy. Picture perfect fuckin families. Something that mind fucked little ole me wasn't supposed to live to see.

"So" I start, wanting to wound them the way they were me

My eyes sweep up to hold the mutt in my gaze, he's spell bound as I suck the soaked meat from my fingers and between my lips with a loud pop. I lick and suck the juices from my lips torturously slow and see that I have the rapt attention of every male at the table. Hmmm. Interesting. Even as a wild animal I was still desirable to them. Funny.

I rip off another large piece of meat and repeat this process. I hadn't had this much meat in so long. I was doing it just as much for them as I was for me.

"I see that you three figured out the poly dynamic to your re-lation-ship" I grin wickedly gesturing the meat between Gale, Katniss and Peeta before slurping it between my lips again, making sure to draw out the 'ship' when I pop my lips playfully.

As Katniss goes red in the face, sputtering for a response I lock my eyes with Peeta again, who looks as if I'd slapped him and he was trying to decide whether to hit me back. My fingers twitch as I try to control myself. I want to lunge for him before he can me but I decide to push further. Johanna snorts next to me trying to hide her amusement at my unhinged behavior. I bring what's remaining of the turkey leg up to my mouth to show them something I'd learned I could do with this new set of teeth and jaws the Capitol forced on me after my first games.

"So, Katniss" I hiss her name like a vicious snake. "Which ones better in the sack?"

Delly squeaks something about privacy and misunderstandings but I'm not looking at her. I'm looking right at Peeta, who's eyes have hardened. He genuinely looks wounded. Good. I hope she says Gale.

"Cuz if memory serves me right Mellark, you're quite a fun ride. And taste just. Like. Honey" I purr

Before he can retort I stick the entire leg in my mouth, clamp my teeth down and suck hard, my cheeks dipping so you can see my tongue hitting them as I swirl it around the leg. I pull it out painfully slowly and everyone's eyes widen. I've stripped it of every shred of meat on it, the tip of the bone leaving my full lips with a loud pop as I look him dead in his eyes and swallow. No need to chew if I don't want to honestly. I pop my lips with satisfaction and suck on the tip of the bone. Katniss looks like she'd love nothing more than to drive her fork through my face and I use this as satisfying fuel for my rage.

Serves you right. I volunteered for you and kept your precious mutt safe because he's so fuckin in love with you.

"I bet it's Gale and he's aggressive" Johanna whispers lowly in my ear so no one but me can hear

"How about it pretty boy? Is it you? I bet you're pretty demanding though" I tilt my head as I suck on the tip of my bone thoughtfully, rolling my tongue over the cartilage remaining at the tips. Gale's eyes are still on my lips and I taunt him further, beginning to suck it thoughtfully. "Hmmm might just need to test it out myself. Not like you were ever shy about handing out those kisses of yours back in 12 though, were ya?"

Gale flushes as many of the eyes at the table now sweep up to him.

"My bad about kickin you in the sack last time you tried though. I won't do that if you try to kiss me again" I purr dropping my bone and tipping my soup up to my lips, taking a sip. I drop it immediately when I smell carrots at my nose my entire taunting game discarded until I get them away from me.

I rapidly scoop them out into the empty fruit cup I had and hurriedly drop them on Johanna's plate. She dumps them in her soup happily, still watching our exchange.

I'm just getting fucking started.

"I mean. You obviously don't mind sharing?" I flick my eyes to Katniss and back again to Gale

"What makes you think you and Peeta have?" she sneers trying and succeeding to wound me, though I'll never let her know that.

I smirk, my canines on full display and this makes her pull herself back an inch or so protectively. I take a bite out of my chicken thigh and lick my fingers as if her question bores me. Just as I move to say what I want, Prim sits beside Peeta, who now has to slide directly in front of me.

I can't avoid his deep honey gaze any longer and I feel my veins thrum in warning. I don't want to be malicious with Primrose here. But now I feel I've gone to a point where I need to see this through. I genuinely need these answers for some psychotic reason. My foot rests between both of Peeta's under the table and a horrid idea comes to mind.

Let's see if I'm provoked.

With a tap to my temple, I simper at Peeta, biting my lip while gazing at him longingly beneath the lashes of my hooded eyes, feigning a desire that I genuinely felt licking the back of my consciousness.

"Hijacked or not, I've got quite a few nights on the train up here. And hmmmm...If memory serves, Mellark's fuckin hung" I sigh dreamily

He's about to get up, something in his expression tickles a memory of his mannerisms. I see it in the set of his jaw and the sadness in the tightening of his eyes. I stop him cold with my next action. My socked foot is now on his groin. I'd noticed he'd anxiously scooted to the edge of his seat while he'd watched me eat, his hands now palming the table with veins popping across the surface. His body is frozen solid. Good.

"And very, very vocal. Though not very nice in what he's saying" I sigh rubbing my foot tenderly against him back and forth, feeling a sense of triumph when he grows beneath my ministrations. This sickens me that I revel in his heat being directed at me this way. "Likes to let you take control so he can watch you too"

Desire sparks within me at his expressions. This mutt who wants me dead. The hell is wrong with me?

Katniss hisses and stomps away from the table, fed up with my shit.

"Then again" I sigh with fervor sweeping my eyes down to Finnick, who is watching me with something akin to utter disbelief but...humor rests on his lips "I do believe you owe me Annie"

Her head snaps to me and now Finnick is really lost.

"I bet you're the best at this table Odair. And seeing as how your pretty little wife does owe me my pound of flesh..." I moan the end of my sentence, just to goad them too.

I'm lashing out at everyone now.

I find Peeta's tip and squeeze, wrapping my toes around it, feeling his hips shift as he tries to control his reaction. I like this. Why? His plump lips part as he pants lowly, his hands are under the table on his thighs now. He could move my foot easily if he wanted but he doesn't recoil from my touch or move to toss my foot away.

This confuses me. I feel a crack in my mind but I don't have time to focus on that.

"What do you mean?" Finnick asks

"Oh, you didn't know?" Johanna pipes in always happy to traumatize people with Our 'Torture Tales' as we liked to call them. "She convinced them in less than a day that Annie would be of no use to them. Everything they wanted to do and try on Annie, she got them to take it out on her instead. The head Peacekeeper there had a thing for redheads but, she mind-fucked him into touching her instead"

Peeta flinches under my ministrations, I'd increased the pressure while he was staring at my face intently. But I don't want to see the disgust I know will be on his. I know I'm sullied beyond reproach, ok? Now both of my feet are on him but his trembling hands have moved to the tabletop again. Why didn't he just move my feet? And why was I happy he couldn't seem to?

"Is that true?" Prim asks me with sad blue eyes

"Mhhhmmm. So, I think I dare, Mr.Odair. It would seem I've got a thing for hot blondes hopelessly in love with someone else" I sing locking eyes with him, happy that these memories don't come back as easily as I spit them out. "We're used to it right? The Capitol just using our bodies how they want to? At least I'd be fun. You wouldn't believe the things I learned my body could do in there"

Peeta has had enough. So have the Odairs. And Johanna. Her hand is like a vice grip on my thigh, warning me to calm down. I didn't want to hurt Annie but I felt rabid and couldn't bring myself to care. I'd taken more than enough lashings for her; she could take one emotional for me.

Peeta's still hard beneath me but his hands slam on the table and I flinch backwards with my eyes on them. Now I'm the one frozen in place. They might as well be sledgehammers in my rattled mind. My own begin to tremble as I grab Johanna's hand in fear beneath the table. Ok maybe too far? He stands and his wounded eyes are hard as they hold me trapped in fear and something else.

"I don't know what you think happened on the train but that wasn't it", he hisses before retreating from the table.

He's a liar. He's definitely fucking hung. There's no way they'd just know that. Right? Or would I just know that?

No. The games. He had to have washed. Right?

Ugh. My head is spinning.

It's quiet for a little while after the Odair's, Gale and Peeta leave. I realize Prim has been watching me with the eyes of a doctor who wants to ask me things but not in front of people who don't have my confidence. Delly takes the hint and removes herself quickly. For some reason unknown to me, she touches my shoulder and gives a soft squeeze before leaving, knowing that touching me was not permitted. It was reassuring she cared enough to risk it.

Yulin finishes his food than comes to sit beside me for a minute. We were actually pretty close before I went into the games so I was happy to see he made it out. Friendship wasn't something that came easily to me. When his blue eyes hold mine, I realize he has something he wants to say without upsetting me.

"What?" I sigh ready for a lecture

"Look...I'm still friends with Peeta too. I know you don't like him right now but, don't just assume things. He's never...been with anyone before. I don't know what they did to your memories but he's never had sex" he sighs standing to go and fleeing the room quickly.

This only makes me angrier and I'm struggling to hold onto my reason.

I didn't need my heart to leap the way it did at the admission and breaking of Peeta's trust to give it to me. My head hurts.

"Why did you do that?" Prim asks amicably

"I-I don't know. I was so pissed off" I hiss gnawing at my chicken, no longer able to taste it but needing something to do before I splintered into a million pieces.

"About?"

"I can't explain it"

And I don't want to.

"Try" Johanna urges me threading her fingers through mine and squeezing twice, just like we did when we were imprisoned together. My little boost of dopamine in a world full of trackerjacker venom.

"I went through all this for him to have the life he wanted but I hated seeing it. But I hate him. Right? It's all so splintered" I sigh rubbing my temples now "I'm terrified of him. I just have this irrational fear but I wanted to touch him too. Fuck. I'm super fucked in the head. I want him dead. He wants me dead. Right? But I want his hands on me too? How could the train have been unreal? It's so clear. Bright. So bright"

"What about the train?" Prim tries knowing that trying convince me he didn't want me dead was a moot point.

"He and I... we would" I sigh, not wanting to express this to a 13-year-old, but she was the only doctor I trusted right now.

"You have memories of intimacy?"

"Sometimes" I huff as my body begins to shudder

"Only one time isn't super shiny like that but...we didn't..."

"This sounds juicy, tell me" Johanna hums leaning forward and resting her chin on her hands as she grins mischievously at me.

We'd always make one another laugh in some morbid fashion when we were imprisoned together and one of us was on the brink. I could have never endured all that I did without her.

"I didn't sleep well without him after the games...so, I never did" I sigh pulling my hands from my temples and holding Prim's clear blue eyes, drowning in their clarity

"And?"

"One night, I remember waking up to his lips on my cheek. I'd been crying out for him. I... I think I did that a lot. He curled up with me. Held me. He smelled different than the Peeta in the bright version.... like honey. Cinnamon"

"Like the bakery"

"Yes. Bread. Fresh bread"

This scares me. I'm getting too many at one time. Prim urges me on encouragingly.

"I wanted him to do more than hold me but I know it's not right to"

"Did he?" Johanna whispers conspiratorially as her pretty green eyes widened dramatically

"He's gotten...bigger than he was in the videos I remember. But he was always bigger than me. I wanted him to kiss me. I don't know why. He didn't love me. The cameras were gone. What did I want?" I grumble as my eyes dart back and forth across the table

"Oh my god bitch, did he kiss you or not?" Johanna whines

"Yes" I sigh as I feel my body clenching in a way that feels very familiar

"Keep going" Johanna purrs wiggling her shoulders

"He was on top of me. His tank tops always got swallowed by his muscles and his hands were" I stare down at mine "He always held my hands. He did it than too. His kiss was so passionate and he was everywhere" I whisper rubbing my temples again

I don't like that I can feel the heat of his body encompassing me or the tenderness in his kiss. This bothers me. Fuckin mutt.

So desperate to have a piece of him, that I just let him take out his frustrations for Katniss with me. Telling me how pretty she was as he thrust into me so roughly. That was the truth. That's what happened. Right?

"He's got some big ass hands" Johanna observes

"But gentle in this one. I remember his hands on my ribs, my hips, his lips tasted like hot chocolate. He always...had some before bed on the train. I think?"

"That's really good, keep going" Prim presses

I don't want to. I can feel the golden haze trying to overtake this memory too. I tell her so.

"Why?"

"I hear things he's saying but it doesn't really sound like him. Like a track over the real words that don't quite match up to his lips."

"Listen to both. Figure out which one makes sense" Prim encourages

"He’s telling me that it's easy to forget Katniss with me because I had grey eyes and dark hair like her. These kisses are rougher though. He's tugging and pushing at me. He's rough and won't really look me in the eyes. They're off somehow but it's his voice. His body. It doesn't feel good for me but he likes it so I shut up like he says. His hands are on my wrists. Not in mine"

"What's the darker one saying?"

"He's calling me pretty. Sweet names. Whispering in my ear. He's holding my hands this time" I blush wanting to drop the topic now

It didn't make sense.

"Did you fuck in this one too? I like this one better" Johanna whispers practically in my lap now

"No. I... I touched him. He touched me, a little. That was it"

"Oh no, how much touching? Don't hold out on me now. I hate to read and this is a juicy story" Johanna whines as she shakes me

Maybe I'd make better progress with Johanna around when it came to my real memories? She made them easier to remember and fun even through the confusion and pain.

"Jojo maybe later" I hiss ignoring the creeping headache

Prim was still only 13 and it bothers me that she knows this much already.

"I don't mind" Prim laughs

"I do"

"Just keep going"

"I was determined not to, no matter how badly I wanted to. So, I asked to touch him instead"

His lips are on mine and the sounds that rumble in his wide barrel chest make me wet. He's so vocal as he showers me with praise between suckling at my tongue and lips. It makes my muscles clench in ways that set me ignites fire in my veins. I don't know how but he knows exactly how to suck on my tongue to make me weak. It's as if he has a roadmap to every sensitive part of me. He whimpers my name against my lips when my nails rake down his chest with desire. His lips leave mine as he throws his head back with a groan, hurriedly pulling the shirt over his head.

"Peeta" I whisper

His eyes meet mine, just holding them for a moment before he dips his head and gives me a tender kiss. His hands are on my ribs as he caresses my sides.

"Can I touch you Peeta?" I whisper into the night, my back bowing when his fingertips graze the underside of my breasts.

His eyes widen but he nods, his curls falling into his eyes as he tried to steady his breath. I want to see him come undone so I pull him down to me with my left arm around his neck and my right hand sliding through his golden happy trail. When his skin touches mine, I lay on my side, pulling him down so that he lay on his facing me. I could see him struggling not to flex his hips up into my descending fingers because his eyes never leave mine. He whispers how pretty I am as he pants against my lips, his voice unsteady and a low hum. I blush and kiss him to shut him up before I lose my nerve. As my fingers pass through the patch of curls, I wonder if they match the dirty blonde on his head. This becomes a fleeting thought when his length twitches against the side of my palm. I grab him gently at first, curious of his reactions to every touch and caress. He's pulsing in my hand as I explore his shaft in my hands. Peeta has no problem telling me exactly how he feels and I find that I really like that.

"Shit!" I hiss slamming my forehead down on the table before I feel Johanna's restraining arms wrapped around my shoulders to keep me upright

No. Mutt. Mutt. Enemy. He's going to destroy everything. But of course, me first. This isn't real. He'd never look at me that way. Never touch me so tenderly. He'd told me so.

He hated me for this fake relationship but I felt good wrapped around him so it was alright sometimes. His hands go to my throat when I ask him to slow down. He's hurting me. I go quiet but he's not finished yet. That was the real Peeta. Right?

RIGHT!?

My hand locks around Johanna's thigh in a grip that I know will leave a bruise. I'll apologize later. She doesn't flinch or move away; in fact, she moves closer so I can whisper in her ear.

"Se...date" I grit between pants

"Prim" she warns lowly trying not to alert my guards who've noticed the loud bang

Prim's hand is already on the remote. I feel the prick in my neck and I slump against Johanna's side with exhaustion. My doses are higher when I'm supposed to be around others. I want to sleep. But I can't. Not with these memories waging war in my brain.

"What the fuck? It was getting good!" Johanna hisses with mock irritation

I can't help the laugh that I choke out.

"Too good. I started to remember...the Training Center when I pull that one back up"

"Which part?" she snorts

"Mean Peeta" I whimper shrinking into her side feeling like a stupid child "Cliff too"

"Hey..." she calls lowly in a soft tone I've realized she only uses for me

I tilt my head up to hers with as much strength as I can muster, unashamed to show her my shiny eyes.

"Unless he's a quick pumper, which isn't exactly far off" she starts which makes me laugh brokenly "There's no way he actually got to you, y'know? Snow promised you to him after the interview. You fucked that up warning Peeta about the attack on 13. After Snow knocked you out, they brought you back in not ten minutes later. We were rescued a half a day later. They were on the frontlines. No one came to fuck with us in that time. I stayed up the whole time. I watched you the whole time."

"You broke your promise?"

"If you thought I really wasn't gonna need to look at your crazy ass when they brought you back, you're stupid. I know what Cliff does to the women POWs. I had to make sure you were breathing. They left you strapped down in front of my cell just like you said they would. When the grid dropped after they got bombed, I even managed to pull you into my cell before the power came on. I swear”

"It was cold"

"They took your clothes. They knew how much you love the things Cinna makes. And to make me think that you had been given to Cliff for a little while before they shipped out. I'm not dumb though. He likes to slice and beat a girl up before he can get his rocks off. You weren't bruised enough. Looked like they just beat you pretty good for the warning"

"You're lying" I begin to sob

"To you? For what? Your minds fucked enough as it is. I'd like no hand in that shit" she laughs and I join in, wrapping arms around her slowly filling out stomach

"Thanks for staying with me. I wouldn't have made it without you" I sigh sleepily, fighting my drooping lids

"Don't I know it" she smirks down at me, knocking her forehead against mine "Good. Your old man's here. Gonna need him to cart you off to bed. That meat's making you chunky"

"Good" I snicker

Prim has waves over Haymitch, who was looking for an excuse to ditch his next meeting anyway, asking him to carry me back to my room. More like my zoo exhibit cage. Johanna helps me turn on the seat, loosely wrapping my arms around his neck and back as he carries me piggyback to my room.

"Nice bruise on the forehead there darlin" he laughs around a lollipop.

A new guilty pleasure of his that helps distract him from the no alcohol rule down here. That rule definitely fuckin bites. I'd love a good drink right now.

"Had to hit something" I shrug with a yawn

"I take it you saw Peeta"

"I don't want to talk about it. My head hurts. Maybe later. I just have to sort it all out for a while first"

He hums but says nothing further as he waves his band in front of my cage to open the door. Once he sets me on the bed, he helps turn my body so I'm lying back against the pillows.

"Go ahead. I know they want you to strap me down"

"And since when have I given a shit about what other people want me to do?" he asks with a quirked brow

"True"

I roll onto my side and watch him as he sits in the chair beside the bed. It's usually occupied by the moron of a head doctor here.

"Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Of course"

I snuggle further into my blanket and just watch his chest rise and fall as he pulls a book out of his jacket and begins to read to himself.

"I'm fucked, aren't I?"

"Aren't we all?"

"You know what I mean"

"Do I?"

"My mind. There's no real helping this level of psychosis is there?"

"And what level is that?"

I hated when he answered my questions with questions like this.

"To see someone as a monster...but still want those same hands on you. No matter how terrified you are of the fact that you know they're meant to kill you. You want them anyway. Knowing it means your death. To find comfort in the arms of death?"

"Is that the crossroad you're at right now?"

"Yeah. I don't feel safe anymore. I don't know if I ever have, outside of the fractured memories that tell me I did with him. They hurt. It all hurts. What am I even still here for?"

We're quiet for a while before I begin to sob. I bawl so hard my bed rocks violently beneath me, my body releasing what I hadn't been able to in the last 6 months.

"I wish they'd killed me" I cry finally admitting to Haymitch the one thing I hadn't been able to admit to myself aloud "I can't live like this. Broken and fractured beyond repair! No one deserves to live as a shell. A ghost. A monster mutt terrified of other mutts!"

He doesn't say a word but his arms are around me in seconds, scooping me up, pulling me into the armchair so I'm sitting sideways in his lap. My sobs have only gotten harder and I'm barely breathing through them.

"That is not what you are! Do you hear me? You feel this way because you know that's not who you are! You feel her fighting, clawing desperately to get out from beneath the rubble of fucked up things that the Capitol dropped on you" Haymitch rumbles giving me a reassuring squeeze. "How about this? Everyone always wants you to pull your memories. How about we listen to some of my more sober ones of who you really are?"

"Yeah" I nod with a sniffle

So, he begins his tales. The more he talks the deeper I fall into the dream of living this girl's life as he describes her. The fire. The passion. Quickest to throw myself into the flames if it meant keeping those I claimed never to care for, away from harm. Alone since 8 but surviving on my own since 10. Preferring to keep to the woods, when possible, never was one to enjoy wearing pants. She didn't sound very nice but she was kind, passionate and strong.

I dreamt of her. In a field of dandelions, singing to the mockingjays above her head. The only times she ever felt free as a child.

***

"Ah. I always wondered what had happened" Haymitch nods before smirking at me

"That was not one of my finest moments" I scoff

"Sounded like one to me. You felt things you weren't ready to and tackled it head on anyway. Albeit, aggressively as hell but, you did it. Now, teasing the boys while you made your point? Stroke of genius" Haymitch chuckles

"I didn't even mean what I was saying. Like, Finn's cute and all, but in that annoying big brother kind of way. It's why I needed to apologize. I was trying to hurt everyone because I was hurting and couldn't figure out how to deal with it at the time. Nothing I was feeling made sense and it terrified me. It wasn't fair but I did it. It's why I had to say sorry"

"I can respect that"

"Finn's cute?" Peeta repeats above my head having apparently only heard that part of my spiel.

I shrink into his chest a little and nudge his chin up with the top of my head. Trackerjacker me tended to lean on Finnick a lot so we bonded quickly. I'd spent a lot of time with him. He was always nice to me even when I was losing my marbles. Even when I'd tried to kill Peeta again in the Capitol, he was soft in his tone and gentle in his handling of me even when I didn't know who or where I was. Used to it I suppose.

I later learned that it always stroked the beast of jealousy's back within Peeta back then.

"And Peeta is drippin wet, panty droppa, smoking hot” I grin over at Haymitch knowing that Peeta is bright red above me.

He coughs and Haymitch hands me another clear liquor bottle to sip from.

"Finish about when you joined the squad at the Capitol" Peeta chokes

I try to ignore that he's dipped his chin so his lips are beside my neck and his left hand has released mine to trail back and forth across my waist line. I launch back into the memory before his hands distract me with hunger.

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misc-obeyme · 10 months

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hi :)!! can i request a fic or hcs (whichever you think is better) with mammon reacting to the mc playing guitar and singing in a rock band and seeing them perform for the first time? ty !!

Hi, anon!

OOF when I tell you this one put me through it lol. I love this request, too. MC in a band with Mammon in the crowd watching them perform? Yes, that is absolutely something I want to write about! But for some reason, I really had a hard time with it? I'm not sure what that was about. I had to rewrite it a couple times 'cause I didn't like how it was going. Maybe it's because I'm always worrying about making Mammon too OOC?

Anyway! I know a lot about music, but I know next to nothing about actually performing on a stage, so I don't know how accurate some of this is. I tried to keep it vague so that MC could potentially be either in the human world or the Devildom.

In the end, I think it turned out okay? I hope you like it!

Thank you for the request!

GN!MC x Mammon

MC sings and plays guitar in a rock band and Mammon sees them perform for the first time

Warnings: none!

Mammon had known for some time that you were in a band, but he had never had a chance to see you perform until now. You didn't know he was going to be there, which was why he wanted to be sure you'd be able to spot him in the crowd. He wasn't in the center, but slightly off to the side in the front.

As you and the rest of the band came out on stage, Mammon's gut twisted. There you were, guitar in hand, standing in those soft colored lights, looking absolutely amazing. He was mesmerized by your presence, the way you so confidently moved around on stage.

You stepped up to the mic and he barely heard what you said into it. He thought maybe you were thanking the crowd for coming out or something. He couldn't focus on your words at all. The way the light was shining on your skin and your hair had all his attention. You and the band began your first song and any remaining thoughts Mammon had left him immediately.

His eyes were stuck on the way your fingers moved across the guitar's frets, expertly playing the song's intro notes. Your body bobbed with the beat as the drums and bass kicked in. And then you went back to the mic and started to sing.

Mammon couldn't move. He was just watching you, listening to you, experiencing you and the way you commanded that moment. Everyone around him was dancing, several people were singing along, but all he could do was stand there and watch. He didn't even register as other people jostled into him.

This was how it went for the first few songs of your set. He slowly began to be able to think again. He was sure you hadn't seen him…

… but then you moved down the stage toward the side where he was. You were focused on the guitar, really getting into the solo you were playing. But as you reached the end of it, you looked up and into the crowd.

It was clear from your expression that you had seen him. It started out as surprise, but then you smiled. It was a large grin, like seeing him there was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

Mammon knew in that moment that he'd made the right choice to come tonight. You were clearly thrilled at the idea that he was here to see you perform. He couldn't stop himself from grinning back at you. He raised both of his hands, waved them at you, and yelled your name as loud as he could. He watched in delight as you laughed before you had to go back to the center of the stage to start singing again.

Now that you knew he was there, you were constantly looking over at him, sneaking him little smiles throughout the rest of the songs. He was still enthralled with you, but he was cheering now. He knew you couldn't really hear him, but he did it anyway.

Then something changed as you prepared to perform another song. He noticed the way your eyes widened and he could tell even in that dim lighting that you'd paled a bit. You cleared your throat as you introduced the song and there was a nervousness about you that hadn't been there before.

"I wrote this song about what it's like to meet someone that you instantly connect with," you said. You were smiling, but it seemed like it was just hiding your sudden anxiety. "And how quickly they can become a huge part of your life."

The lights changed to soft blues and yellows. The drums started out with a simple beat, something slow but steady. This song was a little slower than most of your other songs had been, a little softer. You played a melody on your guitar, letting the notes ring out brightly.

Mammon listened to the way you sang the lyrics - as though they were coming from deep in your heart. As though every word meant something more than it seemed to.

And the more he listened, the more he realized… this song was about him.

That's why you had become nervous all of a sudden. You had realized that he would be there to hear you sing this song that you wrote about him.

His brain couldn't quite comprehend what he was hearing. He could feel tears starting to well up in his eyes, but he fought them with everything he had.

When the song was over, Mammon noticed how you couldn't look over at him anymore. There were only a few more songs in your set and he watched you through them, wondering what you were thinking and feeling. You seemed to be back to how you were before. There was an encore where you played a couple more songs and then finally the show was over.

The second he realized the crowd around him was dispersing, Mammon went looking for the way backstage. He had to talk to you immediately.

It didn't take long for Mammon to find the door that went backstage, but it was blocked by a security guard. You hadn't known he was going to be there and this person would have no reason to let him in. But it wasn't like the Great Mammon didn't have a couple tricks up his sleeve and it only took a few moments for him to bribe the guard into letting him in.

Once he was backstage, Mammon looked around for you frantically. He had to find you as fast as possible. There were a fair amount of people back here, most of them working on cleaning up the equipment. He couldn't see any of the band members. Where could you have gone?

And then he saw you. Just a short way away, you had just picked up your guitar, as though you were preparing to put it away.

Mammon practically ran to your side. "MC!"

You turned to him in surprise, guitar still in your hand. "Mammon? What are you doing back here?"

Mammon couldn't prevent himself from sweeping you up in a hug. He completely avoided answering your question. "Ya were amazin' tonight, MC!"

You laughed and returned his hug with the arm that wasn't holding your guitar. "Thanks," you said. "It was a good show. I'm glad you were here to see it."

Mammon pulled away to look at you. "MC… that song… ya know the one…"

"We played a lot of songs," you said, a mischievous tone in your voice.

Mammon blushed and sang the first line of the chorus, which was the part he remembered best.

He watched as you also blushed, but you smiled, too. You put your guitar strap over your head and played the intro to the song. "That one?"

Mammon took a step closer to you, the guitar the only thing between your bodies. "Could ya sing that song for me again, MC?"

"Sure," you said. "I'll play the song I wrote about you the next time we're alone."

Mammon really thought he couldn't possibly blush anymore, but somehow it felt like the heat in his skin increased. You leaned over your guitar and pressed your lips to his. He put his arms around your neck, trying to pull you closer. The guitar strings twanged slightly as they bumped against him.

Later that night, you would do as you promised. You would sing your song to him, strumming along on your guitar. And even though Mammon was already in love with you, those sweet notes would make him feel as though he would never stop falling for you.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #request #anon request #misc writes

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geminigengar · 2 years

Text

Would You Still Love Me Then?

eddie munson x goth!reader

y/n gets plastered at a party and asks eddie just how much he loves them

warnings: macabre • talks of death, suicide, murder, corpses, & injury • alcohol consumption • illusions to smut • no use of Y/N • all fluff

A/N: could be considered dark fic idk this is literally just how i talk with my partners🤷🏽 • reader is black coded.

word count: 1.6k

eddie was layed out on the couch at steve's. he wasn't having a good time, but he wasn't having a bad time either. he was comfortable nursing a beer and zoning out.

he hadn't drank enough to feel anything, only working the one beer the whole night. he told you beforehand he'd be your designated driver for the night so you could relax. midterms were over and you'd busted ass studying these past few weeks. eddie was so proud of you despite how worried he'd been that you were overworking yourself. tonight he was content to watch as you let loose and unwinded with your friends.

he was more than happy to spread out, taking up the entire couch, and wait until you were ready to leave.

or he was until you rushed over on unsteady legs through the throng of party-goers to sit on his lap, kicking your feet up on the coffee table; your platform boots making a resounding thud even over the thrum of the music. eddie threw an arm around your shoulders. he pressed a kiss to your temple. he halted mid sentence, asking if you wanted to go home, upon seeing the tears in your eyes.

eddie sat up, tightening his arms around you protectively. "whoa hey, hey, hey pretty baby what's wrong? what happened?" he was panicked but he hid it as best he could as he wiped the tears from your brown cheeks with his thumbs.

you weren't a cryer, not by any means. his first thought was someone had bothered you when you were out of his eyesight; making him all the more concerned. pushing the thought of beating the hell out of whoever hurt you to the back of his mind he focused only on consoling you as you laid out on top of him.

you sniffed as you palmed at your eyes, smearing your bat wing eyeliner you had perfected before coming here. "eddie," you started with a pout "what if-"

you cut yourself off with a broken sob and buried your head in his neck, crying quietly. eddie cradled your head, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. glaring at any partiers that looked at you both. not that there were many that even noticed your presence with the amount of alcohol and everyone's drug of choice being passed around.

he pressed kisses to your curls as he rubbed your back until you calmed down enough to speak. when you finally relaxed enough, eddie held your face in his hands to make you look at him. he wiped the stained mascara from your under your eyes as he asked what had upset you.

after blinking at the ceiling a few times to gather your thoughts you looked back at him, a pout adorning your features. "what if my skull isnt pretty?"

eddie starred at you for a few moments hoping what you asked would make sense after a second.

still wasn't clicking.

"huh?"

you rolled your eyes at him, as if your question was the most simple thing in the world. "my head eddie." you swiped at your nose with the sleeve of your sweater, adjusting your septum ring. "what if my skull's ugly? what if- if i die right? and my head is- is left. what if my skull's a bad one, what if its like misshapen or, or discoloured or something?" you vented.

eddie was at a loss for words, his only reaction a raise of his eyebrow.

he knew you were into what he affectionately called 'some dark shit.' but he couldn't recall ever seeing you torn up about it. he'd seen you emotional on late nights watching horror movies, asking if he could passionately murder you the same way the killer of the day ended a life onscreen. or telling him how romantic a suicide pact with him would be. these nights always ended with you underneath him, writhing as he whispered vague threats he didn't mean but still made your blood run hot.

yeah, he knew you were absolutely fucking weird but he adored it. sure, it sounded completely insane; but he knew it came from a place of genuine love. he knew you respected the idea of death and found beauty in it. even if he couldn't explain it himself he was honoured that you loved him as much as your love for the macabre.

"like-" slurring your words, you started again, "like babe, if i was beheaded would you put my skull on the wall? would i have a nice enough skull to put above a fire place?"

eddie snorted, twirling one of your loose curls around his finger. he squished your cheeks with his free hand to accentuate your already prominent pout. "my love, you have such a beautiful skull, vlad the impaler would die to get his hands on it," he stated with a quick peck to your lips.

he could practically see your heart swell at his words. they held such love and adoration he never imagined would ever be directed at him as he cradled your jaw in his hands like you were made of glass. to him you were the most precious thing in the world.

"you mean it?"

"i mean it," emphasising his words with a kiss to your forehead.

eddie heard a quiet "what the fuck?" from steve as he walked past the couch. eddie wasn't sure how much of the conversation he or anyone else had overhead but he didn't care. not when you were holding his hands and pressing little kisses to his cheeks and neck on whatever skin you could reach.

"although babe?" he added "i'd never mount your head on the wall."

you pulled back so fast eddie had to grab your waist to ensure you didn't fall of the couch. you looked at him, your face contorting to reflect the utter betrayal you were engulfed with at the stab in the heart you felt at his words. the tears that started welling in your eyes again nearly broke eddie's heart before he kissed your cheeks, catching any fallen tears.

"you know why, love?" he spoke between kisses into your hair. eddie held your jaw again as he pressed your foreheads together in a gentle and intimate show of his overflowing affection. "because i won't need to. i plan on growing old with you 'til we're crazy old fucks yelling at kids from the porch. and when i go out i'm damn sure it'll be with you. and if you go before me, you already know i'll follow you anywhere, baby. from our joint coffin, when our bodies are decaying and rotting together until we're dust in this life, to wherever you wanna take us in the next. i don't plan on going a day with you, now or ever."

you felt tears form in your eyes for the umpteenth time that night. god, you loved him so so much and he loves you too! you wondered how you got so lucky to receive the love of your best friend and soul mate. you knew you were unusual, different from most, and still this delightfully troublesome man had waltzed into your life; not only embracing all your quirks and oddities but loving them. loving you.

any doubts you had, no matter how small, vanished at his proclamation. you knew he was telling you the honest truth, you could feel his sincerity settling into your bones. you always knew you'd stay with him as long as he'd have you and hearing he'd having you forever, despite your flaws and fuck ups left you in tears.

you were never letting him go.

eddie then pulled back, frantic at the sound of your sobs. apologetic, he started to speak but your lips were on his before he could apologise.

in that moment everything drifted away for him. there was only you, and god he loved it. the feel of your soft, dark lips against his own; the sensation of your warm hands against his chest, your long nails digging deliciously into his skin.

he was consumed by the outpouring of adoration and love you poured into every second of the kiss. his hand tangled in the back of your hair to deepen it, needing this moment with you; needing you to know how much he adored- how much he craved you- how much he loved you.

you felt it as youbroke away, choosing to place lazy, sweet kisses along his neck and jaw. you sniffled again after working your way back to his mouth, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. "i love you, edward. so much."

eddie grinned, kissing your forehead once more before he shifted you both into a sitting position, "i know."

you laughed at his sudden change from seriousness and soft to his usual brand of humour, "dickhead."

"your dickhead."

"yeah, all mi-" you cut off with a squeak as eddie lifted you bridal style from the couch. normal he would carry you on his front, a strong grip on both your ass and thighs that he loved so much; but with you drunk and in a floor length skirt, he worked with what he had.

"i'm all yours, always." he kissed you quick as he made his way through the crowd, "let's get you home, sweet thing." he was laughing as you kicked multiple couples out of his path on his way to the door.

eddie he reached the van he'd parked down the street, he set you down in the passenger seat, clicking your seatbelt on with another kiss to your cheek and closed your door.

the moment he was situated in the driver's seat, music on, windows down, and headed home home; you reached your hand over, splayed across his chest. eddie grinned as he held your hand as he kissed your knuckles, his eyes on the road. "by the way sweetheart, i love you too."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x goth reader #eddie munson x goth!reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things images #eddie munson imagines #my own writing

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storm-driver · 12 days

Text

Having finished the DLCs in full, and thus gotten my fill of FFXVI in its entirety (save the Final Fantasy mode and the Kairos Gate endings), I can officially say, with all certainty, FFXVI is a game that exists.

Spoilers below the cut for FFXVI and its DLCs.

I'm not one to mince words when I wanna gush about a game I love. And FFXVI has the makings of something truly fucking incredible. Wonderful fight choreography, out-of-this-world kaiju battles, music that brings you to tears through passion alone, environments that speak for their rich history, characters with such strong bases and motivations, all tied up in a bow of underwhelming character writing and a misguided ending to what could've been one of the best stories I'd seen in the JRPG genre.

I wanna reiterate: I love this game. I think FFXVI is fucking amazing, was worth the 60$ price tag, and it's two DLCs were very fun to play through. I stand by my original word that Clive Rosfield is one of the best FF protagonists we've gotten since Final Fantasy X.

However, loving the game for what it does right can stand in the same room as disliking the game for what it does wrong. It's unfortunate that I feel the need to tear into the game like this, given how much I want to praise its feats. And I still will, I still think this game is worth playing in spite of what it does wrong. But it also be remiss of me to say "just ignore these parts of the game!" and hope that people can turn a blind eye like I can.

I was hoping the DLC could ammend something I originally disliked about the original game: the ending. The ending is by far one of the most contested parts of the game when it comes to discussing the positives and negatives. Some people like the ambiguity of it all, others would rather have the truth spilled.

For me personally, I'm not in either field. Because I don't think the ending to the game is a culmination of the journey Clive takes. It does not feel genuine. It doesn't feel like he deserved his fate to be left up to guessing. If he died on that beach or if he let his name fade away in history in favor of his brother. Neither of those choices speak to me as "Yeah, that's where the story was going."

It's bitter. Not bittersweet. Plain bitter. It feels like a kick in the teeth for trying to fight his destiny. How dare he try to change fate for himself and the world. You are now cursed to live a false life, if you even survive that long. Not even your dust will be remembered.

Now, my fervent and desperate hopes regarding this game were that the acquisition of the Leviathan eikon would change his fate. After all, we saw at the end of the game that Clive was an "incomplete" vessel, thought we're never told exactly why. The assumption is the missing Eikon in Leviathan. But if not Leviathan missing, what is? Is his humanity itself keeping him grounded, to a point where he cannot change his fate? The fate of his brother?

Is the ending, and I ask this with the utmost of curiousity, meant to tell us that Clive was destined to lose everything in the end? That fighting his shackles only helped the world, and he couldn't even save himself or his brother? That a price must be paid for hubris on this grand a scale, and Clive is the unfortunate victim of it all?

This game screamed to me constantly that he wasn't going to die easily. He would not let himself lose everything he'd worked so hard to retain. For god's sake, the main message of the Bearers and Dominants is that they should get to choose how to live their life, and to live their life to the fullest.

The ending of the game speaks of inevitability. A direct contrast to everything Clive was fighting for. The ending doesn't do a good job of making it feel like a bittersweet victory, as it just kills off Joshua and deliberately tells Clive, "Nope, not good enough."

I digress, this is gripes with the ending, and how I had hoped it would change. Obviously my hopes were misplaced. Or maybe I'm jaded and trying to interpret this in ways that the writers didn't intend. But I can't help but percieve it this way, especially when I look at other people discussing the DLC and finding a lot of them thought the same.

Another thing, the hidden Eikon in the Kairos gate content. Ultima being an eikon you channel. I genuinely do not understand the point of this eikon outside of it being a means for trailer bait. Because that's all it ending up being. No story implications. Not even true practical usage besides being intense damage nukes and an overall homage to Ultima as a source of power. Prove me wrong if something at the end of Kairos gate ends up being story related, but I have a very strong feeling it is not.

#ffxvi #sorry if i seem so upset in this post #i truly love this game i do #but god do these writers disappoint #there's so much wasted opportunity #and such a huge misunderstanding on how to deliver hopefully vs bittersweet vs downright depressing messages

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aurumacadicus · 1 year

Note

For the fic title thing: Tony Stark's baby with stuckony?

YOOOOOOO I LOVED THIS TITLE IMMEDIATELY

Tony Stark's Baby

It had been a great scandal, Tony Stark appearing at his parent's table with news that he was with child. He'd been groomed for royalty. Perhaps not in the direct family line, but a cousin or niece, perhaps. He had the breeding, the finishing, the temperament. He would have made a good husband.

Now he was wasted. That was the word Howard had shouted at him. Wasted. As if that was all he'd raised his son for, to give to someone else. Then again... maybe he had. Tony had never really talked about him with warmth and affection.

If Howard had had any for him, it died that night when he gave Tony the choice to abort or leave. And no one had seen Tony since.

"I wonder if he ever told Howard who the father might be," Steve mused, lifting his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. They'd been riding for quite some time since they'd left the Stark estate.

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. "Do you think that Howard would have let us leave the property alive if he knew it was one of us?"

Steve took a moment to really think of his answer. "No, you're right. He would have tried to kill at least one of us." He dropped his hand with a sigh. "I thought Howard was different."

"Yeah, I think his title went to his head," Bucky grumbled. He lifted his head a little. "Looks like we're almost there."

"It was nice of his ma to let him live on her property," Steve said, then grimaced when Bucky shot him an unimpressed frown. "I mean, obviously it's the least she could do for her son and grandchild, but I'm surprised Howard allowed it."

"They had a written agreement that this would be her property to control," Bucky reminded him. He pulled his horse in closer to Steve's, unable to help the smug smirk that crossed his lips as he quietly added, "Heard Howard tried to get her to kick Tony out anyway. Every single servant left the manor that night. I heard it was because they didn't want to be witnesses if Maria killed him."

Steve nodded a little. That made sense. Maria hadn't been the best mother to Tony, but he couldn't imagine her looking at her pregnant child and deciding both her son and his child should suffer, even if she could only bring herself to see the baby but once.

They made it over the hill and stopped to let their horses rest a bit from the climb. There was a little farm in the valley below. Self-sufficient, Clint had called it. No profit. He could grow enough for them to eat, but not enough that he could make more than a few coins with his spare vegetables. A kind gift, but also a punishment.

"Well," Steve said after a moment. "No point putting this off."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed quietly, and they nudged their horses forward again.

There was no one outside to meet them, but they hadn't really expected there to be. Tony couldn't afford to hire help, so any that he got were beholden to his mother, and they hadn't really ingratiated themselves to her, if the way her eyes went sharp with realization after their careful questioning were any indication. The yard had a few toys, but otherwise was well-kept. There was smoke coming from the chimney.

Steve and Bucky fussed with their horses a bit, then gave up on wasting time, putting off the inevitable. Either Tony would accept them, or he wouldn't. If he didn't, that was his right. They had gotten word about the scandal three years ago on the front lines, and maybe they could have come back then, if they'd pushed it. But Tony hadn't asked them to come home, so they didn't.

Steve knocked, then stepped over to press his shoulder to Bucky's. Bucky pressed closer.

The door opened, and Tony was there, tipping his head back to look up at them.

"You're late," Tony said, and then, before they could respond, he turned to step back inside. "Put your horses away. Supper's almost ready, and Harley will be waking from his nap."

"We can stay?" Bucky asked, unable to help his surprise.

Tony glanced back over his shoulder at them. "If you're taking responsibility," he answered carefully.

"We'll scream to the rooftops he's ours," Steve offered immediately.

"And that we plan to bond into a triad," Bucky added.

Tony tipped his head thoughtfully. "...Put your horses away," he repeated. "And if you're nice to me, maybe I'll give you a welcome home kiss."

"Fucking move," Steve said, throwing Bucky to the ground, and Bucky squawked in offense as he chased after him.

#ask meme #fic title meme #stuckony

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punkjinshi · 9 months

Text

Here's a not so small summary on Solo Sikoa.

We know just from his background he was "The apple that fell far from the illustrious anoa'i family tree" and at age 15 he was kicked out, out of the family and of his home to live on the streets to either live or die.

He was on the streets up until he joined NXT, where he'd talk about essentially growing up homeless alone and fighting to stay alive often. There he could be himself, he was overall a good dude a "face" for his entire run. By himself without the influence of his bloodline who were all heels.

It wasn't until he was forced to join his family on smackdown where he slowly began to see his descent. When he first joined them he was still himself but with an edge. But as time passed he got more quiet, and more dangerous. In nxt he made it known that he'd always have Cameron Grimes back, and went out of his way time and time again to form a friendship between the two but in the end Grimes never gave back the same energy.

Sami Zayn was the first person to ever sacrifice his well being just to save him. He wasn't sure about Sami but that one selfless action made Solo trust him completely. Just not too long before that Solo said "I'm not the one to ask for help." Only to tell Sami the day he met him "If I needed help, I'd ask you." He would choose Sami over his own brothers time and time again. Sami made Solo smile many times, Sami cracked through his facade. But many also noticed that once Sami left the bloodline was the start of Solo's spiral. He just snapped and became worse.

Samis mentioned this and stated that once Roman saw that Solo was coming up with Him and the Usos and that he could think for himself he pulled him away. Sami made the mistake of saying that he and Solo had a good thing going on and that he's taken him under his wing right In front of Roman, Roman made a displeased face and that's essentially when it began. Roman took Solo away and he was seen with them less and less.

Roman groomed Solo into becoming an emotionless killing machine who cares for no one other than him. He even had Solo betray his own brothers for him. He's only supposed to care about Roman Reigns well being, and not even his own. Everything he does is for Romans sake. He's supposed to have this perception of him and Roman upheld that up until recently.

Romans beginning to act and do things the exact opposite of how Solo's used to. It's confusing him. Why is the tribal chief crying? Why was the enforcer having to command him to get up and keep fighting? Taking charge over the tribal chief himself.

This once strong and confident chief persona is beginning to fade, and the small, scared and insecure man underneath is starting to show.

Like I said. Roman manipulated Solo into betraying his brothers, we saw the regretful look on his face, he didn't wanna do it but he had no choice in his mind. It's all for Roman, we saw the confusion on Solo's face once they embraced in a hongi. Out of respect for their culture and for their upcoming match. He's attacked the Usos many times and Roman has commanded him to, Solo does what he thinks will make Roman happy, he goes to attack Jey.

And Roman stops him. He only stops him out of the respect of their match, for their tribal combat. But Solo didn't know that, how could he? Then Roman allows him to get kicked in the face and made to look stupid for defending him.

It only makes sense for Solo going forward to realize that everything he's done was all for the wrong reasons, and open his eyes. Solo clearly wants that Ala Fala, he sees the current tribal chief breaking so he'll be the stronger and better one to replace him.

Long story short. Romans spent so long convincing and manipulating Solo to think a certain way and now he's making Solo feel like he's in the wrong for doing the things HE taught him. The abrasive defend the tribal chief now think later ways, the perception of himself he's forced into Solo's mind that's crumbling every single episode. Solo's young and Roman used that to his advantage.... What's an uce to do? A person can only handle so much.

#solo sikoa #roman reigns #wwe #monday night raw #the bloodline #the usos #jey uso #jimmy uso #sami zayn #aka he victim aka he baby aka he next tribal chief

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dairy-farmer · 8 months

Note

Ya know what Bruce would absolutely do? When Tim first shows up and insists on being Robin, Bruce would say no and then try to think of contingency plans on how to stop Tim from going out as Robin

Just saying no won't keep him off the streets, asking nicely won't work, and he can't just lock him in the Manor... Wait

Bruce might not be able to lock Tim in the Manor against his will, but what if he has a reason he needs to stay in the Manor at all times?

It's decided then; he'll knock Tim up ASAP and then he'll never be able to leave the Manor, least of all to go fight crime! He'll either be too concerned about the baby, his paternal instincts kicking in even at the young age of 13, or he'll simply be too big to move much, Bruce's giant baby practically dwarfing the rest of Tim, making it impossible for him to waddle anywhere outside of the Manor

(and once the baby is born, Bruce knows Tim will want to get back into shape and join him out on the streets again. So Bruce will simply have to make sure Tim doesn't get that chance. It's a good thing the Manor has so many rooms, Bruce has a feeling they'll be seeing a big expansion in the family over the next few years)

one of my favorite things in the world is bruce impregnating tim as a way of trapping him 😈😈😈.

"the third robin's the charm" is not something that bruce is willing to take a chance on because he drove the first one away, he got the second one killed. who knows what horrible fate awaits innocent tim. tim who won't listen to him when he tries to listen, who won't listen to him when he demands.

like all robins before him tim won't obey him.

so bruce has to take drastic measures. his hand has been forced and he has no choice. he goes through every option he can think of. keeping him forcibly tied up or stuffing him in a bunker and throwing away the key is unfathomably cruel. breaking a limb wouldnt work, he'd just heal. removing a limb would be crossing a line. poisoning tim with medicine and "daily vitamins" until he's too ill to move is plainly unethical. tim will always find a way to go out as robin, he'll always find a way.

....unless. unless there is something more than him at stake.

a different kind of responsibility and duty. one that would guarantee tim being confined to the manor for months at a time and even afterword it would take months before he could venture out. tim is small and pregnancy would be rough. so would the post-birth of trying to get back in fighting form. tim also likely has a lingering complex from his parent who always left him for work. would tim be willing to do that to his baby?

if bruce just drugs tim and dumps him at a college party for frat boys to use him as a cum dump he'd be able to get him pregnant. but then tim would just get an abortion. the father of his baby had to be someone he cared for and respected, who he'd listen to if they asked he have the child.

someone like...him. because while tim may not listen to him and may sass him, he does think bruce's words hold a lot of weight. if bruce asks him, begs him to keep the baby then....there's a good chance he would.

bruce can't say that he doesn't enjoy fucking his would-be robin.

tim, despite how mature he tries to project himself as, is still a child. children are easy to manipulate, they're easy to convince to take their clothes off and to get into bed with bruce, a stranger.

the hero worship helps a little, it may have worked better if he was dick. but bruce accomplishes it. first he fucks tim just to get him to like and enjoy it. if it's bad then its unlikely tim will want bruce to do it to him again when bruce has to get him pregnant again.

so bruce makes sure tim likes it. he kisses tim and holds him, he laps at his little pink cunt and he fucks only half his cock into his tight little hole because he needs to work tim up to fuck him with the full length of it.

bruce makes it good, he gets tim hooked on it like how drug dealers get their clients hooked on smack.

pretty soon tim is approaching him, initiating sex with him, asking bruce if he can climb on top and sit on bruce's cock. that's when bruce stops using condoms, he fills tim's head with stuff about how sex feels so much better without a barrier between them, how the orgasm is better, how much bruce likes it.

bruce has never fucked someone without a condom. tim is his first bare pussy and as he cums deep into that little hole he resolves to never again have sex any other way.

its no surprise tim gets pregnant pretty quickly even though he's barely started getting his period.

the positve pregnancy test lies discarded somewhere on the floor as bruce fucks tim again and tells him to keep the baby as he caresses tim's cheek and presses his tongue into his sweet mouth.

bruce's plan may be deranged.

but at the end of the day his robin is safe and he's having a baby.

a baby. the first wayne baby in decades and the first of many to come.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #brutim

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ladylilithprime · 4 months

Text

Not So Silent Night

Event: Secret Santa Exchange via @spnfanficpond

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Wincest

Rating: Teen and Up

Tags/Warnings: Alcohol Use, Dean's Pining, Sam's Awkward Flirting

Summary: The hunt was a bust and Dean just wanted to kick back and a bar and pretend he wasn't missing his little brother like one half his lungs. Turns out the bar he picked was a better choice than he'd thought.

Gifted to: @a-nah

Read on AO3

THE BLUE FLANNEL shirt had stopped smelling like Sam three months ago, but Dean still wore it over his t-shirt and beneath his dad's old leather jacket like he could duck his head and catch a whiff of sweat and deodorant and cheap aftershave. He knew that if he did he'd still get a whiff of the deodorant and aftershave from his own morning routine, but despite being the same set of scents it still hit... differently. Different notes in the sweat from Dean's devotion to bacon cheeseburgers versus Sam's burgeoning preference for eating raw vegetables.

Freak. At least Dean could be sure with his thoroughly cooked meat that he wasn't gonna spend the night blowing chunks from food poisoning because of the questionably clean lettuce.

He didn't even know why he was still wearing the shirt that, by all rights, should have been tossed in either the laundry or the motel room trash weeks ago, why he had bothered spending half an hour with a gas station sewing kit painstakingly stitching up the torn cuff on the left sleeve after it got caught on a rusty nail. It wasn't even the shirt that he had been wearing all that day, having spent most of the daylight hours stuffed into a suit and tie. Something about the bar across from the library had bitten at him, though and he hadn't been able to leave the motel room to get a beer until he had changed out of the monkey suit and into that blue flannel.

The bar itself wasn't anything special: polished wood that didn't hide the scuff marks, a dart board and a pool table off to the side, and a flatscreen TV up in the corner over the bar for folks to watch whatever game was on. Three mediocre beers on tap, a handful of brands by the bottle, and a liquor selection pretending to be more high class than it really was. He'd been in a couple hundred bars across the country just like it from before he was legally allowed to order anything harder than a Coke. He clocked and dismissed the handful of local barflies and a smattering of college students that might be easy marks at the pool table later, ordering a beer and settling in to unwind a bit from a hunt that wasn't worth the name.

His thoughts derailed when the bartender set a shot glass of something iced and amber at his elbow next to the beer bottle. Dean's eyebrow went up in question - he knew he hadn't ordered that - and got pointed in the direction of one of the tables of college students. Not sure what to expect, he carefully adjusted his lean against the bar and looked over to the indicated table.

He would have been able to tell which table it was even without the direction. Four widely grinning students, two dudes and two chicks, were arranged on either side of a fifth whose head was face down in folded arms that left Dean with only the view of a mop of brown curls. As Dean looked over, toying idly with the glass, one of the girls elbowed her apparently mortified friend into looking up and--

Dean lifted the shot glass in salute to the achingly familiar eyes that locked onto his. The last ones he had been expecting to see in this bar, and also the ones he had been missing the most. Holding his gaze, Dean took a deliberate sip of the drink, eyebrows going up at the rich, oaky flavor that spilled over his tongue. The kid's friends apparently had good taste to be sending him a shot of good bourbon like this instead of the usual paint thinner.

The incredulity that bloomed across Sam's face at the blatant flirtation was probably deserved, but then again this was really good bourbon. Dean raised an eyebrow and quirked one finger in a clear invitation, sparking a vivid blush across Sam's cheeks that was absolutely worth whatever yelling Dean was going to be enduring at whatever volume Sam decided was appropriate. To the tune of the playful catcalls of his friends, Sam got up, downed his own drink, and managed a credibly steady stride over to where Dean was leaning against the bar.

"What are you doing here?" Sam bit out as he got within low conversation range.

"Really? Just right into it?" Dean tried not to pout, but come on, after he'd gone and done the kid the solid of pretending to be a stranger at the bar he could conceivably be hitting on in front of his college friends? "Not even gonna ask if I come here often, or say my shirt would look better on the floor next to your bed?"

"I already know you don't come here often," Sam huffed with a remarkably expressive eyeroll. He eyed Dean up and down and frowned. "And that's my shirt."

"Got left behind in my bag," Dean said with a shrug that he hoped disguised the way his neck was heating up, pulse thundering in his ears. "You want the chance to steal it back, maybe you should hit on me properly, convince me to take you back to my place like your friends expect. Single room," he added when Sam started to look uncomfortable.

"Dad let you out by yourself?" Sam raised an eyebrow, smirking when Dean scowled.

"Dude, I'm twenty-five!" he protested. Sam folded his arms, and Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up. Hunt was a bust, anyway, just a regular human sicko."

"Lovely," Sam grimaced. "So you won't be running out in the middle of the night to go dig up a grave?"

"Nope," Dean said, popping the 'p' and raising the shot glass in salute. "You wanna come home with me, I'm all yours for the whole night."

This was the moment, Dean knew. This was the point where Sam could just as easily laugh it off and go back to his friends, maybe with some story about how Dean looked too much like someone he'd gone to high school with, or even looked up close exactly like his older brother if he wanted to go that route. Or, if Dean was very lucky, Sam would be willing to play along and come back with him and maybe...

"So," Sam drawled at length, tilting his body to incline towards Dean as he leaned on the bar. "If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"

Oh, yeah!

"All night long, baby boy," Dean promised and downed the rest of the bourbon in a single gulp.

"Yeah?" Sam licked his lips, trying to look unimpressed as Dean dropped a twenty on the bar. "Gonna tell me not to worry, he's sleeping, for old time's sake?" Which, okay, ouch, point taken. And yet....

"Aw, Sammy," Dean murmured in his ear as he draped an arm around his little brother's shoulders to guide him out of the bar. "If you manage to sleep through this, then I ain't doing it right~!"

=End=

#rk writes #supernatural fic #sam winchester #dean winchester #wincest #stanford era #meet cute in a bar #at least dean thinks he's cute

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achaotichuman · 3 months

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Part 5 you filthy animal Tamlin knew that he should be terrified right now. He was naked, tied up by his own guts, slowly bleeding into the ground and utterly helpless before two mighty winged beasts. But perhaps he had no fear in him left to feel. What was there to be afraid of? No matter what move he made, every choice led to his death. If he was going to die no matter what, he wanted to be thinking of pleasure, not pain. Two sets of eyes, one golden and one brown, narrowed at him, as if sensing that utter yielding of Tamlin to his desire for both of them. The dragon snorted softly, red-orange sparks dancing between the steam that flowed out. The owl merely hooted gracefully and turned to the dragon as if asking for permission. The dragon bowed his head, and Tamlin held his breath as Elain approached him in her beast form and gently nudged his neck with the soft feathers on her head. Tamlin purred, unable to help himself, and Lucien blew out a jet of stream straight at his mouth. "Mmph!" Tamlin found his mouth gagged by a rope of fire. It stung just enough that Tamlin's eyes watered and he wanted more. Tamlin stared directly at Lucien, expecting him to come closer now, but Lucien merely stared Tamlin down. What are you thinking? Tamlin wondered as he stared at the fearsome creature. It soon became clear as the dragon's golden spikes approached Tamlin and began to glide across his body. Every nerve ending in Tamlin's body stood up, and he writhed and moaned so loudly even the gag could not contain it. Instantly, those spikes suck into Tamlin's flesh. Tamlin gasped- or tried to- as he felt the spines penetrate his shoulder, his rips, his upper thigh. A soft growl of warning sent a blast of heat straight at his face as a ring of fire surrounded him. If he writhed a little too much, he'd get burned. Finally, Lucien came closer. His eyes pinned Tamlin's to the spot as the claws on his hands raked down his body. Tamlin shuddered then winced where one of his feet had kicked out into the fire. Tamlin fluttered his lashes, trying to ask for permission to speak. Thankfully, Lucien understood and undid the gag. "Please, Master," Tamlin gasped as the dragon's sharp teeth clamped over his chest, "I need you inside of me." A puff of breath that sounded like a laugh blew over Tamlin's pecs, and the fire parted ever so slightly as Elain caressed Tamlin all the way down his body with her impossibly soft wings. Then she trailed back up his legs and began stroking his dick with her feathers again and again. Tamlin gritted his teeth in the effort it took to stay still, compounded when Lucien joined in with one of his claws. "Please," he groaned. Then all of a sudden it all stopped. The dragon put one hand on the owl and she stopped caressing him immediately. Tamlin felt cold without the touch of the mighty beasts. In a flash of light, Lucien shapeshifted into his human form, Elain doing the same beside him. "Who do you want, Tamlin?" Lucien asked. Tamlin gulped. This felt like a trick question. "Both of you. Either of you." Lucien smiled. "I know. But which one of us would you prefer?" Tamlin knew it was a dangerous question to answer, so he kept his mouth shut. But then Lucien was there, hands above and below his lips, prying his mouth open. He snarled right into his mouth, "Answer me." And Tamlin could not avoid the High Lord's command in his voice as he answered, "You, Lucien." Lucien stepped back. "I thought so." He turned to Elain, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek. "Go and take him, darling. I'll watch." Tamlin wasn't sure he was going to survive Lucien watching him fuck someone else but he had no choice as Elain stood before him, her doe eyes the center of his vision. "Begin."

Lol Tamlin is so desperate omg I love him. Lucien being called master is entirely too hot. I love this.

MAKE ME MORE PLEEEEEEEAAASSSEEEE.

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