#i may not have blades but i sure as shit have nails and i know what i can do with those

[vielle-art]

my brain is so fucking broken. this job is making me want to physically destroy myself.

im just not mentally well rn.

#text posting #delete later #venting #just struggling with my mental health #working 44 hours a week #plus working 30+ hours a week on art #plus streaming #plus trying to keep a clean house and take care of myself and maintain friendships and have a sexdrive and - and- and- #tw: sh mention #i know its bad when i want to carve myself open #i may not have blades but i sure as shit have nails and i know what i can do with those #in reality tho no one cares #they know i wont kms so they just.. do nothing #and i fester like a disease. like a cancer.

[easy-there-leftovers]

“While I hope that isn’t your intention, staring any harder at the fire won’t make it any stronger. No matter how accomplished you may be.”

You feel the muscles in your brows relax in the dark of the night. Interesting, that. Considering how you don’t recall them furrowing so tightly in the first place.

Hearing the scratch of shoes against stone, you feel him make himself more apparent, as he always did. Moving to stand beside you. Not resting his eyes upon your visage just yet. Choosing to study the dying embers you must have been glaring at in front of you.

He takes quite an awful amount of time in doing so, too. Whatever thought you might have been thinking about long gone from your grasp as his presence unnerves you.

You feel your hands clenching and unclenching to alleviate yourself.

Yet the very air around him still makes your head swim, and your blood boil.

He takes a deep breath, as if steeling his resolve, before turning to look at you.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Cut the shit, Dekarios. What do you want?”

He shudders at the use of his name, but raises his hand up in false surrender. Gesticulating with his arms and hands as much as he did when you last saw him this close up.

“I mean no harm, and I see no point in denying to remedy whatever rift may have come between us.” He motions to the both of you, as he speaks.

“Come now,” he moves to lessen your distance, but you only turn to keep facing the dying campfire as he continues.

“Surely whatever schoolyard taunts and transgressions exchanged aren’t worth jeopardizing our efforts in our search for a cure, hm?” There’s a hopeful lilt at the end in his voice. He looks almost sincerely apologetic as continues on. Words, lacking their usual garrulous nature, as if keeping things short and simple would appease you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was apologizing out of the goodness of his heart.

“And who told you to apologize this time? Was it our fiery friend, or ‘The Blade of Frontiers?’ Or perhaps even our closest confidante; Astarion?” He raises a finger up with a confused expression to counter, but you beat him to it.

“With all due respect, Mr. Dekarios, we can go on our merry little way without discussing this.” You still refuse to look at him as you settle on admiring your nails for a change of scenery.

“Perhaps we’ll find some other fortune altogether and be rid of our parasites in the mornings that follow! And our little truce will matter not once we part ways and we both return to where we belong.” You finally move towards your tent to close your conversation, but Gale seems to ignore the implication as he follows you.

“You can finally return home to your beloved tower in Waterdeep, and I will be happily rotting in my little hovel.” You make one final tilt of the head to look at him, as if turning your whole body would be too much of an effort or grace to bestow upon him.

“Good night, sir Archmage.” You huff out as you disappear into the flaps of your tent without even letting your old classmate a chance to retaliate.

He stares incredulously at the still swishing material of your sanctuary. He releases a heavy sigh that built up in him and walked back to his own space in the camp to stew in his thoughts.

His eyes catching on the spyglass that he set up right outside his tent with disappointment.

If things had gone pleasantly, he would’ve asked you to observe the stars with him, as they were clearer to see from here than in Baldur’s Gate.

He distantly recalls you wanting for one during your academy days as the view from your little hovel, as he once called it, was rather murky. What with all the factories in the area.

He takes one last look at your tent from his and shakes his head.

It eludes him why you’re so hostile around him.

And even more so when you’re nowhere near this way around the others. He figured you two would be closer, given your shared interests and trade.

Hells, he even admired you all those years ago. Watching you accomplish so much, despite many difficulties. He wonders if you’ve ever respected him in the same way.

He sees Wyll looking at him, and he shakes his head to tell him that he doesn’t feel like talking. Entering his own tent to turn in for the night.

Hoping for any good that the gods can afford them come first light.

#bg3 x reader #I’m clearly not meant to write anymore #but I needed something like this out there at least #somebody please do a better job than me #gale dekarios x reader #bg3 #Gale x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep #Gale dekarios #gale bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 gale x tav #bg3 gale x reader #wizard rivalry? #wizard shit or something

[chococolte]

PLEASE AM BEGGING, HOW WOULD , ZHONGLI, CHILDE, AND HEIZOU 'PROVE THEMSELVES' TO THE CREATOR READER, LIKE WHAT EXACTLY, WOULD THEY GO ON A FULL FLEDGED KILLING SPREE IN THE NAME OF THE CREATOR OR ARE THEY MORE DOCILE AND VANILLA???

U could add characters u might want to write for, but these aee ones u said u have a brain rot for sooo..

Thanks! <3

word count. 1.1k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious & cult themes, sagau + cult au shit, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. man im such a slow writer ☠️ apologies zhongli's is longer than the rest, also im sorry if this isn't exactly what u wanted 😭

zhongli

Zhongli is old, strong like tempered glass. He has endured like the earth; only time has weathered his jagged cliffs and jeweled karsts. He has been strong in preparation of you, holding on when so many times he has wanted to let go.

All he wants now is to serve you. That is his final request, his only demand of you. Just let him take care of you as you are now in your mortal form, until you take to the skies and ascend past what is known. Zhongli desires to worship you at your feet, where he has only imagined himself before. To kneel before you and finally let go of his worldly responsibilities is his only wish.

That you may question his devotion to you is terrifying. All he can do to stop himself from begging at your feet to please let him stay is to dig his nails into the palms of his hands, to assure himself that you must know how much he loves you. How many years he spent worshiping you from afar, how happy he was to feel the light of your control, how euphoric it was to finally see you.

The real you. The one that lived and breathed, the one that laughed and cried. Zhongli imagined the moment so many times until it was ingrained into his head, but it didn't stop him from shaking upon making eye contact. Surely, you know how long he waited for that moment?

That you may doubt him— the mere thought of it sends him into a frenzy, so unlike him. Your thoughts, your perception, your impression of him; your opinion is holy, sacred. If you think he isn't enough, that he's lacking in some form, then he is. Even if he doesn't know why, even if he's never felt so sick before, he will do everything in his power to prove himself to you. If you find him unsatisfactory, or inadequate— he must find whatever part of him you dislike and cut it off.

You don't like the way he brews tea, perhaps? That's understandable. You're his God, after all, and your palate must be refined. His lowly tea leaves could never please you. There has to be a replacement, however? Something you enjoy. Just tell him the name, and he'll go fetch it for you.

Is it his form that you find distasteful? The way he ties his hair, his attire— did you prefer his half-adeptus form, perhaps? He'll happily revert back to it, if you'd like. Do you like women more? That's fine. It's not difficult for him to change his body to fit your preferences.

Did you dislike that he faked his death? If it's your desire, Zhongli will gladly take back the mantle of Geo Archon. His wants are nothing. If you will it so, then so it will be. Rule beside him if you'd like; use him as a puppet ruler, a toy. Your plaything. Whatever you want.

It doesn't matter who he has to hurt, what extent he has to reach. Whatever you ask of him, he will follow without question. He will pick up his blade, sully himself even further; become unrecognizable to anyone but himself.

If he must burn down all of Liyue, so be it. To fall in line beneath your command is his greatest desire.

childe

Childe feels like throwing up.

It doesn't cross his mind that maybe you're the one who's forsaken him. No, he's the one who failed you. He disappointed you in some way, made you upset with him. You don't want him anymore— but that's okay. He just has to work harder, then. He'll push himself until he's weak and withered, until he can finally feel the weight of your gaze again. Until he's worthy enough to bear it.

You are everything. The dazzling stars that flare in the night sky, the whispers of morning dew that brush against his legs. You are his first and final breath, encompassing and overwhelming. To Childe, you are a fire that burns eternally; in the frigid north of Snezhnaya, you are the only source of warmth.

Without you, he is nothing. Childe will go to any lengths to assure his spot by your side. He'll burn any bridges, destroy whatever stands in his way. The Tsarista may have given him purpose, but you gave him life. If it was you who asked, Childe would happily throw his loyalty to the side. Nobody else matters. Nothing else matters. The mere thought of you discarding him is enough to make him sick.

How many have killed for you, like he has? How many have stained their hands until the blood is skin deep, in their vessels and veins? Childe has done so much for you. He's killed so many— soiled his soul, all in your name. Perhaps he should find such an idea distasteful, but he can't find it in him. This is what he has to do to prove himself. To make sure you know he is worthy enough.

Whoever it is he has to kill, whatever beast he has to slay— if you want him to kneel before you and beg on all fours like a dog, he will. If you want him to hurt himself, he will.

Whatever you want. Just don't throw him away.

heizou

Heizou, ever since he has learned of you, has devoted his life to you.

You are the ultimate justice in this world. The only good that exists. You burn away all evil. You share his ideals, his hope for the future. It's only right that he worships you, that he kneel before your light.

It's for this reason that he panics like no other when turned away. You want proof of his devotion? For him to prove himself worthy? So be it. Regardless of the sick feeling in his stomach, of the panic and dread that settles at the bottom of his soul, Heizou will push himself into the deep end.

He will forgo any sense of self that he has. Whatever self-worth he harbors is thrown to the side, desolate and forgotten. None of it matters anymore. You've thrown him away, and he must prove that he's worth to keep.

To become justice, to eradicate all evil: his tenets of self, what drove him forward. Heizou can't find it in himself to care anymore, not like he used to. He'll dirty himself until he's wrapped in sin, suffocating in its abyss, until you reach for him again and heal him of his wickedness.

Heizou will dirty his hands with blood, of the vile and the innocent. Mortality no longer matters, it does not serve a purpose in his actions. It is only whether this is enough for you— it is, isn't it?

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #yandere genshin #self aware genshin #sagau #yandere sagau #yandere zhongli #yandere childe #yandere heizou #sagau zhongli #sagau childe #sagau heizou #yandere male #yandere genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere x reader #genshin self aware #self aware zhongli #self aware childe #genshin sagau #gender neutral reader

[yazthebookish]

Chapter 23, 24 and 25

(Aka the "holy shit" and "lore galore" chapters)

A sarcophagus made of clear quartz lay in the center of the space. And inside it, preserved in eternal youth and beauty, lay a dark-haired female.

What in the Snow White...

That here, literally right under them, slumbering in that forgotten coffin … Here lay the evil beneath.

Oh shit.

“What have you done?” Azriel rasped, and Bryce twisted to find him on his feet, wings tucked in, Nesta leaning against him as if wounded, Ataraxia dangling from her grip. The male now held the Starsword at the ready, Truth-Teller gripped in his other hand.

He must have had some sort of Starborn blood in him, then—a distant ancestor, maybe. Or maybe his possession of the knife somehow allowed him to also bear the Starsword.

Hnnnnnnnnghhhhhh!!!!!!! Theories swirling right now!!!!!

“I am your god. I am your master. Do you not know me?”

The female’s nails gouged deep lines into the crystal, but the lid held. She searched beyond Bryce, her gaze falling upon Azriel. Her lips curled. “A foot soldier. Excellent. Kill this insolent female and free me.” She pointed to Bryce.

Azriel didn’t move. The caged female hissed, “Kneel, soldier. Make the Tithe so I may regain my strength and leave this cage.”

Oh?

“The female in the sarcophagus was an Asteri.”

Screeching.

The Asteri’s blue eyes lowered to the dagger. “You dare draw a weapon before me? Against those who crafted you, soldier, from night and pain?”

“You are no creator of mine,” Azriel said coldly. The Starsword gleamed in his other hand. If they bothered him, if they called to him, he didn’t let on. Neither hand so much as twitched.

Az is about to find out the Illyrians were the Daglan's creation!!!

The Asteri’s eyes flared with recognition at the long blade. “Did Fionn send you, then? To slay me in my sleep? Or was it that traitor Enalius? I see that you bear his dagger—as his emissary? Or his assassin?”

The words must have meant something to Azriel. The warrior let out a small noise of shock.

TRUTH-TELLER IS ENALIUS'S KNIFE!!! FIONN'S FRIEND!!! Oh this is delightful. What a lore feast!!! Az owns the knife of the first Illyrian!! Let's fucking go!!!

“You may call me Vesperus.” The creature’s eyes glowed with irritation.

She threw a tantrum about the other Asteri being called the Evening Star when she was one Lol.

“We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.”

Solas. “So destroy the Cauldron …”

“And you destroy this world. One cannot exist without the other.”

Behind them, Nesta sucked in a sharp breath. But Bryce said, “You gave this world a kill switch.”

“We gave many worlds … kill switches. To protect our interests.” She said it with such calm, such surety.

So basically the Cauldron is a nuclear button. The Daglan made sure Prythian's existence hinges on the Cauldron. I mean we knew as much in ACOWAR but it's always interesting when we get more history on why. The Cauldron is an entity but the higher divine being is the Mother/Urd.

Vesperus took another step, steadier now, and smiled past Bryce. At Azriel, at Truth-Teller. “You don’t know how to use it, do you?”

Azriel pointed the dagger toward the advancing Asteri. “Pretty sure this end’s the one that’ll go through your gut.”

Vesperus chuckled, her dark hair swaying with each inching step closer. “Typical of your kind. You want to play with our weapons, but have no concept of their true abilities. Your mind couldn’t hold all the possibilities at once.”

Azriel snarled softly, wings flaring, “Try me.”

Vesperus took one more step, now barely a foot from Bryce. “I can smell it—how much of what we created here went unused. Ignorant fools.”

What more can Truth-teller do...?

Vesperus backed up a half step, hissing at the gleaming weapon. “We hid pockets of our power throughout the lands, in case the vermin should cause … problems. It seems our wisdom did not fail us.”

“There are no such places,” Azriel countered coldly.

“Are there not?” Vesperus grinned broadly, showing all of her too-white teeth. “Have you looked beneath every sacred mountain? At their very roots? The magic draws all sorts of creatures. I can sense them even now, slithering about, gnawing on the magic. My magic. They’re as much vermin as the rest of you.”

YO RAMIEL IS THE ONLY UNEXPLORED ONE!! I'm kicking my feet right now!!!

“There are certain places, girl, that are better suited to hold power than others. Places where the veil between worlds is thin, and magic naturally abounds. Our light thrives in such environments, sustained by the regenerative magic of the land.” She gestured around them. “This island is a thin place—the mists around it declare it so.”

A veil between worlds. Oh, this crossover is going to have some implications on ACOTAR5.

The sacred mountains have a core of firstlight under them...

Nesta had plunged Ataraxia right through Vesperus’s chest.

NESTA 👏🏼 FUCKING 👏🏼 ARCHERON 👏🏼

#hofas spoilers #yaz reads hofas

[4wkjun]

daddy sim | sjy

Chapter 2: I kissed you first ➥ Contains: suggestive talk, fluff, swearing. ➥ Word count: 3,3k.

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

April 23rd, 2022 Saturday

Jake couldn’t be happier. A little scared, but happy. Your lips felt so soft against his, not to mention your hot tongue brushing deliciously against his! He almost fell off the stool when you pulled him closer by the nape of his neck, your fingers intertwined between his soft, recently cut hair.

“I like your hair longer”, you whispered against his lips for a brief moment.

Jake’s cheeks were a soft pink while he looked into your eyes, his pupils dilated as if he just got high from your taste.

“Huh?”

“Your hair”, you repeated, carefully pulling his short strands. “I like it better when you let it grow out.”

“I’ll let it grow, then”, he whispered back with a smile. “So you’ll have something to pull on”, he said directly into your ear.

You whimpered, the alcohol running free inside your veins. No, wait. Jake was running free inside of your veins. You kept your desire to kiss Jake’s plump lips to yourself for this whole year, afraid he’d brush you off by saying he’s into guys.

You wanted to laugh to yourself. You were so used to guys treating you like shit that you just assumed Jake was either gay or just really friendly.

Jake got up off his stool, adjusting his body between your legs. Your hands ran across his neck towards his shoulder blades, your nails slightly digging along.

“God, I’ve been waiting for this for the longest time”, Jake groaned before kissing your lips again.

He tried his best to be self-conscious and keep in mind all of your friends — and all of Jay’s, people you didn’t even know! — were around, avoiding a boner from popping out just from kissing you restlessly. You didn’t care, though. The alcohol made you ridiculously horny, you could ride Jake right there and then.

“What the fuck?”, Yunjin yelled a little too close.

Your girls realized you were taking too long while “talking” to Jake. They got worried you may be arguing and decided to look after you, worried they’d find you upset in a corner. You were not upset.

Jake suddenly pulled away from you, startled. His eyes got big while staring at Yunjin and Chaewon, both soaking wet and forming a little pool beneath them. They both looked ridiculously shocked, their mouths hanging open.

“Girl, let’s go back”, Chaewon laughed, pulling Yunjin by her arm.

“What?”, Yunjin squeaked - literally, like one of those dog’s toys -, her eyes still wide while she got rid of Chaewon’s grip.

Jake chuckled, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. You only laughed and leaned your head against Jake’s clothed chest.

“Let’s go!”, Chaewon mumbled between her teeth, pulling Yunjin again.

Yunjin left in complete shock, looking back at every three steps she took.

“Maybe we should come back to the pool, hm?”, Jake said under a shaky laugh. He suddenly felt nervous. Not only he was making out with his (drunk) roommate, but he also got caught.

“Are you coming inside?”

“What?”, he asked after awkwardly clearing his throat. You laughed.

“The pool.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure!”, he said in a high-pitched voice. You laughed, intertwining your fingertips in his.

Jake couldn’t understand how he walked you to the barbecue area with his heart in his hand and now he was leaving the same area intoxicated by you. Is this some sort of sick dream?

April 24th, 2022 Sunday

You woke up on the couch, your back flat against something. No, not something. Someone. Jake. You let out a groan as you opened your eyes, the room being way too bright for your hungover head.

Enjoying Jake’s body’s warmth, you closed your eyes again and leaned further against his body. You wished you were the kind of drunk who forgot everything you did while hammered, but you didn’t. You remember every single stupid thing you said and did, including kissing Jake. Well, kissing Jake wasn’t stupid... Right?

You turned around to face him and buried your face in the crook of his neck, feeling his — now a lot less intense — cologne filling your nostrils. Your head hurt a little harder by the scent, but you didn’t care.

For some reason, you became ridiculously rational. You really liked Jake — not in a romantic way, but you were attracted to him to say the very least —, you knew what kind of guy he was and everyone already judged the two of you for living together and not being a couple. So now, you had two possibilities in front of you: either he’d wake up and regret everything or he’d wake up and you’d try to make it work. Your heart deserved some calm and healing love like Jake’s.

You spent a while there, your eyes closed and arm tossed around his waist, just enjoying the peace you were feeling. Jake started to shift under your touch and let a deep sigh out, signing he was awake. His hand found its way to your head and he caressed your — a little tangled — hair.

“Morning”, you whispered. Jake jolted in place, surprised by the sound of your voice.

“Jesus, you scared me”, he chuckled. “Good morning, y/n. Comfy in there?”

You nodded, snuggling against his skin.

“Wanna talk?”

“About what?”, you mumbled, your voice still a little hoarse.

“About... What happened?”, he said funny. You chuckled.

“I don’t regret kissing you if you’re wandering”, you said, a little embarrassed. Things were easier to speak while the alcohol was in command. “... And I hope you don’t either”, you whispered feeling your ears hot.

Jake laughed, not believing the words falling out of your mouth.

“Are you kidding me? I’m in love with you for the longest time, y/n. I was scared, waiting for you to kick me out of here”, he laughed.

“Jakey...”, you groaned. “I don’t think I ever allowed myself to like you that way”, you admitted. “You don’t have to do anything with me if that’s gonna hurt you, you know?”

Before answering, Jake hugged you closer, his nose now touching your scalp.

“I don’t mind. I can lure you in, you know?”, he said, joking.

You laughed, caressing his back.

“Lure me in?”

“Oh, yeah. You’re not gonna be able to get rid of me, honey.”

The both of you laughed, way too lazy and hungover to get up. You stayed that way for a little longer, enjoying the moment. Hopefully, none of you would leave this apartment hurt.

May 2nd, 2022 Monday

It’s been a week since you and Jake started “dating”. Between these awful commas, because nothing has officially been said, you’re just acting like a couple. And honestly, things are great that way for the both of you.

The two of you walked inside of the campus holding hands, talking about the last episode of the drama you were watching together. Jake made sure to drop you in front of you in front of the building of your class, saying goodbye with a soft peck on the lips.

You walked inside of the building fanning yourself with your hand, feeling the thin layer of sweat forming on your forehead. The spring wouldn’t be over for another 20 days, but it was already getting unbearably hot.

“Good morning, Wonnie”, you greeted while sitting next to Chaewon. You grabbed your coat from the inside of your purse, getting ready for your class.

“Good morning, Mrs. Sim”, she mocked. You rolled your eyes, looking around to check if Jay was entering the classroom.

“Stop being ridiculous”, you groaned. “We’re just... hanging out.”

“Yeah, sure. You two live together, I bet you’re fucking on top of every surface of that tiny apartment.”

You pouted, feeling your cheeks hot.

“We’re not. We haven’t done anything but kiss so far, I’m afraid it’ll hurt him”, you shrugged.

“Wow, your dick must be huge”, Chaewon joked. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head.

“I mean it! I want our first time to be special...”

“But?”

“But it’s so hard sometimes”, you sighed. “It’s hard to be a lady around him.”

Chaewon laughed, messing up your hair with the palm of her hand. You groaned, taking her hand away from your scalp.

“Stop it, it’ll be oily!”

She laughed again, staring at you a little more softly.

“I hope things work out between the two of you. You’ll be a cute couple.”

“I know, right?”, you said like a teenager, getting a loud laugh out of her. “Just... keep things down around Jay. I think it’ll be weird if things don’t work out between me and Jake and he finds out.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say a thing”, Chaewon whispered stretching her pinky out. You never break a pinky promise, right?

May 6th, 2022 Friday

“I’m taking you out after class”, Jake said as soon as he stopped in front of your building’s entrance.

“Today?”

“Yep”, he smiled. “I’m gonna take you on a real date, what do you say?”

You stood up on the first of the three small steps of the entrance, being now almost Jake’s height. His hand never left yours, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“I don’t think I deserve you, Jaeyunnie”, you said tilting your head.

He typically scrunched his nose, never truly used by people calling him Jaeyun. However, he smiled big before letting go of your hand to hold your face. Both of his hands felt warm against your cheeks, making you pout a little. He placed a soft peck on your lips before letting go of your face.

“I don’t deserve you, silly.”

“Shh, stop being cute and walk away”, you joked. Jake laughed, but obeyed, walking towards the building next door. You turned away, ready to get inside of your building.

Until a hand grabbed your arm. You jolted in place, surprised. Your eyes only got back to their original size when you turned around and found Jay standing right there.

“Jay, what the fuck?”, you exclaimed dramatically, putting your hand on your chest to feel your heart - obviously racing.

“When were you gonna tell me things worked out between the two of you?”, he asked, almost offended.

“What?”

“You and Jake”, he said as if it was obvious. Well, it was.

“Oh...”

“Oh...”, he mocked. “I thought you trusted me!”

“And I do”, you answered exasperated. “I just didn’t want you to think less of me if things didn’t work out!”

“What do you mean if they don’t work out? Did you just miss the whole love session out there?”

You pouted.

“We’re not really dating, Jay... We’re kinda trying to see how things work out...”, you shrugged.

“Ok, you don’t need to explain things to me, silly. We’ve been friends for almost six years, don’t you know I’ll judge you even if you’re doing the right thing?”, he said in a fake expression of love.

You rolled your eyes and punched his shoulder before turning around and walking away. Jay let out a mix of moan and laugh, chasing you.

“Wait for me!”

You felt anxious when the bell rang and determined the class was over. That meant you were gonna go out with Jake for the very first time — as a real date.

You waited for him in front of your building, smiling big when his face showed up in the middle of that many people. You had to bribe your friends so they wouldn’t wait for Jake with you and make a cheesy BGM for the two of you.

“Hi, beautiful”, he greeted.

“Hi, handsome”, you greeted funnily. Jake laughed before pecking your lips. It’s been just a couple of weeks — in reality, not even two weeks yet —, but he felt so addicted to your lips... The poor guy couldn’t get enough.

“Ready for our date?”, he smiled. You nodded, smiling back.

Jake took you out of the campus by holding your waist next to him. He told you about the living hell his last class was and his heart felt full when you laughed adorably at his infamous joke. He guided you through the streets next to the campus, only to find a cozy little restaurant around the corner.

“I have never seen this place before, can you believe it?”, you told him as he held the door open for you. Jake laughed, nodding.

“I can, actually. It used to be a clothing store, the owners sold the place around a year ago. I loved that store, so I decided to give the new owners a try”, Jake explained in a quiet tone while the two of you found your way to a table. “I came here with Jay a couple of times and he agreed it’d be nice to bring you here.”

“You told Jay we’re hanging out?”, you ask softly. You didn’t want Jake to think you were embarrassed of him. Thankfully, he knew you weren’t.

“He’s the reason I kissed you at his party, dummy”, he responded with a playful expression. You laughed, shaking your head. Jake pulled the chair for you and your heart skipped a beat.

“Technically, I kissed you first”, you corrected.

“Only because you backed off the first time”, he responded rolling his eyes. Jake sat across from you with a smile hanging on his lips.

The waiter wasted no time and offered the “nice couple” the menu. It took you a while to decide what to eat, but you were happy with your decision. You chose pasta with wagyu beef, something that reminded you of your childhood — but a lot tastier than your childhood memories.

Your lunch was filled with soft laughs and hand-caressing over the table. It felt way too soon for you to admit something out loud, but your heart was already melting because of Jake.

The two of you had an “argument” about who would pay for lunch — and you lost, because Jake is a real gentleman and wouldn’t let his girl pay for anything! — before walking out of the lovely restaurant and taking a walk down the Han River. You wanted to make a joke about how cliché your first date was, but it felt so perfect that you didn’t have the heart to make fun of it.

Jake seemed upset as the time went by because the two of you only had two hours to spare before going to work. You found a part-time job as a barista in a small coffee shop downtown right after getting into college and stayed there ever since. Jake, on the other hand, jumped from part-time jobs before actually getting hired as a high school physics teacher. He’d only teach during the afternoon, which was a lot more tiring than it sounded. He dropped you off at your job before sadly walking to his.

You got home almost seven p.m. that night. You were so tired, your feet were killing you. For most of the days, things were pretty chill at the coffee shop, but not today. You couldn’t take your break and got home starving, almost chewing your nails on the way back home.

However, your face changed from grumpy to happy as you walked into your shared apartment and found Jake shirtless — as usual — while cooking you dinner. Well, cooking sounded a little odd, since Jake could only cook rice, but he was passionately filling some homemade pizza before shoving it into the oven.

“Hi, babe”, you said while tossing your shoes off your feet. Jake looked at you through the tiny kitchen. Usually, the disposition of your apartment bothered you, because it felt weird to be able to look at the whole kitchen from the hall. But now, looking at Jake cutely cooking for you, it didn’t bother you at all.

“Hi, pretty”, he smiled. He wasn’t gonna say anything, but his heart skipped a beat since you called him babe. “How was work?”

“Tiring”, you sighed. “Whatcha cooking?”, you asked funnily. Jake laughed, showing you the spread dough on the counter.

“Hope you’re craving some pizza, ‘cause that’s what you’re having for dinner”, he said with a big smile. You chuckled and nodded before walking towards him.

You hugged Jake from behind, your hands loose around his waist. Even though you started to “try things out” only a couple of weeks ago, you’ve always been caring towards Jake, but now everything seemed a lot more intense to him. Ah, such a sucker for you.

“It smells good”, you mumbled with your eyes closed.

“It’s not even in the oven yet”, Jake laughed.

“I mean you”, you chuckled. Jake smelled like fresh soap, even though you knew he would probably shower just before going to bed. He felt his cheeks burn as he scoffed.

“You tryin’ to seduce me?”, he asked, masking his amusement behind his humor.

“Depends, is it working?”, you whispered behind his back.

“Unfortunately, yeah”, he sighed. You laughed.

“I’mma take a shower, is that ok with you?”, you asked, letting go of him.

Jake held the urge to say “Only if you let me join”.

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead, pretty.”

“‘Kay.”

You walked out of the shower around ten minutes later, wearing your version of pajamas: some wide cotton shorts and a random t-shirt you found in your closet. Your hair was damp, freshly washed and detangled, the scent of your shampoo intoxicating the room.

Jake was sitting on the couch, scrolling through TikTok while waiting for the pizza to bake. You sat next to him, making him drop his phone and look at you. His hands reached for your legs, bringing them to top his as he massaged your calves. You hummed, closing your eyes and leaning against his shoulder.

“This feels good?”, he asked in a whisper. Something about his tone made your stomach turn, so close to being turned on.

“Yeah”, you whispered back. “You’re good with your hands”, you said after a while of silence, reuniting your courage to say something like that.

Jake laughed and clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but I’m better with my mouth”, he whispered back.

Your breath got heavier as you lifted your head to face him. His eyes were always almost completely black when he looked at you, his pupils dilated in adoration. Now, however, they were dilated because he desired you so badly.

“Who said so?”, you asked in a shaky breath, trying to sound funny. You failed, only sounding like a psycho girlfriend. Jake laughed, amused to know he could make you swing over your mood.

“I heard it once... But you can always try and tell me differently”, he mumbled before holding your jaw in place. You suppressed a moan when Jake’s lips found yours with eagerness, something that you were about to get used to. You get around to doing something so many times but never finish it.

Your hand squished his on your jaw as his mouth found a different patch. Instead of simply kissing your mouth, Jake’s lips decided to kiss your jawline and neck, inhaling your scent.

“God, Jake...”, you sighed. “It’s so hard to keep my cool when you do this.”

“Then don’t keep it, love”, he groaned before sucking your skin a little harshly.

“I... Don’t want you to regret it when we... You know”, you managed to speak weakly as his lips continued harassing your neck.

“Why would I?”, he asked genuinely, his lips now out of your skin. He looked at you seriously, waiting for your response.

“I don’t know”, you answer with a shrug.

“Are you gonna regret it?”, he asked, caressing your cheek with his thumb. His fingertip reached way too close to your bottom lip, making you anticipate his touch in that area.

“I’m gonna regret it if I don’t let you fuck me now”, you sighed before leaning in to kiss him again.

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

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#enhypen au #enhypen fanfic #jake au #jake sim x reader #jake fanfic #jake smau #enhypen smut #enhypen fanfiction #jake fluff

[ronearoundblindly]

A, K, & Z for my rare grimy man? 🥺

*While I have seen Snowpiercer a few times, I don't know the whole culture of the train thoroughly, so let's just say Curtis is A) really used to crowded spaces with no privacy, B) somewhere cold as hell, and C) still has very little, i.e. not a bunch of different clothes or idk soap and shit...

Prompts are from this dirty ask game, and they do get somewhat graphic (am I considered a hoe yet? i've written 18 of these suckers). MINORS DNI. You know I love you, you know I'll create content for you, but this isn't it! You want the Light Masterlist.

A - Alone Time

I believe Curtis's exact words would be "what fucking alone time?" but, sure, on the super rare occasion he gets to touch himself, here's how it goes.

He doesn't have access to porn. It's all imagination at this point.

His living space is so over-stuffed with people in bunks who, ya know, live their lives as best they can and so, yup, they have sex in those bunks and almost everyone can hear them. He can use those sounds in his imagination. Some are better than others.

What he imagines, though, is pure escapism.

He pictures someone soft and clean, they smell good, and they take all the time in the world just to look him in the eye when they touch him. There are no toys, just his own hands. He uses both. A recurring fantasy is (while he uses his weaker hand to jack off) teaching some innocent, sweet thing how to touch him. Gets him going, makes him a little wild to think about. Smidge of a corruption kink, this Curtis, but not in a mean way.

He wants someone all his own. Everything is shared and sparse here. He dreams of possessing someone, body and soul, because then they're his, unlike reality.

K - Kissing

Curtis may be desperate for some lovin' but he isn't a bully. This man hardly believes you're his, so he is completely adoring and slow. He wants to know what every possible way to touch you feels like. He holds your chin or cups your face to kiss you, softly, feather-light to start. You taste, smell, feel, and sound real; it's overwhelming and addictive.

He starts this slowly every single time you two kiss. Doesn't matter how nasty the fucking was the night before. Doesn't matter his mood. He really fucking likes these sweet, innocent kisses where you choose to go further, to pull him closer, to accept him into your body. Huge turn on for him.

(🥵 oh shit, I got myself, sweating now, give me a sec, yikes.)

There are some nights where those soft kisses are all he wants and needs in the world. Just the comfort and the escape of your little bubble of love is enough to soothe him to sleep, which is in and of itself a miracle. He's so tired of living on edge all the time...

Z - Zones

For warmth, as much of his (and your) body is covered at all times as much as possible. No one is naked during sex, not entirely. There aren't thick enough blankets to warrant that, and he's not going to lose a toe to frostbite simply to get his cock warmed. That's a bad trade-off. No deal.

Because of that, however, Curtis finds you touching those non-essential-to-sex-places highly erotic. There is no reason for you to have your bare hands way up by his shoulder blades. Sounds bizarre out of context, but he goes fucking berserk when you slither your grasp under his layers of shirts and dig your nails in just a bit. He loves that more than a goddamn blowjob, honestly.

Similarly, most of the back of him down to his thighs, at least half of his legs, and his feet have remained untouched by any human save himself since he was a kid. When his shitty, fourth-hand boots gave him horrible blisters, you scrounged up a bowl of warm water and washed his feet.

He fucking cried, and you thought it was because he was in pain. He's just never felt so loved and cared for in his miserable life. He still gets choked up thinking about that. He holds you that much tighter each time he remembers.

What areas does he love on you? Oh fuck, does he have to choose?

He can't possibly pick just one or two places. You're just all soft and all sensual. Nope, he can't pick favorites. He just can't. Although...one of your nipples seems more sensitive than the other, so maybe that? But he's not gonna give up any other bits! You can't make him. He will fucking fight for all of you.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Oh, hell, here comes another blorbo...

*faints*

#ro answers #dirty asks #ask game #curtis everett fanfiction #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett smut #curtis everett x you

[rainylana]

“You have no idea what that night did to me.”

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: eddie disappears for a while, and when he gets back, you loose your shit.

warnings: language, mentions of ptsd and trauma, anxiety, crying, panic attack, eddie being dumb af. angsty as hell but fluffy too lmao.

a/n: this is a part 2 of “Why the hell would you say something like that,” since you guys loved the last one so much, i wanted to give you all something else so you could satisfy and cope with the ending! thank you for the kind support:)

It took everyone a long time to put themselves back together, to get through the nightmares. They jumped at loud noises, had anxiety and panic attacks. But over time, things got better for everyone. Even you, in one way or another. Eddie knew how hard it was for you to work through everything, so he always tried to be cheery and lighthearted with you, which wasn’t hard. That was just him.

You’d wake up screaming from a nightmare, crying his name as he held you tightly, assuring you he was okay. At first, it really scared him, because he thought you’d never get over it. But like everyone else, it distilled slowly over time. There were some days where you just wanted to stay in and lay in bed with him, you even called off work sometimes. There were days where days where you felt nothing but dread and sorrow. You hid these things fairly well, but Eddie caught on pretty quick.

He couldn’t blame you, though, because he’d be the same way if it had been you. You didn’t want to be a clingy girlfriend, needy. You never really had been. But sometimes, you couldn’t help but follow him around, or wake up to check on his breathing. You were no better than a parent with a new born.

Eddie noticed how you had picked up some new anxiety traits. Biting your nails to the edge of your skin. He could even hear you in the middle of the night sometimes. You always splashed your face with cold water, sometimes at the most random at times. He was concerned, but again, things were getting better.

“So, what time do you think you’ll be home?” You asked over your shoulder, standing in front of a mirror as you braided your hair in pigtails.

“Uh- not really sure. Ten, Eleven, maybe. You know how those kiddo’s are. They love me!” Eddie said with a smirk, throwing on his jean jacket.

“And you? What do you have planned today?”

You licked your lips, glancing at his reflection as he hopped to sit on the counter. “Oh, I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I may just stay home.”

“What? No, babe, you should do something. It’s nice out!” He encouraged, flinging about his ringed hands. “Maybe go shopping with Robin?”

“Robin hates shopping, Ed’s.”

“Well, then, Nancy Drew.”

You chuckled as you tied off the braid, turning around with a smirk. “I suppose some new shoes would do you some good.” You looked down to his feet, cringing at the worn souls of his sneakers.

“Oh, jesus,” He rolled his eyes, hopping down. “I meant shopping for you, dufus. I don’t need new shoes, anyways. Just- go do something, okay? Don’t stay in cooped up all day.” He worried about you doing that, because he knew you tended to get worked up by yourself. Some days after work, he’d come home and instantly be able to tell how your day was. “Please?” He pouted just lip, lifting up your chin.

You smirked, curling your hand around his waist. “Fine.”

“Pretty please.”

“I said fine, Eddie.”

“Pretty, pretty please?”

You snorted into laughter, shoving his shoulder as he giggled playfully. “Shut up and get outta here, Munson. Dustin’s waiting.”

“Yeah, well, Dustin doesn’t have a hot girlfriend.” He snatched his keys off the dresser, sending you a wink. “Oh, and by the way, I love when you have your hair like that.”

You blushed as he wiggled his eyebrows seductively, and you made your way toward him. “Please, be careful tonight.” You wrapped your arms around him. “You said around eleven, right?”

“Around that time, yeah.” He hugged you back, his hands holding you against your shoulder blades. “I’ll be alright, don’t worry about me.”

That was impossible, and he knew it.

•

“I mean, it’s not like I can do anything, now. Jonathon’s back in town. Nancy she- I don’t know, do you think she still loves him?” Steve rambled on, mouth full of corn dog as his elbows rested on the picnic table.

“Have you asked her?” You sipped on your drink. You knew the answer was no. “You should, Steve. Just be honest with her.”

“I’m just-”

“Scared?” You finished for him. “I’m sure she is too, but I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She had feelings there.”

It was getting more and more potent within the friend group that Steve had developed feelings for Nancy again. It was pretty much all he talked about.

“You think so?” He wiped his mouth, his eyes full of that hopeful gleam.

You nodded. “I do. She gives you that same look Eddie gives me.” You said softly, smiling to yourself.

He smirked at you. You were both whipped. “Where is the dungeon master tonight?”

“With Dustin,” You sighed, glancing at the clock tower. “I think they were going to see a movie, I’m not sure.”

You were nervous at the fact you didn’t know for sure where he would be, that way, in case something happened, you’d know where he was. Still, you weren’t going to make him decide what he was doing just for the sake of your sanity. It was close to seven thirty, and your eyes glued on the town clock.

“I’m surprised you didn’t want to hang out with the girls.” He crumbled up his trash. “They were going to the pool. You like swimming, don’t you?”

“Not really.” You shrugged your shoulders, nibbling on a fry. “Feels like one big toilet bowl to me.”

You loved Robin and Nancy, but they were always looking for another mystery to solve. Hawkins was healed, believe it or not, but they were always on the move. They made a good team. But they made it difficult for you to move on from everything, and once after hanging out with them, you had a complete meltdown on the shower floor. Eddie kept asking if you were okay, due to your red eyes, but you said everything was fine. You felt like a big baby, a lot of the time.

And Steve knew why you usually chose him rather than the girls, but he never confronted you about it. It didn’t take a genius to guess. He smiled, standing up. “Well, I’m bored, so let’s go crash a wedding or something.”

You looked at the clock again, sighing as you stood.

•

You tried to focus on the tv in front of you, holding the glass of water in your hand as tightly as you could without breaking it. Your knee bounced anxiously, and your heart was beating steadily. It was fifteen passed eleven, and you sat in you and Eddie’s trailers, trying your hardest to not go insane.

Breathe, you told yourself. Just breath. You felt your stomach sink into that ball of stress you had grown familiar with, your eyes going back and forth between the clock.

But, Eddie hadn’t come home yet, and another hour had passed, bringing almost to twelve thirty. Your reassurance to yourself had done no good, because you were having a full blown panic attack. You paced back and forth, hand on your chest as you hyperventilated.

And you couldn’t stay there, so you flew down the highway in your busted up truck, headlights on bright as you searched for him. You had given Nancy and Robin a ring, and no word. You tried radioing Dustin, but all you got was static.

You even checked the theater parking lot for his vehicle, you even checked the bike racks for Dustin’s, but nothing. And then, by two thirty, you decided to go back to the trailer to check. You’d never been so happy to see his junky old truck, and you slammed on your brakes, putting it in park.

You slammed the truck door shut, running up the steps and opening the door. “Eddie?” You screamed. “Eddie, where- Eddie?”

You nearly fainted when he came running out of your bedroom, eyes widening when he saw you. “Y/n? Hey, what? What happened?”

You didn’t pay attention to the mirror, so you didn’t realize how terrible you looked. Your braids were frazzled, loose hair frizzy and curling around your face. Tears and mascara marked your face, eyes swollen and red, and you sniffled repeatedly to keep the mucus from running down your nostrils. “Are you okay?” You sobbed, running to him. You grabbed at his shoulders, his face. “God, Eddie- are you alright? Where have you been I’ve-”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” He rushed, your appearance scaring him. He grabbed at your biceps, looking over you. “Baby are you- are you hurt? What’s going on?”

“You,” You cried, whimpering as you wrapped your arms around him. His grip on you was deadly. “You said you were coming b-back earlier! What happened? Did something-”

“Sweetheart, I was with the guys,” He interrupted you, holding your shaking body. His anxiety was even spiking at your panic attack, because you were an absolute wreck. “We were at the school, just playing dnd, okay? Nothing happened, baby, I’m fine.” His goal with telling you this was to assure you everything was okay, that nothing bad happened, but it did not. Your cries stopped, and you opened your eyes as they narrowed.

You pulled away slightly, seeing his puppy dog eyes fill with love. “What?” You questioned, a tone of confusion in your voice.

“Yeah,” he nodded, cupping your cheek. “I was just playing dnd with the boys.”

Yeah, that’s what you thought he’d said. You pulled away immediately, your face dropping as your heart rate slowed. That paralyzing fear washed away, only being replaced with anger.

“Are you kidding me?” You breathed, your face shining with tears. He narrowed his eyes at your stance, his hellfire shirt damp from your tears.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “You do realize what time it is, right?” Your voice cracked angrily. “Eddie, it’s three o’clock in the morning!”

He shuffled awkwardly, not knowing how to take your sudden change of behavior. He swallowed uneasily. “Honey-”

“No!” You snapped. “Don’t you dare honey me, right now!” You pointed at him, your voice growing into shouts. “So you were there the whole time? Just playing that stupid game! The whole night! You knew I was sitting here waiting for you! You knew my eyes were glued to that stupid door for hours! I can’t- oh, my god, I can’t believe you!” You were absolutely seething with anger, and truth be told, you almost scared him, because he hadn’t ever seen you so mad.

He was beginning to realize just how badly you fucked up. He’d hurt you, badly. His face was in a mixture of shock and disbelief. “Fuck, I’m- I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how late it had gotten! We were having fun and I-”

“Fun?” You gritted your teeth, practically stomping your way toward him. “Well I wasn’t having fun! I was loosing my shit looking for you!”

His eyes narrowed. “Out looking-”

“Yes!” You nodded. “At the theater, the park! Your uncles! I called everybody trying to find you!”

His face, little by little, melted into the guiltiest you had ever seen, but for now, you didn’t care. You choked on a sob, shaking your head as you covered your face.

“Oh, god, y/n, I’m so sorry!” He began his apologizes, grabbing on to your shoulders. “Baby, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry!

He tried pulling your hands away, but you refused to pull them down. He cursed himself repeatedly. “Please, y/n, come on, look at me,”

The feeling of his hands were suffocating you, and your mind flashed images of that dreadful night in the upside down. You felt like passing out. You took a deep, shuttering breath. “Get off me!” You shoved his hands away, backing away and turning your back to him. You ran your hands through your hair, letting out a deep, whimpering sob that made him freeze in place.

Dear god, he’d messed up big time.

You hugged yourself, your heart breaking as you relieved everything. You couldn’t look at him right now, you didn’t want to be touched. You had to get ahold of yourself. You tuned him out as best as you could, his loud breathing being prominent in your ears. His fingers twitched at his sides to reach out to you, but you were flat out ignoring him. He gulped, not being able to look at anything but your shuttering shoulder blades.

It had been awhile since you had an ordeal like this, he’d forgotten how guilty it made him feel. This was worse, though, because he caused it, this time.

After a few moments, you had reached a more calm point, and you uncrossed your shaking arms. “I’m not- I’m not trying to be one of those c-clingy girlfriends, Eddie,” You began, turning around to face him. He frowned even more at your distress. “I don’t want to be needy or- or annoying, but- god, you’re making it really hard not to be!” You exasperated, biting your lip to keep from crying out.

You stood there and looked at him, while he looked at you. Both eyes were full of sorrow and guilt, trauma and grief. “You have no idea what that night did to me.” You said quietly, your voice shaky with cracked tears.

“I can still smell the blood,” You cringed. “It was- god, it was everywhere and I couldn’t get it to stop!” It was like you were speaking to yourself, like talking to a mirror. Eddie stood in front of you, his face masked into a heartbroken expression. You described the scene perfectly, but he couldn’t remember everything as clear as you did.

“Your screams,” Your lips pulled down, eyes bright. “I had never- never, I-” You choked on your whimpers. “I had never heard anything like that before, how much pain you were in. And the blood was everywhere, god it- I just couldn’t get it to stop!” You cried softly, holding your stomach.

You had never openly talked about that night like this, not in such detail. You were afraid too, you didn’t want to revisit it. Of course, Eddie always tried to get you to open up with him, but he didn’t want to push you. “You kept trying to talk but- you were in too much pain and your words they d-didn’t make any sense,” You moved your hands about, acting like a master of puppets.

“And Dustin,” You narrowed your eyes, looking at him. “You kept trying to tell him something. ‘Dustin make her’, you tried saying it over and over again, but you couldn’t get it out. What were you wanting to say? Did you want- you wanted him to make me leave you? Is that it? You wanted him to drag me away and just- fuck, just leave you there? What were you going to have him make me do?” You spat violently, standing just a few feet in front of him. He could barely make eye contact, trying to recall the words you were screaming.

“Answer me!” You shoved him, causing him to jump.

“I don’t remember.” He shook his head, voice quiet. It shamed him to say so. “Y/n, I’m sorry- I just, I don’t remember.”

And that was the entire point. He didn’t remember it. You brought your hands back down to your sides, taking a slow breath. “Yeah, you don’t remember it, but I do, Eddie.” Your anger had disappeared, and he watched as your face grew brighter with tears. “I remember it everyday.”

You looked down at his stomach, remembering the sickening wounds that nearly killed him. “I remember it when I sleep, and as- as soon as I wake up I even,” You cut off, scoffing in embarrassment, but you didn’t give a shit. “I even check if you’re still breathing.”

Then, when you looked back up to him, you noticed the tiny, shining gleam of unshed tears that lined his eyes. You didn’t say a word, your lips quivering as you shuttered with exhaustion.

“You can’t do that to me again, Eddie.” You said after a moment, watching as a tear glistened down his face. “You can’t- I can’t take it.”

He nodded quickly along with your words, his face evident in shame and sorrow. His fingers twitched your way. “Can I-” He whispered. “Can I touch you?”

It took you a moment, but you nodded, and he slowly, wrapped his arms around his torso. You both clung to each other so tightly, it nearly hurt.

“I’m sorry.” His voice broke, buried in your shoulder. “I am so, so sorry, Y/n.”

Your heart hurt at the sound, and you buried your face in his chest. “I love you so much.” You cried. “You don’t know how much.”

He pulled away, only to take your chin in his hand. He wiped away a tear. “I do.” And softly, he placed a kiss against your lips, and your tongue collided along with his.

Steve was right. You were both whipped.

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson one shot #stranger things #stranger things four #joseph quinn

[3d-wifey]

can i get a list of your favorite lines you've written for And they'd find us in a week?" (posted or otherwise)

You added in my dms that you meant my fav lines in each chapter and sure!!!! but it's gonna be longggg and it'll only get longer. I'll stick to posted chapters so I can avoid spoiling anything and add to this post as I post more chapters! Feel free to send in your own fav lines, I'd love to know!!!!

Chapter 1

 A few of these flowers are shipped to the Capitol to be used aesthetically, you’re sure. Such an odd thought knowing the rest are used here only for funerals.

Something neither of you had any real hope of happening, but you understood the gesture for what it was. He wanted you to bring him back to his family. So you protected it with your life, literally. And now he’s home.

A breeze comes through, shaking the leaves in the tree and cooling you from the humid heat. You like to think that it’s Cane’s way of thanking you for not forgetting him.

They mock your voice, clapping like you’re a dog that did a trick. You smile around the embarrassment. Maybe for your next act, you’ll play dead.

You remind yourself to make a conscious effort to bury the accent, sound a little more like them. The old you wouldn’t give a damn about how a Capitol perceives you, but the old you didn’t get pawed at nearly as much as you have tonight.

As a warning, you swung your scythe in wide arches, but he ran at you and the blade slit his stomach open. You think he did it on purpose, knowing how it would end for him. You put him out of his misery with his own knife. 

“Have you been having fun?” He picks, certainly nonexistent, lint off the shoulder of your dress. Is your eye twitching? It has to be. You want to place a hand on it to tamp down the spasms, but, instead, your nails dig into his shoulder through his suit jacket.

“What? Are you not enjoying your time in our great nation's capitol?” He deadpans. Your mouth tries to twitch into a smirk and you smother it down. 

You suppose no amount of muscle can combat an axe to the back of the spine. 

“Touché.” He concedes with a nod, his smile still in place. Or at least you think he does. You aren’t entirely sure what touché means.

"So, you do know who I am." His lips shift into a shit-eating grin, preening as if he caught you in a lie. He’s probably used to people fawning over him, and that’s something you’d never do. Be that as it may, you can acknowledge that there might be something worth fawning over. 

He tilts his head with contemplatively narrowed eyes. You narrow your eyes right back simply based on the fact that he did it first.

This, being with Finnick, is a breath of fresh air in comparison. He may not be Eleven or from any other district that’s similar to yours, but he is District. That’s gotta be worth something—some kind of kinship.

Chapter 2

You had tried to listen closely when he first started talking, but—well, okay, that’s a lie. Everything these Capitols say goes in one ear and out the other. Actually, it doesn’t even make it as far as the first ear.

“Finn!” Thank god. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” You exclaim in the most sickeningly saccharine Capitol voice you can muster. He stares with wide blue-green eyes, bemusedly mouthing ‘Finn?’ at you.

You only have a few seconds to wonder what the hell an eel is before Finnick takes your glass out of your hand and hands it over to the sputtering man.

That is a good question. One with an answer Finnick doesn’t want to look too closely at, though it might—scratch that, it definitely has something to do with your big watery eyes staring up at him ingenuously.

So maybe, he lets himself think, maybe you’re safe.

There's a small, prideful grin on your face that he doubts you even know is there. But he does. He is very aware of it.

You tilt your head, smiling up at him and his ears go warm. This is probably the fifth time he's talked to you and you've never smiled at him like that before.

You pout up at him and it’s the most unfair shit Finnick’s ever seen. Made even worse by the fact that you’re defending him. To himself.

Someone unburdened with the fact that Snow was right, they are more similar than he'd like to admit. Because Seeder may have a family that relies on her, but Finnick can't find it in himself to care. He'd put her in the arena himself if it meant your safety. 

Chapter 3

As you sit in front of President Snow, you can't help but be reminded of that coyote. 

There are dozens of white roses around you, tucked inside vases on any available surface. Almost innocent if not for their cloying scent. It gives you a headache. You’ve never seen so many roses outside of a funeral.

“I want to explain something to you, my dear, in a way you’ll understand. Imagine a wolf wanders onto your farm—you know what a wolf is, yes? This wolf hasn’t killed any of your cattle, but it has the potential to. Now, you could always get rid of the wolf, kill it, but that’s only a temporary solution. There will always be other wolves.” He scolds you as if you were the one to suggest it and not him. “Why go through the effort of killing it, when you can tame it—give the wolf a bone, so to speak. You earn its loyalty and it protects the cattle from other predators.” You aren’t sure you really follow what he’s trying to say. Are you the wolf? The cattle? You certainly don’t own the farm.

“I am in the business of making wolves happy. And something that'll make them very happy is you.”

You’d rather take your chances with the predators in the woods than the ones in the Capitol.

“Wolf, meet bone." 

He's going to whore you out to the highest bidder. No, he's giving your body away like a party favor. 

But they're just objects. The only thing that can hurt you here is Snow. 

What more does he want from you? He’s practically squeezing a stone, expecting blood, but can’t he see you have nothing left for him to take? But there’s something Snow knows that you haven’t considered. If you squeeze a rock hard enough, you get diamonds.

"What's got you pouting, beautiful?" He teases, approaching you with a good-natured smile. 

You’re so far from your natural habitat and there’s safety in numbers. Though, you guess you’ve never really left the forest, have you? The same rules apply in the Capitol as they do in the wilderness: blend into your surroundings and if a predator spots you, pray to God they lose interest.

You want to confide in him more than anything, but you need to be sure that Finnick won't trade your secret for another. 

You've talked to Finnick a handful of times and only had two meaningful conversations that didn't involve either of you flirting. By all means, you shouldn't trust him. But you do. You really do.

There are too many ears out there and the only people that walk down this hall are Avoxes. And it's not like they can tell anyone what they hear. 

“Snow…” You trail off, losing steam fast. Finnick stiffens, his grip on your shoulder as tight as a corpse’s.

“What did Snow do?”

"Finnick, are you...?" Your voice peters out lamely, unable to put words to what Snow is making you do, what you suspect he's been making Finnick do. 

"Only a select few in Snow's private circle could indulge in my services at first. But once I hit sixteen," he shrugs with a mean smile, "I was fair game." Of course. You had thought Finnick was handsome when he first won, in that passing way thirteen-year-olds often thought of others. Obviously, it was a shared consensus. 

"Who else is he forcing to do this?" … "You, me, and any other attractive victor with something to lose."

You reach forward, using your thumb to pull his lip away from his teeth. He looks between your eyes for a second and you drop your hand. "Hoped what, Finnick?" 

He clenches and unclenches his jaw. "I hoped you were safe." 

“Advice,” he laughs, short and brittle, “Yeah. Just…breathe and endure. It’s all any of us can really do.” His voice is angry, but his eyes are mournful. That’s definitely not the kind of advice you wanted to hear and you can tell it’s obviously not the kind he wants to give. But what were you expecting, some kind of miracle cure? That’s not the way this works. 

It's different now. He's older and wiser, and he does still hate her, but no more than he hates every other Capitol. He tunes her out and tries to remember if he's had sex with her. 

Finnick is a good actor. Maybe not the best, but he's certainly up there. Not many people could see through his veneer. It's fragile, cracks and instability on display to anyone who truly knows him—and even then, that's only three people. 

 It's an odd dichotomy to see something you love on something you hate. 

Your mother lets out a shrill, throat-shredding scream, her voice only elevated by the silence surrounding it. This will be the last thing you hear from her.

But—you don't have to win. No one expects you to win and that...that thought is relieving. You aren't planning on rolling over in the arena and letting someone get a free kill, but this is something Snow won't be able to work around. No matter how hard he tries, he can't manipulate the outcome of the games. And he'll have no one to blame but himself, no one to punish. It's cowardice, in a way, but you're tired. And you think you've been tired for a long time now. You'd be stupid not to take this ticket out. 

Most eyes pity you. You're essentially volunteering yourself to put your head under the executioner's sword. However, some eyes envy you. You're leaving Eleven. For good. For many of the citizens, death is a small price to pay for freedom. But there’s something else, something everyone in the crowd shares. There’s anger, a righteous fury in every face you see. 

Is this the view your dad had? Are these the faces he saw before he was lynched?

There'll be many victors facing the guillotine, many of your friends forced into a death march.

You look to the sky, a quick glance before you're ushered to the train. It's a sunny day with plump white clouds on a baby blue backdrop. It might be the last time you see the real sky as a free woman. Calm and beautiful despite the carnage happening under it. 

Chapter 4

That Avox is taking a piece of you, red smeared on white, and it'll be washed away. Absently, as if through water, you hear the door shut and you're scared that you'll never be whole again.

Your first instinct is to find somewhere to curl up, but the bed is out of the question. Logically, you know it's clean, you saw it happen. But it feels like a crime scene, like something died there. 

The door doesn't look much different from your own. You don't know what else you were expecting. 

You don't know if you've ever made a choice that wasn't out of necessity and you find that you want Finnick to comfort you.

 It slides open to reveal Finnick with his sweatpants hanging low on his waist, his hair a mess, and his face painted in exhaustion. You can't help but think he looks awfully soft. Softer than you ever thought you'd see him.

"I don't know why I thought you'd be awake. I guess I just assumed...," You shake your head, having no excuse other than wanting to be near him, "I don't know what I assumed. I should get back to my room. I'm really sorry for waking—" "Wait," he calls out as you start to back away, "You can come in, we can–I don't know, we can talk." He generously offers, sounding almost nervous. But what about you would ever make him nervous? 

Sleeping in Finnick's bed after everything somehow feels worse than sleeping on your own. Because it may be a crime scene, but at least it's your crime. It feels almost disrespectful to sleep where something of Finnick's died too. 

If you were a star, burning bright miles and miles away, nothing could touch you. Not the memories that haunt you, not Snow, not your clients. Nothing. 

Your eyes widen and you don't know what to say. There's a certain level of repulsive irony with the person who guaranteed your survival being the first person to treat you as something less than human. If this is how you feel now, you can't even imagine how Finnick must have felt. Fourteen and alone. At least you have someone to lean on, someone who's going through the same thing you are. All he had was himself. But he has you now. 

"Don't downplay what you've gone through, Finnick. You don't have to put yourself down for me," You face him head-on so he knows you mean it, "You shouldn't put yourself down for anyone." He looks up at you again, but this time he doesn't look away. There's no point in playing a game of 'who has it worse'. That's not what you came here for. 

How can he be expected to save you when he never saved himself? You're sure he knows there's no magic fix to this. But that's an answer you know he won't accept. Because…because he cares about you, he said so himself. He wants to take your pain, but it’s not transactional. Besides, even if it was, you wouldn’t want him to take it all upon himself. This pain is not transferable, this pain is yours to share. You’ll keep a hand on his wound if he keeps a hand on yours. 

Maybe you can staunch the bleeding together.

"I'm sorry...I know me saying that doesn't make much of a difference, but I am." He's wrong. He has nothing to be sorry for, but the apology softens you. You scoot closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder. "Me too," you whisper. He hesitates before laying his head on yours, "I'm sorry, too." You hear a sniff above you, but you don't comment on it. You just let go of his pinky and lace your fingers together instead. His palm is rough against your own and it grounds you. When you're down here, pressed against Finnick's side, you're okay with not being a star. 

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe someone about yay high," he raises his hand about an inch above his head. Then, flips his hair over his shoulder dramatically, "Blond, built like a Greek god." 

He's what you imagine having an older, older brother might be like. As such, it feels more than a little awkward whining about your pitiful love life, or lack thereof, to him. "Me and Finnick," you say, and, like the gossip he is, he hangs on to your every word, "There is no me and Finnick." Anymore.

"I'd imagine it's the same reason Peeta volunteered for you." He exhales through his nose like he doesn't want a reminder of what happened only a handful of hours earlier. 

You aren't surprised, in all honesty. Looking back on it now, it’s odd to think Snow was right when he said he did you a favor. Because you’ve gathered secrets of your own. Morsels of information that you've coveted like rubies, plucked from the mouths of your high society clientele. 

That entire inner monologue in 4 where you think about Rue and Thresh. Honestly makes me tear up everytime AND I WROTE IT.

And maybe, just maybe, it would mean they didn’t die in vain. All of your kids that you watched march to their deaths—their deaths that would mean something. Leading you all to this very moment. "Alright." You decide, as if there was ever any other option for you. Insurgency is in your veins. Your father was a part of the Movement like his father before him and his father before him. It’s what got him killed. And it seems like it’ll do the same for you. 

 Maybe you're a little dense, but you don't see how that proves that District Thirteen wasn't nuked to hell and back. Some of that skepticism must show on your face because he sighs and sets his glass back down.

You ask. You already have in mind who you hope will be on your side. You think of callused hands and soft green eyes and wonder if you could ever raise a weapon against him in the name of the rebellion. 

Friends isn't the word you'd use, but it's hard not to form a sense of solidarity with the person you often get requested to have threesomes with. 

"With love, huh." He whispers to himself and smiles. 

And you gave them freely, even after Finnick ran out of ones to trade. It’s odd. You wanted nothing in return. Sometimes, he gets a little ahead of himself and wonders if it’s because you like him.

It isn’t too far-fetched to assume that, right? Right.

To just call you a friend feels like calling an ocean a pond. It's almost disrespectful to condense it into something so lacking. He can’t force you, and everything you make him feel—into such a small box, it would only overflow and drown him. You are much, much more than a pond. 

Best friend, then? While true, it feels too juvenile. He considers it and he doesn't particularly like the idea of just being your friend anyway. He imagines you introducing him as such.

“Oh, and this is Finnick. My friend. Only my friend.”

No. No, he doesn’t like that at all. 

"Do you think she'll like it?" He asks her. He wants to bite at his nails as she looks over what he made, but refrains. 

'She'll love it. :)" She writes and he hopes she’s right.

He can't help but find joy in the fact that he still knows you well enough to predict what you'll do. And he'll get to see you again. Really see you. He shouldn't be happy about that under these circumstances, but Finnick is under no illusion of being a good person. 

"Kid, I don't wanna say this is sad, but it's not, not sad." Finnick rolls his eyes at Haymitch's unwelcome opinion. Should he be embarrassed to be caught in this position? Maybe. Probably. Yeah, he definitely should be. But he gave up his shame a long time ago.

"You sure?" He leans his head on the hand that's propped up on the arm of the chair, "Not even a certain someone from Eleven? What was that nickname you gave her—Star, right?" He asks with that same tone he always used to take on when teasing Finnick about you.

When he started turning away his clients' money, they were desperate to pay him atonement so their consciences wouldn't be weighed down by their sins. You came up with the idea. Money wasn't worth its salt to a victor. But secrets? Secrets were cashed in gold. 

"You can't have fire without air, right?" He asks rhetorically. "Well, we won't have Katniss without Peeta. She won't help us without him." 

And just like that, whatever illusion of choice Finnick thought he had is stripped away with the mention of you. Every path he takes leads back to you. What a heartening thought. 

Abruptly, he gets a faint whiff of your scent caught in his head like a flashback. Hovering in his nostrils as faint as a memory. It is a memory. But if he goes through with this, maybe it doesn't have to stay one. 

Freedom looks like being by your side, loving you fearlessly. Finnick's never felt true freedom before—the closest he's ever gotten to it was when you touched him. He doubts it can feel much better than that. 

Chapter 6

You squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.

You say nothing to him as you edge out of the crowd and he supposes you don’t owe him an explanation, but it leaves a pit in his stomach to watch you walk away.

“Oh. Hey?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement, the letters curling and drawing out at the end like he’s just discovered the human language.

“Ah, there’s the blushing bride!” Haymitch half shouts—half cackles, halfway into a bottle of expensive Capitol wine. He ignores them, which only makes them crack up harder. Finnick is nineteen years old, and as they laugh behind him, he actually feels his age for once.

You take a step back from him. He didn’t even notice when he got so close and gravitated to you, he never does.

“I don’t understand. Wh–what’s wrong?” Because there’s definitely something wrong. Your body language is closed off. You’re never closed off around him.

“Do you feel like you’re settling?” He asks, doing, in his opinion, a pretty good job of acting like his heart isn’t hinging on your answer.

“What?! What, of course not.” You look at him like he grew a second head. As if his question isn't completely reasonable given how you're behaving.

The big green chair is the backdrop behind you, and it really is an enormous chair.

There’s nothing quite like being paraded before crowds of adoring fans while dressed in a caricature of your district.

 You joke, but you really wish you were at least given some kind of underwear. It’s not exactly warm in here and that draft is reaching places it shouldn’t.

If you make any sharp movements, you’ll be flashing your ass to all of Panem.

 He makes to lean against the horse but thinks better of it when she scuffs one of her hooves on the ground rather threateningly.

Your and Katniss’s whole convo by the chariots

There’s a fishnet draped across his torso and knotted low around his hips similar to how your skirt is tied. It’s very thin, with very spacious holes.

Your tongue will always remember the shape of his name, but you’ve forgotten the taste of it. It’s bittersweet.

Chapter 7

He nods over your shoulder to Caesar, who’s looking especially orange today.

They have him in the closest thing to a suit that he’ll tolerate and his blond hair is artfully coiffed. You miss how it falls naturally, and you’re sure he feels the same. The makeup they put on you makes you feel like a mannequin. Stiff and shiny, just the way they like you.

 You and Finnick smile and greet the masses like you were trained to. You wave your hand open and closed, and Finnick doesn’t wave at all, instead nodding to the crowd. 

 He doesn’t ask a question outright, but you understand what he wants you to answer. What a pitiful beast you are. What else about you can we feel sorry for?

“Very sad, very sad indeed,” the room fills with sympathetic murmurs that make your eye twitch. You don’t need their pity, pity won’t bring him back. Pity won’t stop it from happening to someone else. If they used that same pity to stop injustices before they happened, then maybe these people would actually be worth something, “Alright, let’s get into some games, huh? Yeah!”

A clock ticks ominously behind you, probably a new fixture. It bluntly cuts the silence. You would have noticed that before. You think.

“My colleagues speak very highly of you.” He pulls a white handkerchief up to his mouth and coughs into it. It’s a wet, violent cough that rocks him in his seat. It must hurt and you know without a doubt that the white of the fabric is blood red now. Good. Hopefully, he’ll cough up a lung soon enough. He dabs at his mouth before pulling it back to his lap, almost like he’s hiding it. “You should be proud of yourself. I certainly am.”

“Come now.” His smile stretches across his face like a coyote’s, though it’s twice as sharp. You bite at the skin of your peeling bottom lip. “You’re a smart girl. You should be able to infer what’s happening without my telling you.” You do. You had just hoped you misunderstood, that you were being overly paranoid. After all, you have an intimate relationship with hunger, and not just your own. You’ve seen that look before, more times than you can count. On the faces of particularly crooked Peacekeepers, handsy landowners, and ‘well-meaning’ teachers. And now you see it again on the face of your President.

They all have something in common: they thought they were above you and your savagery. They thought you were some animal, that you should feel lucky that they even looked your way.

So distinguished, so self-important, and, yet, they lust after an animal like you? And you’re supposed to be the savage one? You wish you could enjoy the irony.

There’s a smell emitting from him. A smell you’ve only smelt in rotting animals: decay. The rose in his pocket and the roses around the room can only cover so much. It’s the poison, it has to be. All the poison he drank while getting rid of his political rivals has finally come back to reap its judgment. He’s decomposing from the inside out. The consequence of having so much power, it seems. 

It doesn’t matter how much makeup or what kind of dress you put on a pig. At the end of the day, it’s still a dirty, stinking pig. You just hope, when the day comes, you’ll be around to see this pig get gutted.

From this high up you can hardly hear yourself think, finally. But barely, just barely, you can make out Finnick’s voice. You’ll always be able to recognize that voice. The sound is almost as much of a part of you as it is of him.

You’re whole and solid in his grip. You’re safe. God, you’re safe.

Neither of you speaks. Which is fine. There’s no space for words between your bodies anyway.

You barely duck in time to avoid the staff from hitting your head and Finnick’s grip on the trident tightens.

For as long as Johanna has known him, she’s known him in conjunction with you. There’s no point in acting like that’s changed.

“Good luck.” She pats him on the back with far more force than necessary and walks off with an axe in hand. Probably on her way to traumatize a trainer.

“Besides, if they’re listening in on anyone, it’s Princess and the Baker over there.”

Dear Finn, 

If you ever fear the weight of my absence—close your eyes, take a breath, and feel me beside you. I’m still here.

-Faithfully,

Your Star.

Chapter 8

Actually, just all of 8 and 9. From beginning to end.

Chapter 10

They make sure to teach all about it in school, making sure students know just how far their district fell. Once a powerhouse worthy of rubbing shoulders with the best of them stands one of the most ‘primitive’ and militarized districts in the nation.

You remember what it feels like to be hungry. To be forced into the orchards to harvest pears, apricots, and Mandarin oranges—some of the only crops that can weather the cold, small hands stiff and your stomach numb with pain as you endured the freezing winds. You had friends when you were younger, other children that worked alongside you. Very few of them survived through the winter.

You have a system in place. You’ve been doing these deliveries for a long time. You trust them to distribute the goods to those who need them the most. Everyone here looks out for each other. Even if the kids aren’t theirs, an adult won’t let them go hungry if they can help it. It truly takes a village. You would know. After all, you used to live here.

What use is a horse with a broken leg?

“And you,” you lean back as she wags her finger in your face, “inherited that mouth from your daddy. It’s gonna get you in trouble one day.”

“Just start looking out for yourself more, alright?” She asks and you agree with a scowl, you refuse to call it a pout though Finnick definitely would.

You try to picture a world where the two of you ended up together, running the bakery until you’re old and gray—maybe if you hadn’t been reaped. But you can’t imagine a universe where you aren’t in love with Finnick Odair. 

Seeing him sitting behind your big mahogany desk is akin to seeing a fox in a chicken coop. It’s dangerous—foreboding. Nothing good can come from it. And for him to be so comfortable in the spot where you write your letters to Finnick makes your skin crawl. It’s wrong. He shouldn’t be here, in the one place that's truly yours.

Under the weight of his unrelenting stare, you eventually shake your head no and it feels like admitting defeat. Like you’re not smart enough to catch on to his train of thought and you both know it.

“Of course, you don’t.” He tsks, disappointed. You lower your gaze, embarrassed. He stands and takes poised, measured steps to where your feet are rooted to the floor. He towers over you, literally and figuratively. 

 "You have mail." He smiles again, sharp and cruel in its kindness. It's still sealed, held between his middle and pointer finger, but you're certain he knows what the letter says already.

I got the picture you sent me. I worry I’ll wear it thin with how often I touch it. In the absence of having you near me, I trace the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the slant of your eyes. I carry you everywhere I go.

My hands should be in yours, fingers laced together. Instead, I use them to write to you now.

He glances behind him and spots the biggest fishing boat in the district. The Cod Be Ever in Your Favor. He scoffs.

 He’s crossing his fingers that the old relic capsizes one day. He’s not hoping anyone gets hurt or anything, but he will be celebrating the day that hunk of junk gets turned into scrap metal.

He pauses, taking a few steps back to see…President Snow sitting on his couch?

“No, Sir, I don’t.” He lies, but he’s sure Snow will give him his own twisted, convoluted reason. Finnick is well aware that Snow enforces this rule because it keeps the citizens ignorant. Ensuring they only really know about their district means there can be no real unionizing. 

Snow releases a raspy breath that might have been a laugh once upon a time and the water is getting hotter. 

"Don't act daft, Mr. Odair. It doesn't suit you." 

He's twenty-two years old—a grown man, but, suddenly, he’s fourteen again—sitting in that chair, backed against a wall as Snow forces him to sign his soul away. He’s still that scared kid. He’s never outgrown him, because he never got the chance to grow up. Not if Snow had any say in the matter.

“As I said, this can only end in pain. It’s up to you to decide who will end up bloody. The lives of thousands over the life of one. Surely, you understand that.” He doesn’t. Finnick doesn’t understand it at all. It doesn’t matter what the other option is, he’s picking you every time without fail. He can’t imagine doing otherwise, he doesn’t want to.

To love is to be human. To be human is to be flawed. And there’s no one more flawed than Finnick Odair.

“You’ve been around longer.” He shrugs as if it’s all so simple. “It only seems fair.” Fair. When the hell did he start caring about what’s fair? He didn’t even think that word was in Snow’s vocabulary, and, honestly, it still might not be because he isn’t using it right. There is nothing fair about this situation.

Snow uncrosses his legs and leans forward, a glint in his ghastly eyes. He looks worse every time he sees him and Finnick wishes he could get any satisfaction from it but he just feels as sick as Snow looks.

The words are out of his mouth before he can even comprehend them, mouth moving faster than his brain and by the time it catches up, it’s too late to snatch the words out of the air. They float between them and they are terrifying.

Snow nods at the idea and…and he realizes it’s over. It’s all over. It was over as soon as Finnick sat down across from him, maybe even before that. 

“And Finnick?” He pulls away before Finnick can take it from him, playing with him even now. “Go easy on the poor girl. I imagine she’ll be quite torn up over this.” The water is boiling. The water is boiling and it’s too late to get out.

Chapter 11

I miss you, more than I was prepared to—and I was prepared to miss you considerably.

Tears are blurring his vision before he can read how you close the letter and he has to sit back as the full weight of what he’s about to do hits him all at once. Your words are like a balm to his soul, but they burn him just as much as they soothe him. A reminder of what he’s losing just as much as a reminder of what he’s fighting for. There was never a need to put a label on what you two had, what you were to each other, because it would never be replicated. It had always just been ‘yours’. Now, with a flick of his pen, it’ll be nothing.

Finnick’s letter

This doesn't make any sense. It doesn't line up with the Finnick you know. 

You know what it feels like for your body to break. What it feels like to be drained down to your skin, nerves, muscles, and bones. You've come eerily close to knowing what it feels like to have your mind broken. 

But this is new. This is what it feels like to have your heart broken. It's sudden, and it rips you apart on its way in. Not an arrow, but a knife. Quicker than you thought it'd be, but it hurts just the same. 

You press your forehead into the desk, your body shaking with the sobs you’re holding back. It hurts so bad. Pain sitting rooted in your chest, sharp and rigid like a peach pit. Your heart doesn’t beat, it throbs. Throbs like a festering wound, irritated and infected. 

You pull at your shirt and dig your nails into your chest. Maybe if you press hard enough through the skin and fascia and muscles you could pull out the problem.

But that’s impossible. There’s nothing there. It’s the absence that hurts, that gaping Finnick-shaped hole. You wanted to give him your heart, but not like this.

Here you sit in your study in your home that isn’t really yours, far away from any ocean, but you're drowning anyway. 

You drown and you drown and you drown and you do it alone.

"My love, my star. My heart is yours. And…and if I had to pick a place to die, it would be in the warmth of your arms. Your smile, the last thing I see and your lips, the last thing I taste. Everything I have ever done, I have done for you.”

Caesar pouts at the audience as they coo at his love letter and he wishes they never heard it. He wishes he could have said it to you directly. Those words, they’re yours and they should have been for your ears only. And, yet, here he is, relaying his heart to you through a screen. Look how far we’ve fallen, Star. 

You blow kisses to the crowd and they, understandably, go wild. You turn to Caesar with a smile and the overhead lights shine on you, painting your skin in soft lighting like a blanket. He takes a breath. And another, until he notices he’s breathing in sync with you.

"Oh, we all know just how shy you are." Caesar smiles, holding his laugh behind clenched teeth in that way of his that reminds Finnick of an overachieving beaver. 

"Now, the last time we talked, you said you were composing a new piece." Caesar pulls a violin out from…somewhere behind him and presents it to you like a gift. 

 But every once in a while, you would compose a song for Finnick. And when it was just the two of you, you'd share it with him. He'd sit in front of you in awe as you played. He doesn't have a musical bone in his body, but he can hum every piece from memory. 

He looks down, squeezing his eyes shut, nose scrunching as he fights back tears. Because as much as you may hate the instrument, you play it as if it's an extension of your body. And you've always been better at showing how you feel than saying it. 

It sounds like a goodbye. 

When you finish, it’s quiet before Caesar clears his throat and gives you a small smile that almost looks genuine.

Caesar pats your lower back and Finnick’s eyes narrow. “And you played beautifully.”

You hand the violin back with a watery smile and, fake or not, Finnick hates to see you cry. 

Katniss spins and her wedding dress transforms in a flurry of fire before their eyes. 

“Again with the fire.” He mutters under his breath.

The crowd is in awe as she spreads her wings, but he isn’t so easily cowed. Though, he might not be the target audience. Finnick’s never been particularly fond of birds, even if they are mockingjays.

He purses his lips around a growing smile, but he can’t hide it for long when the crowd starts shouting. That’s…that’s certainly one way to get the audience riled up. He catches the slight smirk on Peeta’s face as he watches the commotion he caused and Finnick’s a little jealous. 

He hides the vindictive glee he feels at the riot breaking out in the name of the victors, but only barely. He would kill to see Snow's face right now. 

How does it feel, he wonders, to see your people rebel in support of the savages you tried to paint us out to be?

“Stubborn.” He mutters as some of his fellow victors let him pass, glancing at him before continuing their conversations. But, as he’s said before, he’s just as stubborn as you. He racks his brain for something that’ll catch your attention before he loses what might be his last chance with you. “The message was for you!”

You pause at the entrance of the elevator at Finnick's shout. You're so close to getting away, so close. Your escape is a hair's breadth and a footstep away, but you remember how you felt sitting in your dressing room watching Finnick's interview. Was there a pang of jealousy over the possibility of the message being for someone else? God, it couldn't even be categorized as jealousy. 

You look over your shoulder and his lungs stop constricting. He’s got you. Now, for the hardest part: keeping you.

Peeta dropped a baby bomb, and, somehow, this is the most dramatic thing to happen tonight.

“Finnick, this isn’t the time.” You glance between him and the floor, tracing the threading in his boots instead of the desperation in his eyes. 

The entire elevator scene

Your dress flutters around your legs as you settle into a big green chair. That same giant green chair you sat in three years prior. You’ve both grown considerably since then. Just in two completely different directions. What a juxtaposition. 

He nods, frantic and eager. He’s making headway. He honestly didn’t think you’d let him get this far. Your eyes widen when he drops down into a kneel before you smooth your face into a blank mask. “They’re all yours. And they’ll keep being yours even if you still hate me when I leave this room. Everything I’ve written since I met you has been for you.’’ He confesses, hands moving to grip the arms of your chair, but is it really a confession? The Capitols love his poetry because they adore the idea of Finnick Odair being devoted to them, longing for them and, for that, you’ve always been his inspiration.

“What did he want? What did he say to make you…” He watches you try to articulate your confusion. What led to this? What could have possibly been worth giving you up? 

He doesn’t know what to do. Speechless doesn’t even cover it. His anger is there, and he doesn’t see that ever leaving him...but he’s been angry for so long and he’s been tired for even longer.

Of course. It all seems so fucking obvious now.

He shouldn’t be surprised by that. He shouldn’t be hurt by something he explicitly told you to do in his letter. Finnick shouldn’t be a lot of things that he is. 

Your face twists like you’ve tasted something sour, something rotten.

And he's sorry, he's sorry, he's so sorry. He doesn't think there's enough air on the planet for him to tell you just how sorry he is. 

I’d take that hurt from you if I could, he thinks. I’d grit my teeth through the pain and wear it proudly if it meant you’d have a moment of relief. He doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says, "I'm sorry, Star." Because, really, what else is there to say? There’s no way to describe everything he’s sorry for.

“The song I played onstage. I wrote it after it all happened. Honestly, I couldn’t touch the violin without thinking of you, Finn. You were the only person I ever wanted to play for.” You whisper and it feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. Finnick’s taken by the sudden need to look in your eyes more than anything, to see and know you and be seen and known in return. He pulls back enough to look down at you.

#3d wifey talks #3d wifey answers #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #hunger games catching fire #and they'd find us in a week #finnick odair fanfic #finnick fanfic #finnick #finnick x reader

[tobiasdrake]

A hopeless confrontation with a hopeless demon.

Quarble, he's too fast. I've tried to dodge and weave and watch for openings but he nails me every time. No matter what I do, it's like he's right there, waiting for me to do it. I can't get away from him.

"Look, man. This is just a job. I'm not your therapist. Figure it out or don't."

You really don't have any ideas? You don't know anything or... have any suggestions I can use here?

How am I supposed to beat this guy, Quarble? Eleven times. He's gutted me eleven times. Yeah, okay, lesson learned about underestimating people, but I've been trying really hard. Was I wrong to think I could actually do this?

Maybe he was right. Maybe I'm at my limit. Maybe... this is where my journey ends.

"...push... through...."

Did you say something, Quarble?

"Yeah, I said 'If I don't get any Time Shards soon I'm bailing. Have fun getting dissected again.'

No, there was something... like a flicker....

"Hallucinations may be an occasional side effect of being gruesomely butchered, revived, and butchered again repeatedly in a short time period. I say 'may be' because most people give up and accept the sweet embrace of death well before it ever gets to this point."

"It's a mistake to rely on speed alone; It's too easy to push through. I figured that out early in our training. Zale learned it shortly after."

We go through.

I've been letting this job get in my head. Trying to be more cautious. Trying to be mindful. But the answer was right there in the fable. I need to stop running.

Luana spent her whole life sparring with a Blade Dancer. It's a style eerily similar to Brugaves's new demon style. To the point that it almost seems like a cruel joke for Aephorul to forge him this way.

Nobody knew better than her how to counter that style. And she wrote it down. You don't run away from a Blade Dancer. You go through.

If he's too fast for you, then he may just as easily be too fast for himself. All you have to do is stand your ground and let him strike himself upon your weapon.

I've been getting in my own head. Worrying about stupid things like safety and protecting myself. When I should have been asking the obvious question from the start.

What would Luana do?

Hey! Goat-licker. Imagine selling out the people who love you so you can be the Acolytes' gofer. I can't even be vindictive about it 'cause having to live like this is punishment enough.

Sure, you used to have respect, admiration, kids looking up to you with stars in their eyes, and a dedicated life-partner who'd do anything for you. But you're right, kissing the foot of a four-headed butt-chugger every morning is just as fucking good, isn't it?

You're a coward and a fool, Barma'thazel. You were barely any good as a Solstice Warrior. And now you're a bottom-feeding parasite living in a hellhole, clinging desperately to the one gift his master graced him with.

The goddess forgot about you long ago. She's over you. And I'm done running from you. Because I'm better than you.

It's called crippling overspecialization, ass-weevil. You'd think a general of an armed forces would be able to grasp a concept as basic as that. But I guess you're just too slow.

Hold up. Do you mean that in the figurative sense? Like, we are all pieces in a larger game that cares nothing for winners and losers, and so in the grand scheme of things we are all doo--

NOPE LITERAL SENSE VERY LITERAL SENSE GODDAMMIT

SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK FUCK SHIT FUCK

WHY

WHY CAN'T I EVER JUST WIN SOMETHING

I LOOKED SO COOL BACK THERE

MY HAT WAS SET TO MAXIMUM AWESOME

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

YEEEEEEEEEES Holy shit, thank you prophesized Lifesaver. Wentworth, you are a sight for sore eyes.

...wait, what?

...

Errors have been made. You know, I thought you looked a little small to be the colossal dragon that Luana wrote about but I just figured she'd embellished.

In any case, THANK YOU DRAGON BESTIE WOO FUCKING HOO

Let's blow this shithole and go home!

*deep breath*

In your name.

#the messenger #drake plays the messenger

[fiixer]

“Just stop for a second… You sure you’re okay?“ /from aiden.

It was supposed to be simple, or as close to it as possible in this line of work.

Truthfully, there were no simple jobs in his world.  Complications arose at the drop of a hat. Nothing went exactly according to plan, and the smart ones always left some wiggle room when it came to charting a course, yet even still, there was no predicting everything.  This he knows.  The noise littering his skin serves as permanent proof of lessons hard learned over the years.  Too often had he rushed into a job and walked out with more openings on his body than he'd had at the start, though this time around was nothing of the sort.  He had watched, prepared, taken due care before launching an attack, yet still he'd been caught in a whirlwind.  Luck had – no, skill had managed to turn an ambush into something he could manage, leaving time to bail and regroup with some shreds of his pride still intact.  His body isn't, but his pride is, so it still counts as a victory in his book, even if that victory had come at a price.

A telling sting between his shoulder blades complements the ache thrumming through every frayed nerve in his body.  Throughout the drive along the narrow streets of San Francisco, the headlights of a passing car jarred him out of a daze that may have had more to do with succumbing to the weariness seeping deep in his bones, the kind that eventually drown out adrenaline and let him feel the depth of his injuries and the need for rest and recovery.  Had he not taken a "detour" in case somebody had the bright idea of following him away from the stronghold, his occasional nodding off may have happened in the comfort of his hotel or safe house, but he had and it didn't and he was quickly realizing how big a hazard he was to himself behind the wheel.  He'd needed to stop and recuperate.  Maybe he'd make it across the city to a residence of his own, but common sense and the trail of wet creeping down his spine said that was a bad idea.  Luckily, he's Jordi, and Jordi is never out of options.  

One well-placed call later, he's sitting pretty in a tiny safe-house surrounded by the scent of metal and whatever crap the other occupant used to clean up.  It's cramped with two people, and hardly as comfortable as a space he may have offered, but it would keep him off the radar, and the combination of reinforced walls, the unsuspecting appearance of the space as a whole, and his lethal company, it offers security second to none.  There isn't a doubt in his mind that he's safe here, so let the rest and recovery begin.  He'll just have to find an excuse to use the shower in the corner to clean up, preferably without arousing too much suspicion at his current condition.  Just a scratch, he'd claimed.  Most of the blood is the other guy's.  And with a clenched jaw and flippant dismissal, he's certain the ruse was good enough, or at the very least, that Aiden wouldn't care to press further.  Call it victory number two.

"Oh, before I forget - got something for you," he announces, rifling through a pocket hidden away on the inside of his blazer to produce a little black thumb drive . He offers it out, jaw clenching with a little twitch of his lip before he can stifle either when the simple action tugs at the edge of his wounds. Yet still he continues as both an explanation and distraction. "Call it thanks for not shooting me at the door.  I found it plugged into a laptop before shit hit the fan.  The guy who was messing with it when I showed up  must've been new. He just, left it open on the screen.  There's a bunch of names on there, a couple dates, locations, and…fuck if I remember, but I figured you, of all people, would wanna see it.  I only got a second to read it, and I dunno what the deal is with any of that shit, but there was one name I saw that I recognized from the  news.  One of those traffickers  you nailed - before you got your ass caught, I mean.  I dunno if there's a connection, but I figured hey, if anyone would know, it'd be my old pal Aiden, so – "

And just like that, he's cut so rudely off right in the middle of his sentence.  You sure you're okay - Under normal circumstances, he could have blown it off, told Aiden to shut up and let him finish or something, but this time he stops in his metaphorical tracks, the hands he'd been tiredly waving and gesturing sinking to his sides as the node of genuine concern crashes over him in a wave.  Where had that come – did he look that bad?  He hadn't been slurring his words - had he? - or repeating thoughts or anything of that sort, and yet Aiden stopped him flat as if he had, as if there was a reason to worry over Jordi's well-being.  Truthfully, maybe there was, to some extent.  He doesn't know; hasn't seen the wounds sustained in the fall out, only felt them as he moved.  Felt the drain they placed on the rest of him.  If he kept talking, he could ignore it, but now that Aiden stopped him…

"Yeah, obviously.  Why wouldn't I be?" Aiden knows him too well - oh, now there's a thought that leaves a sour taste in his mouth, but he can't deny the truth. If there is one person in the world who can read him, it's the man standing just across from him. Still, Jordi fully intends on keeping his issues to himself for as long as he can, and he'd just have to brace for Aiden becoming a right pain in his ass if the latter kept pressing the issue.

"Told you, the blood's the other guy's. I'm fine."

@bairgan // supernatural starters

#v; bend the rules #( re. i've bent and broke my every rule for you / aiden & jordi )

[chiidori-i]

Stellaron Hunters! NSFW Headcanons

These are some raunchy headcanons for the stellaron hunters! Pairings: kafka X gn! reader, blade x gn reader!

CW! Mentions of blood and knives, degrading (heavy in blades part) Author's note: THIS IS UNHOLYYYYYYYYYYY-V !Kafka! - lord jesus you better pray for your insides - a hard top for sure (dommy mommy meow) - will use her domination skill on you (of you're okay with that consent is key) -whispers the foulest things in your ear while she's fucking you -call her mommy its game over, you're gonna experience heaven - has long ass fingers and WHOSE COMPLAINING? - big into knife play and will ask you about it - honestly prefers to use her fingers over her strap, she said something about "feeling you around her" -LIVES for fucking you right after a mission, so much adrenaline so little time - if she chooses to use her strap rest in peace your guts cause they're about to get rearranged -she fucks HARD and will not go any slower, doesn't matter how much you beg

-after care queen, will cuddle you for as long as you want, you want snacks? water? a bath? easy! she'll get it for you anything for her cutie! will 100% take a bath with you and clean you up perfectly, she loves you soooooo much and wants to make sure you're content

"k-kafka!" youre pleading with her to slow down even a little bit but your pleas fall on deaf ears "awh something wrong pretty? i thought you loved it when i fuck you like this" with that kafka just keeps going harder. "pl-ease i- cant! too much" kafka leans over you, grabs your chin and makes you look her in the eyes "you know how to ask for what you want now ask me correctly this time cutie." she purrs "please mommy! make me cum please! ill be good i-i swear!" you look at her pleadingly with teary eyes "what good manners you have baby, just relax while mommy makes you cum"

!Blade! - i have one word and that word is RUN - lemme jus say this man will hunt you like prey and when he catches you don't think for a second you'll be walking for at least a day - HEAVY into blood kinks and knifeplay -you know that song by nine inch nails well uh blade makes that song a reality -incredibly hard top refuses to bottom AT ALL (he has issues okay) - loves loves LOVES marking you up! bites, scratches, cuts, bruises on your hips or neck from how tight he was gripping your skin, man lives for ALL of it and will totally laugh whenever you try to cover any of them up -will say the most obscene things while fucking you does not care whatsoever he has zero shame (god bless) -will lose his mind if you ask him to tie you up, you mention it at any point and he's ready to go - will degrade you and is MEAN about it like i said he has zero shame so expect to be called a slut, whore, bitch, cocksleeve, ya know all that jazz ;) -if you ride him just know because he's underneath you doesn't mean SHIT he will bounce you on his dick like a ragdoll, you're his toy after all! -doesn't tolerate brats at all, you will get back handed if you disobey him and he will NOT let you cum for at least a few hours you can cry, beg, plead, hell even scream and you'll get nowhere you'll take what he gives you and he better not hear one complaint. - surprisingly good at aftercare, sure he might be a bit cold but he loves you you're his angel he would do anything for you, you want cuddles? he'll provide (he may act like he hates it but who is he fooling really?). will play with your hair and give you all the kisses you need while cleaning you up <3 (FUCK I LOVE THIS MANNN) "awh does my little whore wanna cum?" he purrs looking down at you, your legs are currently on his shoulders and the pace he's fucking you at is almost inhuman. "bla-de!" is really all you can manage to breathe out your mind is completely hazed by pure lust. "Awh don't tell me i've fucked you dumb already sweetheart? I'm just getting started" his hands grip your thighs even harder so hard you know they'll bruise (that's his main goal :>) "if you wanna cum you better start begging, now c'mon scream for me"

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr smut #blade hsr #kafka hsr #kafka x you #blade x you

[featherlouise]

what exactly happens when the sibling dies btw? i needa envision this correctly - 👹

Okok so in my head it’s during an assassination attempt (I have no idea about like. The assassin’s aims, who hired them etc yet. Maybe they’re the same people who got Hollow kidnapped and led them to meeting moth bf??? Idk yet)

SO it’s an ambush, probably happens outside of the palace, maybe during the trip to PK’s tomb??? Like on the way home??

The carriage they’re in (gijinka equivalent to stags ig??) gets knocked over and they tumble down a hill, Hollow grabs their kids and shields them as much as they can and ends up being the only one injured (save for some scrapes and bruises on the kids) and they’re super disoriented from the fall

While they’re righting themselves, the attackers start to close in on them and eldest kiddo, seeing his mum isn’t about to get up any time soon, grabs his nail (it’s his first real nail he got for his most recent birthday) stands in front of his mum and sibs and tries to defend them

He manages to slash across the leader’s chest, which gets a “you liTTLE SHIT!!” And a kick in the gut that knocks the wind outta him. I don’t wanna make his death TOO violent so from there the leader grabs the kiddo’s nail (which may as well be a dagger in his giant fkin hands) and stabs him with it

At this point, Hollow has managed to shake the stars outta their eyes and got the ringing in their ears to stop enough for them to turn around and check over their kids, when they hear the “YOU LITTLE SHIT,” and turn their head just in time to see their kid being stabbed with their own blade

U know the drill with angry feral Hollow, except now this isn’t their ancient, powerful father being injured. No, this is a child, their child.

So u can only imagine just HOW violent the next 5 minutes is.

The leader looks up, starts monologuing, and his speech is cut off a few words in as the area around them goes deathly silent.

Hollow tells their kids to cover their eyes, and reassures their eldest that he’s going to be okay via voidspeak (they’re part void so they can hear and speak it)

And then just fkin massacres them ALL, making sure to leave the leader till last.

During his monologue, the leader mentioned something about an “employer,” so they pin him to the ground by introducing his hands and legs to some soul daggers, then slices their own hand and pours void straight into the wound on the fucker’s chest so they can demand who exactly this employer is thru the void (something something if u get stained/poisoned enough by void u can hear voidspeak) but all he manages to do is beg for his life before succumbing to the blood loss.

They rush over to the oldest kiddo and say something like “it’s okay baby, it’s over, you can open your eyes now,” but it’s too late

Cue guttural scream and that entire area of the queen’s gardens is covered in a layer of frost, and will be for years to come. It’s like. A physical manifestation of the king’s grief (magic god made frost doesn’t melt easily lol)

They stay there cradling their child until one of the other kiddos manages to work up enough courage to step up behind Hollow and hug them from behind, which kinda snaps them out of their grief and puts them in mum mode™️ and they put that shit aside until they can make their way back to the palace. They wrap the kid in their cloak and try to explain to the other two that he's just super tired right now, so mum has to carry him home, and he has to be wrapped up like this so he won't get cold.

The other two are twins and are like 5ish (subject to change, I've literally just this second decided that lmao)

#asks #rfds bad end #ocs

[goddevouringserpent]

1 and 9 for Yunia and Kaija, from the Edgy Ask :3

What memory would your OC rather just forget?

OOOH this is a fun one because the answers are so different :3

Kaija does not want to forget anything. She's been through some tough shit in her life, but she takes all of it as a lesson—she's very much the "what doesn't kill me makes me stronger" type, and that involves remembering everything that hurt her so she can carefully examine it, be it to make sure it never happens again or to be prepared to deal with it if she can't avoid it. (She may not look like it, given her personality, but she's actually quite shrewd and clever.) Moreover, and WATCH OUT HEAVY SPOILERS FOR WOTR AHEAD, Kaija knows forgetting. Worse than that, she knows what it's like to forget crucial parts of yourself, something that makes you you; even worse, she knows what it's like to be forced to forget. As a result, even if she was inclined to lean towards oblivion as a respite, she would lean away out of spite.

Yunia, on the other hand… Yunia is, um. Not in a good spot mentally. So Yunia is deeply, deeply devoted to Ranni—almost obsessively so, in a frankly very funny way because she has designated herself Ranni's Protector, her Knight in Shining Carian Armour, which, let's be honest, Ranni does not need that. Ranni can take care of herself. But Yunia needs to dedicate herself to someone's cause and so she falls at Ranni's feet, runs herself through with her own blade and promises all of me is yours, lady Ranni, my arm and my flesh and my blood and my mind all yours to take. She fights tooth-and-nail for Ranni's vision of an Age of Stars, and ultimately succeeds. But the problem is… in getting there, a lot of people Yunia cared about—people she fought alongside, people she respected, friends of hers—died. And, due to the Way She Is, Yunia holds herself responsible for every single death. There is little truth in that, but she always thinks that there must have been something she could have done to prevent that (even if there wasn't) and so survivor's guilt gnaws at her, with the added pain of knowing that, no matter how much it hurts, she would do it all over again, for Ranni's sake. She would do anything. But the guilt, the teeth on her heart eating her alive, that's harder to deal with. So I feel Yunia, unlike Kaija, would embrace oblivion. She'd want to forget that her friends died. Not about her friends as a whole, mind you—just about their fates. Give her something that'll let her fool herself into thinking everyone's safe and happy back in the Lands Between, and she'll take it without hesitation.

Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

DO I EVER

Lyric for Kaija: Either "Drowning madly in deep blue seas / Waves of sadness swallow me / No soul can hear me beneath the weight / No gods or saviors, no hands of fate" (from Only Love Can Save Me Now by the Pretty Reckless) or "My darkest soul unfolds / I embrace this rage / Bad things hurt so good / Bad things dig deep inside you / You still feed the monster / With these endless lies / Gonna crush your empire down / 'Til it fades away" (from Bad Things by Lacuna Coil)

Quote for Kaija: "I often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it again with a knife, like a surgeon." - Anaïs Nin

Lyric for Yunia: "I feel alone in my body / I feel a silence underneath / In these valleys of blood / In these rivers of rust / Shoulder all the blame again / Mirror locked until the end" and "And I've always been ashamed that I want to / Fall into a dream with my honour desecrated / Blood is jaded" (both from Jaded by Spiritbox)*

*fun fact this song came out very recently, I just found out about it today—despite it being by one of my favourite bands, smh at myself—and I am losing my MIND at how good it is and how much the lyrics fits several of my characters for various reasons

Quote for Yunia: "Sometimes I feel skinless, raw, like I don't have a face. How can I be sure that I have any coherence unless I outline it?" - Kate Zambreno

#Maia speaks #thank youuuuuuuuuuu!! 🖤 #OC: Kaija #OC: Yunia

[data-is-my-favorite-android]

What do you think Moon Knight can appear next?

That’s a good question! There’s already been some speculation that they’ll show up a few years down the road in a proposed “Midnight Sons” ensemble season featuring Blade, Ghost Rider, and Black Knight (or something like that), which is a comic books team that Moon Knight is traditionally a part of that fights supernatural threats. Outside of that, I’m not sure… Moon Knight occupies such a specific niche and is so removed from the other Marvel properties. That’s one of the things I like best about the show! In my opinion, the smartest thing to do next would either be give Moon Knight a second season or create a highly related series where Moon Knight is already an established character (something like “Moon Knight and Scarlet Scarab,” or “Shadowknight”). Moon Knight is such a complex character in themselves that to push them immediately into an unrelated property like a bigger pre-established superhero’s movie or an ensemble with other all-new characters would be a waste of both Oscar Isaac’s acting talents and the character’s rich potential for development. Character development tends to fall completely by the wayside in team-up films/limited series. It would be so hard to explore the dynamic between Marc, Steven, and Jake under those conditions, to say nothing of any of their relationships with other people like Layla or Duchamps, if they introduce him. And to not explore those things just…doesn’t make sense? In fact, I would argue those things are really necessary to nail down before you can release MK into the wider MCU. Otherwise, there’ll just be too much happening with their character to fully participate in any ensemble group. It’d be distracting, and Moon Knight would feel weird and underdeveloped if you just hand waved all that away. Such a move risks flattening them (which in turn opens up the possibility of leaning too much on tropes in their actions or interactions with other characters, and boy howdy, that could go really wrong really fast with MK’s alters). Not to say Marvel going forward anyway couldn’t happen, because Marvel has absolutely done that before and completely ignored or derailed a character’s previous arc, but Oscar Isaac at least seems committed to telling a story that feels true to the character.

This might be a bit out of left field and I don’t know if there are any plans by Marvel to revive this corner of the MCU, but I could see Moon Knight eventually entering the arena of the Netflix run of NYC superheroes with Matt Murdock, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Frank Castle, and Danny Rand. They also occupy a niche space in the MCU. Their stories are smaller scale, more focused on exploring nuanced psychological and sociological topics, and tend to do a good job putting character and character dynamics before plot (or at least making sure they interweave well). Tonally, they’re darker too, though they aren’t without hope. And while those characters do react to things that happen in the larger MCU, they still feel distinct from the global-scale action. You don’t have to have watched a billion movies and shows to know what’s happening; they reference the larger things, but that’s all secondary. All you need to do is intuit the context of the local environment and the characters’ drives to understand the plot. Idk, it’s not a perfect 1:1 fit for Moon Knight, but it’s a thought. But Marvel may not do that because NYC has had too much going on anyway—that’s why they based Steven and Marc out of London instead to begin with.

(It’s also possible that Moon Knight, as I’ve wondered before, exists in a universe where some of the bigger MCU things didn’t happen, like the Snap. Nobody in MK seems to react to things like people who have experienced the crazy shit that’s been happening in the wider MCU world would. In which case it’d be hard to integrate MK into any of the pre-existing Marvel superheroes’ stories/properties. Then again, the Netflix runs all ended before the Snap, I believe, so they could just pretend that they also exist in an alternate universe/timeline where some of those things didn’t happen to better integrate MK…lol, idk, that’s probably overly complicated. I’m thinking too hard about this)

Tbh I’m not super up-to-date on all the Marvel properties coming down the pipeline, so there may be possibilities here for MK to jump to that I’m not seeing, but goodness, fingers crossed that Oscar Isaac twists their arm into they opt for doing another season/limited series that focuses on Moon Knight first before thrusting him into the greater MCU (if that’s even necessary at all…) 🤞🤞🤞

(YMMV, of course 😅 Again, I don’t know much about Marvel’s future properties and their writers constantly surprise me both with how clever and how totally senseless they can be at turns, so who knows what will happen! I’m also a super character-focused person, so I could take or leave the big action pieces and grandiose scale of world save-age, but I know that’s exactly what other people love. I’m just in favor of keeping MK working on a smaller scale and with smaller teams, personally)

Hopefully that answers your question and I didn’t misunderstand it and go on a whole unrelated rant 😅😅😅

#moon knight #moon knight spoilers #marc spector #steven grant #marvel cinematic universe

[tumbledfreckles]

Glad

Look, things escalated once I saw a post about in the name of fairness and equality, having a shirtless Lily Evans July, to go along with shirtless James Potter May (wasn’t that a cracker). I went off and wrote something, only to find my colleagues had smartly decided to move it August, give we’ve already got the @jilychallenge going on this month. But I’m all about instant gratification, so seeing I was late to shirtless JP, let me be early to shirtless LE. I doubt it’ll be my only entry, regardless. 

"Does it hurt?"

Lily shook her head, biting down on her bottom lip to keep from wincing or crying out, as pain tore through her back with each of the shuddering breath. 

"Can I see?" 

James’ hand hovered in the region of her shoulder, she could see out of the corner of her eye. He hesitated, waiting for permission. 

"I'm fine." The words ground out of her with another excruciating shake of her head. 

"Evans." His fingers brushed her top, withdrawing the second she flinched, a sharp hiss escaping before she could stop it. "You're not fine." 

"I'm okay." Lily turned as she spoke, not wanting her back to him, not wanting to let him keep seeing what had to be the grossest, nastiest thing he'd ever seen. Her eyes met his, surprised to see frustration where she'd expected pity, or worse, disgust.

"Let me help you." 

She stared at him, long moments, until the burning pain in the wound was worse than the burn of desire she felt around him, and she gave up on the idea of appearing brave and fierce and worthy. 

James’ touch was hesitant, even after she nodded. He didn't seem to know where to start. A gentle caress along the torn and exposed muscle of her shoulder blade drew a groan, a firmer tug at the frayed fabric of her shirt a more strangled, stricken yelp. 

"Shit, sorry," he was instantly apologetic. Lily snuck a look over her one intact shoulder, to see James had stepped back, face pale, hand running through his messy locks. He looked nervous, uncertain. Like he knew the answer, but didn't care for the result. 

"What is it?" Her voice was husky with pain and fatigue. She wasn't sure how she hadn't passed out yet. 

James sighed, looked away, looked back. He grimaced, finally spoke. "It's your shirt. It's stuck, from the," he paused, swallowed, "from the blood."

"Okay," Lily nodded slowly. 

He could see she didn't understand. "It has to come off." 

"My shirt?" 

"Yeah," James sighed, his shoulders dropping. "Your shirt. It has to come off." 

"Oh." Eventually, effortfully, her fingers moved to comply. A whimper escaped soon after. "I can't." 

He blinked at her. "What?" 

"My shirt. I can't get it off." She was horrified to find her eyes pricking. 

"Oh." A tick flicked across his jaw as James processed. "Do you want me to -" 

"If you don’t-”

“I don’t” 

“Ta." Her gaze went to the floor as he stepped closer, reaching for the top button. He clearly tried not to touch her. An absolute failed mission. Warm fingers brushed her throat, her chest, knuckles soft against her breast, her stomach. It wasn't until she felt his hand tremble as he pulled one side of the shirt away, exposing her to his view, that her eyes flew back to his face. 

James wasn't looking at her. Not directly at least. Maybe somewhere over her shoulder, possibly near her ear. Lily was fascinated to see a tinge in his cheeks, a flush in his neck. Lips pressed in concentration, he didn't even seem to be breathing. Long lashes hid a storm of hazel behind his wire framed glasses as he work the material towards her shoulders, and paused. 

"I'll have to rip it." 

She jumped, immediately regretting it as a fresh wave of nausea swept through with the blinding pain. "What?" 

"Your shirt," he gestured uselessly. 

"My shirt?" 

"I can't get it down your arm. Unless you can roll that shoulder," he raised an eyebrow, "I'm going to have to rip your shirt off." 

"All your wildest dreams come true, huh, Potter?" Lily couldn't help the quip, despite the pain, and in the moment the grin split across James face, it was worth it.

"Not quite the way I pictured this, believe me," James shook his head as Lily snorted, his face growing somber before she was ready for that one moment of lightness to be over. His hands hovered over a seam. "Ready?" 

Lily curls her hands into fists, feeling her nails cut into her palms. "Do it." 

Despite her best efforts, a low moan escaped for her throat, a harsh breath as James pulled the material away. Audible, so loud it would have been embarrassing if she'd had the capacity to care, panting came next as he painstakingly peeled it from where it stuck to her skin. So all consumed by her agony, she barely had time to process that she was now shirtless before him.

"I'm sorry." He leant so close, she felt his breath on her now bare, now exposed neck. 

"It's okay. Keep going."

"Here." She felt James’ hand reached around her, take hold of hers. He prised her fingers apart, entwining them with his own. "Hold tight." 

Lily squeezed gratefully. Probably too tightly, but James gave no indication he minded if she broke any of his bones, as he knitted her back together. The burn of torn flesh was replaced slowly but surely with just the heat of his touch as he healed. 

Finally, but all too soon, he was done. But the feel of his rough, calloused fingertips remained. Her skin tingled with awareness. James' hand slid across her now smooth shoulder, catching on her bra strap. She thanked the high heavens it was one of her better ones, having been out for dinner with the girls when she was summoned to the battlefield. 

"Alright, Evans?" His voice was soft as he trailed along the lace edge to her collar bone, stopping at the nape of her neck. 

Lily leant back, until his shirt brushed against her bare skin. "Much better, thanks." She kept going, leaning her weight onto him, sinking into his warmth. "I was stupid." 

"Taunting Lestrange may not have been your best move," James agreed, cheek to hers. His arm stole around her waist, causing her to gasp at the novel feel of his forearm against her stomach. Not wanting him to read her sound of surprise for anything less than pleasure, her own arm covered his, spanning the corded muscles. 

Bold from adrenaline, left over from the battle, high of the thrill of surviving another night, she turned her head, until her lips caught his cheek. "Thank you for hauling me out of there."

He nuzzled against her. "You're welcome." 

"And thank you for healing me." Her lips landed on the corner of his mouth this time. 

"Of course."

"But mostly," she twisted in his arms, hand curling up into his hair, slipping on the unruly strands. "Thanks for hitting that bastard for me when I couldn't." 

"Always." 

Lily's lips covered his, a perfect fit, like she'd long suspected they would. She heard his hum of pleasure as their mouths moved together for the first time, and all the last bits of tension from the horrible night slipped away. It might have been his kiss, it might have been her relief at their escape, but all of a sudden it didn't matter why her shirt had ended up in tatters on the ground. She was just really glad it had. 

#jily #jily fic #jily fanfiction #shirtless lily evans august #james potter #lily evans #post hogwarts jily #taking back always #freckles writes #bit of a different tone #I know #the next one will be lighter #maybe

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under the Floorboards Pt. V

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V, Pt. VI

    Alright so maybe you spoke too soon; the four of you were going to do great things, minus Tommy. Technoblade had finally agreed to let you join Tommy and him on an adventure into L’manberg. The plan was to crash their festival, and ultimately attempt to get Tommy’s discs back from Dream and Tubbo. You expected your first adventure into the country to be fun, if anything you’d get to steal some shit, what you didn’t expect was to be thrown in the middle of a public dispute. 

Clearly, you underestimated what ‘getting the discs back’ actually entailed. 

You and Technoblade were back to back swords drawn, surrounded by about thirty people in the ruin of what was once deemed a community house. Technoblade never would’ve agreed to let you come if he thought the confrontation with Dream was going to be this serious, he assumed they’d watch from afar. If things got to dicey Tommy and him would rush in and he’d have you stay behind to watch from afar. If only he could’ve predicted someone blowing up a random building would cause such turmoil. 

Nothing could ever come up Technoblade.

   “Yah know when you first invited me out to partake in a festival for some reason I didn’t expect to be attacked by like thirty people.” You chirped a hesitant smile on your face as Technoblade made a confused sound. 

   “You definitely should’ve expected it,” Technoblade grumbled, barely taking his eyes off of Tommy and Tubbo’s argument. You watched Techno’s back but you couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the boys conversation as well. As much as your heart broke for the two war-torn children, you had your alliance first and foremost with your boyfriend. You also couldn’t help but feel this conversation should be happening privately but here they were airing things out seemingly for the first time in front of everybody. Speaking of your boyfriend, your attention was drawn back to him as he caught Tommy’s attention, “be very careful what your decision is here Tommy.” 

You narrowed your eyes and took a step in front of Technoblade, he made his classic ‘heh’ sound as you did so. You felt his hand grip your forearm and tighten trying to hold you back in case you wanted to do something stupid. 

   “Tommy, come home with us.” You held out your hand to him, the one Technoblade didn’t have a hold of obviously. “Phil’s waiting for us, we’ll get your discs back together as we planned.” The smile on your face could part the cloudiest of days and it broke Tommy’s heart, she had given him something that he hadn’t had since the war with Dream began.

A home. 

   “(Y/N),” That’s the first time he used your name, the first time you weren’t just Ms Blade. It broke your heart and you whimpered a little bit, “thank you for everything you’ve done for me. But I can’t go back with you and Technoblade. I don’t like what I’ve become, this isn’t me. I’m sorry. I hope one day we can be friends again. Tubbo give Dream my disc.” You leaned back into Technoblade in disbelief, Tommy had just betrayed Technoblade right before your very eyes. The man who gave Tommy the clothes on his back and a place to stay when no one else would. Weapons to help him fight against Dream when everyone else abandoned him, even though they all treated Technoblade as a weapon he still went out of his way to help Tommy. Your hands clenched into fists at your side as Dream let out a roaring laugh collecting the disc from Tubbo. He called the two children stupid right to their face and no matter how angry you were with them that was harsh, it’s like everyone in this country forgets that they are children. Children fuck up, it’s how they learn and it’s in their nature why does no one here understand that. You looked up at Techno your eyebrows furrowed and you pressed your lips tight but he didn’t take his eyes off Dream, he had different priorities in mind. 

Protecting you from the Dreamon if anything went south. 

Dream continued to mock and criticize the people of L’manberg before turning to you and Technoblade. The mask he wore may hide his facial expressions, but it couldn’t mask the unadulterated glee in his voice. Technoblade pulled you behind him as Dream stepped closer to the both of you, you felt a growl rumble in Technoblade’s chest, 

   “That’s close enough.” 

   “Down boy.” Dream mused, holding up his hands to show faux innocence. “I have no issues with the both of you. Tomorrow, with your help, Technoblade and woman.”  

   “(Y/N).”

   “Don’t tell him your name.” Technoblade gaped at you and you only could huff in frustration, 

   “Better than just being called woman! Plus Tommy already said it.”  

With an eye-roll Dream continued his speech, “With the help of Technoblade and (Y/N) L’manberg is going to be a crater. We’re blowing it sky-high.” Dream turned over to face Tubbo once again, “I had to pretend to be friends with you, to get the dumb disk back! I don't care about you. I'm not your friend. Okay? I cared about getting the disk back, and I got the disk back. I got it back. And that's-that's- that's the only thing that really matters. You can't even run your nation right. RANBOO IS A TRAITOR. ONE OF YOUR MOST TRUSTED FRIENDS.”

Your eyes widened as you spotted another child looking horrified, it was the half enderman from the butcher gang. You’re adopting him next.

   “NO, IT IS TRUE. READ THIS BOOK. READ THIS BOOK. There's his memory book. He was meeting with Techno and Tommy and told them EVERYTHING. The proof’s all his own memories! He writes it down! You can't even run your own nation correctly Tubbo. Listen. Tubbo, you, I mean you, ... L'Manberg is weaker than it's ever been, and it's because of you! You have- you have destroyed everything. You have ruined your friendships. You have ruined L'Manberg's allies. You have just-you are a horrible president Tubbo.” Dream continued as Tubbo looked sick to his stomach, you felt just as nauseous.

   “YEAH, YOU SUCK TUBBO!”

   “TECHNOBLADE!” 

   “What?” He flinched at your tone, “he’s right!” 

   “They’re children,” You tried to argue but Dream cut you off by stepping in between you and Technoblade. Your pulse skyrocketed as you were separated, and you made sure an ender pearl was at the ready. Tommy looked at the both fo you nervously, but there was a spark of hope in his eyes when you defended Tubbo. Tommy turned over to Tubbo who honestly looked just as shocked that a partner of Technoblade’s would defend him, espeically considering he had tried to kill her a few days prior. Tommy had hope that he wasn’t completely dead to you.

   “Techno. Got any withers?” You watched a sickening smile spread across Techno’s lips he picked at his nails. 

   “I got a few.” 

   “Good. Then I’ll see you all tomorrow when the L’manberg loses its last cannon life,” Dream announced before disappearing into the wind. The citizens turned to face you and Technoblade, he only had to utter a single word:

   “Run,” Before both of you pearled away from the wreckage of the community house. 

Technoblade scooped you up in his arms as he made his way through the Nether portal back to his base. He was much faster than you were and you didn’t fight him on wanting to make a quick getaway. You both were silent on the way back to his base, bottom line was you didn’t know how you felt about what just went down. On one hand, destruction was your middle name and you weren’t going to oppose blowing a government to smithereens with your boyfriend.  

Nothing could be more romantic than that. 

Yet at the same time, unlike Technoblade, you felt the guilt eat away at you. These were people’s homes, and lives you’d be destroying tomorrow. Most of the citizens you had no affiliation with, which you were grateful for, but those you did you almost couldn’t justify blowing the country up. Tommy was by all accounts dead to Technoblade and by that extent you as well. Still, you didn’t want to see him physically dead, it wasn’t his fault he got corrupted by the government and a homeless teletubby.

You were starting to sound like Technoblade now too.  

You made a sound of distress and Techno glanced down at your form, his face flushed as you nuzzled your nose against his neck. 

   “You okay princess?” 

   “No…” You answered with a sigh, you reached out and twirled a strand of his pink hair through your fingers. “Tommy’s gone, we’re going to blow up a country tomorrow. I feel bad for the people we’re gonna leave homeless. So, no I’m not okay bubs.” The socially awkward man winced a little as he battled with what to say to you, he tends to forget you both aren’t the same person. For as much as both of you agree, you were still different from him, you had more empathy than he could ever wish to have. 

   “You don’t have to come.”  

He watched a frown appear on your face as you pulled away from him. You clicked your tongue in distaste, a sure sign that you were about to pick a fight with the blood god. You were one opponent he could never seem to defeat. That did not come out the way he intended. 

Time to backtrack before he got his ass handed to him. 

   “What I mean is, you have no affiliation with L’manberg. You have no prior issues you need to settle with them so technically you can stay home tomorrow, no one would blame you. You’d be safer away from the explosions, I’d feel better with you at home.”

   “That way you’d only have to worry about Phil tomorrow right?” 

   “Well, that’s part of it,” He stated bluntly, never one to be dishonest. “He has only one life and he’s going to want to fight, he has a lot to avenge. The government drove his eldest son mad, enough that Phil had to kill him. He’s one of my oldest friends, I wanna look out for him and protect him.” You couldn’t help but sigh softly at his response, you brushed your thumb across his cheek fondly. 

   “You’re wrong.” 

   “Eh?”

   “I do have something I want to fight for, I want to fight for what I believe is right. Let’s face it Techno the way everyone’s treating those children is sick. Dream manipulated Tommy and used Tubbo to get what he wanted from him. I know you did what you thought was right for Tommy but he’s a product of a war-torn country, they all are. Now, that doesn’t excuse his betrayal but… did he even know what the right thing to do was in this situation, does he even truly know what peace is? I want to fight to protect those kids. They deserve to know peace, true peace away from bloodshed and war. If I can I want to give them that.” You watched Technoblade’s jaw tighten, “I’m going with you tomorrow but I’m not going to kill the children.” 

   “I don’t think I can ever forgive Tommy.” He sighed adjusting his grip on you a sure sign he was nervous, “but I love you.” Techno kissed you once again, it was long and tender you watched as the apples of his cheeks turn red after you both pulled away. He took a breath, “You’re unstoppable and you’ve never stopped me before so I won’t do the same for you. Just stay safe. Please. You need to come home with me tomorrow I won’t settle for anything else.” 

   “I will. I promise.” You pressed a light kiss to his cheek, and he hummed gently in response. “I love you Technoblade, I’ll fight beside you. Till the end of the line.”

   “Till the end of the line,” He repeated as you both approached the snow-covered house to convene with Philza Minecraft himself.

~~~

Hi guys! Officially feeling a bit better, enough to get a small part out before I work on the next chapter. I hope you like it, thanks so much for reading and your amazing feedback. Also, thanks so much for your kind words and well wishes! Also, also, If anyone ever makes fanart of this story (I doubt it would happen) please tag me and let me know. I love to make art myself and always wanna support other artists! Thanks Again!

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #technoblade #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #fanfiction #fanfic #minecraft fanfiction #x reader #dreamsmp x reader #minecraft x reader #x you #Blood for the Blood God #rp #dream smp