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#anywho the show must go on
heuffopla · 8 months
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I helped with designing Casey's new look for the ROTTMNT : A new age Fan project and I think he looks pretty cool! 🐢❤️✨ Go check out the tumblr for our project : @riseseason3fanproject
Casey's final design for our season is right here! Hope you enjoy! : https://youtu.be/NO20l9bJI3A
(I talk about the thoughts that went into my design a bit more in the tags if ur interested!)
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sisterdivinium · 1 year
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Finding "the meaning" to a show that could have had up to five or seven seasons but was cancelled after the second is somewhat like trying to understand a novel composed of seventy chapters by having read only twenty — there is a whole wealth of information which we do not possess that could alter our reading of any given element or of the entire thing in itself.
Still, there are always patterns that weave a story into a cohesive unit and they can help us to better grope in darkness towards comprehension. One such pattern in Warrior Nun appears to be how the consequences to mistakes, "sins" or evil deeds committed by characters manifest.
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Basic storytelling usually requires characters to act on something so that complications or resolutions may arise from their choices and move the plot forwards. In Warrior Nun, many of these actions are quite tragic in nature: Suzanne's arrogance and pride lead to the death of her Mother Superion; Vincent's allegiance to the higher power he believed Adriel to be inspired him to kill Shannon; Ava's flight from the Cat's Cradle ends up damning Lilith as she is mortally wounded and taken away by a tarask... All of these events have negative outcomes and heavy repercussions on all characters directly or indirectly involved. Something changes permanently because of them, be it in the world around them or within the characters themselves.
And yet, it would seem that all of these dark deeds not only move the story forwards but might also have overall positive results. We would have had no protagonist without Ava — and she would arguably never have received the halo to begin with had she not been murdered. What's more, on a personal scale, the horrifying crime she suffers is, in the end, the very thing that allows her a second chance in life, a new life.
An act of outside evil permits Ava to grow and develop, shows her a path she would not otherwise have found. Without her own season in some sort of hell, Lilith would not have been able to advance towards other ways of being and understanding beyond her very strict limitations. Vincent and Suzanne would not have embarked on their own journeys of enlightenment without having caused the pain they are responsible for.
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Beatrice might have been paying for someone else's mistakes, but she, too, is given the chance to grow into herself through it. The afflictions that torment these characters advance the overall plot, but they also advance them, as individuals, as long as they are willing to learn and keep going despite the calamities large and small that they are faced with. Beatrice keeps going after parental rejection, Mary keeps going after losing Shannon, Jillian keeps going after losing her son (in part through her own actions, adding insult to injury)... Trouble and the adaptation that follows it, if one is open enough to learn from the experience, motivates the characters, propels them forward, teaches them.
The problem of evil has occupied the minds of many a thinker throughout the ages, given how the very existence of it, evil, might call into question that of God (a good, omniscient, omnipotent one, anyway). A common way of justifying suffering (and also God), then, is by claiming, as Saint Augustine, that "God judged it better to bring good out of evil than not to permit any evil to exist".
Now, it would be rather ridiculous to say of Warrior Nun that it follows in Leibniz's footsteps, also because this philosopher, expanding on the augustinian concept, attempted to defend the goodness of a real God with his "best of all possible worlds" while all we have is... Well, whatever/whoever Reya is.
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But there seems to be an inclination towards some sort of optimism as a worldview nonetheless.
Betrayals reveal truth and grant knowledge (Vincent's culminates with the coming of Adriel, which allows us to know of the threat of a "Holy War" and thus prepare for it; Kristian's gives Jillian much needed insight, William's lights up the fuse for the fight to be taken more seriously...), crimes committed willingly or not open the way for Ava (Suzanne's killing of her Mother Superion causes the loss of the halo, which is transferred to Shannon, whose death opens the gates for Ava to walk through after being herself murdered by sister Frances)... The magnitude of these positive outcomes is perhaps not "balanced" when compared to the evil that brings them about, but there is still something to take out of the catastrophe.
However tragic the tones of a given event, the show itself appears to shun the predetermination that makes tragedy as a genre; if everything is connected, here it at least appears to not necessarily drag everyone into their horrible dooms.
What's more is that this lurking "optimism" matches really well with our own protagonist's personality.
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And it makes perfect sense that Ava would do the best she could with whatever she is given.
Life for her, in the conditions she experienced after the accident, would have been unbearable without some sort of positive outlook on life. However deadpan, the joking and the "obscene gestures" and whatever other forms of goofing around beside Diego are a way of turning a portion of the situation in her own favour. Proverbial eggs have, after all, already been broken right and left — might as well make an omelette of whatever remains.
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Humour is just another way of looking at the bright side of something, or, at the every least, of mitigating the utter horror it might bring. If the show allows for moments of lightness, if it lets us laugh, if it takes us through a perilous voyage which still bears ripe, succulent fruit instead of the rot of pessimism and its necessary contempt for humanity, it is because Ava herself sees things in this way. It isn't gratuitous or naïve in this case, but a true survival strategy, especially as it is confronted with the morbidity of Catholicism.
Here is a religion that soothes its faithful with the promise of reward in the afterlife — how else does one charge into battle against the unknown, risking one's own death along with that of one's sisters, without the balm of believing that we shall all meet again eventually, "in this life or the next"? How else does one come to terms with the ugliness and the pain of this existence if not by looking forward to a paradise perfect enough to make all trials and tribulations here worth it?
True nihilism would have annihilated Ava. Her present perspective is what avoided the abyss.
And there is nothing Panglossian to her attitude or what the show might imply by giving us her view on things. This isn't about "the best of all possible worlds", but of making the best of whatever situation we're in, of taking what we have and doing something with it, something good, something of ourselves. It isn't God making good out of evil, but our choices.
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Killing innocent people and feeling no remorse will never be the best someone can aspire to do. Sister Frances, cardinal William, Adriel all learn this the hard way.
Those who do their best find that, somehow, they can move on from whatever it was that paralysed them. Ava, most of all, knows what it is to be stuck, frozen in place; she can never be the character who refuses to grow, even through pain, lest she condemns her spirit to the same fate her body is all too familiarised with. Those around her wise enough to let themselves be touched by her, by the dynamic power she carries, walk forth with her and live.
It says very little about "God" that Warrior Nun should adopt its heroine's views and seem "optimistic" as it progresses — but it speaks volumes about the values it presents for pondering, of the inspiration its protagonists provide, and of the multiple reasons why this is a story unlike most others.
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#warrior nun#ava silva#you know it's actually very funny to type this as someone who is very schopenhaurian with hints of nietzsche#but i AM doing the best i can too :)#again i will reiterate that i don't think this apparent optimism has anything to do with the classic theodicy#if anything i see it more as a cry in favour of antitheism -- this is YOUR life fuck god#life is shitty so carve out your own makeshift paradise out of the wreck you are given#and don't make things harder for anyone else in the process if you can avoid it#(but that might just be the luciferian in me speaking lol)#anywho this post is a translation of one i wrote not too long ago in cryptic english and a ton of tags#so if it seems familiar that's why#also i do find it rather telling that whenever i try to delve into how the show structures things i talk about ava#i don't set out to analyse her -- but in analysing the show i must analyse her as well if by the edges#which again points to how finely woven she is to the fabric of the entire thing#remember how i said ava is a representation of free will?#well this whole bringing good out of evil thing also touches upon it#saint augustine maintains that it is precisely free will that allows us to do it -- to choose good#of course he means it in a sense of being free to pursue god rather than evil but you see the parallel still works#(this is the post i mentioned in the last reblog. figured i'd go ahead and throw it in the wild since there are more brewing)#analysis and similar#exercises in observation
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thatintrovertedwriter · 6 months
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"A tale of dancing and romancing" - Jack Hughes x Tkachuk!Reader
Summary: In which your feelings for your best friend, Jack, have always been one-sided. Or so you think. A/N: Not really sure how much I like the ending of this, but anywho, enjoy this best friends to lovers fic (it's my favourite trope, okay?) Also, I promise next time there's crying at a wedding, it's happy tears.
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"You're still in love with him, aren't you?" Quinn mummers as he pulls a chair up beside yours, turning it around so he can rest his arms on the backrest. You're fiddling with a napkin, ripping the white paper to tiny shreds to keep your fingers occupied. Without a word, he pulls it from your grip, trying to make the clean-up team's job a little easier.
The ceremony, reception, dinner and dessert are over, and not long ago most of the wedding-goers abandoned their tables in favour of the dance floor. 
Brady and Emma are in the centre of it, surrounded by their friends and family and singing along, horribly, to some British pop song.
They look happy and in love, which does nothing to help your sulking. 
Up until now, Quinn had been letting loose with them, but then he must have caught you sitting alone at the table you shared with him, his brothers and a few others doing dinner and decided to come to bother you. Or cheer you up, you guess.
"Sounds so pathetic when you say it like that," you mumble, eyeing the ground like it's the most interesting thing you've ever seen. But then again, counting all the marks and creaks in the linoleum floor of the wedding tent sounds infinitely better than looking at him.
"Nothing pathetic about being in love." 
A scoff leaves your lips at Quinn's poetic words, all the hurting you've been keeping down bubbling to the surface. 
"There is when it's your best friend and it's unrequited and he's over there chatting up some girl he met two seconds ago."
You're lashing out at Quinn, it's irrational, mainly because none of this is Quinn's fault, but if anyone can handle your outbursts, it's the man you consider a third older brother. 
This also isn't the first time the two of you have had this conversation. 
It's probably the conversation you have had the most over the years with the oldest Hughes brother, to be honest.
Quinn sighs and pinches his nose, shaking his head in exasperation. 
"I don't understand why you won't just tell him."
He makes it sound so simple. Like you could just rock up to Jack and say 'Hey, by the way, I've been in love with you since Brady and Quinn introduced us when we were 15!' and then continue to act indifferently around him. 
Because that's what you would have to do. 
At no point in the history of Jack and your friendship has he ever so much as hinted that he feels a sliver of the feelings you do for him.
So, you pretend like your heart isn't about to beat out of your chest whenever he smiles at you and his dimples show, or like being cuddled up next to him during your weekly movie nights doesn't mean anything to you, or like living with him all summer and occasionally sharing a bed doesn't make you wonder what it would be like to do so the whole year.
"You know why, Quinn." 
You try to take back the napkin from him, hands growing antsier by the second, but he moves it out of reach, so you settle for pushing dropped salt left on the tablecloth around instead.
"I don't think I do. You always just say that and then never give me an explanation." Quinn says, then chuckle a bit when you line the salt up in straight lines.
"Because he's not interested in me!" your hand twitches at your outburst, the salt lines going wonky. At the same time, you're all too aware of the people close enough to you who might have heard you raising your voice and in turn, the topic of conversation.
"He's never been and he never will be and I don't want to screw it up and lose him as a friend too," you continue, voice lower and with a hint of defeat this time.
Quinn hands you the napkin back, this time for the tears he can tell are threatening to spill and you accept it gratefully. His arm wraps around you and tugs you into him, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. 
Careful of your makeup, you dab the napkin under your eyes, hoping it's not too obvious.
"Heads up," Quinn whispers into your hair, quickly removing his arm, momentarily leaving you confused. 
"Why are you making my best friend cry?" Jack says, obviously trying to be funny, but his voice lacks humour. Instead, it comes out accusing, like he thinks his big brother did make you cry and is about to take revenge. Quinn just rolls his eyes, but gets up from his chair nonetheless and leaves the two of you, a meaningful glance in your direction and a pat on Jack's shoulder as goodbye. 
Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to look at your best friend. And what a sight.
The top three buttons on his dress shirt are undone, revealing his toned and tan chest, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms and hair messy from dancing and running his hands through it. Jack smiles at you, then extends his hand.
"Dance with me?"
"What about the blonde?"
"Kate?" A puzzled look clouds his features at the mention of your cousin. Your very married cousin. He had been talking to her, not trying to get some random bridesmaid in his bed like you had assumed. Blood rushes to your cheeks, embarrassed at how stupid and possessive you sounded just then, hoping he didn't pick up on it. 
Luckily, he doesn't seem to notice, or he decides to ignore it, instead urging you to take his still outstretched hand with a little shake of it.
You yield, of course, you do, and slip your hand into his warm one. 
You let him pull you up and onto the dance floor, let him wrap his arms around your waist and rest your own behind his neck, your fingers finding his grown-out hair, which you've been begging him to cut. 
Jack's eyes bore into yours, almost like he's trying to tell you something with them, but the intimacy of it gets too much, so you flicker your eyes to a spot over his shoulder. Just in time to see Quinn nudging Luke, pointing to where you and Jack are stood, not having started as much as swaying yet. The youngest Hughes grins when he spots you and wiggles his eyebrows. As retaliation, you stick your tongue out at him, then realise Jack notices your antics when he starts laughing. 
The song changes and he starts to move you softly, smoothly turning you so your back is to his brothers.
"This DJ is shit." You comment once you clock in exactly what song is playing. 
Whistle by Flo Rida blares through the speakers, earning almost no positive reactions from the people around you. It's also not a song that makes sense to slow dance to, but Jack seems adamant about continuing your chosen form of dancing, keeping the slow pace each time you try to speed up. 
"Yeah..." he trails off, an almost embarrassed look on his face as his cheeks turn pink and he's the one now refusing to make eye contact. 
Before you can question him on it, Brady bumps into the two of you, clearly way past tipsy, and throws one arm around Jack and the other around you. He's heavy, resting all his weight on you and his voice is way too loud, considering he's standing right there. 
"Jack I'm never trusting you with music requests again, that song is horrible!"
Your brothers' words make your head snap back to Jack, your mouth falling open. He says a few words to your brother, something along the lines of 'sorry man' and 'you can change it' and when Brady leaves, you're sure he's about to do just that. Then, Jack finally looks at you.
"You requested that?"
Pink hues change to deep reds on his cheeks, a shy smile replacing the sly grin he was wearing before, fingers fiddling with the back of your dress and a nod so quick you almost don't catch it.
"Why?"
"This is the song that played when we - uh - danced at prom."
Ah, yes. Prom. 
The night Jack Hughes stole your heart and made it impossible for you to ever get it back. You had known each other for about two years at that point, the label of best friends in place for a year and six months, and then came senior year prom. 
Some guy you can't recall the name of now had asked you to go with him and you convinced Jack wasn't going to ask you, had said yes.
That turned out a mistake, considering the guy left you twenty minutes after you arrived to make out with his ex-girlfriend. 
He had only asked you to make her jealous.
So there you had been sitting, with your back against the wall and sipping from a flask Trevor had snuck in and slipped you, when Jack had joined you, not caring about the sticky gym floor ruining his favourite game-day suit. And after he'd gotten you to stop crying and mumbling about losing the chance to slow dance, he'd practically dragged you with him to the dance floor. Just as he had you in a slow dancing position, though, that song had started playing, and while a lesser man would have made you wait for another song, he didn't, instead choosing to look like an idiot for you. He still ended up being crowned prom king with his original date, though.
How you hadn't thought of that exact memory the second the opening tunes had started now, was a mystery to you. Maybe it was because the proximity of him was clouding your senses, his cologne filling your nose and his heart beating in tune with yours. Or maybe you had repressed the memory, convincing yourself the night meant nothing. Which it hadn't, not to Jack, at least.
Which is why you couldn't seem to figure out why he had requested that specific song. 
So, you decide to ask him about it, just as the music stops and quickly resumes, this time with the original wedding playlist Emma no doubt spent hours making. 
Jack doesn't answer immediately, instead choosing to grab your hand in his, push you a few inches away, and then spin you under his arm before you're back chest to chest. He moves your hands behind his neck again, his own finding your waist once more and pulling you closer in an almost hug, 
"Feels like you've been a little distant with me lately and I wanted you to remember something nice."
At his words, you suck in a quick breath, not having expected him to pick up on that. Since the beginning of summer, you've been trying to protect your heart more than normally, knowing spending the entire break with him would be hard otherwise. 
There was also that one small blip right before the off-season started, when the Devils had won their series against the Rangers, and you had all been out celebrating. 
Jack and you had both been a little too tipsy, a little too handsy and somehow your lips had ended up on his soft ones. 
Neither of you had acknowledged it since, though. 
You're not about to start now, either.
"You thought the prom dancing was nice?"
Jack huffs out a strangled laugh, making it hard for you to decide whether he's relieved that's what you're asking or more disappointed that's where you decide to take it.
"I think everything with you is nice," he says, looking you square in the eyes.
"I think everything with you is more than nice, actually. It's great, amazing. Perfect, even."
Your fingers stop curling his hair around them, your body stops swaying and your mind goes blank. Jack's expression gives you nothing, his eyes searching yours for signs of what you think of his words, but otherwise, you can't tell the meaning behind them.
"Well, I would hope so. That's what hanging out with your best friend should be, no?" You laugh, trying to diffuse the sudden tension and seriousness between you. 
It wasn't the right thing to say, though, because Jack's face falls, arms loosening around you.
"Don't do that," He whispers, looking so, so hurt you want to wrap him in a hug and say all the right things to make his smile come back. Except, you have no idea what the right thing is right now, not even sure what this conversation is about.
At your confused expression, Jack just sighs and runs his hand through his hair, messing it up even more. He opens his mouth, and looks like he's about to say something, but then thinks better of it and closes it again. He spins around and then back to you, clutching his shirt collar.
"Don't act like my tie isn't matching your dress!" He bursts out, taking you by surprise. Then, the confusion continues. 
"You're not wearing a tie, Jacky." You eye his bare chest, the tie he arrived with long forgotten over the back of a chair somewhere in the venue.
"I- that's not- I was. I was wearing a tie, and it was the same exact blue as your dress. And I wore it so people would look at us and think we're together."
"Jack," you say, his name on your lips breathless and barely there, and reach forward to lay your hand on his arm. He's not done, though, and the words keep spilling from his lips, seemingly unable to stop the river from flowing.
"Just like I wear your hair tie on my wrist, or beg you to wear my jersey or introduce you to people as my Y/n. So please stop acting like we're just best friends because each time you do, it feels like you're reaching into my chest and ripping my heart out!" 
His chest is heaving from speaking so quickly, and while you're sure the guests around you have noticed your discussion or argument or confession or whatever this is, you can't bring yourself to care.
"But you've never-"
"Given you any signs? Of course, I have! I love you, but you're the most oblivious person on the planet, Y/n/n. I've tried giving you signs for years." His tongue darts out to wet his lips, a wild look in his eye, only egging you more on, not even registering his words. Who is he to be angry when you're the one who suffered for years?
"I think I would have noticed if you- wait. You love me?"
"Do I love you?" He scoffs, taking a second to catch his breath before continuing, "I'm in love with you, you're my other half, I can't live without you, and don't want to either, whatever you want to call it, yes I'm that."
Taking a shaky breath and a small step towards him, you reach out for him.
"I love you too. And, um, all those other things too."
"You better," he grumbles, then, grabs both sides of your face and pulls your lips to his. Your hands find his waist and you grab onto the stiff material of his white shirt, bunching it up and undoubtedly crinkling it.
The kiss is different than the one you shared a few months ago. 
Where that was sloppy and rushed, mostly because of your intoxication, this one is slow, filled with all the yeaning and love you've been keeping at bay for the better part of seven years. 
One of Jack's hands moves to your waist and he pulls you closer so you're flush against his chest, a small gasp leaving your lips when he squeezes. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, meeting yours and you try not to dwell too long on how skilled he is with it. Suddenly, a hand lands on your arm and your lips are ripped from Jack's.
Both of you quickly open your eyes, only to be met with your oldest brother.
"You know, I'm so happy, thrilled, even, that you two idiots have finally decided to come clean about your feelings. However, I would greatly appreciate it if you weren't trying to suck my baby sister's face off right in front of me." Matthew says as he shakes Jack and you out of your daze, a grin on his face showing you he truly is happy. 
Still, you don't miss the silent warning he shoots Jack, who immediately nods solemnly. Satisfied, Matty decides to leave you alone again, and you turn to your best friend.
You're both sporting cheesy smiles, the effects of your kiss not having worn off completely, despite the rude way it was broken up. Jack links his fingers with yours and you lean back a little, grinning, before you're drawn back to his chest again, forcing him to tip his chin downwards to look at you.
Love is swimming in his baby blues, and maybe it's always been there and maybe he was right about you being oblivious, but right this second, you only care about it still being there. 
"Does this mean there will finally be a room available for some of my friends in the lake house?" Luke interrupts, all of your brothers apparently having decided that that's the move tonight.
Jack groans, shoving his brother away from where he's standing beside you.
"Shut up," He says, refocusing his attention on you. 
"I'm just saying, now that Y/n doesn't need her room- yuck, okay whatever." You grin into the quick kisses Jack is placing on your lips, his attempt at getting Luke to go away obviously working.
"I love you," He mumbles, hugging you more than he's kissing you now.
"I love you too," you confirm, content filling your body for the first time in years.
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moonstruckme · 6 months
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First I must say I LOVE YOUR WRITING ITS SO GOOD and are now among one of my favourite writers on this app.
This is an odd request but anywho in the autumn/winter when it's windy or just cold I get a tummy ache if I don't zip up my coat and the cold air gets to my stomach I also get ear ache if I don't wear my ear muffs, could you possibly do something with poly!marauder or just one of the marauders bundling up the reader before going out for the day so she doesn't get cold 😁
Thanks gorgeous!! Hope this is alright :)
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 364 words
“James,” Remus says skeptically, “have you included an electric blanket under all that as well? She’s going to overheat.” 
“If I could keep one running without plugging it in, I would put it in here,” James replies, pulling your hat securely over your ears. “You don’t know how she gets.” 
“It’s not that far to the pub, Jamie,” you try, casting an apologetic glance to where Sirius and Remus are waiting at the door. 
“Lovely, who taught you to wrap a scarf like this?” James undoes the knot you’ve made, wrapping the scarf carefully around your face and tucking the ends in so that only your eyes are left uncovered. “I know it’s not far, but you’re going to regret it if you’re not bundled up.” He zips up your coat, pressing a kiss between your brows as he does. “Can’t have my girl hurting because of the cold. I won’t stand for it.” 
Sirius makes an exaggerated gagging sound, but Remus nudges him with an elbow. You feel like you’re tottering, barely allowed any movement under all your layers as you move through the door and out into the chilly air. 
“Do you actually get pains from cold weather?” Remus asks, sounding heartwarmingly concerned. “Is it an old injury that flares up or something?” 
“No,” you grumble. “It’s way more babyish than that.” 
“Oi.” James wraps an arm around your shoulders, jostling you slightly. “Don’t talk about my sweetheart like that, please. If you must know, Moony, she’s sensitive to the cold. She gets achy.”
“Well, you’ve created quite the look,” Sirius observes, walking ahead of you and holding his hands up as if framing a shot. “All this layering, they’ll feature you at Paris Fashion Week, dollface.” 
“‘Course they will,” James replies. “With my styling and her face, we’ll fucking win the thing.” 
Remus huffs a laugh. “Not sure it’s a competition, Prongs.” 
“It’s not,” you and Sirius confirm in sync, but James only scoffs as if this is of little importance.
“There’ll be a winner when we show up,” he says surely. “Look at me, angel? Fuck, are you joking? They’ll send everyone else straight home once they see that face.”
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onskepa · 11 months
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Na'vi mating with humans headcanons [Poly].
Hello everyone, so I must confess, I have been looking at some Avatar [NOT THE LAST AIRBENDER] 1 and 2 "the way of water" stuff. From fics, to fanart, headcanons, all that good stuff. So here I am reading all this amazing stuff and I thought, "why not put my 2 cents in it?" so while I dont have any fics, I thought I share some headcanons of my own.
Most I have noticed is using either Na'vi reader, or Human reader. And/or both if the author has their person of interesting be an avatar, being in a poly relationship with our two lovely couples: Jake & Neytiri, and/or Tonorwari & Ronal.
And, if it is not a poly relationship, it be a normal two person relationship, that being with either [Tsu-tey, Ronal, Tonowar, Jake, Neytiri, Norm, etc]. Reading all those stories I have begun to list a few things.
In this first headcanon, its going to be as the title suggest, Na'vi with human. If you guy's wish to use some of this stuff as inspiration or ideas for your future fic's, I am cool with it, but please credit me. Anywho, lets start.
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Olo'eyktan & Tsahik
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(btw this is for any Na'vi tribe in general not just for Tonowari and Ronal)
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I feel as the two top leaders of the tribe, having a human as their third mate can mean many things.
Such as: Having a human for a mate shows their rank of status in the tribe. If being leaders weren't enough.
After a long day of doing their duties, they go home happy knowing their little mate is waiting for them to relieve their stress. In more ways than one. {use your imagination I aint going that deep]
Having a human mate will influence how they view the world. The Na'vi seeing their world as its ecosystem as normal as it can get, while the humans see it so different and something so beautiful. The humans may see the same thing every single day but sees it as it was something new to them over and over.
Have a change of paste in life. Talking and sharing things with their human mate is something the leaders look forward to at the end of the day.
The leaders being excited or happy with their human mate wants to know more of something or ask them questions. The leaders seeing it as a sign they their mate relies on them for information.
Speaking of, they enjoy it when their human mate searches for them, having their small eyes only on the leaders and no one else. They can get very protective and if not, a bit possessive should another Na'vi get too comfy with their human mate.
would hiss or give the other Na'vi a warning before shooing them away. Might get a scolding from their human mate but will shrug it off and lead their little human somewhere else.
Should the Tsahik get pregnant, the Olo'eyktan wouldn't be as stressed or worried that their Tsahik is in a vulnerable state. Having their human mate near the Tsahik calms the Olo'eyktan a bit. Since the Tsahik wont be alone.
And if the human is trained in the ways of healing, then the human mate would help the Tsahik if she were to feel morning sickness or dizziness. Giving the Tsahik comfort and a sense of peace.
Assist the Tsahik in duties in which she cannot anymore due to her belly growing. Things that require bending down, gathering plants, and herbs, grinding them, or anything that require lots of energy.
Once the newborn Na'vi is born, automatically, the human mate will be their second parent. Cherishing and nurturing the new born.
when the Tsahik is busing once again with her duties. The human mate will make sure the baby has their needs met, make sure they are clean, fed, and overall comfy with, hopefully, little crying as possible.
Having soft skin brings great benefit for Na'vi baby as they will cling more so the softer and warmer texture. Showing big trust and love to their third parent.
As the Na'vi baby grows, they become attached to all three parents, but will secretly favor their human parent. Since they bring a type of comfort that is different from their other two parents.
Since being the child of the two leaders, they wont have much time to play with their child as much as they want to. So the human mate comes in and plays while teaching showing around the Na'vi baby. Will continue to as the baby grows.
Being a human mate/parent to the Na'vi is something refreshing and somehow brings great comfort to all. Being so small yet have a massive mind and spirit.
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Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand that is it. I might add more or change of few things. I am ok with what I put but I know I can do better. If ya'll want more or something else, I don't mind. Thank you for reading this!
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lucidlivi · 8 months
Text
Never Been You
Requested: @hzllxhoundxx
Everything Tag List: @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @perpetualabsurdity @antisocialcorrupt @heavenlyackles @anixiiee @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @deans-spinster-witch @k-slla @alternativeprincess @spnbaby-67 (if you'd like added to my everything tag list, please indicate by saying "please tag me in everything Jensen/Dean")
Warnings: Angst, Demon Dean, Kidnapping, Violence, Mature Themes, Demon Dean Being an Absolute Dick
Following S10 E2, S10 E3 (of course with my twist!)
I got carried away so this is a hella long one for you guys!
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"you need to get to Beulah North Dakota now!" I rushed out to Castiel who was on the other end of the phone call.
"I do?"
"yes, Crowley and Dean were there, we have to pick up their trail."
I looked over to see Sam in the truck hunched over in pain.
"good, great."
I felt the emotions wash over me for what felt like the thousandth time since seeing the footage of Dean, our Dean, sporting black eyes. Castiel has no idea.
"Not exactly, Cas, Dean's a Demon." I said feeling the unshed tears slip from my eyes.
"Dean's a Demon? How?"
"It's the mark Cas, it messed him up, I don't know." I cried.
"that's a vast understatement." Castiel grumbled.
"look Cas, I know you're not feeling so hot right now, but I need you, it’s sort of an all hands on deck situation, so…"
"so I'll be there."
I hopped back in the truck I had rescued Sam in and continued to drive to North Dakota. I played through every scenario in mind of how this could go, and none of them ended well.
I needed to find Dean, I needed to help him.
"I got a lead, disturbance at a night club, a rowdy patron beat a security guard senseless. It sounds like a demon thing to do." Sam said looking at his phone.
"I guess let's check it out then."
It was still daytime when we were pulling up to the strip club.
Of course Dean would end up here.
"think that's the guy?" I asked Sam, looking at a muscular security guard who was wearing a sling identical to Sam's and had two black eyes.
"I would say it's a safe bet."
I stopped the truck hopping out, followed by Sam.
"excuse me sir, is this the guy who attacked you last night?" Sam asked straight forward, showing a picture of Dean.
"that's the guy, I called 911 but he was gone before they showed up."
Damn.
I didn't expect him to still be here, but it felt like a blow to the gut to actually hear it.
"that dude get to you too?" He asked Sam referencing his sling.
"uh no, this uh is just a hunting accident." Sam responded.
"would you do us a favor, if this guy shows back up, please give us a call." I said producing a fake FBI business card with my number on it.
"you bet."
"thanks."
I ran a hand through my hair with a huff before getting back in the truck.
"what now?" I asked, feeling the tears prick at my eyes again.
I couldn't bare the thought of Dean actually being a demon.
"I don't know." Sam said in defeat.
I drove the truck to a nearby motel, renting us a room. Sam had been through hell, he needed to rest. I helped him lay down on the bed, noticing his eyes get instantly heavy.
"I'll be right back, I'm just going to get something out of the truck." I told him, rushing outside.
As soon as I stepped outside, I heard a voice that made my blood boil with anger.
"hello there love."
I turned around to see Crowley with a smirk on his face.
"did ya miss me?"
I huffed in anger, reaching behind me to pull a blade from my belt loop.
"oh so much." I growled.
"easy now, I know you're here for Dean, and I'm here to give him to you."
Is this a trick?
I could never truly trust Crowley.
"I don't understand."
"you see he's bad for business, he's.. he's become uncontrollable, must be the mark.." Crowley trails off with a smirk.
"anywho Dean's your problem now, again, forever." Crowley added.
"then where the hell is he?" I snapped, not being able to contain my anger towards the king of hell.
"ah ah, first there's a small matter of my finders fee."
"nothing ever comes free with you, wouldn't have expected anything less."
****************************************************
I hesitantly walk in to the bar not knowing what to expect. I didn't even tell Sam where I was going. I knew he didn't have the strength to fight, and I didn't want him to get hurt.
"hiya angel." Dean said looking up at me with a smirk.
I felt my breathing get heavy as I looked at him. It was Dean in the flesh, but this thing was so far from Dean. Dean was brave, he was kind, Dean cared.
"I told you to let me go." Dean said picking up his glass of whiskey and sipping it.
"you know I can't do that Dean."
He smirked, taking another sip.
"by the way, your pal Crowley, he sold you out, didn't take him much." I said stepping a bit closer.
"sounds like him."
"Dean, we can cure demons, don't you remember that?" I asked taking another step closer.
Dean picked up the first blade, walking past me in a threatening manner.
"a little latin, lot of blood, yeah it rings a bell. but did you ever stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn't have bailed."
"Dean that was Crowley, you don't know what you're doing."
"that's what you think." Dean said pouring himself another glass of whiskey.
"well it doesn't matter Dean, whatever happened, whatever went down, we will fix it." I said cautiously taking another step towards him.
"Oh will we? Meanwhile I'm doing all I can to not come over there and rip your throat out."
"Dean you don't mean that."
"I'm giving you a chance to run sweetheart, better take it." Dean threatened.
"I'll pass." I said quickly.
“I'm not walking out that door with you, I'm just not, so what are you going to do angel, huh? Are you going to kill me?" Dean asked.
I felt a chill run down my spine at the way he called me angel. It was laced with venom.
"I didn't come here to kill you."
"why? you have no idea what I've done, in fact I might have it coming."
"I don't care Dean, you're my best friend, and I'm here to take you home. I'm here to save you."
I wanted to admit so much more to him.
I wanted to tell him that it's because I was in love with him and couldn't imagine my life without him in it. I was worried now that I wouldn't get the chance too.
I heard Dean start to chuckle.
"save me? why would you want to save me? it's never been you, you know." Dean said taking a sip.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Dean got up sauntering his way over to me. I instinctively took a step back, not trusting him. I soon found out though, the more distance I tried to put between us the closer he got. I raised my hand up putting it on his chest to stop him from getting any closer.
Dean smirked at me before twisting my arm and bringing his hand up to my throat. He pinned me to the wall a twisted look in his eyes. I felt a chill run down my spine, he was getting pleasure out of this.
"I see the way you look at me, the way you lust for me, you want me." Dean smirked.
I glared at him, trying to turn my face away, his hold on my throat getting tighter.
"you don't want to kill me because you're in love with me, and you have been for quite some time, haven't you?"
I couldn't speak, Dean's hold on me was too tight. I furrowed my eyebrows as if to convey he wasn't right, even though he was.
"and its never been you for me.. you see while you've been trying to find me, trying to save me, i've been fucking everything with a heartbeat." Dean growled.
I could feel the tears brim my eyes as his words cut in to me. I knew he was just trying to hurt me, but part of me wondered if that's how Dean actually felt.
He let go of my throat, shoving me to the floor. I instantly stood back up taking out the handcuffs from my back pocket.
"you really think those are going to work sweetheart?" Dean asked with a smirk.
"well there's one way to find out."
As I took a step forward, the window shattered and the entire room started filling with smoke. I looked to my left to see someone had threw a smoke grenade. I felt the air rush from my lungs as I breathed in the smoke. I put my shirt over my mouth and nose, trying to find an exit. I started to cough, as my vision got blurry.
I finally found the emergency exit, pushing it open. I saw the silhouette of a man on the other side as I collapsed from smoke inhalation. He struck me across the face hard, causing me to fall back to the ground, hitting my head in the process.
I was seeing stars as I sat clutching my bleeding head. Dean came out glaring the man down. I heard them exchange some words, but couldn't make out exactly what they were saying.
I noticed myself start to slip in and out of consciousness.
I saw them start to fight, Dean clearly having the upper hand.
I felt like my head was on fire, as I glanced up seeing Dean holding the first blade to the guys neck. He was going to kill him. I was surprised when he dropped him, tucking the blade back in to his pocket. I tried to muster up any strength I could to get up, but my body was betraying me. Dean walked over to me, a sick grin etched on to his face as he swayed his hips.
"Dean please." I choked out.
"time to sleep now baby."
Dean raised his hand striking me, and that's the last thing I remember before my world went dark.
****************************************************
I was in agonizing pain as I fluttered my eyelashes open. I panicked as I couldn't move my body. I looked down to see my arms and legs were bound to a wooden chair. I gathered from my surroundings that I was in some kind of warehouse, but I didn't recognize where.
"oh good, you're awake."
Dean came over crouching in front of me so we were eye level.
"let me go." I growled.
"can't do that angel." He said caressing my cheek.
I quickly moved my head away, causing his hand to fall.
"you don't want to provoke me." Dean growled.
"or what? you're going to kill me?"
Dean gave a sickly sweet smile. He leaned in close whispering in my ear.
"or you're going to wish you were dead."
"I'm not scared of you Dean." I snapped.
Dean lets out a chuckle, standing to his feet.
"I knew there was a reason I liked you so much, feisty little thing."
"why don't you let me out of these ropes and I'll show you just how feisty I can be."
Dean chuckled again, grabbing a bottle of whiskey taking a sip.
"I don't even know why I'm talking to you, this isn't even the real you." I scoffed.
"oh it's the real me alright, the new real me, the me who sees things for what they actually are."
I scoffed again rolling my eyes at his words.
"hunters, do-gooders, fighting the natural order, well let me tell you something sweetheart people like me, we are the natural order."
"yeah well people like me still gotta do what we can." I growled.
Dean smirked as he crouched back down to my eye level.
"oh don't be so full of yourself baby, cause you see from where I'm sitting, there ain't much difference from what I turned in to, to what you already are." Dean smirked.
"and what is that supposed to mean?" I growled.
Dean took one hand resting on my cheek, the other on the back of my neck so I couldn't move away from him again.
"I know what you did when you went looking for me, how far you went." Dean whispered, dangerously close to my face.
I felt the guilt sink back in.
I just kept telling myself I did what I had to in order to find Dean. I felt my breathing quicken as Dean came in closer, practically brushing his lips against mine.
"so let me ask you baby, which one of us is really the monster?"
I felt the tears brimming my lashes as Dean stared at me. Dean smirked as he stood back up.
"Now you and Sammy were trying to get a twenty on Crowley and me from any demon you could snag, but Crowley didn't want to be found, and no one showed when you summoned. But you my angel, you found your own way didn't you?"
I was ridden with guilt as I remembered how I tricked Lester in to summoning a demon to make a deal.
"You would've liked to have gotten there before the deal went down but you didn't really care about poor ol' Lester did you? Oh and just so you know, I uh killed Lester myself." Dean smirked as if it were funny.
"I never meant.." I started to choke out but Dean cut me off.
"who cares what you meant, that line that we thought was so clear between us and the things we hunted, ain't so clear is it?" Dean yelled.
I bit my lip to stop the tears from falling.
"wow, you know, you might actually be worse then me. I mean you took a guy at his lowest, used him, and it cost him his life and his soul, nice work baby." Dean said crouching back down.
I spit in his face, the anger I was feeling towards him boiling over. Dean angrily wiped his face off with the hem of his shirt.
"there's no point in trying to bring your best friend back now." Dean growled.
"oh I’ll bring him back, if it's the last thing I do." I growled.
"In fact, your uh guilt ridden, weight-of-the-world best friend, has been M.I.A. for quite some time now. I have to say though, I'm loving the new model, lean, mean, Dean."
I rolled my eyes turning my head away from him.
"I can't believe you're still trying! I mean, I couldn't wait to get away from you. I chose the king of hell over you! I guess I was just tired of having to coddle you, always having to yank your ass out of the fire. Do you ever stop to think that just your very existence sucks the life out of my life?" Dean said.
I could feel the tears run down my cheeks as he spoke.
"this isn't my best friend talking, he would never say those things." I spoke, more for my benefit than for his.
"you never had a best friend, just an excuse for wimping out, and guess what angel, I quit."
"no, you don't get to quit, we don't quit, okay you and me Dean we're bonded whether you like it or not, and this bond is all that we've got." I cried.
"well then we've got nothing." Dean smirked.
I looked down at the floor, praying that Sam had noticed I was gone. I was praying to Castiel to come find me. I knew if it came down to it, I couldn't kill Dean, even if it meant he'd kill me. I was praying for another solution.
I heard the door open and the sound of heeled footsteps against the floor.
"you brought us a play thing?"
I looked up to see a female, she wore black eyes similar to Deans.
"not us, mine." Dean growled at the girl who took a step closer to me.
"but I want to play too." she smirked coming over to me, brushing a piece of hair off my bare shoulder.
I shivered at her touch, trying to move away with what limited space I had.
"I said no." Dean growled.
I glanced up meeting Dean's eyes and for a second, just a second, I could see he wasn't totally gone.
"have you gone soft on us Winchester?"
"ha, not even, but you see that one's kind of a special project of mine, and I want to kill her myself." Dean smirked staring at me.
"okay, then I won't kill her."
As she said this, she shoved the chair back, causing me to hit my head on the concrete below. I grunted as the air was knocked out of my lungs.
"I'll just hurt her." she laughed.
"Dean please." I pleaded, struggling to breathe.
"Dean's gone." the woman whispered, running a hand through my hair.
"Dean I know you're in there. I'm begging you. I always rely on you because I know I can. Dean you're the most selfless person I know. I know that somewhere inside you still care. I know you don't want to hurt me Dean." I cried.
As I was putting on my show, I managed to wiggle one of my arms free. I reached around to grab my blade that was hidden in my belt loop, but I didn't feel anything.
"are you looking for this?" she smirked, inspecting the demon blade.
"go back to hell where you belong." I snapped.
"nice show, even almost had me fooled for a second." I heard her laugh.
She held the blade to my cheek. I could feel my breathing quicken as she ran the blade down my cheek towards my neck. She pressed in just enough to draw a small trickle of blood. I looked past her to try to reason with Dean again but I didn't see him.
I suddenly felt blood splatter on my face. It was coming from the woman's mouth as Dean plunged the first blade deeper in to her spine. I watched the life leave her eyes in an instant. Dean grunted as he ripped the blade out, her now lifeless body slumping over my own. He threw her body off of me, picking the chair back up.
He started to pace around the room as if he wasn’t sure what just happened.
"look what you made me do!" Dean yelled.
"Dean, let me go, and then I can help you." I whimpered weakly.
Dean glared at me, his eyes going black before flashing back to his normal green ones. Dean growled, opening the door to the room before slamming it shut leaving me alone.
I had to get out of here. I noticed my blade still on the ground, just a few feet from where I sat. If I can get to it, I can cut myself free.
I leaned over as far as I could, causing the chair to tip over sideways. I once again smacked my head on the concrete as I fell. I groaned at the impact but shook it off, using my free arm to pull myself closer to the knife. I reached out my arm, my fingers just barely grazing the handle.
"come on!" I exclaimed, trying to grip it again.
I finally managed to wrap my fingers around the handle of the blade. I breathed a momentary sigh of relief, cutting my other arm free from the ropes than cutting my ankles free. I stood up weakly looking for an exit. I took my sleeve, wiping the blood off my face.
I wasn't sure how much of it was hers, and how much of it was my own.
I finally saw a red exit sign. I mustered up all my strength sprinting over to it. I put my hand on the door, but suddenly stopped.
I couldn't leave him.
I wouldn't.
I was debating with myself when I heard a loud growl. Dean must've come back and noticed I was gone.
"you're coming home whether you like it or not." I whispered, running through the warehouse.
I could hear Dean walking after me, opening doors as he went. It was eery how calm he walked.
"come on baby, don't you want to hang out with me, spend a little quality time." Dean yelled.
I quieted my breathing as I found the keys to the electrical room. I moved quietly against the walls towards the room.
I heard Dean kick down some doors, growling every time I wasn't behind one of them. I managed to get to the electrical room. I fumbled with the keys trying to unlock the door.
"fuck" I muttered in frustration.
I finally got in, and immediately pulled every switch I could, killing the power.
"that's smart angel, but now I know where to find you." Dean growled as he rushed towards where I was.
I hid against the wall waiting for him. I heard him enter quietly, looking around for me.
"come on out angel, you're just making things worse for yourself." Dean growled.
I rushed over to the door, just as Dean threw the switches back, restarting the power.
"now this is me yanking your ass out of the fire." I spit slamming the door and locking him inside.
I heard Dean chuckle.
"this is your big plan, locking me in?"
"Dean, just please come with me and we can cure you." I said holding out my demon blade.
It was completely silent.
"Dean?"
I jumped in fright as Dean banged on the door, slowly splitting the wood.
"you act like I wanna be cured, personally I like the disease." Dean growled, using a hammer he found to break the door down.
"Dean stop! I don't want to use this blade on you!" I yelled holding it out further in front of my body.
"that sucks for you doesn't it angel, cause you really mean that." Dean smirked, hitting the door with the hammer again.
"Dean if you come out of that room, I won't have a choice." I whimpered, choking back tears.
"oh sure you will, and I know which one you'll make, isn't that right baby?" Dean growled smacking the door harder.
I knew the door wouldn't hold him much longer.
"I'm lucky though, cause there's just enough demon left in me that killing you, ain't gonna be a choice at all." Dean growled continuing to break the door down.
I felt the tears streaming down my face at this point. I could see the door giving way. I turned around sprinting away before it broke completely. I heard one last loud bang before the door gave way. Dean's heavy footsteps were once again behind me.
"come on angel, lets kiss and make up. I'm tired of playing let's finish this game." Dean growled.
I leaned against the wall taking a deep breath. I didn't have the strength to continue. I knew I was no match for him.
I glanced down the corridor where I thought Dean was coming from. I didn't see him though.
I turned around just in time to see a hammer flying towards my head. I ducked quickly, pushing my demon blade against Dean's throat. I could hear Dean chuckle as he looked at me, raising his hands in mock surrender.
"well, well look at you baby, go on do it." Dean growled leaning in to the knife.
I felt the tears cloud my vision as I slowly dropped the knife.
I couldn't kill him.
I watched as Dean's eyes went black. He gripped my throat throwing me against the wall before slamming me on the ground. I watched him take out the first blade, bringing it above his head.
"Dean I love you."
I closed my eyes, waiting for death to come.
But it didn't.
I opened my eyes to see Dean growling, as if he was fighting an inner battle with himself, a battle for his soul. I caught sight of Castiel sneaking up behind Dean, wrapping him in his arms. Dean growled, trying to get out of his grasp.
"Dean it's over." Cas said his eyes flashing their beautiful blue.
Dean collapsed in CastieI's arms, before I slapped the demon cuffs on him. I felt myself relax as I saw Sam rushing to my side.
****************************************************
"I'll meet you guys soon, just one thing left to do." I said holding the first blade in my hand.
"Be careful." Sam said placing a kiss on my forehead.
I gave him a nod, watching him get in the impala with Castiel and a still unconscious Dean. I sighed as they pulled away from me.
"you can stop hiding now." I called.
I saw Crowley emerge from the shadows, a smirk on his face as he eyed the blade.
"pleasure doing business with you." He spoke reaching his hand out.
I quickly pulled it out of his reach.
"what are you going to do with it?" I inquired.
"oh toss it in a volcano, leave it on the moon, i'll get creative." He laughed.
I hesitantly eyed him.
"believe me love, I don't want Dean getting his hands on the precious any more than you do. he knows I've ratted and he tends to hold a grudge....I don't want to get how you say boned."
I rolled my eyes at him.
"besides a deals a deal."
I huffed before handing the blade over to him.
"I hope you know this doesn't make us square, quite the opposite actually, I swear Crowley if I see you again.." I started but he cut me off.
"oh stop it love, no one likes a tease."
I glared at him one last time before hopping in the truck, starting the drive back to Kansas.
I felt like my head was going to explode from everything that had happened in such a short time. Dean's words replayed in my head on a continuous loop.
It wasn't him, I know that. It didn't make anything he said any less hurtful though.
It's never been you.
You see while you've been trying to find me, trying to save me, I've been fucking everything with a heartbeat.
Do you ever stop to think that just your very existence sucks the life out of my life?
I felt the tears cloud my vision, making the road harder to see. I pulled over to the side of the road and cried. I let out every emotion I'd been holding in.
I cried for Dean, I cried for what he went through. I cried for me. I cried for the strain that this was going to put on our relationship. I just cried.
I didn't know how long I'd been crying but I finally collected myself enough to start driving again. I knew that Sam and Castiel could handle Dean. I'm sure they were already back in Kansas, starting the purified blood cure on Dean.
I didn't even know if I was ready to face him again. I spilled my darkest secret to Dean, fearing that I would be dead and never having the chance to tell him.
Dean didn't kill me though.
He could have very easily, I didn't put up much of a fight.
But he didn't.
I was praying that maybe some part of him felt something for me too.
I managed to make the rest of the drive to Kansas. I pulled up to the bunker, hearing Dean growl as the demon was expelled from his body. I hesitantly walked over seeing him slumped over in a chair, much like I was hours ago. Sam injected another syringe of purified blood in to his arm.
"what the hell are we doing to him guys? I mean even after everything he said he didn't want to be cured, that he didn't want to be human." I spoke, feeling the tears that I was sure I had cried all out, start to rim my eyes once again.
"well, I can see his point, you know, only humans can feel real joy, but also such profound pain." Castiel said staring directly at me while talking about pain.
"I guess this is easier." Sam added.
I was about to respond when Dean groaned, trying to move. He raised his head, showing us his black eyes, before they returned to their shade of green.
Dean groaned hoarsely before exhaling a big breath. He looked at the three of us confused, as if everything was coming back to him.
"you look worried guys." Dean spoke up.
I could feel Dean's eyes stay on me. He stared at me intently. I just hoped I didn't look as broken as I felt.
Castiel, Sam, and I gave each other a look, all wondering the same thing. Was Dean back?
Sam uncapped the holy water throwing it on to Dean's face. I sighed with relief when he didn't have a reaction to it. Sam smiled at us. I was still a little apprehensive as was Castiel.
"Dean, we've missed you." Sam said.
Castiel and Sam unchained Dean, helping him to his feet. I felt like every word I wanted to say was stuck in my throat. Dean stared at me as the boys led him to his room. He was weak, the blood cure taking a lot out of him.
How was I even supposed to talk to him about this?
Castiel and Sam returned quickly after getting Dean settled.
"how's he doing?" I asked the boys.
"he's still a little out of it, but better. I mean I think the blood cure, all of it, it really wrecked him you know." Sam said giving me an apologetic look.
It was silent for a moment.
"on the plus side, he's hungry again so I'm going to go pick us up some food, you guys mind keeping an eye?" Sam added grabbing the keys to the impala.
I nodded my head as he walked out. Castiel was unnaturally quiet.
"what is it Cas?"
"one problem is solved, but one still remains. Dean is no longer a demon, that's true, but the mark of cain, that he still has, and sooner or later that's going to become an issue.”
I knew he was right, Castiel always was.
"one battle at a time Cas." I half smiled.
Castiel looked at me with a sad face. It was no use hiding my emotions from him because the angel always figured it out. Castiel stepped up, wrapping his arms around me in a hug. I felt a tear cascade down my cheek as I sunk in his embrace.
"I'm uh, going to get cleaned up." I whispered.
I felt every muscle in my body aching as I walked to the bathroom. I cringed when I saw my reflection in the mirror. I looked like hell.
I sported a hand shaped bruise around my throat, along with a cut from my knife. I had a gash on my head, and my face was still crimson colored from the blood. I could see various other bruises forming all over. I licked over my lip that was busted from being thrown against the wall by Dean.
I definitely looked as broken as I felt.
I sighed as I stepped in to the steady stream of water, the sound of the water slapping against my skin drowned out my sobs. I scrubbed my skin until it felt raw.
I got out wrapping the towel tightly around my body. I tiptoed past Deans room. I couldn't help my curiosity as I heard Dean and Castiel talking.
"thank you, for stepping in when you did... has uh she talked to you? what does she say, does she want anything to do with me?" Dean asked.
I could hear the hurt in his voice. It made me hurt more.
"I'm sure she knows whatever you said, whatever you did, that wasn't really you, I mean it certainly wasn't all of you." Castiel reassured.
"Cas, I tried to kill her. Did you see her? I did that! I can't take back the things I said Cas." Dean said.
"Dean I feel I can be honest with you. You two have been through so much together, you're bonded. It'll take a lot more than you trying to kill her with a hammer to get her to walk away." Castiel said.
"you realize how screwed up our lives are that, that even makes sense?" Dean says causing Cas to chuckle.
"I think you should talk to her, and then maybe you should uh take some time, allow both of you to heal."
I heard Castiel exit Dean's room, closing the door. He gave me a wordless look as he passed, signifying that his words were just as much meant for me as they were for Dean.
Castiel the wise.
Of course I couldn't walk away from Dean.
I sighed as I walked to my room, quickly throwing on some clothes. As soon as I lay in my soft bed, I realize how burnt out I was. I heard a soft knock on my door.
"yeah?" I called out hesitantly.
"it's me, the real me."
I felt the air get caught in my throat.
"come in."
Dean opened the door slowly. I could see the hurt flashing in his eyes at he looked at me. I sat up not meeting his eyes. Dean walked over, sitting on the edge of my bed.
"(y/n), I.."
"you don't have to apologize Dean, I know that wasn't you." I spoke.
"it doesn't make it any less shitty though." He said through gritted teeth.
"or hurt any less." I admitted.
Dean ran a hand through his hair in frustration. I could see that this was really hurting him.
"but you could've killed me, and you didn't, you saved me, you stopped yourself." I said finally meeting his eyes.
"I couldn't kill you. I feel for you too much, even as a demon." Dean whispered, hesitantly looking at me.
I felt my heart swell up at his words.
"what I said, it wasn't true." Dean said, sliding just a bit closer to my body.
"it's okay if part of it was, it's never been me and that's okay." I said feeling my heartache.
Dean looked at me as if I had three heads.
"never been you? It's always been you."
I felt the tears run down my cheeks as Dean put a hand up, caressing one of them.
"Dean I don't know how we move on from this." I cried.
"I don't know either, but we're going to do it, together, just like always."
I smiled at Dean for the first time.
"there's my Dean." I whispered.
Dean leaned in slowly, leaning his forehead against mine.
"did you mean what you said?" Dean asked hesitantly.
I gave him a confused look.
"that you love me, did you mean it?"
I swallowed nervously as I stared at him. I slowly nodded my head adverting my eyes from his gaze. Dean grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.
I gasped as Dean crashed his lips on to mine. I was shocked so naturally I was still. Once my brain processed what was happening I pressed my lips against his, kissing him as if my life depended on it. He pulled away slowly, keeping his forehead pressed to mine.
“I love you too, I always have.” Dean spoke.
I felt the tears well in my eyes again, but these tears were different. These weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of pure love.
Dean smiled as he reconnected our lips together in a heated kiss. It was lustful, neither one of use being able to contain the passion we had felt for each other for far too long.
Dean slid his hands under my shirt, gripping on to my hips as he deepened the kiss. I was so caught up in the moment I ignored my muscles screaming at me to stop. Dean brought my shirt over my head, breaking the kiss just long enough to do so. I felt insecure as my bare chest was now exposed for him. I panted as he brought his lips down to my neck gently kissing over the bruise.
“I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Dean said in between kisses.
I grabbed the hem of his shirt taking it off. I saw the mark of cain glistening on his forearm. I brought his arm to my lips, slowly kissing over the mark. Dean pushed me back on the bed so he was hovering over me. I gasped as his hands slid there way down my body to my shorts.
It was slow and passionate. I felt like my skin was on fire every time his fingertips met my skin. Dean dragged my shorts down my legs, his fingers brushing against my sensitive heat.
I wasted no time putting my hands in his pants yanking them down over his butt and down his legs. I was surprised to feel that he was already fully erect.
“do you want this?” Dean asked kissing my lips.
“more than i’ve ever wanted anything.”
Dean, with my consent slowly slid himself in to me. I groaned as my body adjusted to his large girth. He started to move at a slow pace, savoring the feeling of finally being together so intimately.
“It’s always been you.” Dean said as he thrusted deeply.
I don’t think either of us had the energy for the sex we really wanted to have but this sex was sweet, and full of love. I moaned as Dean picked up the pace, but still savoring the feeling of every thrust inside of me. I brought my hips up matching his thrusts. I was a moaning mess as we thrusted against each other, our lips crashing with each thrust.
“Dean” I moaned signifying that I was close.
Dean thrusted some more, softly but at a steady rhythm. I moaned one last time as I felt myself spilling over the edge. I was gripping him so hard, it cause him to release his arousal too. Dean’s body gave out as he collapsed beside me.
“hey guys I got the… oh god really Dean?” Sam said dropping the bag of food and covering his eyes.
I laughed at him, joined by Dean.
“not even back twenty four hours and this is how you’re spending your time.” Sam groaned in embarrassment.
“blame Cas, he’s the one that told us we should talk.” Dean laughed.
Sam backed out of my room, shutting the door behind him. I gazed at Dean but found out he was already staring at me.
“I didn’t save you, you saved me.” Dean whispered tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I’ll always save you Dean.”
“Always?”
“Always.”
Author Note:
I really hope you guys like it! If you feel so inclined please leave a heart, comment, reblog or a follow! I appreciate it!
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daenysthedreamersblog · 2 months
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NOTHING MATTERS
And you can hold me like he held her
And I will fuck you like nothing matters
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little AU!!! of my strangers fic inspired by link & link
summary: president snow takes reproductive matters into his own hands
pairings: president!snow x district6! reader
warnings: MDNI!! BLOOD!, smut, p in v sex, infertility, lil period sex (saltburn possessed me for a sec), breeding kink, lil breastfeeding kink (who made me do that??), pregnancy kink, murder
notes: WHO MADE ME WRITE THIS!! i hate pregnancy tropes 🫢 ... anywho enjoy tho. 'nothing matters' - the last dinner party
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President Snow had your cycles down to a tee. With whatever birth control he shoved in your arm it had somewhere along the way regulated them to be able to track, to predict, to control.
You didn't mind; you enjoyed the formalization he had established for your life. You stopped worrying about them coming sporadically and without warning because he always knew. He would have supplies dropped off with a vase of white roses and it would come soon after like the floral scent triggered it to start.
It didn't stop him from fucking you.
No, of course not.
He would feast on you, blood coating his chin and chest before sliding inside of you savoring the extra lubrication. You yearned for it.
Time had gone by and your life was easy. He took care of everything, you, your body, sucked the rot right out of you, as long as you were good, you were safe.
Livia was still there, somewhere deep in the house, sometimes listening. She stopped having dinner with the two of you and you chalked it up to maybe he had finally gotten her pregnant; her purpose served.
But you never heard a baby cry.
You would wait and listen to hear something of that sort, but the house was still so quiet. He must have moved her, moved them away, somewhere else where they couldn't find you. He could keep up his public image and you would live out your days here in a routine.
Then one day, while pruning roses in his garden, you heard the door open. You heart skidded, wetness seeped out of you, so you knew it was him. He was home earlier than usual. You waited, waited for him to come for you and soon enough his hands trailed down your arms. He brushed your hair to the side kissing up your neck, "My good little bluebell," He murmured into your skin. "I need you to do something for me." You blinked upward staring at the rows of pretty white flowers some rock forming in your chest. "You can do that can't you?" You found yourself nodding, not even knowing what you were agreeing to, but that's how things were between the two of you; blind obedience. "That's my good girl." He reached down, pulled something from his pocket. "Open." You obeyed feeling him pour a liquid into your mouth. Before you could even turn blackness engulfed you.
It was blurry, and painful as someone scratched at your skin. There was blood and voices, and he was there staring down at you, you felt yourself reaching for him. Then you felt him between your legs that blissful pleasure ricocheting through you. It was all that mattered.
You woke up next to him naked and sore.
You curled into his warm skin feeling his fingers twitch against you and you closed your eyes, safe and normal once more. Life was easy, he made sure of that, as long as nothing changed.
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Months went by and he seemed more aggressive than ever fucking into you wildly. He even began to come home mid day to fuck you and then go back to work. You didn't mind as his tongue lapped you up, as he pushed into you, cumming hard and deep never letting a single drop spill out of you. He would sit there for a while between your legs staring at his cum oozing from you and then he would shove it all back in and leave.
You didn't think anything of it until one day supplies showed up for your impending cycle, the sweet scent of roses filled your nose, but blood never leaked out of you.
Maybe it was the wrong day, he seemed distracted, frustrated with work no doubt. You did often hear him yelling at someone far off in the house some days. You ran your fingers across the soft petals and took the supplies in the bathroom to leave there.
But another week had passed and nothing came.
Unopened boxes sat in your hands as panic erupted in your chest. The implant must be malfunctioning or expired to cause the tardiness of your cycle, but the feeling dragged in your bones. You glanced up in the mirror, blurry eyes going to your stomach. It wasn't possible, it wasn't right. Your body had betrayed you again. He would be so angry with you, this wasn't supposed to happen, you had done something wrong. You fought the urge to dig your claws into yourself to tear it out, rip it from your stomach. It was an abomination, an antichrist that would butcher you.
Instead you stood there and cried.
You flinched when he opened the door, "You're late."
Your eyes quivered as you looked at him through the mirror, "I'm sorry." Don't stutter. "Mr. President, sir."
He shook his head a satisfied smile in his face where you expected cold rage, "Such a good girl." He walked forward, "I knew you could do it." You watched him, his eyes trained on your womb and you wanted to ask him to get rid of it so you could return to your never changing routine, but that thought nagged at you, clamping your lips shut. Your mind had betrayed you as well. His hand was pulling up the dress you wore slowly turning your body as his hand laid across your stomach.
He kissed your shoulder before bending you over the bathroom sink to plunge his cock into you. Your unused supplies got knocked to the floor with each brutal thrust of him and you gripped the cold counter moaning his name like you always would. You watched him in the mirror, watched that little stray curl fall into his face as his hands reached around to cup your sore breast. And even knowing the consequences it had caused you, you still loved his cum inside you.
"This shouldn't..." You chewed on your tongue as he walked you to bed. "I did something wrong. Won't people be mad at me?"
He stroked a hand down your head, "Nobody will know."
"Are you mad at me?"
"No." He shook his head tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, "You've been so good to me."
You blinked up at him. "Your wife..."
His eyes narrowed in anger and you looked down. "No longer a concern."
But wasn't she? This wasn't supposed to happen with you. Livia was his wife, Livia had to give him children, Livia...
Livia was infertile.
You learned that when he brought the doctor to confirm what beast was growing inside you. They had tried for two years, and never were able to conceive. So, he drugged you, ripped the implant out of your arm, and now you sat staring at the small gestational sac flickering on the screen. You had agreed to let him do this, remembered nodding your head without question because that was what was expected of you. You belonged to him, your mind and body, it wouldn't have matter if you had willingly agreed or not, the choice was an illusion. Tears welled in your eyes, bile rising in your throat and you flew forward reaching for the trash can to throw up into.
A hand rubbed your back. You threw up again.
"Are you happy?" He asked while the two of you sat in that empty room the sound of its vicious strong heart beat echoing in your head.
You didn't know what to feel. You felt ashamed, you felt wrong. You had been content fucking him, hating him, being fed and watered like a pretty flower in his greenhouse. You wanted to beg him to take it out, it made your insides roil and burn, it changed what you had been comfortable knowing. But you had always wanted Coriolanus Snow to live inside you, and now it always would be, growing within you, altering your DNA.
"Yes Mr. President, sir." Was the only answer you knew he would take.
He kissed your shoulder, "I knew you would be." A hand splayed on your belly, "My darling bluebell."
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So, a few months later you found yourself once again pruning the roses half-way through an uneventful pregnancy. President Snow doted on you more than usual, bringing you flowers everyday, supplying you with more food once you were able to keep it down. He changed your wardrobe to accommodate your growing womb, he loved seeing how big you were getting each passing week, loved fucking you even more. Sometimes he would make you stand there naked just so he could look at you and you round stomach.
It would be over soon, you looked forward to that day, when they would take the baby from you and you would never have to see what tore its way out of you. You could return to normalcy, relishing in the predictably of your life with him.
The greenhouse door opened, shut and locked. Something was off, you knew by the way your body failed to react. "He finally did it." Her cold voice stilled your corrupted heart.
You turned slowly to see her, her red eyes going to your bump. She looked unwell, gaunt, exhausted and sad. "Mrs. Snow." You responded. You thought she was dead, maybe she was.
"I kept telling him if we could just try I would be able to give him children." She took a step closer and the hair stood up on your arm. "But he insisted on artificial insemination." Livia sneered, "Because of you. He wouldn't fuck me because of you." Your eyes darted around the room looking for an escape. "He married me, he chose me."
"Mrs. Snow..."
She slapped you across the face, "Don't even dare. You think you're so special, winning the games, letting him fuck you like the whore you are. You disgust me." She was seething your eyes finally catching on the long steak knife in her pale hands. "That's my baby." She pushed you back, your back hitting the table holding your tender flowers.
You braced for the pain, braced for the sharp edge cutting through you.
But all you felt was a kick.
Time stilled, your mind narrowing in on the feeling of it rolling and twisting inside of you, clawing at your organs, punching your ribs. It's small little foot kicked you again, your heart stuttered with the abuse adoration refilling disgust. It wasn't an abomination at all, it was everything you had ever idolized, once hated, once loved. It was just like it's father, stealing your body, blood, and bone; your heart beat for it.
You were a victor, you were his victor.
Warmth spilled down your hand and you met Livia's wide eyes. You both looked down at the shears you buried deep in her stomach.
Then you were running for the door yanking at the locked handle as her hand wrapped into your hair pulling you back. Your back slammed into the table once more glass shattering around you as red oozed out of her.
"If I can't have it neither can you."
Another reassuring kick in tandem with your heart beat and you were moving as you picked up the nearest potted plant to throw at her watching her stumble forward, a rage driving her movements.
She tackled you to the ground hands ripping out the shears to hold over your head.
"You're nothing but a savage." She was crying her tears and blood dripping onto you.
The greenhouse door flew open. "Livia." He was coming to save you once more and the little thing inside you somersaulted.
She looked back at him, "Coryo! This isn't fair! If we could just try! I can give you children please! We can be happy...I know it."
"Get off of her. Now." He gritted out.
She shook her head, "We can grow to love each other too...if you just try...with me, not her."
You wanted to tell her, explain, there was no love between the two of you. It was raw possession and starvation and hatred that kept you glued beside him. It was insanity and corruption that burned through your souls intwining them together in a pretty blood stained ribbon.
He glared, "Enough."
"No! No!" She screamed as you lie stagnant under her. "I'll tell everyone! Leak it to the news what you keep here, who your children really belong to. You'll be ruined." Her rage melted into sadness. "It's supposed to be me." She looked back down at you, "Why would he want you."
You heard the click of guns, but your hand had wrapped around the knife's handle your lips pulling back to bare your teeth, a snake poised to strike.
"Because I'm his good girl."
You slashed the knife across her throat a warm red river spurting over you from the open wound. Her body collapsing on top of you instantly, blood soaking into you, and this time you didn't wait for him to move it, you shoved her to the side hands going to caress your stomach as that little life rolled within you.
He came forward staring down at you covered in his dead wife's blood. He bent down holding your chin with two fingers, "You are." A stroke of his thumb, "My darling girl."
You surged forward to kiss him feeling him pull your drenched body to him, wrapping your legs around him as he went to the nearest table. In one swift swipe of his hand plants clattered to the floor as he laid your body down in a bed of ruined white roses. He was ripping down the middle of your dress to tear the fabric off your body as you did the same to his feeling him climb onto the table above you.
His hand went between your thighs, fingers shoving into you, stretching you open, palm pressed against your clit, hips bucking to meet his thrust. You stare at him as he watches his hand disappear inside your needy cunt. His mouth goes to your breast, sucking and nipping at the swollen flesh watching as milk slowly starts to leak from the tips.
He stares down at it for a moment, blood and milk covering your chest, before running his tongue along it again. His mouth wraps around it sucking harshly and you moan fingers running through his hair. His hand moves faster pressing down on your clit more and soon enough your clenching down around his fingers as he throws you over your peak.
You tilt your hips up to let him slide in deeper whining out when he's fully seated inside you clawing at him as he thrust in and out of you viciously. His teeth graze against your jaw as he rolls his body along you, hands sliding down to rest against his side. You nip at his ear feeling his pants growing louder near your face. You feel conjoined, connected between bodies and soul and you find yourself running a soft hand down the back of his head.
"Do you still hate me?" He breaths out grinding his body hard into yours.
You can't answer.
He smirks, "I want you to give me more," He hooks an arm under you thrusting into you faster. "I want a little litter, breed that good little obedience into them hmm?" Your toes curl against him, "You want to give me that right? Give me however many I want?"
"Please," You whine against his throat.
He slides his hand between your bodies, skin slick with drying blood, running circles around your clit as his dick hits every good spot within you. Your body alights with pleasure as he brings your closer to the edge. "That's my good girl."
You squeeze your eyes and cum, pussy clamping down around him. His fingers grip your scalp as his thrust quicken, his grunts getting faster until he finally spills inside of you.
He stays within you as you whisper into his skin, "Coriolanus." He goes stiller above you, "It's a boy."
"A boy." His lips twitched against you, it almost feels involuntary.
He glances down at you a certain lightness to his blue eyes. He's everything. Him. This consumption, this primal need and obsession, this hatred and worship. He's everything. He's given you everything, even a darling baby boy.
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He's got your eyes and Coriolanus's curly blond hair. He's precious and all you ever needed, but you still wanted more, craved more. You watched him play with a toy train set as you bobbed your daughter against your knee.
"Dada," She cooed watching as he stepped into the room two white roses in his hand.
He bent down to hand one to her the small little smile on his face as the sweet scent filled the room. Then he tucks the other behind your ear, "One for each of my favorite girls." He asked a hand reaching out to splay against your ever-growing womb. "How are you?"
"Hungry." Your eyes darkened as you meet his.
You set your daughter down sending the nanny in to watch over them as Coriolanus pressed a hand to your back leading you back to your room.
You can barely keep your clothes on before the door closes, greedily pressing your self against him, mouths heavy and hot with teeth and tongues.
This is everything. He's everything. He's all consuming. Nothing else matters.
Even when the cold comes crashing through
I'm putting all my bets on you
I hope they never understand us
I put my heart inside your palms
My home in your arms
Now we know nothing matters
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notes: hope you enjoyed! im not super thrilled with this snow ended up being WAY too nice lmaoo but i remembered him being rly sweet (well his version of it) to his granddaughter in THG and i was like ya know what hes a psycho but he would adore his kids lmao
but yea this is such an AU snow and reader would never have children in my OG story :)
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lowkeyremi · 4 months
Note
Hello Maya! Before I start my request, I just wanna say, I love your writing!!! I've been reading your things for a few weeks now (I'm new to tumbler) and I'm hooked!!
Anywho- I was listening to "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift and it gave me the idea of fem!reader meeting Satoru at some big event for sorcerers and falling hopelessly in love with him
heyyyyyy thank you for reading my stuff and i'm really happy you made a request, i've been hoping someone would bc i want to write ideas other than my own. i'm not huge on taylor swift so i had to listen to this song lol its pretty good :) you ask and i shall provide!! also i'm sorry if this isn't what you had in mind :')
Enchanted S. Gojo x fem!reader
wc: 1.1k
content: fluff, meeting and getting together
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The night hadn't been going so well. You spilled some of your drink on your dress. That was borrowed from your friend might you add. Three guys that showed any potential interest were already with someone and their dates angrily pulled them away from you.
There are whispers about the oh so famous Satoru Gojo, and how he's finally made an appearance with his long time friend Nanami.
You've heard plenty about him, he's the famous sorcerer from Jujutsu High that has six eyes. He can solve any problem and he's said to be very hot. Honestly you're kind of a hater, you think people are gassing him up for no reason.
You've never personally met him but his description makes it hard to miss him if you see him; white hair blue eyes, but he'll likely be wearing an eye mask.
A sigh escapes your lips as you walk toward the bar for another drink, you would have invited your best friend but she's not a sorcerer and would not get it at all. "Hi, sorry for being back so soon, but could I get a strawberry margarita?" The woman behind the bar nods.
Before she can walk off though, a silky, carefree voice makes a request with your order, "Me too! Never tried strawberry margarita. Sounds pretty fruity." This day is already bad so you turn your head to see who just made it even worse-
A pretty white haired man stands by your side, piercing blue eyes peaking through sunglasses that look down right ridiculous at such a formal event. "Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors??" Is the first thing you ask, no 'Hi how are you?' or 'why are you ordering drinks on my tab?'
"Cuz I could make everyone faint with my pretty blue eyes." He smirks, confidence evident in every word.
You look confused and he finds it cute. A foreign feeling stirs in your stomach. "Just kidding. I'd waste my power if my glasses were off. Actually, I was advised not to wear them, but I didn't wanna wear my mask for this event. I have it in my pocket just in case though." He's so light and bubbly you almost forget what you were fuming about.
"You're Gojo right?" He smiles and gives a quick nod.
"And you must be 'girl with a stain on her dress', huh?" You fight the urge to roll your eyes.
"Woo that was a good one, almost made my stomach hurt from laughter." You counter sarcastically; the moodiness coming back to you.
"Haha, my bad. Anyway when we get drinks I'll find us somewhere to sit and I'll make you laugh for real." That confidence is still there. You love funny people, they're exciting to be around.
"I'm holding you to that. I need a good laugh." His smile consists of all his pearly whites and is enough to make you, or anyone around you melt.
He goes to pay for your drink, and even hands it to you. "I have to say you are way less selfish than people make you out to be."
The man in question shrugs and smirks at you, "I am very selfish about certain things, childish even. It's only the first date though so pretend you don't know about that." He waves his hand dismissively. You couldn't even care about the fact he admitted to selfishness, you're stuck up on the part where he said this is a date.
"Who said this is a date?" He notices you're trying to play it cool, but he can see right through you.
"I did. I mean if you want, we can think of it more as a blind date since it wasn't planned." Something about him doesn't rub you the wrong way or make you angry at all. He's definitely an odd ball, but he's able to make you feel something in your gut that you haven't felt in a very long time, maybe not ever, actually.
"I- what- you can't just-" You cut yourself off, lost for words, trying to comprehend what he'd just said.
He intertwines his fingers with yours. They're cold to the touch, long and slender. He does that thing where you rub your thumb across all the other fingers. On top of that he gives you that love struck gaze. You're all kinds of confused because why is someone like him trying to flirt with you??? He could literally have any other pretty sorcerer but he's walking you over to a fancy table to sit and talk.
"Ugh, you're supposed to have warm hands to contrast my cold ones." He complains, and if you weren't already stunned then you definitely were now. He's swinging his arm back in forth, with you mirroring it because he's holding your hand.
"I can't help my hands being cold, maybe you should be the one with the warm hands." He shrugs at your response. The swinging stops when you two reach a table big enough for four and pulls out your chair for you.
"I normally don't do this but you're definitely worth it." a lopsided grin covers his face.
As nice as all of this is you look around for cameras. Your mind is telling you he means no harm, but you can never be too sure.
"Okay, is this some kind of joke or show?? Where are the cameras because this can't be real." The white haired six foot something giant's face contorts into something very (ugly) funny. His face scrunches up at your words.
"I can't believe you'd suggest something like that! I'm serious, I just want to be a normal guy and have a normal encounter with someone. So, can you just pretend I'm a normal date and not Gojo Satoru?" He's telling the truth and for the first time tonight you fully relax.
"Okay, hi normal guy. What do you like to do?" You ask playfully feeling enchanted by his charismatic presence. He makes you feel a sense of freedom like you never have before.
The rest of the night the two of you goof off and talk about all kinds of things. Eventually he's being dragged out by Nanami because of how drunk he is. He'd given you his number, "Call me!!!" He whines loudly while being led to the car he arrived in.
"Okay! When I do, don't forget everything from tonight." You yell back to him.
"Like hell I will!" And he was telling the truth because about two hours later when you were winding down for bed you get a call from an unknown number. Usually you wouldn't pick up but you have a feeling that the person on the other side was none other than Gojo normal guy.
"Hello?" You don't get a response for a few seconds, your stomach drops thinking you had miscalculated...
"I miss you already, when can I see you again?" He asks sleepily.
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sydsaint · 2 months
Text
My favorite NXT man <3
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Summary: The reader and Bron reunite when Breakker shows up to enter the royal rumble. Secrets come out and feelings get confessed.
"I can't believe she tossed you out like that." You stand and talk with Zoey backstage after the women's rumble is over. "You were doing so good against everyone too! And you know I'd of loved getting you at Mania, girl." You joke with her lightheartedly. 
"Ugh, I know!" Zoey groans. "Oh well. Looks like it's back to tagging with Shayna. Not that I don't love her to death." She sighs. 
You nod and pat Zoey's shoulder. "Hey, the draft is coming up soon. Maybe I can see if I can put a good word in with Aldis and get you on Smackdown." You offer a hopeful outlook on everything. 
"That'd be awesome." Zoey cracks a small smile. "Thanks, girl." 
You and Zoey chat some more since you rarely get to chat anymore while you're on opposite shows. Zoey is telling you about her latest escapades with Shayna when someone coming through the door at the far side of the room catches your eye.
"Bron?" You ask aloud, looking over Zoey's shoulder. 
"Bron?" Zoey furrows her brows at you. "Breakker?" She asks and turns around in the direction you're staring. 
Zoey turns around just as Bron fully comes through the door dressed for action. She turns back to you and raises her brows at your blatant staring. "YN! You alright?" Zoey asks you. 
"Hmm?" You blink a few times before turning your attention back to Zoey. "Yeah, I'm fine." You nod. "Just surprised is all." 
"Breakker must have a spot in the men's rumble," Zoey replies. "You should go talk to him." She adds. 
You agree and walk away from your BFF. You weave through various backstage personnel to make it to Bron standing what seems like a world away on the other side of the room. It's been ages since you've seen Breakker. Not since last year when you got called up to Smackdown and Bron got stuck in NXT for another year.
"Bron? Hey, Bron!" You call Breakker once you're about halfway across the room.
You watch Bron perk up when he hears his name. He glances around at everyone working around him for the source of the shout and his gaze lands on you in the middle of the room. "YN?" You hear a faint call back to you.
You manage to break through the sea of people keeping you from greeting your former best friend and travel partner and hurry over to him. "Bron! I knew I recognized that bad tan and broad shoulders." You joke.
"YN!" Bron snorts. "Shit. It's been too long." He leans down for a hug.
"I know!" You agree and gladly allow Bron to wrap those ungodly broad arms around you. "How have you been? Here for the men's rumble, I assume?" You ask him.
Bron lets you go from his warm and inviting hug reluctantly and nods. "Yeah. It's me and Carmelo representing NXT." He explains. "Where you in the women's rumble match?" He asks you. "I didn't catch all of it. But I didn't see you."
"Me? No." You laugh and remove your jacket to reveal the Smackdown women's title hanging from your waist. "Those girls were competing for a chance to get at me. Not the other way around." You brag.
"You're the champ?" Bron eyes the title belt with intrigue and surprise. "Damn, YN. Congratulations. How long have you had it for?" He asks you.
You pat the belt with pride and a wide smile on your face. "I took it off Bianca about three months ago." You explain. "And thanks. I heard that you dropped your title to Carmelo. And then Melo lost it to Ilja?"
"Yeah." Bron nods.
"I've been seeing Melo around backstage on Smackdown these past few weeks." You add. "And I see he's still a cocky flirt." You add. "What about you? Last I heard you were dating Cora Jade. How's that going?"
You notice Bron's jaw clench slightly as he shakes his head. "Cora and I have been over for a while." He explains.
"Oh." You nod. "Well, anywho, what number are you?" You switch back to talking about the Rumble match.
"I'm up next." Bron nods to the tunnel entrance on the other side of the room. "But stick around yeah? I'd love to catch up some more." He asks you.
You agree to hang around with a nod and Bron heads off so he doesn't miss his cue. You make your way back over to Zoey who's been hanging around this whole time waiting for you to come back.
"So? How is our large friend?" Zoey jokes when you walk back over to her.
"He seems good." You shrug. "You were right. He's here for the rumble match." You explain. "Hey, did you know that he and Cora broke up? I know that you still talk to her and Roxanne sometimes." You ask her.
Zoey nods and observes the way you intently watch the monitor now that Bron is out in the match. "Yeah, I remember her mentioning it a few months back." She confirms. "Why?"
"No reason." You shrug, eyes still glued to the monitor.
"Right." Zoey nods nonchalantly.
A while later Bron is finally tossed over the top rope and eliminated from the match. You snicker when he takes out JD who's entering the match next. You've never been a fan of McDonagh. Especially back in NXT.
You hang around and wait for Bron to come backstage again from the side entrance of the stage. You spot him a few seconds later and head over to greet him. "Nice work out there, Bron. You looked great!" You compliment him. "And nice touch running over JD on the way out."
"Thanks." Bron chuckles. "I figured that you'd get a kick out of that."
You and Bron walk through the backstage area to some place where fewer people are milling about. The two of you chat about what you've both been up to as of late. Eventually, the conversation manages to wander back to dating.
"Nah, I haven't been with anyone." You wave your hand dismissively when Bron asks. "And hey, I'm sorry about you and Cora. I know you two had a good thing going." You add.
"Ah, it's alright." Bron shrugs. "It was a mutual thing. And for the best." He insists.
Bron's answer piques your interest and you can't help but ask. "Why'd you two split?" You ask him. "If you don't mind me asking?"
"I realized that I was in love with someone else," Bron replies gazing down at you and the oblivious look on your face.
"Yeah?" You laugh. "Who's the lucky girl?" You ask him. "Anyone that I know?"
Bron is the one to laugh this time. "Yeah, I think you know her pretty well." He answers you. "Though I haven't been able to tell her how I feel yet. Hell, I haven't even seen her in like a year." He adds.
"Really?" You reply, still not taking the hint. "Well, you should seize this chance now, Bron!" You encourage him. "She's bound to be here tonight, right? It is a PLE after all."
"She's here." Bron chuckles, loving the oblivious glint in your eye. "Standing right in front of me matter of fact."
"Right in front?" You furrow your brows then realization finally hits you like a truck. "Oh." Your eyes widen and you stare up at Bron. "Oh. Me?" You point to yourself.
Bron grins and nods. "You're the only one here, aren't you?"
"How come you never said anything before, Bron?" You ask him, not sure how to feel just yet.
"It took me some time to realize it," Bron explains. "You know I always loved hanging out and having you around back in NXT. But it wasn't until you were gone that I realized just how much I missed having you around. And why that was. So...what about you?" He asks you. "I know this is kind of a dick move springing it on you like this." He admits.
You shake your head and take a step forward. "No. It's sweet." You insist. "And there was a reason I was always hanging out with you in NXT, blockhead." You tease him with a small laugh. "I was down bad for you back then. Still am. You just didn't get the hint."
"Looks like we're both oblivious idiots then." Bron laughs.
"Looks like it." You agree. "Now can you lean down here so I can finally get the kiss I've been waiting so long for?" You ask him.
Bron grins with a mischievous shimmer in his eyes. "I've got a better idea." He explains before swiftly picking you up off your feet. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck before crashing your lips to his.
100 notes · View notes
cassayeee · 4 months
Text
MY LITTLE SECRET (FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER)
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warnings: porn with quite a bit of plot (i can never just write a oneshot), emotional sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), virginity loss, slight marking, mentions of killing, death, and suicidal thoughts (this is the hunger games), just be wary fr - minors stay away
notes: so this was a request from @theBridgetopanem on ao3 and, ugh, it's just so cute. love me some soft boy finnick. once again, very quickly edited so sorry for any grammatical mistakes. anywho - make sure to like, reblog, and comment! love u all <3
word count: 9.4k
summary:
No one truly understands the deception of humanity more than those who have the power to take it away. To push innocents against innocents and make sure nothing more than blood and broken souls remains where hope and naivety once stood.
It was a horrible nightmare in your mind – trying to think like them. Trying to survive. And the shadows that followed you out of that arena as people congratulated you for being a victor? Well, they knew what the absence of humanity really brought.
Fear.
OR
Finnick Odair is your mentor for the 70th Hunger Games and you can't help but find comfort in the man who is in your life solely to make sure you don't die.
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The 70th Hunger Games, ready to begin.
Your name, reaped.
All hope, lost.
Voices flickered in and out of your consciousness as you made your way up to the stage. Of course, this happens to you in your last year of eligibility, why wouldn’t it? Time sped and slowed as it pleased, having no regard for your ticking thoughts. Nor did it care for your unwillingness to let it pass.
This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening. Why is this happening?
You weren’t a Career. You had no special talents besides swimming and spearfishing. Swimming. How for fucks sake was that going to get you through the Games? News flash: it wouldn’t. Maybe spearfishing? But that was hardly a skill that could contend with previous victors. And it definitely wouldn’t help you against the Careers.
I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.
As you curled into the dark spot floating at the edge of your vision, you barely heard the name of the male tribute announced beside you. Isaac? Ethan? Ian? Why does it matter anyway? You weren’t going to make it out of here. This was it. The ocean was draining, and you were being sucked down with it.
You barely noticed the Peacekeepers usher you off the stage and saying goodbye to your family was now a flicker of a memory. Siblings would never see you again. You would never be able to make them laugh in your family home or try to eat your mother’s insufferable cooking again. You would never be able to brush off fishing duty to go swimming with Annie or visit the town tavern with her again.
Oh, Annie.
Best friends since birth, the two of you were practically inseparable. Many of your other friends and family joked that the two of you must have been a soul split because of how alike you were. You did everything together, but the shining break in this storm was the fact that she wasn’t standing where you were. That your siblings weren’t. If it had to be any of you, you were glad that it was yourself.
But, fuck – you wish it would have been anyone else’s name picked out of the grim bowl.
---
Stepping foot on that train was probably the hardest decision of your life. Not that it was much of a decision, really. If you wouldn’t have gotten on yourself, the Peacekeepers would have gladly thrown you on there themselves.
You couldn’t say that you were too impressed with the interior of it. Honestly, it just looks like the Capitol threw up all over it. Yes, your family home was nicer than most of those in the other Districts due to the wealth of the area, but you didn’t care about all of that. The people made a house a home, and this train was nothing more than a moving coffin.
As your Capitol lapdog, Jorge, showed you and your fellow tribute into the lounge car, a head of bronze hair caught your eye. His arms were spread wide on either side of him as he lounged on the travel sofa – seeming to be as content as a summer’s day. You could almost laugh at the absurdity of it. But, before that mocking gaggle could make its way out of your throat, the man before you turned.
Oh, shit.
Finnick Odair. You needed no introduction of his, everyone in District 4 was aware of him after his victory in the 64th Games. Youngest ever and all that, you had to respect him for making it through. What you couldn’t respect, however, was his enjoyment of his Capitol fame. He appeared on screen at least five times a month at some prestigious party, the arm candy to some Capitol prissy who you really couldn’t bother to care about. Why should you when they laugh and cheer for children to die for their amusement? It was absolutely disgusting. 
Flashing you with a stunning smile, he popped a sugar cube in his mouth as Jorge motioned for the two of you to sit across from him. His sea-green eyes followed your movements as you stiffly sat before him, like a prized pet for sale. Your shoulders were locked tight as you stared back at the man before you. Tanned skin from hours on the coast and beauty that even the old Gods would envy, you couldn’t discount his looks. But you knew those could be deceiving. And anyone who wins the Games knows how to be deceiving.
“Hey, you two,” he began as he looked between you and… Ian? Yeah, let’s go with that. “This isn’t a position I want to see anyone in, but I’m here to help make sure you make it through whatever hellscape of an arena they have planned for you and get you used to the culture of the Capitol.”
You could feel your hands shake as this terror became more real with every word he spoke. He’s my mentor. I have a mentor. I’m really a tribute.
I’m going to die.
Every ill thought you had of Finnick was immediately disposed of. He was a lifeline in this – he knew how to win. And if you had to be deceitful, manipulative, hell, even seductive through this, you’d take whatever advice he had and hold onto it with your life.
Quickly grasping your hands together to try and still them, you showed nothing but vulnerability as you slouched in your seat. You could feel another panic attack coming on, but you shoved it down to deal with later so you could talk with Finnick. You weren’t going to waste a single moment on this train that didn’t provide you with some sort of opportunity to gain skills that would help you make it out of the arena.
Finnick saw how your composure changed as soon as he started talking and his heart broke a bit from the horribleness of this. He meant it when he said that he didn’t want anyone else to be in this position, for the Games to be a reality, but he would be damned if he didn’t make sure that one of you wouldn’t come out a victor. So, the three of you got to work and talked through the whole ride to the Capitol.
---
Finnick was betting on your spearfishing skills to get you through.
“The other tributes will be spread between those who know how to hunt, how to hide, and how to survive. I need you to be all three.” He stated.
The two of you were working together before your training began in the Tribute Center, stealing your last little bit of train time to work on hand-to-hand skills. Ian was off resting since Finnick was already aware of his expertise with tridents. Apparently, the two had known each other prior to all of this. Finnick wasn’t worried about him. No, he was worried about you.
“I’ve never hunted another person before.” You reminded him. “Fish are different.”
He was showing you maneuvers that could be used for deflection at this point. Utilizing the strength of the staff would be crucial, but since the Capitol provided metal ones in the arena, there was no worry about it breaking. Being in the proper position to block vital spots was up to you, though.
“Fish are small targets,” he nailed his trident against your spear, the reverberation racing up your arms. You continued to hold on. “Humans are bigger. More places to aim for.”
“But they can fight back.” You remarked as you readjusted your hold on the spear. “They can kill me just as easily.”
“Then be faster. Be quiet and quick and they won’t know you’re there until the damage is already done.” He urged. Setting his trident against the wall, he stripped off his shirt from the exertion and reached for a bottle of water to rehydrate.
Your mouth watered at the view. He was, in the simplest of terms, gorgeous. Taunt muscles built from years of experience stretched across his expanse as sweat trickled between the valleys of them. His Adam’s apple bobbed in tandem with his swallows and you were entranced by the movement. You don’t know what he did in a past life to be graced with a body like that, but you had to appreciate it if even for this one moment.
Shaking your head to rid yourself of the distraction, you grabbed a drink of water as well, taking the time to think of your odds. They’ve been getting better with Finnick’s instruction, but it was your intelligence and timing that would get you to the victor’s circle. Confidence was starting to brew in your veins, and you didn’t want it to go away.
Setting the bottle down, you grabbed your spear once more and took a fighter’s stance with it. Finnick noticed and lifted a well-manicured brow at you.
“I’ve got the defense positions down,” you started. “Now show me how to win.”
---
You tried not to stand out amongst the other tributes as much as you could, in hopes that they would view you as nothing more than some meek and useless girl. Your plan was that if you kept your head down, they wouldn’t view you as a threat. While that could cause some to view you as an easy target, it would also keep the element of surprise tidily tucked in your back pocket.
However, you stuck close to Ian as Finnick urged the two of you to attempt an alliance – granting the ability for at least one person to keep an eye on your blind spots. You weren’t naïve, though. Alliances were unsteady, especially if it came down to saving your own skin over the others. And there was no proof that Ian would even keep his word about meeting in the arena, let alone keeping you alive long enough to hear the first sounds of cannon fire. If you were a betting man, you wouldn’t bet on him.
But he did bring in two more members to your shaky alliance, Della Remfar and Billy Churl from District 10. Not Career-material by a long shot, but they were both highly adept with an array of knife work. And, to your knowledge, both knew the cleanest and quickest ways to stab, slice, and gut something – which could definitely come in handy.
Even after surrounding yourself with the three, you weren’t entirely sold on the idea of putting any sort of trust in them. You didn’t speak of anything personal, nor did you even attempt to learn anything about them. It would be easier this way. There can only be one victor in the end, and the memories of the fallen tributes should be left to be carried on by their own friends and families, not by someone who was an instrument in their death.
And, selfishly, you just didn’t want the chance of actually liking any of them to arise. It would be hard enough to kill strangers – killing friends would probably destroy you.
---
The training scores were being announced as you sat between Finnick and Ian. Nervously, you kept bouncing your leg up and down on the plush seat as you waited for your name to pop up on the screen.
Your show to the Gamemakers may not have been anything extremely special, but you would be damned if your new prowess with a spear would go unnoticed. Finnick’s teachings were nothing short of a blessing, and every time you lifted that metal bar, you had the unrestrained thought of making him proud.
It was strange, to find comfort in a man whose sole purpose in your life was to keep you from dying. He would do all he could to keep sponsors coming your way and leave you with all the knowledge and tricks he gained from his own Games. And you would survive. If you wished hard enough that you would live through it, perhaps you could wish it into existence.
A fool’s thought, but it didn’t stop you from looking up to the night sky every night and doing just that. It wasn’t a prayer, not by a long shot. If there was a God out there, you’d hate them with every fiber of your being for allowing their “children” to do this to one another without fear of repercussion. You were already in a living hell – it couldn’t get much worse than this.
Silencing your mind, you peaked with interest as Ian’s name flashed across the screen along with his score. An 8. That was solid. Enough to show the sponsors he was someone worth rooting for and kept the Careers off his tail for being too much of a threat. But it’s not like you cared that much when your name and picture finally appeared.
From pure desperation and worry soaking your veins, you grabbed Finnick’s hand in an attempt to calm yourself. You couldn’t even look at him, not as your eyes were glued to the screen in front of you. But Finnick looked at you.
He saw how scared you were – not just from the placings, but from the whole event. He couldn’t be surprised – hardly anyone made it through the Games without being completely terrified. Even in his own Games, he was fearful. Petrified, more like. No one wants to die like an animal and, besides the vicious, no one wants to kill another human being like one either. So, tightening his own hand around yours, softly rubbing his thumb on the back, he waited with bated breath for your score.
9. Oh, fuck.
“That puts you right around the Careers,” Finnick whispered to you.
You nodded your head, eyes still staring straight at some unknown point in front of you. Your hand was still wrapped around Finnick’s, neither one of you wanting to let go from the worldly anchor. In truth, you were surprised you had placed that high, and by the slightly jealous façade that rested on Ian’s face, you could tell he wasn’t too happy about it either. But Finnick, he just seemed to watch your facial response to it, ready to help you through.
There was no overwhelming emotion of happiness or disappointment, he just wanted to make sure you were okay. And, after turning your face to drown into his oceanic eyes once more, you were.
---
This was it. The clock was counting down as you and the other tributes stood atop your respective platforms waiting for the blood bath to begin. For humanity to disappear and pure unrestrained carnage to take its place.
Your whole body was shaking. Anxiety and dread were filling you up and overflowing at the top. You wanted to be anywhere but here. You wanted to be dead already to get it over with. You wanted to be with Annie and your family playing on the beach.
You just didn’t want to be here.
So, for a split second, you let your consciousness cover your mind with a memory. Something warm and happy that could perhaps get you through the next minutes or hours or days. And you indulged in it.
“Oh, yeah. My parents took us swimming all the time. For ‘exercise’ and all that, but really, I know they just wanted to spend time as a family whenever we could.”
You and Finnick were lounging in the main sitting area within your deck of the Tribute Center. While he probably should have made his leave already, he wanted to check on you after your training, and, without admitting it, desired to spend time with you.
The two of you were currently sharing memories of your families and friends and life. You don’t quite remember how the conversation happened, but it was just too easy to get lost in the words with him. A bittersweet thought of how you would miss him materialized, but you quickly threw it to the wayside so you could luxuriate in the presence of Finnick Odair.
“My mom was always about making sure that between work on the docks, out on the waves, or just helping with the catches, we prioritized one another. Blood is thicker than water, she would always remind us.” You couldn’t help the bright smile painting your face as you thought about how kind and, sometimes scary, your mother was. She truly loved life and insisted on making sure everyone in your family could see the beauty in it as well, if not a little aggressively.
“She once threatened my younger brother, Kade, that she would take away his slice of chiffon cake if he didn’t go out and play with his friends for a bit.” You disclosed. “She ate it right in front of him when he refused.”
You both laughed at the story, going on to tell him more about your siblings and Annie, who was practically your sister at this point. With each passing story, you grew less enthusiastic. He saw the way you started to deflate from the stories, sadness taking its place due to your current predicament of perhaps never being able to see your loved ones again.
He didn’t want those memories to sour from this, he wanted you to keep them treasured – shrouded in a golden cloud of light and love. With a sense of duty, he moved over from his armchair to join you on the loveseat you were curled into.
Your doe eyes followed his movements, curious as to what he was doing. He sat beside you; stern vulnerability layered on his features. With shrugged eyebrows and a twinkle of some unknown emotion in his eyes, he placed his hand on the side of your face, tenderly holding you in position.
“Don’t let them take this from you.” He softly insisted, fingers warming you where they rested. “They want to break you, to dull you, but don’t let them win.”
You blinked. Once. Twice. Before your brain registered that you should reply to him.
“Wh- What?” You stuttered out in a hushed voice, much less of a conversation than you intended, but you were still confused by his words and actions. He continued to look at you, stealing glimpses into your soul through your widened eyes.
“Your memories, your love. The Games are built to destroy you of it all, leaving nothing more than a walking corpse empty of thought and emotion.” He asserted. “But don’t let them win. When you walk out a victor, hold onto what you love most and remember that the Capitol can’t take that. They can try to take your humanity, what makes you, you, but they won’t.”
You were stunned into silence, thoughts running rampant, but one began to overshadow them all.
He thinks I’ll win?
“I know we’ve only truly known each other for a short while, but I’d like to think I’ve become a great judge of character over the years.” He confessed with a small smile. “And when I look at you, I see a genuinely good person. Someone who shouldn’t have been forced into this, who should have lived their life out in peace and bliss but will win because they have something to fight for.”
You didn’t want to speak, to breathe, for fear of stopping his expression. But your eyes encouraged him, so he went on.
“You. Fight for yourself, Y/N L/N. Fight for the memories you hold in your heart. Fight for the love you have to give. Fight for whoever makes your head rush. Fight for the feelings.” He whispered out, only for you. “Just, please, fight. I know you can win. You have the skills, the intelligence, everything. So, fight for everything and nothing at all.”
Silent tears were streaming down your heated cheeks from his honesty. You knew Finnick to be manipulative and cunning when he needed to be, but there was nothing but a boy who wanted to be heard in front of you. What did he have to lie for anyway? You’d be going into that arena either way, friend or not.
Your own smaller hand covered Finnick’s as he continued to hold your cheek. Your lids gently shut as you pushed yourself into the warmth he was offering, staying close to him. He watched you hold the part of himself he presented to you, and decided he should gift just a little bit more.
Lifting his left hand to sit on the other side of your face, he pulled you close to rest his forehead against your own. With shut eyes, the two of you breathed in each other as the intimate moment closed over you.
Even in this short period of time, you’d never felt as close to a person as you did to Finnick. He knew the position you were in, for he had stood there before. He knew your emotions better than you did and encouraged them as a power, not a weakness. He was a light in this dark world, and you’d protect that flame with your life.
Pulling his head back but still staying close, he expressed one last thing. “My secrets, Y/N. I’ll give you all my secrets if you come back to me. If you fight for me. I’ll fight for you every day of my life and it still won’t be enough if you don’t come. Back. To. Me.”
He practically shook with the truth of his words. He wanted for nothing more than time. Time with you. Time to truly learn everything about you. Something in him yearned for you since the moment you had met. Your strength, your smile, your brilliance. He wanted to bathe and drown in it all at once. So, he needed you to win. To dirty yourself as he still is. Then, perhaps, you could both learn how to wear the past together. 
For a short moment, all you could do was look at him. To take him in as he was, no mask atop his face. To see what Finnick Odair looked like when there were no secrets to steal. And then you quickly tucked yourself into his torso as you wrapped your arms around him.
“I’ll fight for you, Finnick.” You declared into his chest. “I’ll fight for more moments like this.”
He hesitated for just a breath before he enveloped his arms around you, holding you tight and taking in your presence. He would make sure that you get anything you need in that arena. And that he’ll be there to pick up any pieces you left behind when you come back to him.
---
Della was dead. Ian was dead. Tributes from all the districts were dead.
The only ones still living were you and Billy, and the clock was ticking away.
Ian stuck true to his word and met you far from the Cornucopia as the two of you ran for your lives. The arena was a swamp – dirty and thick with a putrid smell that you would never forget. But the cypress and tupelo tree bunches gave what cover they could as you deftly made your way through the duckweed covering parts of the watery surface. Della and Billy attempted to steal a supply pack out of the slaughterhouse, but only Billy returned. Sticking close to one another, you made it through your first night.
Finnick also did as he promised and made sure the sponsors gave you anything you needed: spears, bread, ointment for Ian after he ran through a thorn-filled brush and ripped his leg open, even just extra blankets and water bottles – he made sure you were always supplied. His heart was in his mouth every time he saw you on screen, each day fitting you worse than the last. Exertion and fear were already taking their toll on you with mud-caked skin, chapped lips, and hair that was matting faster than a sunset. But none of that mattered as long as you made it to the end.
Ian was the next to go with a slit throat as your group battled head-to-head with the Careers. Two of the four were down before it happened, giving you all a false sense of hope. It was in that second of distraction that the girl from 2 sprinted around and tore Ian’s neck open before you could even blink.
Without even thinking, you launched your spear right into her chest as Billy finished off the District 1 boy. The two of you were unaware that each had defeated a tribute, but as your breathing slowed and you turned toward him, the realization hit you like a train.
I have to kill him.
It was a sickening thought, one you wish you’d never have to think about, but one that was entirely fueled by survival. You made a promise to Finnick that you would return. That you would come back. And even with aching limbs and short breaths, you would fight.
So, fight you did.
Billy started making his way to you as you reached the District 2 girl and yanked the spear from her concaved chest. There was no time for sympathy, no time for feelings. Billy wasn’t your friend. Sure, he may have saved you from the guy from 6 and always made sure that you got your share of food, but he wasn’t your friend. He couldn’t be your friend.
You locked down your thoughts as the two of you met in a patch of hip-deep swamp water. The muck below was forcing your feet to sink lower and gave you little grasp, but you lived in the sandy ocean. You knew how to maneuver well enough to use it to your advantage.
You were smaller than Billy as he towered over you at some number over six feet – a sturdy build for a butcher’s life. Which was a disadvantage for the environment. As you could navigate across the ground without fear of adhering to it, he was stuck, weighted down into the pit of swamp.
As he struggled to turn to follow your movements, his hands were briskly releasing knives your way. Try as you might, you couldn’t miss all of them. One lodged in your upper shoulder as another grazed your cheek, nipping off the tip of your left ear. But he wouldn’t have an infinite number of knives, and you could be patient enough for them to run dry.
And when they did, you advanced. Flittering over to him, you adjusted your stance just as Finnick taught you – bracing your arms apart so they could give and move as needed. You caught him in the side at first, until he grabbed onto the other end of the spear and pulled you toward him. He was stronger than you. If he got his hands on you, he could choke you out or drown you as hastily as he wanted, so you couldn’t let him touch you.
As he hauled you closer and closer to him, you steadied yourself. You’d only have one shot at this, and if you missed, it was all over. Taking a deep breath and focusing on the one moment you would have for this to work, you waited.
Not yet.
He was reaching the end of the spear.
Not yet.
He was loosening his grip on one hand to stretch out toward you.
Not yet.
You could feel the heat of his palm as he began to place it on your good shoulder.
Now.
In a flash, you jumped up and around him, securing yourself on his back and throwing him off balance so he couldn’t lay hold of you. Spear forgotten; you grasped his knife still stuck in your shoulder. With a cry, you yanked it out of yourself and stabbed it into his neck. And you stabbed again. And again. Tears were streaming down your face like a river flooded as you made sure he was well and truly dead.
As his heavy body dropped, you released your death grip but not before you fell into the water with him. You closed your tired eyes as you floated in the combination of blood and sludge. Nothing felt real. You were a victor, and you didn’t feel real. For a moment you could almost see your consciousness floating above you in a haze, like you were the one to die rather than Billy. But as soon as it was there it was gone. Instead, a transporter floated just where you had been, and now it was grabbing the winner of the 70th Hunger Games up into its claws once more.
---
Finnick was the first to greet you with nothing but concern on his face. As everyone else tossed cheers and ‘congratulations’ at you, he held onto you and walked you from the crowd. And he didn’t let go even when you sobbed into his shirt, staining it with tears and blood.
A doctor had to stitch your shoulder and cheek and wrap your bleeding ear, but with the Capitol’s technology, it took less than 2 days to heal. And Finnick never left your side for those days, talking about nonsense and the sponsors and the Games and how your family came to visit but you were unconscious from the medication and everything else he could think of that he couldn’t talk to you about before.
You told him about your heart-wrenching fear at every waking moment and nightmares you would have each night in the arena. Sleep was unwilling to take you, and you hardly wanted it to. Not when the arena croaked and screeched with animals and tributes on the prowl. Nothing but pure survival was in your veins, and that feeling was reluctant to leave you even now.
When you were dismissed from the hospital, he didn’t leave your side then, either. He talked to your family and Annie like they had known each other for a lifetime already. It made you happy watching them together. All the people you loved right in front of you, and you were still alive to witness it.
Even with the dark cloud looming over you, they were still the sun’s rays shining through. Small, but strong enough to keep you going.
---
Weeks after the Games and your victory tour concluded, you were nestled in a small reading nook in your home in Victors’ Village. The Games still haunted you, but you found solace in books. In romantic novels that didn’t have death sentences or tyrannical leaders – just two people who were in love and determined to display that in any way they could.
It was a way for you to escape reality, if even for a fleeting moment. Surrounding yourself with friends and family could only help for so long, and more often than not, being around so many people had you reliving the fight between your group and the Careers. The heaviness of the air and the cacophony of sounds had your stomach turning and chest tightening. Usually, Finnick would notice and quickly relieve you of the event by sheltering you outside.
It was a rather common occurrence, which is why you were happy to be in solitude. You told your family that you’d like to live in the house alone, if only for a couple of months, but they were more than welcome to visit you – which your mother did. A lot. She’d bring attempts at dinners and pies, but you were grateful for her and never discouraged her love. You couldn’t imagine the pain that she went through watching her daughter almost lose her life in the arena, so you entertained all of her antics. Almost every time she visited her eyes would drift to where your shoulder scar lay beneath your clothes, and she always kissed the mark on your cheek before she left as well. The reminders were plain to see.
But your solitude was never truly lonely.
“Hot chocolate?” Your eyes broke from the pages in front of you to look at Finnick, who was now offering the delectable drink to you.
You smiled at him and nodded, shifting your position to reach for the mug of cocoa. He sat beside you, offering more warmth than just that in your hands as he glanced at the book resting in your lap.
“Pride and Prejudice, again?” He smirked. “You have a library full and you’re reading this for, what, the fifth time this month?”
You hit his shoulder with your own as you giggled into your cup. Taking a sip and humming as the warm liquid traveled down your throat, you set your cup aside to face him.
“It’s a wonderful story, what can I say.” You confessed to him.
“And,” He reclined back in his seat as he regarded you. “Highly illegal. I still don’t know how you got your hands on that.” Shaking his head, he took his own drink of the hot chocolate and evaluated you with a raised brow.
“Perks of being a victor, as you should already be aware of.” Your smile vanished. “You get secrets, and I get tales to bury myself in.”
Any trace of playfulness withdrew from his manner. Soft eyes looked into your own as he set his cup aside, reciprocating the action to yours.
“Y/N,” he whispered softly.
Before he could say anymore, you snuggled into him, hurting for the man before you. “I’m sorry, Finnick. I didn’t mean to bring it up, I just– I just can’t understand why they would do that to you.”
Your watery eyes finally traveled back up to his, as he caressed your head with a tender touch. Finnick had finally told you what his days consisted of as a victor – of forced touches and unwanted attention; he was used in the Capitol for his looks and composure. You didn’t take it well, seconds away from marching to President Snow and killing him yourself for putting loving, sweet Finnick through that pain.
It wrecked you even more to know that he dealt with it all for the people he cared about. For his family. For his friends. For you. And that there wasn’t anything you could do to stop it without putting everyone else in danger. The worst that was done to you was parading you around like a show dog on a leash to different events. Perhaps if you weren’t scarred, they would have wanted the same for you, but for once, you could count yourself lucky that Billy hadn’t fully missed.
“Y/N,” he spoke once more as he lifted your chin to gaze down into your eyes. “Please, don’t suffer for me. You know I would do anything to protect you from them, and if this is the cost, then so be it.”
You shook your head as you wiped the tears from your eyes. “You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t have to do anything else for them. Especially not that.”
You couldn’t even say the words out loud, it was so repulsive. It made sense now, why he was always with new and different Capitol citizens at those parties. Why he never looked truly there in the way he handled himself. And it made you want to shove your spear into anyone who would ever try and do that to him again.
“It’s okay, Y/N, really.” He gently smiled at you the way he reserved only for you – with all the love and radiance he could put into it. “I get to spend the rest of my time– the rest of my life with you. That’s all I could ever ask for.”
“Finnick,” you whispered, hardly knowing what to say to him.
He gingerly brushed the hair back from your forehead as he placed a kiss upon it, hushing you. “For you, my love, I would do anything.”
Your body trembled in his hands from the emotion tumbling around inside you. After the Games, it was hard to let yourself get close to him, for the honest fear of losing him. But he was patient. He waited for you and took his time working through the tremors of the Games that still resided within you. It was hard, it still is, to make it through a day without finding yourself back in that arena, but being around him made it easier – more manageable. He was the part of you that kept you afloat and you were hanging on with both hands to make sure he stayed.
You lost yourself in his eyes – green and blue twirling in an intimate dance, the most beautiful you had ever seen. Truly, there was no other place you would rather be than with him. Every ounce of comfort that you felt stemmed from Finnick, and he felt just the same. To part with one another now would be to rip a heart in two, never fitting the pieces to another.
I love him.
It was a scary thought and, really, shouldn’t have shocked you as much as it did. You knew for a long time already that you did but admitting it to yourself was the true challenge. Everyone knew it, hell, Annie would constantly ask you when the two of you would just marry already – she had never seen two people as made for the other until she saw you and Finnick. But you were slow to let that part of yourself go. He already had your heart, but now, you would finally allow yourself to have his.
Tenderly, you reached your hands to cup his face – the slight stubble growing on his cheeks tickling your palms. As not to scare him off, you so slowly pulled his head down to yours. Only an inch apart, your mouths breathed onto one another, painting your lips with his scent.
“Y/N,” he ground out in a whimper.
“Finnick,” you echoed back. “I love you.”
The sharp inhale was the only sign that he had heard your small voice. That, and the urgency at which he bridged the gap between your mouths. A whine escaped from the back of your throat at how soft he was – how his lips molded into your own as if fated to do so. You were already addicted to the feeling.
Finnick wasn’t faring much better. His whole head was fuzzy with love and reverence for you as he pulled you up to sit on his lap, bringing you as close to you as he could. Tenderness soon turned into something more as he began to map out the curves of your body with his hands. As you gasped from his touch, he took the chance to sneak his tongue into your mouth, charting that territory out as well.
Happily returning the favor, you too began exploring the body of the glorious man before you. Tongues twisting, hands moving, both your breaths became labored as the need for even more started hazing both your minds. Pulling away for just a moment, you took your chance.
“Y/N,” he practically growled out as you began to shift your hips over his growing hardness. “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable yet.”
And you knew he meant it. While the two of you had never crossed that line before, you wanted to use more than just your words to show him how much you love him. You wanted to cherish him, to give him all of you.
“I want to.” You pleaded. Then, you quickly pulled away as a thought occurred to you. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about how you might feel about this. Fuck, Finnick, I–”
Before another word could leave your mouth, Finnick covered it with his own, pushing all the love he has to give into you. He coaxed you right back into the kiss, cradling your head close, softly rubbing the flat scar on your ear’s tip. Through a deep breath, he broke the tender instant to glance back at you. Your mind clouded until he spoke.
“Don’t ever think I don’t want you, Y/N,” he reassured. “There is nothing in this world that I want more than you. What happens in the Capitol doesn’t leave me broken, not when you’re still here. And, if you want me, you already have me – I just don’t want you to feel forced into it.”
As he explained his thoughts to you, his hands were delicately rubbing up and down your sides as to console any feelings revolving around your head. He loved you without needing something physical. You were more than enough for him without anything else than just your presence.
“I love you, Finnick Odair,” you confessed for the second time aloud. “And I want to be yours – mind, body, and soul. For as long as you should have me.”
As Finnick’s eyes grew watery from the words torn from your heart, he acknowledged just the same. “I will love you forever, Y/N L/N. And should I die tomorrow or fifty years from now, my thoughts will be filled with you. Only you.”
And with the words spoken and sealed in a lover’s embrace, you sculpted your lips around each other once more. Finnick was slow to undress you, taking the time to truly admire the woman that you were. Removing your top, he trailed his lips from your neck to the scar on your shoulder and drifted further down to your breasts.
You held your breath as you watched him take your nipple into his mouth, suckling and teasing the bud with his tongue. Sighing, you tangled your hands into his hair, urging him to continue his actions. Doing just that, he reached one of his hands up to fondle your untouched breast, coaxing out more whines from you from the feeling.
Unaware, your hips continued to grind down on his lap, searching for some sort of friction for the growing heat in your core. While you had reached highs on your own hands and fingers before, you never touched a man like this – let alone felt the urge to have every part of him in you. And damn it, did you ever want to feel Finnick fucking Odair.
As he switched between ministrations on your nipples, he groaned into you every time you caught on his swelling cock. His head was filled with nothing but the thoughts of you and how he wanted to taste and touch you. How he wanted to tempt out every little noise you could make as you reached your peak over and over again. How he wanted to drown in you.  
Giving into his raging thoughts, he flipped the two of you around so your back lay comfortably on the cushions beneath you. Hot chocolate cooling and book thrown to some corner in the room, it was just you and him. Nothing else mattered.
Wandering down your body once more, he rid you of your pants and undergarments, leaving you bare in the sun. You were a goddess to him. A picture of perfection. He would never get tired of gazing upon you. Even when the two of you had grown old and grey, you would still be the most beautiful thing, sculpted by the poets themselves.
You watched as his eyes traced your body, and you began to grow self-conscious. Before you could even attempt to close yourself off from him, he grabbed onto your thighs and looked deep into your lust-blown eyes.
“Please, don’t hide from me.” He begged you. “You are the most exquisite being, never forget that. I feel like the luckiest man in the world to be able to even glimpse your beauty.”
Sentiments swelling your throat, you nodded up to him and relaxed into his touch. Seeing your newly eased state, he kneeled on the ground as he pulled your legs over his shoulders. Gazing upon your core, a growl emerged from the back of his throat. Your slick heat was practically begging to be filled by him, and who was he to deny such a pretty little thing?
He kissed up the innermost parts of your legs, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most. Before you could issue a complaint to stop teasing, he licked a warm stripe up your pussy, and you gasped. Head thrown back and hands immediately finding purchase in his hair, you were hooked.
He nuzzled his nose into your clit as he began to touch your core with his tongue, forcing out mewls and whines from your mouth. Reaching up his hands, one gripped onto your legs to prevent them from wrapping around his head, while the other spread your lips so he could dive even deeper into you. Flicking and cooing, his tongue continued to taste your slick as he moaned into you from your flavor.
You began rubbing your hips up and down his face as you continued to chase your high. He was too good at this – you’d never last long at this rate.
“Finnick, ahh,” you chanted his name like a choir of angels, and your voice went straight to his cock.
Wanting nothing but his name on your mind, he inserted a finger to begin loosening you up. The slight stretch already elicited a whine of pain from you. His digit was so much longer and thicker than your own, and you had a feeling his length was even more so.
As soon as he felt you relax around one, he slipped in a second. Scissoring around your cunt, he sucked on your clit to keep you slackened. You already felt so full. But as soon as all the discomfort turned to pleasure, you wanted more than just his fingers in you.
“Fuck,” you moaned out. “Finnick, I, shit, I want to feel you.”
He sighed into your pussy at your pleading state. Closing his eyes, he continued slipping his fingers in and out of you, getting you even further toward your orgasm.
“Not yet, love.” He insisted in a gravelly voice. “I want to taste you on my tongue first. You can do that, yeah baby? Want to cum in my mouth? I know you can do it. You’re such a good girl.”
You whined as you shut your eyes and continued stirring your hips on his face. He placed his lips back over your clit and thrust his fingers even faster into your heat. The sound of his knuckles squelching against your wetness was driving him insane, but he wanted to– no, needed to taste your essence before putting his cock into you.
As you felt your climax crawling nearer, your pussy clamped down around Finnick’s fingers, not wanting to let go. Your hips became erratic as you felt the familiar tightening in your lower abdomen – rising from your toes to the tip of your head. Finnick moved and slurped like a man starved, aching for you to lose yourself on him.
With a few more movements and a cry loosened from your lips, you released right into Finnick’s waiting mouth. He cleaned up every last drop, not wanting any to go to waste. You continued to ride out your high as he removed his lips from your bud. Once he felt you tire from your spend, he slipped his fingers out of you.
You watched with hungry eyes as he licked his fingers clean, eyes rolling back as his cock leaked from the wonder of your taste. Moaning as he popped them out of his salivating palate, he quickly moved to rid himself of his shirt. Reaching his arms back behind his neck and tearing the shirt from his torso up around his head, his eyes never left yours.
“I knew you would taste absolutely fucking divine.” He proclaimed to you as he started stripping his pants off. “I bet you feel just as good.”
Gasping, you finally laid eyes on his cock. Thick and girthy, you had no idea how it was supposed to fit in you. While it wasn’t ridiculously long, the stature of it made up more than enough. And as Finnick saw you fixed upon his hardened length, he twitched, which made you whimper up to him.
Bending back down to hover over you, he covered your mouth with his lips, allowing you to taste the salty remains of your own release. Moaning into his mouth, you gripped onto his bronze locks once more, lifting your hips to graze your now swollen clit against him.
He groaned and swiftly grabbed onto your hips to push you down. Backing from the kiss, he asked you one last time, “Are you sure?”
Breathless, you answered. “Yes. Please. I’ve never been surer about anything.”
Staring into your eyes and seeing nothing but certainty, he nodded.
“This is going to hurt, at first.” He stated. “Just try to stay relaxed and I promise you, you’ll start to feel good soon enough.”
Bobbing your head, you dug your nails into his shoulders to brace yourself as he glanced down and began to line himself up to your still-sweating heat. As he pressed the tip into you, you inhaled a sharp breath. Finnick immediately looked up to your face.
“It’s okay. Breathe, my love.” He took his hand and caressed your face. Settling a tender kiss on your lips, you started to breathe normally once again. Taking it as his cue to continue his insertion, he pressed back into you.
Slowly, so achingly slowly, he rocked his length into you. Taking the time to pull back and forth, he was easing you through the tight pain in your cunt. You were biting down on your bottom lip and your eyes were sealed shut from the sting of it.
“Fuck,” he breathed out. “You’re doing so good, baby. Just a little bit more and, shit, I’ll be all the way. God, you’re so tight, fuck.”
Finnick was trying his hardest to go slow for you, but the way that your cunt was compressed around him was like a drug. He wanted more, he wanted to move, but he would never place his own needs above your own. He watched your face for any sign of unordinary discomfort, but he saw none, so he inched further and further until he was fully sheathed into you.
Groaning, he dropped his head into your neck and panted out. As you adjusted to his size, the discomfort subsided. Sighing out as well, you started to lift your hips in your attempt at receiving friction. Finnick moaned and bit down into the softness of your neck.
“Move, Finnick, please.” You whimpered into his ear, already drunk on the feeling of his cock in you. You were so full, practically pushed to the brim, but you wanted more of him. You wanted him to make love to you.
Listening to your words, he dragged his cock through your walls as he moved in and out of you. Feeling your warmth rub against him was nothing short of amazing – there wasn’t anything that would ever compare to the feeling of you.
The two of you moaned in tandem as he thrust a particularly harsh plunge into you. You were scraping his back, leaving red angry lines as you wrapped your legs around his fit waist. Even in your inebriated state, you couldn’t help but admire him. For more than just his handsomeness, Finnick was the most gorgeous thing inside and out, and you couldn’t believe that he was yours. You would do anything for him to smile at you, to give you soft kisses to your temple, to just be.
So, you took hold of his head from where it was leaving marks on your neck, and you clashed your teeth together in a heated kiss. He was quick to reciprocate and grip onto your ass as he continued drilling himself into you, mouth never leaving yours.
You were the one to break the kiss as you leaned back to moan from the feeling.
“Fuck, Finnick. I love you so much.” You were rambling now, high off nothing but the way he was making you melt into his arms. “Please don’t leave me. I couldn’t, ah, live without you. Need you here. Always here. Mmm, my Finnick.”
He continued his movements as he gazed at you, love and lust battling for dominance in his sea-green eyes. “I’ll never let you go, Y/N. You are mine as I am yours. God. I was made to be by your side. Oh, Y/N. To always be with you. Would never leave you. My heart, fuck, is yours forever.”
The two of you were incoherent, rambling sentiments of love and sweet nothings to the other. Both of your climaxes were approaching, wanting to cum at the same time as the other. Skin on skin and sweat dripping upon each other, this was a plea of love, a confessional. Never to leave, always to stay – your hands were tied together as Finnick kissed you softly once more.
In contrast, his hips picked up the pace, as his fingers found your throbbing clit once more, pushing you to reach the top with him. His movements became inconsistent as he grew closer, knowing you were on your way as well by the way you were clenching down on him.
“Come on, baby,” he cooed at you. “Cum with me. You’re so close, love, I can feel it.”
“Yes, yes!” you whined at him. “Wanna cum, wanna cum with you. Ah, almost there, Finnick, don’t stop.”
Moving your hips with him, you both panted as the light grew brighter. He sped his twirling fingers up around your bud, begging you to peak with him. And as the two of you whined and whimpered louder and louder, Finnick thrust hard and deep into you. With this one last push, you both roared a moan as you came in and around the other.
Slowing his motions, Finnick allowed you to ride out your orgasm as he spilled his seed in you. Your legs twitched around his hips as you came down from your high. Head tilted back, you breathed hard and fast as your heart pounded. Finnick wrapped his arms around you as he held you close, still buried inside you.
For just a bit, the two of you stayed like that – together as one. Your pants eventually withdrew and were left with nothing more than the beating of the blood in your veins. He tenderly pulled out of you, leaving you empty of nothing but the soreness in your hips. Rubbing small circles on the aching joints, he kept his head close to yours. He then started kissing all over your face, making you giggle.
Chuckling along with you, he saved you from the attack by pulling away and looking at you with pure love and adoration. Mirroring his visage, you tenderly stroked his cheek as he sighed into your palm.
“I’m going to marry you, Y/N.” It wasn’t a question, but a fact he knew true in his heart.
Your eyes widened at his words, stilling your actions for a moment.
“Not tomorrow,” he laughed at your shocked expression. “Perhaps not a week or month from now, but one day I will. And that day will be the happiest of my life.”
Tears brimmed along your eye line, but it wasn’t sadness blurring your vision. Joy, excitement, and love were making their presence known in this strange way, and you didn’t know how else to respond to his worrisome look except to smile at him. Smile with your heart and soul to the man who was everything to you. And he smiled back the way Finnick Odair only smiles at you: uninhibited and overflowing with fondness.
Nestling into him as he repositioned you both on the seat, you contently sighed into him. This is what you fought for in that arena. This is why you promised that you’d win.
For vulnerable moments like this. For nothing between you and the man you love except the warm skin of your bodies. For the chance to live and not survive. For him.
With those thoughts in your mind, there was only one way you knew how to respond to him: with your truth, not a secret, and not in fear.
“Yes, I will marry you, Finnick Odair.”
126 notes · View notes
mgnifique-tion · 23 days
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— human reaction.
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summary || ``you’re starting to wonder if attending work after your day-off was a mistake.``
pairing: 2012!loki x gn!scientist!reader song recommendations: tesseract - cix (p.s. check out seunghun on build-up rn!) lowercase is intended… part: 1/?
— themes and warning/s: open-ended, enemies to potential lovers (for sure, they will be lovers soon), NOT a stand-alone one shot ;) wink wink, bossy loki, y/n being somewhat a dumb human being (heroism)
— a/n: hi! back with another loki au this march and guys, this is not a phase– IT’S NOT A PHASE, MOM! (corny? i graduated with that course in the university of the cornyology – i’m not even done with g12 lmfao wtf am i saying) anywho, i miss him. i literally rewatched the avengers for him and i'm not even active w the mcu anymore. i actually have a lot of other pending drafts from my main acc (@mgnifiqueyoo - follow me there :3) and so many unfinished IMPORTANT work from real life but like i thought of a line and now, i just HAVE to write it or it's outta my head so here u go. lmao. enjoy!
[ total words: 1.9k ]
support me on ko-fi! ☕
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“... oh my god.”
that was all you could mutter under your breath the moment you saw the rest of your co-workers controlled by that thing the alien held in his palm. you didn’t show up to work yesterday since you were just taking the final steps in finishing that project of yours.
what was the project? the hypercryogenic station.
and now, after a long day of ignoring your texts and calls, you ended up going to work, which happened to be a terrible idea. better yet, a horrible mistake. “... excuse me?” you took small steps, nearing the towering male as he just stood still, not facing you. all of your friends were doing his commands without any questions and you knew that clint barton would never do any of this!
but he did anyway. and you had to know why.
“what did you do with them?” you asked, demanding for answers as you heard him let out an almost inaudible chuckle only to be followed by a deep, low snicker. the alien slowly turned around and looked you straight in the eye, sweat pouring down his face with a sharp glare while his teeth ground against each other.
he was just terrifying, how else could you leave the facility without getting killed?
“oh, is that supposed to matter?” the alien mocked, later glancing at the staff he held before looking back at you, his smirk disappearing little by little. “... you must be horrified, aren���t you?”
of course you were, who wouldn’t be horrified when they see something like this? 
but before he could even get closer to you, he suddenly stumbled. that wasn’t something you expected since you assumed that he was a powerful being out of this world after seeing that wardrobe choice but he showed… weakness? it’s hard not to take note of it for future purposes.
you then cleared your throat and asked, “are you okay?”
but he said nothing in return, tense and trembling with every step. he had a maniacal look on his face as if he couldn’t control his actions; he seemed like he was enduring something that was hurting him inside.
and that got you thinking what else was happening with the man in front of you. “so, that’s a no?” 
“you’re the expert,” he said, “you’re the one blessed with knowledge over what it is that’s happening to me now.”
you frowned. you definitely had no idea what was going on with him and you were planning on leaving him to himself when he surprisingly grabbed your wrist. “heal me,” he pleaded, breathing in and out rapidly as you felt the burning heat that surrounded his palm, which led to that moment of realization.
“i… i don’t know how–,” you were then cut-off by him tilting his head to the project: the hypercryogenic station. if you ever had a scanner around you, his heat signature would be all over the place because of how high his temperature was. “but the station hasn’t even been tested yet and it could be dangerous for you and for all of us!”
the alien shook his head frantically, not letting any excuses get into his way. “if you don’t help me right now…” his breath hitched as the tip of the scepter was pointed at your chest, right at your heart. “you won’t be living for long.”
and that made you take so many steps, assisting him in the station as you closed the door. “you can’t be in there for more than a minute, it’s highly dangerous and i’m telling you, we haven’t done any tests yet–”
“just begin with the process.” his voice had gotten lower, hoarser with every moment that passed as you felt your heart race quicker. you knew that if you made a mistake, somebody like barton would kill you; there was no way out.
so the gears started running and you watched how the glass windows of the station had fogged up. your life’s work was being used by an unknown entity who took over the minds of your co-workers. your friends.
you couldn’t help but cry silently, biting your nails while you stood a meter away from the finished project. how could a five-year plan get wasted? to this unreadable, tyrannic humanoid? you can’t even breathe well.
and once the process was done, the station’s doors slid apart, creating a path for the man inside. when he stepped out of it, he didn’t even seem affected by it. all normal and human-like as if he had only bathed himself in some snow and not in an actual blizzard.
but colder than his skin was his gaze toward you, the scepter staring back at you as well, watching the way you took a few steps away from him.
“who are you?” you asked, your eyes glued to the scepter rather than his face, which caused him to get agitated.
in return, the tip of the scepter’s blade touched your chin, tilting your head up so that you could look at him. “i am loki of asgard,” he introduced with a deranged grin as you heard the way his breath hitched, overwhelmed and proud with how he spoke to you. 
that was enough to make you take another step back but his hand grabbed your arm like a lock, fastened so tightly that it made everything worse for you. “what did you do with them?” you tilted your head to the blue-eyed agents now circling the entire room, which made loki laugh.
he truly was out of his mind. 
“i simply used them for a greater purpose,” he said back, letting out another chuckle as the scepter gleamed in response. it was in his complete control… they were all under his control.
how in the world can you run from this?
“let them go.” “oh, we’re getting heroic now, aren’t we?”
he mocked you shamelessly as if it wasn’t your invention that saved him from his visible misery – whatever it was that hurt him earlier.
“... well, i did save you.” you just had to let a bit of sass come out because it was true. however, loki didn’t seem to be fond of that and had read that as entitlement rather than a reminder of who did save him.
nonetheless, he lowered his weapon and laughed once more. “your little saving was merely necessary, mortal. i could’ve used that machine myself.” of course, he disregarded that tiny, little favour you did for him and decided that it’d be best to not even give out a little thank you.
but then, again, what do you expect from an aspiring alien tyrant?
“but you couldn’t because i programmed it for my access only,” you continued the conversation, stating the truth right in front of him. that was your life’s work… you still couldn't believe that it was firstly used by some tall man with a scepter and emerald drapes. “besides, that thing you used wouldn't be here if it weren't for me.”
there was long silence once again… perhaps, even longer than moments of silence you had earlier when your eyes scanned over the rest of the place.
almost the entirety of the facility was led by loki. horrifyingly brainwashed by that scepter.
“fair enough,” he admitted, “but you wouldn’t be breathing if i hadn’t given you the chance.”
“... do you want me to thank you? for this?” “giving thanks means nothing. i need something much more than that.”
you crossed your arms, gulping as you still tried to make yourself seem as if you had the upper hand. an imaginary upper hand, perhaps? although you had put on that mask, loki knew you were afraid of what he could do to you. 
if this is only a preview of the damage he’s capable of causing, just how could you survive while being opposed to him?
“i could…” he trailed off, smirking to himself as he circled the station, his palm touching its painted and carved surface while the scepter glowed in his other hand. “hm… i could do the same to you. put your talent to use like the others.”
and you readied yourself, closing your eyes as your once crossed arms dropped to your sides, hopeless and left without a sign of help. “but you have not attacked me once,” he said with a tone of interest, diverting his attention from the opportunity of just controlling you like a mindless servant and rather feeling positive about a different, riskier path. “and you’ve saved me. willingly. no control needed.”
he walked towards you, breathing heavily and letting out a low chuckle. “do you know what gift you have, dr. l/n?” he questioned, expecting you to know the answer as he tilted your head upwards again with the end of the scepter. one wrong push and you could bleed to death; he was being careful with you still.
after all, you were a great addition to his plans.
“humanity, l/n.” he proudly stated, now lowering his weapon as your heart raced. never did you fear death until now, especially when your life would fade to grey without the knowledge of what’ll happen next. to the world and the people around you. “you’ve got so much humanity in you that your best choice was to save a dying god. it’s foolish, l/n. how could you be so brilliant but foolish?–”
“are you done?” you had enough of it, still staring at one corner as you saw how your friend’s eyes still gleamed in blue, manipulated by the god standing right in front of you while the remaining lights of the facility shone over his prepped quiver, ready to attack whenever, however.
and of course, the god of mischief was indeed offended by that. “... you’re so brave, it’s idiotic.” he laughed, shaking his head as if you both had been joking with one another and you felt the heat rush up your head; you didn’t want this. you just wanted your friends to be set free – your world to be set free from this being. 
“what do you desire in return?” “for you to stop whatever you’re planning here, my lord.”
even though loki knew you were being sarcastic, he just admired the way it rolled off your tongue. “you do know that does not equate to what you’ve done for me and you might want to do something more for me if you’d want that to happen,” he said, denying your request with a snicker. “but of course, i still appreciated your service earlier so how about i offer you something else?”
he’s cheating, you thought.
“in exchange of your little saving, it’ll be guaranteed that not one of us would lay a finger on you…” he paused, hiding the scepter behind his back as you tilted your head to the side. were you even hearing this correctly? that was too low. “and you would be shielded from any harm as well.”
but can you do anything about it? no. “is that good enough for you, my little savior?”
you had to think about it for longer than a second. why only a second, you may ask? well, does it look like you still have enough time to decide perfectly? the world is at stake; you had to give an answer now or worse destruction could happen.
“fine,” you uttered, firmly extending your hand towards him as he only stared back at your empty, shaking palm. “i’ll do whatever it takes to free this world from you.”
“that’s laughable.” “we’ll see, your majesty.”
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talisidekick · 1 year
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Thanks for being so compassionate! As someone who's had to defend himself from assault pre transition and assault and attempted trafficking during transition which has contributed to some agoraphobia centered on thoughts like "damn, wasn't safe off T not safe on it", it's been rlly scary seeing ppl shrug off how transmascs are endangered in real life in service of discrediting transandro discourse. Cool seeing who's really real I guess????? anyways hope you're well and warm. Srry about my run on sentence lmao
There is absolutely nothing to apologize for. We only get to see one side publically, and that's pretty much just trans women issues. Media likes to cover just us. I rarely see news stories about just trans men. We don't see the stories about trans men getting stalked or followed around in stores by total strangers, getting attacked in public, rarely a mention if a trans man gets killed. It's happening but you don't see it. You don't see a flood of forum posts about the constant dismissal of, unique brand of hatred around, or the types of dangers faced by trans men.
My introduction to questioning my gender was actually FROM transandrophobia. The reason for this is I've had more of a curvy figure since ... well forever, even though my body was producing T on it's own. I got A LOT of compliments on it by pretty much all my friends (which were mostly girls, and yes that probably should have been a sign but I'm a bit thick sometimes, okay?) because I was "unconventionally sexy" because of it. I'm now remembering I do have a shirtless picture somewhere from before I was on HRT ... I'll work up the nerve to show that at some point to prove that point. Anywho, because of this, a random ass stranger had been following me as I went to grab a few things from a walmart after my shift. It was weird as fuck. Uncomfortably close, constantly looking at me but not what they were pretending to, and I kind of knew this dick was waiting until there was no one in the aisle before pulling something. I'd been mugged before at 14 and 15 so at 24 I was kind of like "I'm not getting stabbed in a damn Walmart" and just made sure to be quick. I got out of the store and met up with some old work friends and just let them know someone was following me and I wanted to wait them out. Props to my friends at the time, they bullseyed the dude (to be fair he wasn't being stealthy) and called him out. And he yelled back "You'll never be a real man" to me. My friends laughed at him because as far as we all knew, I was cis. But this would happen two more times in the same week. A lady would tell me I shouldn't be doing "this" to myself with a full body gesture, and that god "loves" me; and a college colleague flat out dismissed my concerns on something because "only a real man would need to worry about that". It got me wondering if this was a new fad, to hate on someones manliness, and upon looking that up I learned about what exactly transgender meant, the experiences of trans men and women (just a bit on women, my concern was on trans men at the time), and thought it was kind of cool there were people who'd know two sides to the gender spectrum. But it must SUCK to have to go through the bullshit I did and actually be affected by it. Like, no one has any right to tell another man they're less of one.
This whole situation would actually come back to help me 2 years later in finding myself. I'd only really looked up trans men and curiosity mid covid lock down would lead me to look up non-binary and then trans women. However, transandrophobia is how I, a trans woman, got her start. So it boils my blood when I see people talk about T being toxic or trans men having it easier. It shows a complete lack of understanding and a lack of acceptance and willingness to empathize. Trans men and trans mascs have different issues, that doesn't make them lesser, and while those issues may not affect me, it doesn't make it less of my problem to help deal with where I can. I know certain issues I'll have no experience on, no idea how to help, but that doesn't mean I can't still offer to be support. Everyone should be doing the same, and shame on those who aren't.
You deserve equal treatment and support in your fight for it, not dismissal. Those that dismiss the issues of trans men aren't allies, they're transphobes. And fuck transphobes.
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unknown-terrain · 9 months
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It's wild to me how INCEST was just normalized on this godawful show — to the point that the showrunners/actors really EXPECTED us to see the Jaime & Cersei ending as ROMANTIC????? Like, no, that scene was ridiculous. A ceiling killed them. The only thing that evoked from me was laughter.
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GRRM never paid show!Twincest any compliments either but instead reminded us how in the books they're effectively estranged. He did compliment show!J/B though by saying Gwendoline and Nikolaj had amazing chemistry together as Jaime and Brienne aka the couple he said he based on his favorite romance Beauty and the Beast and I think that's a pretty big deal. So we know which pairing GRRM is building up to be the true love one....something D&D failed to comprehend all because of their egos with bad taste.
Dumb & Dumber and HBO went above and beyond for years to try to encourage people to root for Twincest something that GRRM never does in ASOIAF. D&D completely missed the point of their relationship and because of their weird gross obsession with J/C, they turned the relationship into something else entirely....and still flopped. In the books the deterioration of their relationship was more compelling than whatever show tried to do. Till this day the majority of people still don't see that Twincest ceiling death as romantic....more like a waste of two characters and is infamously known as some of the worst writing ever. Considering how D&D went into hiding after S8, even they must know how much they fucked up. Anywho their little pro-Twincest experiment failed spectacularly. They were so out of touch their writing failed to consistently resonate with audiences on several different fronts not just the Twincest. I'm satisfied af at the backlash D&D/HBO got. Also very satisfied at how well loved Jaime/Brienne continues to be, like D&D wanted us to dislike that relationship but the people said nope, we're going to love them even more!
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pumpkzsafeplace · 8 months
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baby pumpkin tips: tackling public transport
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whether you suffer with autism, bad anxiety or just hate public transportation in general, we can all agree how terrifying it can be sometimes. hopefully these tips can help it seem a little less scary <3.
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-> know what you’re getting into.
planning ahead and mentally preparing yourself for the surroundings you’ll encounter can save a lot of anxiety. of course, you may still be anxious the whole experience but having that bit of control of knowing what transport your taking and how long the journey is can help a lot! 🚆.
-> plan comfy.
going out in public is terrifying at the best of times, especially when you think everyone’s eyes are on you 24/7. which is why my golden rule for transport is to dress in comfortable clothes, you’re average everyday gear. don’t pick the already stress-induced days to experiment as it’ll just make the anxiety and stuff worse, i promise you <3👚
-> noise cancelling headphones.
i don’t know if these help any other disorders, but they’re a huge help if you have autism or anxiety. simply, plan out a playlist for the journey and pop on your headphone to help block out the overwhelming noise. my daddy usually pops them as soon as we leave the house to give me some time to get used to them <3 🎧.
-> distracting apps.
distracting apps can also be a huge help to sort of numb your brain & stop you from overthinking and analysing- if that makes sense, teheh <3 i have a bunch of different apps & games that i use to help!
i would advise to stay away from the cute games- you don’t want to regress in a scary environment <3
go-to apps! :
-> tiktok
-> tumblr
-> pinterest.
go-to games!
-> solitaire games
-> pet buddies!
-> a fidget an anxiety app
-> schedule up some videos.
if the apps & games don’t work, you can distract yourself by watching some youtube videos! or downloading a couple of episodes of your favourite show on netflix and letting yourself sink into the story on the journey! 📱.
-> treats n snacks.
treats & snacks are a must for a long journey! i usually don’t like making a lot of noise on public transport- so my go to snacks are usually: a bottle of drink (like coke, sprite or water), small bag of chocolate or a small bag of sweeties that i can hide in my pockets or bag <3.
-> be proud of the baby steps.
this is the most important step!
please be proud of the baby steps. going outside and attempting to exists like ‘normal people’ is incredibly hard. even if you manage a small amount of time without having a meltdown- then that’s progress! that’s super good!
this journey is a marathon, not a sprint! take baby steps and go at your pace. your mentality and health is more important than anything else, remember that <3
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i hope these helped! i’m actually travelling soon myself so i’m sorta giving tips to myself, hehe! if you’re also travelling anytime soon- i made a little travel playlist that you can vibe to if you like my taste in music :3
anywho, have a lovely day! <3
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goddess-evelle · 1 year
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In This Video XIV
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We have a prostate massager, but our girlfriend is also riding us. Can we keep quiet or will our friends notice what we are put to? We are about to find out.
* George Special*
George- Too into it
Don’t get me wrong we love a man that loves a good prostate massager and moans to his hearts content, but did he really had to choose this time to be so damn loud. Your friends (your mutual friends) are in a discord call right now, and while you are hoping they didn’t hear anything, George is making too many noises. The idea was his, (of course, he said it as a joke, but really hoped that you would make it true). So, you complied to his request. You also wanted to punish him, because it is always fun seeing him try to hold back the way you make him feel. Tbh, you knew he would fail this test soooooo easily. He is already such a fucking mess whenever you ride him, and adding a prostate massager while you ride him was definitely going to be his end game. Let’s just say, it was very expected that he would fail.
“Baby breathe~” You whispered in his ear. Hoping that it sounded more like a sweet whisper. You smiled and continue whatever conversation Dream and the other boys were having to try and not appear unusual. It was pretty typical that George was silent whenever you were in the call. While the other boys usually thought that he must be too shy to speak his mind (like he usually does on regular calls) the truth was that everytime you two were together in the call you were either riding him, or cockwarming him. Usually having to put yourselves in mute to make sure that they didn’t suspect nothing. Anywho, here you are squeezing your walls around his cock while he is biting his lip as hard as he can TRYING and god knows he is trying not to make a sound, but every single clamp of your dripping pussy on his cock has him clenching which results on him also clenching making the vibrations on his prostate feel *that* intense that has him rolling his eyes back. Soon enough the conversation gets too focused on one theme that lets the two of you know that it is time to get a little moreeee frisky. You smile looking at him and moving back to bite his ear, your finger slipping into the mute button as you turn completely towards him, legs fully spread open as you use the force on your thighs to ride him FULL force. He makes the most delicious chocked sound as he tries to grip on you to not lose his grip on reality as you give him the ride of his life. Your thighs burn from the intense work out you are doing, but seeing him so desperate is enough to ignite a fire into you. His grip gets harder on you as he stops you completely agaisnt your WILL.
“S-stop, b-babe, the the cam” This is enough to have you turning around and looking at the screen of the PC to see the two of you on full display for all your friends.
‘Fuck that’s hot, hey spread your legs and let us see how George is fucking you” You move without a second thought completely forgetting that you are also showing them the pretty pearl that hides in George’s ass.
“I told you they were freaky dude!” Well, at least they weren’t mad.
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3d-wifey · 7 days
Text
SCP-2243: You Got Caged!
If it isn't obvious, you're Dr. ████. I mixed his powers from the last timeline and this timeline bc I missed the green energy. Anywho, these will all be in the same universe, I already started one for Feyd Rautha bc that little freak is such an scp tags: @yvy1s @innercreationflower
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SCP-2243
Item #: SCP-2243
​​Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2243 is to be contained within a reinforced humanoid containment chamber at Site-██ equipped with non-lethal deterrents to prevent unauthorized access. The chamber must be outfitted with soundproofing materials due to SCP-2243's propensity for vocalization as its penchant for charisma and allure makes unauthorized access into its containment cell just as likely as an escape attempt. All interactions with SCP-2243 must be supervised by trained personnel, and any requests for interaction must be approved by the Site Director ██████. A one-way observation mirror is to be installed. However, it is not to be utilized 24/7 as it is known that SCP-2243 will always be aware that someone is watching it and may engage in performative behavior. SCP-2243 is to be provided with recreational materials upon request, subject to approval by Site Director ██████.
Interaction with SCP-2243 must be conducted with caution to prevent irritation and subsequent accidental activation of its anomalous abilities.
SCP-2243's anomalous abilities are to be monitored regularly. Should SCP-2243 exhibit aggressive behavior, Protocol Omega-Zeta is to be enacted immediately, involving the use of hand-to-hand combat to settle it down as tranquilizers only further aggravate it. However, it is likely to go through and kill many of its “opponents” before this is reached. This is why it is key to keep it calm. Notify Dr. ████ before engaging in active combat with SCP-2243 as she has shown the ability to talk it down.
[Additional Notes: Due to SCP-2243's unpredictable behavior and potent anomalous capabilities, a specialized containment team trained in both hand-to-hand combat and anomalous entity containment procedures is to be stationed nearby at all times. Despite these measures being put in place, it is advised not to engage in combat with SCP-2243 if possible as it is unlikely for one to survive against it. Even sparing is ill-advised as SCP-2243 casually utilizes brutal and at times lethal moves. It seems that SCP-2243 doesn’t understand that one is supposed to go easy on their partner during a friendly match. Instead, SCP-2243 treats every fight as if it is life or death.]
Considering SCP-2243, and most likely those from its dimension, heals from what should be considered mortal wounds at ease, it is currently considered practically immortal. No firearms are to be used and there are no current plans to test this supposed immortality.
During transportation, personnel must be able to develop a rapport with SCP-2243 or be considered in good standing. This is in place to reduce the chances of agitation and encourage its current cooperation. While SCP-2243 has been happy to help and shows a strong sense of morality, outbursts of any kind should be met with negotiation first and combat if all else fails.  dealt with by Dr. ████, which has shown to be a surefire way of calming it down. 
Aggressive language or actions toward SCP-2243 will be perceived as grounds for combat, at which point the only way to calm SCP-2243 down will be the termination of said offender by its hands with the gruesome usage of what it classifies as a “finisher” or “brutality”. At this point, a disembodied voice has reportedly been heard chanting “Finish him/her.” The same course of action will be taken if SCP-2243 witnesses any type of aggressivity towards Dr. ████.
SCP-2243 is to be provided with basic amenities and entertainment to maintain cooperation and prevent boredom-induced agitation.
SCP-2243 demonstrates a strong aversion to containment and expresses a desire to engage in combat and entertainment activities. It frequently attempts to escape confinement to pursue these activities, often resulting in containment breaches and potential security risks. As such, SCP-2243 is allowed monitored access outside of its containment chamber.
Description: SCP-2243 appears to be a humanoid male of Caucasian descent in his mid-thirties with a muscular build, approximately 6 foot 1 in height despite claims of being taller, 200lbs. The only noteworthy marking on its body is a tattoo along its chest spelling “Johnny”. SCP-2243 possesses enhanced physical abilities, including strength, agility, and endurance, beyond that of normal human capabilities. Despite numerous attempts to determine the source of these abilities, SCP-2243's physiology appears to be entirely mundane.
SCP-2243 is known to exhibit a charismatic and self-assured personality, often displaying a penchant for theatricality and grandiose gestures. It is highly proficient in hand-to-hand combat, displaying mastery in various martial arts disciplines, but also shows proficiency with various melee weapons. SCP-2243 is also capable of performing acrobatic feats defying conventional physics.
SCP-2243's primary anomalous trait is its ability to generate and manipulate energy fields, particularly those resembling green, energy-based constructs. These constructs have been observed taking various forms, including protective barriers, projectiles, and offensive weaponry, all of which have been dubbed SCP-2243-1. The extent of SCP-2243's control over these constructs is not fully understood. These abilities appear to be activated through gestures and vocal commands, though the exact mechanism remains under investigation. Alongside this, it’s capable of producing photokinetic energy projectiles from its hands, which it refers to as "Shadow Balls" or "Green Energy”, that are capable of inflicting significant damage to organic and inorganic matter.
SCP-2243's anomalous abilities extend beyond its physical prowess. It has been observed to possess a form of reality-warping, enabling it to alter perceptions and manipulate the outcome of events in its vicinity. This includes the ability to enhance its own combat abilities and create illusory duplicates of itself, SCP-2243-3, making it difficult to contain or neutralize. SCP-2243 often utilizes these "stunt doubles" as decoys or to overwhelm adversaries, suggesting a strategic acumen beyond conventional human capability. 
One of SCP-2243's most confounding anomalous properties is its ability to spontaneously generate film crew equipment and personnel, SCP-2243-5, seemingly out of thin air. These manifestations typically appear during combat scenarios, allowing SCP-2243 to produce elaborate cinematic sequences in real-time and manipulate its surroundings to create elaborate stage-like environments evidently at will. Despite extensive research, the origin of these manifestations remains unknown.
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SCP-2243 producing an instance of SCP-2243-5
It has the extraordinary ability to produce multiple instances of SCP-2243-4 at any time that it refers to as “stunt men”. SCP-2243-4 appear as men who look similar to SCP-2243, but not identical. They seemingly materialize out of thin air and disappear just as seamlessly. When asked about them, SCP-2243 claims it is “too valuable to do its own stunts even though it totally can.” Not to be confused with SCP-2243-3, “stunt doubles”, which are perfect clones of SCP-2243 that it creates using its green energy during combat. Despite the names being synonymous, there is a clear and distinct visible difference. 
Furthermore, SCP-2243 demonstrates an enigmatic ability to create SCP-2243-2 instances, which function as an invisible yet responsive live studio audience. These entities provide audible feedback and reactions to SCP-2243's actions, further enhancing its theatrical performances during combat encounters. Despite being imperceptible to onlookers, SCP-2243 interacts with SCP-2243-2 instances as though they were tangible entities, implying a cognitive connection beyond conventional sensory perception.
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SCP-2243 interacting with SCP-2243-2
These cinematic apparitions serve to augment SCP-2243's theatricality, enhancing its engagements with both adversaries and Foundation personnel.
SCP-2243's origins and motivations remain shrouded in mystery, with conflicting claims suggesting ties to alternate realities and interdimensional conflicts. Further investigation into SCP-2243's extradimensional knowledge and the veracity of its assertions is ongoing.
SCP-2243 is known to engage in confrontational behavior, often seeking out adversaries to engage in combat. SCP-2243 exhibits an exaggerated sense of self-confidence and bravado, often engaging in verbal taunts and dramatic gestures during confrontations. SCP-2243 displays a charismatic and flamboyant personality, often engaging in boastful behavior and making witty remarks, even in stressful or dangerous situations. It has demonstrated a tendency to seek attention and validation from others, particularly through public performances and displays of its abilities.
Despite its aggressive tendencies, SCP-2243 has displayed a strong sense of morality, frequently intervening to protect innocent individuals from harm.
SCP-2243 has shown an advanced level of intelligence past that of most sapient Euclids. It has made claims of possessing a Ph.D. in quantum mechanics. When tested on the subject, SCP-2243 showed remarkable proficiency. 
SCP-2243's presence tends to draw significant public attention, making containment challenging. Witnesses of its anomalous abilities are typically administered Class-A amnestics to maintain secrecy.
[Additional Notes: SCP-2243's anomalous abilities and charismatic personality pose a potential threat to Foundation secrecy and containment efforts. Research is ongoing to understand the full extent of its capabilities and origins. Efforts to recruit SCP-2243 as a Foundation asset for containment and neutralization of other anomalies are under consideration, pending approval from higher authorities.]
SCP-2243 is to undergo regular psychological evaluations and physical examinations to monitor any changes in behavior or anomalous abilities. Any attempts by SCP-2243 to utilize its anomalous abilities for personal gain or unauthorized activities must be promptly reported.
SCP-2243 claims to be a former Hollywood actor and martial artist, though its background and identity remain uncertain. It frequently refers to itself by the alias "Johnny Cage" and insists on being addressed as such. Despite its cooperative demeanor, SCP-2243 has been known to exhibit stubbornness and defiance when faced with authority or containment procedures it perceives as restrictive. However, it seems to have taken a liking to Dr. ████ and adheres to her authority for reasons unknown. Though it is theorized to be aesthetically motivated.
While generally personable, SCP-2243 can become irritated or outright aggravated if treated like a specimen or if it becomes bored. Will only answer to Johnny, Mr. Cage, or Dr. Cage. 
Despite SCP-2243's often brash and arrogant demeanor, it has shown a degree of cooperation with Foundation personnel, particularly when provided with opportunities for public exposure and adulation. None more than Dr.  ████. However, caution is advised, as SCP-2243's loyalty and motivations remain unclear. 
Addenda:
Addendum 2243-A: Containment protocols have been updated to include measures to prevent unauthorized access to SCP-2243's containment cell, as well as enhanced surveillance to monitor SCP-2243's interactions with SCP-2243-1, SCP-2243-2, and SCP-2243-4 instances. Continued observation and analysis of SCP-2243's behavior are necessary to ensure effective containment and mitigate potential security risks.
Addendum 2243-B: SCP-2243's containment cell has been outfitted with holographic projectors to simulate various combat scenarios and facilitate cooperative engagements with Foundation personnel. These simulations serve as both training exercises and opportunities for psychological assessment, aiding in the formulation of comprehensive containment protocols.
Addendum 2243-C: Containment protocols have been revised to include provisions for the monitoring and analysis of SCP-2243's interactions with SCP-2243-1, SCP-2243-2, and SCP-2243-4 instances. Behavioral studies are underway to discern patterns and motivations behind SCP-2243's utilization of these anomalous entities.
Addendum 2243-D: SCP-2243 has been observed engaging in dialogue referencing an alternate reality known as "Earthrealm" and claiming to be a "Mortal Kombat champion." But shows no concern about returning. Further investigation into the origin and nature of SCP-2243's extradimensional knowledge is ongoing.
Addendum 2243-E: Ongoing research endeavors aim to elucidate the extent of SCP-2243's reality-warping capabilities and their implications for containment and neutralization strategies. Collaboration with multidisciplinary teams is encouraged to advance our understanding of SCP-2243 and its place within the anomalous spectrum.
Addendum 2243-F: SCP-2243 has expressed a desire to participate in containment breach drills and training exercises alongside Foundation personnel. While SCP-2243's assistance in such scenarios may prove beneficial, caution is advised due to the unpredictable nature of its behavior and abilities.
Addendum 2243-G: SCP-2243's anomalous abilities have led to speculation regarding its origin and potential connection to other anomalous phenomena. Research into possible links between SCP-2243 and known anomalies, as well as its true nature and purpose, is ongoing. Efforts to establish a comprehensive understanding of SCP-2243's capabilities and limitations are underway to ensure effective containment and management of its anomalous behavior.
Addendum 2243-H: SCP-2243 has expressed a strong desire to participate in various forms of entertainment media, including films, television shows, and live performances, citing its theatrical inclinations and performative prowess. While these requests are generally denied for security reasons, limited engagements under controlled conditions have been approved as a means of maintaining SCP-22443's cooperation and containment at the advice of Dr. ████.
Addendum 2243-I: Johnny Cage's penchant for grandiose theatrics and confrontational behavior necessitates ongoing evaluation of containment procedures and personnel training regimens. Collaboration with external consultants versed in performance arts and anomalous psychology may provide valuable insights into SCP-2243's psyche and motivations.
Addendum 2243-J: SCP-2243 has demonstrated a preference for interacting with personnel through staged combat scenarios reminiscent of action films. Requests for such engagements should be evaluated for feasibility and security implications.
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