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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months

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Duty, Sacrifice

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen (HotD) x f!twin reader Warnings: Incest, mentions of murder, knife play, dub con if you squint, smut. Word count: ~2.7k

Summary: Her and Aemond have always loved to play hide and seek, however, the night he returns from Storm's End, their game takes a much more sinister turn. Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Aemond has always loved hide and seek. For as long as she can remember, her and her twin brother’s preferred way to pass the time is for her to hide while he searches for her. He has never been the hider, always naturally favouring the role of seeker. She does not mind. There is an exhilarating thrill in finding new places within the Red Keep to tuck herself into, listening out for the approaching sound of his footsteps. He always finds her. His eyesight and instincts must be sharper than hers, she reasons.

It is innocent enough when they are young children; holding her hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles as she presses her back against a pier of the Keep, squealing when Aemond grabs her as he shouts “found you!”

As they grow older he becomes more sullen, resentful of the attention that Jacaerys and Lucerys bestow upon her. He scowls as Jacaerys laughs and touches her arm as a pig is presented to him in place of a dragon.

“Ñuhor haedri renīs se nykēla avy ossēninna!” Aemond hisses angrily. Touch my sister and I'll kill you myself!

She knows it is a cruel trick for them to play upon him, her heart aches for her twin; her egg had hatched in their cradle, but his never had, leaving him dragonless. Regardless, she knows no good will come of his hateful attitude towards Rhaenyra’s children, and will only exacerbate their teasing of him.

“Aemond, you have a duty to our nephews, you must sacrifice your own pride and not say things like that!” She scolds.

He scoffs, shooting a derisive look towards Jacarys and Lucerys. “They cannot understand High Valyrian anyway, they are not true Targaryens, they are bastards.”

Later, Aemond receives a stern telling off from their mother for what he had said. “But they gave me a pig,” he retorts sulkily, “they all laughed!”

She hates seeing Aemond so miserable, shut away in his chambers, refusing to speak to anyone. With trepidation, she pushes his door open, not bothering to knock, she never does.

“Would you like to play a game?” She asks softly.

He nods. She already knows what he has in mind and runs away with a smile as he begins to count down from ten.

This time she hides beneath the small council table, yet as always, Aemond finds her almost instantly.

She does not giggle when his hands grip the tops of her arms, hard enough to bruise, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that causes icy fingers of fear to wrap around her heart.

“Found you,” he says with cool indifference. “You are mine, dōnus hāedus, do you understand? You are not to speak to those bastards ever again.” Sweet sister.

The overwhelming urge to cry forms a lump in her throat, but she nods anyway. Aemond is her world, and she would never do anything to hurt him.

His temperament becomes darker still when their mother reveals her plans to marry Aegon to Helaena. Their brother and sister are both visibly unhappy with the match, yet she knows it is a deliberate move to help secure Aegon’s claim to the throne. She suspects that her and Aemond will be married off to other houses, to strengthen alliances.

Aemond glowers as he watches Aegon and Helaena awkwardly attempt to interact. It is painful to witness, more than apparent that they have nothing in common beyond a shared lineage.

“If only mother had betrothed me to you,” Aemond mutters.

Her eyes go wide with shock. It is the first time she has ever heard her twin voice any desire for her. It causes a strange and unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant, warmth to spread throughout her.

“We have a duty to strengthen our brother’s claim to the throne,” she reminds Aemond gently, “we must sacrifice our own desires for the good of our family.”

He simply rolls his eyes.

Aemond sneaks up on her from behind that evening, as she hides from him behind a tall shelf of books in the library. His breath is hot as it fans across the back of her neck, his arms encircling her waist.

“Found you. Tell me it is I you wish to marry, dōnus hāedus,” he commands, nuzzling the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

“It is you, only you, you know that.” Her words surprise herself as much as they do him, as they stare at each other wide eyed, too young to understand the feelings they inspire within each other. To her, Aemond is a prized toy that she wants for no one else to play with, and she suspects he feels a similar way about her.

She wails the night that Lucerys takes her twin brother’s eye. As the maester extracts the ruined organ from its socket it feels as though her heart is being torn asunder. Each prick of the needle that stitches up his ruined flesh brings with it a fresh wave of tears to her. His pain is her pain, and though he has now gained a dragon - the largest in the world - he has lost his eye.

It feels silly and selfish of her to worry about, but she wonders how they will ever play hide and seek again.

“I could be without both my eyes and I would still find you, dōnus hāedus,” Aemond reassures her. “It is not by sight that I search for you. Your heart is tied to mine, I will always find you.”

When he is healed, he proves her right, finding her huddled in the Godswood. She laughs earnestly at his “found you”, her heart feeling as though it may burst with joy. He is right, there is nothing that will keep him from her.

His seeing eye gazes adoringly into hers, as her fingertips delicately trace over the angry, red scar that runs the length of his cheek.

On their thirteenth name day, Aegon hurries Aemond away from the Red Keep in hushed secrecy. When they return hours later, the cloying scent of perfume sticks to Aemond’s clothes and he looks flushed and queasy.

“What did you do?” She asks, horrified, her stomach roiling in disgust.

“I didn’t want to,” is all he’s able to offer her.

This time when she hides, it is not part of a game, it is an attempt to be alone with her grief, to try to understand the bitter, acid jealousy that burns hotly in her chest. She crawls beneath the wooden frame of her bed, muffling her tears into the crook of her arm.

“Found you,” Aemond whispers sadly as he slides underneath the bed, laying on his belly next to her.

“Go away,” she cries piteously, turning to face him.

“Qrīdropēnna,” he says pleadingly, “I thought of nothing but you. Forgive me.” I am lost.

She gasps when he leans in, pressing his lips to hers, but quickly reciprocates. He is her other half, and she will forgive him anything.

Every game of hide and seek after that ends with them locked in a passionate embrace, though they are careful to never properly consummate their union, agreeing to wait until she has had her wedding night, so that her husband’s suspicion is not aroused by her lack of virtue.

She is proven right regarding the plans of her mother and grandfather to betroth her and Aemond to a lord and lady of differing houses, when they are paid a visit by a Lannister Lord. He is to be her husband in twelve moons’ time, she is told.

Dread forms a void in the pit of her stomach, her world feeling as though it is ending as the golden haired man sits opposite her, smiling at her with warmth and affection. It makes her feel nauseated, especially when she looks across to see her twin brother staring at him with hateful intent, the tip of his supper knife twisting forcefully into the wood of the tabletop.

Aemond finds her curled up in his armoire as he readies himself for bed that evening.

“Come out, dōnus hāedus,” he urges gently, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head.

“I don’t want to marry him!” She sobs into his chest. “It isn’t fair!”

“‘Tis but a formality,” he tells her quietly, stroking her long, silver hair, “they will not keep you from me.”

“Do you promise?” She asks hopefully, looking up at him.

Aemond nods. “It is our duty, our sacrifice, but your heart will always be tied to mine.”

Their lives move as if in freefall after that. Their father passes away, and Aegon is quickly crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms.

To win favour to his claim, Aemond is to be sent to Storm’s End with an offer of marriage to one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters.

She and Aemond stand miserably in front of each other, as he is about to mount Vhagar, his leather glove clad hands cup her cheeks.

“Do not make me go, dōnus hāedus,” he pleads, seeing eye wide with anguish, “I cannot marry a woman who is not you.”

Her heart twists painfully in her chest, clutching at his black riding coat. “‘Tis but a formality,” she reminds him, “our duty, our sacrifice, but your heart will always be tied to mine.”

“I will return to you as soon as I am able,” he promises, kissing her fiercely, before climbing into his saddle.

She watches with tears in her eyes as he flies away, taking half of her heart with him.

His return is much sooner than she had anticipated. Just a few nights later, she is startled by the door to her chambers being flung open, Aemond stands in her doorway, soaked through from the rain. He looks changed. His face is hardened, the look in his eye is stern, it makes her feel uneasy.

“Lēkia?” She asks worriedly, rising from her bed. “You are back so soon, what has happened?” Brother.

His eye sweeps over her, as if seeing her for the first time, and there is something in his gaze that frightens her, causing the skin beneath her thin, white nightgown to erupt into gooseflesh.

He is quiet for a moment, before he speaks, his voice low, void of affection. “Shall we play a game, dōnus hāedus?”

Her brow furrows in confusion, she shakes her head. “I do not think–”

“It was a rhetorical question,” he interrupts, and begins to count down from ten.

Her mouth falls open, her heart racing, not liking the hungry intent with which he stares at her, and so she runs, because she fears there is no other choice.

She has never felt afraid of her twin, not properly, but tonight is different, there is a dangerous aura that hangs over him like a stormcloud and she breathes heavily with exertion as her bare feet thud against the flagstone floor of Maegor’s Holdfast, the sound drowned out by the roar of blood in her ears.

What will he do when he catches me?

If she hides, she knows he will find her. He always does. So, she elects to keep moving, panic fluttering in her chest as she takes every turn available to her in the Keep, in a vain attempt to evade her brother.

A shiver runs down her spine as she hears him call out “kesīr mastan”, the scuff of his boots feeling unfairly close behind. How had he caught up so quickly? Here I come.

She hurries into an unoccupied chamber, one usually reserved for guests, attempting to close and bar the door behind her, but Aemond shoves it open.

His arms are around her in an instant, making her squeal with fright. “Found you,” he chuckles, though there is no humour in it.

“Let me go, Aemond,” she begs helplessly, “you are scaring me.”

He turns her to face him, backing her up towards the bed that occupies the space in the centre of the room. “Scaring you? How can that be, dōnus hāedus? I love you.”

“There…there is something different about you, lēkia. Something you aren’t telling me.”

He smirks, pushing her back onto the mattress as though she weighs nothing.

She falls back, propping herself up on her elbows, looking at him in wide eyed disbelief. He is like a cat toying with a mouse. He has never been this cruel, at least not to her.

She whimpers in fear as he unsheathes his dagger, twirling it expertly between dexterous fingers. “Please…please don’t.”

Aemond eyes her with keen curiosity. “You think I mean to hurt the person I cherish above all others?”

She swallows thickly, too preoccupied by the glint of the Valyrian steel in the moonlight that shines through the window to answer him.

“I could,” he muses, “I am a kinslayer after all. But I won’t, you are too precious to me.”

Kinslayer?!

There is little time to query his statement, as he brings the blade down upon the neckline of her nightgown, slicing it in half effortlessly. His eye roams over her bare figure appreciatively, a low hum rumbling in his throat.

Her chest rises and falls with rapidity as she stares up at him. Though her chest is tightened by fear, she cannot deny the way her pulse races at seeing Aemond’s pupil dilated with lust at the sight of her.

Carefully, slowly, he drags the tip of his blade over her clavicle, mindful not to apply enough pressure to break the skin. The cold steel makes her shiver as he pulls it downwards, circling one breast and then the other.

“I am going to claim you tonight, dōnus hāedus, put a silver haired babe in your belly. Would you like that?”

She inhales a shaky breath.

Yes.

“What of your betrothal?”

“Null and void,” he says matter of factly, trailing the dagger across her sternum and down towards her stomach.

“What…what happened?”

“Little Lord Lucerys Strong happened,” Aemond replies with mild irritation. “He arrived while I was there, to petition Borros Baratheon’s support for our whore of a half sister. It is an outrage that we should have to give up so much to defend our brother’s birthright, while that bastard flies about the realm attempting to steal it from him.”

“Oh gods, Aemond,” she whispers, bile rising in her throat, “what did you do?”

“What I ought to have done nearly ten years ago.”

She flops back against the bed, pinching the bridge of her nose as tears prick at her eyes. He does not need to say the exact words for her to know. Lucerys is dead, Aemond has killed him.

Aemond drops the dagger to the floor, the clatter echoing off of the vaulted ceiling. “Do not worry, dōnus hāedus, now we can be together. Is that not what you wanted?”

“Not like this,” she chokes out.

His hands drag a downwards path on her body, squeezing her curves as they go. “I am not so sure of that, look at how you respond to your brother.”

She mewls at the feeling of his hands upon her flesh, arching into his touch. In spite of herself, she is unable to resist the effect that her twin has upon her.

Aemond chuckles drily, unlacing his trousers and freeing his already hardened cock. Her breath catches in her throat as he swipes his fingers through the wetness that has gathered between her legs.

“See? Where is your duty now?” He asks mockingly, lining himself up with her entrance before pushing forcefully inside, making her cry out with the sting and stretch of his sudden intrusion. “Where is your sacrifice? Or is it not so important now that your brother has made your cunt all wet?”

He has the maddened look of a wild animal as he hovers over her, but she cannot deny him. Duty and sacrifice have died alongside their nephew, and her heart is tied irrevocably to Aemond’s. She can never hide from him, and any hope of her ever being able to do so was snuffed out the moment she allowed him to bury himself inside of her.

“Lēkys jorrāeliarzus,” she whispers. Dearest brother. “Aōhon iksan se ñuhon iksā,” he whispers back, beginning to thrust inside of her. I am yours and you are mine.

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erwinsvow · 12 hours

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can u do reader asking rafe to leave the room so she can change? it’s a tiktok trend rn if im not mistaken

imagine this but him and kook trio reader havent started dating yet... ♡

rafe doesn't see you set up your camera in the corner, but he looks up when he hears your voice.

"rafe. can you go wait downstairs for a minute?"

"shut up. m'busy, i gotta finish this-" you think he's doing something important on his phone, glancing over to see a chess match in progress. not even the kind in the imessage games, the app, meaning he's playing a robot.

"rafe! i need to change. can you go wait outside at least?"

that gets his attention. he sets the chess down, staring up at you. right now you're wearing one of his big shirts and sweatpants, but he sees a white dress he recognizes as one of his favorites in your hand, brown sandals waiting by your feet. you two are meeting kelce and top for dinner on the pier, which admittedly, he forgot about.

"the fuck are you talkin' about?"

"i need to change. can you just go outside for a second? thank y-"

"don't fuckin' thank me. m'not going anywhere."

"um-"

"you change in front of me everyday. we've seen each other naked. why the fuck would i go outside?"

you flush at the memory, though you had been sure that you two had been too drunk to remember.

"rafe. it's called privacy. ever heard of it?"

"no. get changed with me here or not at all." you groan, though you can't stop the smile on your face at the fact that he won't leave. you don't even remember that you're recording it. you hear rafe snort to himself. "wants me to leave. y'lucky if i keep my eyes closed."

at dinner, kelce and top start talking about something with his new boat. you turn to rafe, playing with the hem of your white dress.

"you know i never change in front of kelce or top."

it comes out almost like a question, like you want to know what he thinks about that. when you look up at him, he's staring right back at you. you two always sit close but right now it feels even more than just close, you can see his freckles and he can see a fallen eyelash on your cheek. his fingers twitch with the urge to brush it away.

"good. keep it that way."

#in luv with them #tysm! i hope u love it #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #kook trio reader

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lol2345l · 2 months

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MY VICTOR - finnick odair x f. reader

summary: finnick had always been in love with you from when he was a little boy to a grown man, but ever since the years following his victory of the 65th hunger games when the news of what he must do to protect you hit him it all came crumbling down.

warnings: angst,fluff,self destructive behavior,trauma,!talks of sa…

❛ ━━━━━━・❪🐚❫ ・ ━━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Finnick had always felt this pull towards you. You were like a magnet.

He was seven years old when he first met you, he was sitting alone on the pier overlooking the beautiful seas he loved so much when you sat down by him holding a basket full of shells.

That day he ran home to his family proclaiming that he was in love.

Your families had known each other for a long time and were glad their kids were becoming friends. They often took you two to the beach, your fathers taught you how to fish together and your mothers walked you to school together every morning.

That is until you turned 12 years old and your father had passed in a boating accident.

The Odair family did everything possible to help you and your mother, but the pain was unbearable.

It was also your first ever year of having to participate in the awful and dreadful reaping. Thankfully you had Finnick by your side at all times. He helped ensure you that everything would be fine.

And it was…

Until it wasn’t.

❛ ━━━━━━・❪🐚❫ ・ ━━━━━━━━━━ ❜

It was the morning of the annual reaping, the day many citizens of the districts dreaded. Your mother had prepared you a beautiful dress as you stood in front of the slightly cracked mirror admiring it.

You put on your locket, the one Finnick gave you at the beach when you were 12.

Now you were both 14, still closer than ever before sure that nothing could possibly break you apart.

But things change.

You and your mother headed out of your house walking by to the Odair household.

Finnick stood there smiling as he embraced you in a hug.

“You look very nice…” He smiled trailing off as he put his head down, he was blushing.

You chuckled and just smiled at him giving him a polite thank you as his mother embraced you in a hug.

You were used to his comments although there hadn’t been anything between you two yet.

Sure there was hugs,soft kisses to the cheek or forehead but the idea of being something more was never brought up.

You were both very young anyway and you were bound to have more time tho…right?

Right?

It all had happened so fast, every reaping day to you was usually a blur.

The escort of district 4 walked up to the stage picking through the large glass bowl containing the names of the girls, all praying and hoping not the be chosen.

As the name of a 16 year old girl is announced as she walks up to the stage head held high, you sigh deeply.

You were safe again.

You glanced over at Finnick who gave you his soft beautiful smile.

Now it was time for the boys. Your thoughts consumed you completely.

You knew it couldn’t be Finnick, there was no way. He would be safe again and you would be at the beach in a short amount of time swimming and collecting shells together.

“Finnick Odair!” The escort’s voice boomed through the air as your breath caught up in your throat.

You looked up frantically at Finnick, who was already looking at you. He gave you a sad smile and just nodded slowly.

You wanted to scream,cry and run up to him. And just as you were about to step out of the line and run after him, a girl who stood beside you grabbed your wrist tightly.

She tugged you back warning you and all you could do was just stand there. There was nothing else you could do to save him from this. No matter how much you wanted to.

As people began leaving you ran straight to your mother and the Odair’s, who were all being taken by the peacekeepers to see Finnick once more before he goes.

You were already a sobbing mess, but you couldn’t let him see you like that. He was suffering more, and he was about to suffer even more.

Mr and Mrs Odair went in first, your mother was trying to calm you down. As they left the room your mother held Mrs Odair tightly. She was truly distraught and broken, barely even able to stand.

You ran in as fast as you could as you enveloped Finnick into the tightest hug ever possible.

“You will be okay…I know you will. I believe you will, you will come back..Please,promise me you will.” You chocked out sobbing, holding his face gently in your hands.

He nodded, he needed to come back. He knew that. For his family, for you.

He needed to come back to be able to tell you how he truly feels about you. How his proclamation of love for you when he was seven years old was real. How it is real. He needed to come back so he could tell you how much he truly loved you.

“I promise. I’m coming back for you.” He kissed your forehead, a long kiss holding you close. He held you tightly before the peacekeepers rushed you out. Leaving him alone once more, before boarding the train to his uncertain,impending fate.

❛ ━━━━━━・❪🐚❫ ・ ━━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Watching Finnick’s games was one of the worst things you have ever endured in your life.

Tears were flowing everywhere. Mr and Mrs Odair, your mother and you all watched carefully as Finnick won.

Now the tears were somewhat happy tears, tears of relief and joy. No matter what he had done he was coming back. You knew he would.

Finnick always kept his promises.

His victory tour felt as if years passed by, every hour, every minute was closer to Finnick coming back home.

To his family, to you.

And finally he was coming back. Huddled up at the train station, thousands of district 4 citizens were preparing to welcome home their victor.

As the train doors opened slowly, you ran into his arms. He held onto you so tightly, shaking slowly burying his head into the crook of your neck. You could feel a wet spot forming on your shirt from his tears.

Nothing to Finnick mattered anymore, he was back home holding the girl he loves in his arms.

It didn’t matter to him that almost his whole district was waiting for him. His world always stopped when you were there. You were the sun,the light of his day and the entire time in the capitol and in the games to him it had been dark. And now his sun was back to bring the warmth and light back into his world.

You had gently taken his face into your hands, like before he left and smiled nodding to his family.

He ran up to them, holding them tight before turning to wave to everyone.

Your mother stood by you smiling as Finnick continued to talk to his parents.

You had only now realized how tall Finnick really was. Even at 14, he was very grown. Has he always been this tall? Have you noticed too late? And has his hair always looked so good?

You were blushing just at the thought of him.

But you shouldn’t really, afterall Finnick is your best friend.

Later into the night district 4 had a small party for Finnick. You had dinner together with your families and Finnick shared storied about the capitol and confirmed if many of those rumors told around multiple districts were true.

You were glad to have the boy who stuck by you through everthing in life again.

The boy you love.

The one you love truly,madly and deeply.

❛ ━━━━━━・❪🐚❫ ・ ━━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Two years had passed by since Finnick’s games. The 67th games rolled in and you were thanfully safe once again.

Finnick dealt with bad nightmares as you tried to help him and console him. You let him into your house each time he would run to you from the victors village. Not crying until you opened the door.

You offered for him to stay with you because he was already running to you every night but he didn’t want to burden you and your mother.

Even though he would never be a burden to you ever you didn’t want to argue with him about it.

He deserved peace in any possible way he could get it. Even if it meant running to your house at 3am just to crawl into your bed.

As the 67th games came to an end Finnick was finally back home.

His birthday followed shortly after as his mother,father, your mother and you celebrated together in his house.

A loud knock on the door startled you and you got up to open it. You figured it would be Finnick’s mentor and neighbor Mags, but you were met with another very familiar face.

“President Snow.” You let out a small gasp as Finnick stands up from his spot on the couch rushing to the door quickly.

“Mr Odair, just the man I wanted to see. Happy birthday boy.” He chuckled as he stepped in, Finnick immediately led him to the study his father used.

It felt odd. The entire interaction but you brushed it off letting them talk whatever victor business they had to talk about.

It had already been about an hour and Mags joined you all.

Her expression had worried you deeply as you told her where Finnick was.

President Snow stepped out of the door without a word, just a slight nod at Mags.

A couple moments later everybody was staring at the door of the study.

Finnick emerged, eyes bloodshot red as he just ran out slamming the door behind him. His father got up quickly but his mother sat him back down.

You got up and ran out after him, towards the private beach of the victors village. Your heart broke into a million pieces. Seeing Finnick pacing around on the sand, hands running through his hair repeatedly as tears began to fall.

You didn’t think twice and just ran up to him hugging him tightly. He just fell apart in your arms.

The capitol facade gone. Just a boy from district four crying in the arms of the girl he loves so desperately, the girl who’s heart will break to find out what he must do to keep her safe.

So he resorts to the alternative.

He lies.

Finnick explained he was just stressed and overwhelmed with the victor duties and business, lying about how Snow wanted him to socialize more. His parents believed it and let it go, you barely did. But you did.

After all you didn’t know how it was to be a victor. But if it was always like this, it sure as hell wasn’t as sweet and perfect as they said on all of those capitol broadcasts.

That night you and Finnick shared your first ever kiss. A long,loving and passionate kiss. This time on the lips for a change.

And you were beaming. It was finally happening.

He was ecstatic. The kiss made him forget all about what Snow said. He knew he had to do it anyway. He just got you, he couldn’t lose you so quick.

❛ ━━━━━━・❪🐚❫ ・ ━━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Ever since that night on the beach you and Finnick had been together.

As the tragedy of Mr and Mrs Odair’s passing struck it hit you like a truck. They were like your second set of parents. A big part of your family.

Their passing was so sudden and yet nobody questioned anything. No matter how close you had been you never found out how they died. Finnick said it was a boating accident, but their boat was still at the docks.

You didn’t want to question it any further as Finnick was clearly already struggling with everything, and who were you to scold him some more now?

The reaping for the 69th hunger games came quicker than ever. Your last reaping.

Thankfully you were safe once more and now it was over. You were now 18 years old and free from having to participate in the games. It was truly a blessing.

Although something with Finnick was completely off.

He would come home from the capitol angry and distraught. You tried to confront him and ask him whats wrong but he would just shut you out.

He would either just storm out or lock himself in the bathroom.

He couldn’t escape you though, he was the one who asked you to move in anyway.

It was a constant battle. Finnick coming back home angry,lashing out and then holding you tightly in bed asking for your forgiveness for how he acted towards you.

You didn’t know how to feel. How were you supposed to react when the slightest thing could set him off?

How were you supposed to even act around him when you didn’t even know what was wrong?

So you took it upon yourself. Next time he came back home you stopped him in front of the bathroom.

You had begged him to tell you what was wrong. You were already a sobbing mess as he just shook his head. His eyes glistening slightly, tears threatening to flow.

“I need to take a shower…Please just move.” He told you, his voice cracking slightly. He wanted to fall into your arms and cry. He wanted to tell you everything so badly. But he already lost his family, he had to suck it up and do it for you.

He could still feel their lingering hands all over his body and all he wanted to do was just shower. Scrub away his skin and the rose scent of the capitol.

You just moved away from the door. You gathered some of your things and ran out of the front door.

You went home to your mother and didn’t tell Finnick. You figured he heard the door slam.

He did. He heard it loud and clear. He knew he had to tell you at some point. Because he was losing you. He stood in the warm shower for at least three hours, just scrubbing at his skin over and over again.

He didn’t want to have to tell you. He didn’t want to do this. He felt disgusting. He loves you so much. You trust him and he has to do this behind your back. Sell himself to the hungry capitol citizens.

He wished it was you. He wished it was just you. Every client he compares to you. The way their eyes will never be that same beautiful color that yours are, and the way they will never shine in the sunlight the way yours do.

He prays for it all to end as fast as possible, so he could go home back to you. But when he sees you it hurts. It hurts that you don’t have a clue about why he’s gone all the time, why he comes back so distraught.

So he just does what he became best at. He lies again.

He shuts you out saying he’s fine, he showers and climbs into bed falling asleep. And he repeats the cycle every time he comes back from the capitol.

Until one night.

You stayed up waiting for him. You couldn’t do it anymore. Did he find someone else? Was there someone special in the capitol? Was she prettier? Was she funnier? Did he enjoy her company more?

All those thoughts consumed you as he entered the house. The door slammed.

You knew what kind of night it was. He would just shower and ignore you completely. He wouldn’t even argue.

But you weren’t letting him do it anymore. You got up from the couch, his eyes wide as he saw you.

You looked up at him, shirt unbuttoned slightly, hair tousled and ruffled.

And then the worst of all. The marks on his neck.

That confirmed all of your suspicions. You and Finnick hadn’t done anything like that yet. He was very gentle with you and you were with him aswell. On the days where he was somewhat okay.

You just stood there, and he stood there aswell. Complete silence until your sobs and cries were filling up the room. Bouncing off of the walls.

He stepped closer and you just backed away. What else where you meant to do? You love Finnick more than anything. You were always there for him. You never ever said anything to him even when he acted like you were absolutely nothing to him.

“Please…just let me-” He tried to say before you cut him off. Before your hands, much smaller compared to his chest pushed him back.

“I’m not letting you do anything anymore!” You screamed out through your sobs. You could barely breathe. The anger and sadness all combined into one practically controlling you.

It had been a very long night of fighting. You kept going back and forth and he still didn’t give you a reasonable explanation. You were sure every resident of the victors village heard you two. He still wasn’t giving you any answers.

Finnick was about to crack, but he couldn’t. It was safer if you didn’t know. He just sat there letting you yell at him. What else could he do? You were right about everthing anyway.

That is until you got up and left.

You couldn’t do it anymore. The silence was eating you alive, so you ran out of the house and ran to the beach you and Finnick loved so much as kids.

You needed to be as far as possible from the victors village and one certain victor.

Finnick. The man you love, your Finnick. Had supposedly found someone better.

Was that what he wanted? Did he need more from you? Was what you were giving not enough?

One again your thoughts consumed you, you barely even realized that you were crying once again and also barely noticed the strong arms that had embraced you.

Finnick.

He followed you to the beach because he had to tell you. It was time. He couldn’t keep you in the dark anymore, it would only drive you further away from him.

“President Snow is selling me.” He blurted out. He didn’t even try to sugarcoat it. It was the harsh truth, and saying it out loud while holding the girl he loves in his arms truly made it sound even worse.

You looked up at him mouth agape. At first it took you a moment to register what he just said. Selling him? And then it hit you.

The bruises you noticed over the past few months, the marks on his neck.

All you could do was gasp. You cupped his face as gently as possible as now his tears were flowing like you’ve never seen before.

You held him that night, at the beach, at home and in bed. He told you everything.

You felt sick.

Not because you were disgusted by him, but because you were disgusted by what your supposedly great leader of Panem was doing to the man you love. He was ruining him.

He told you all about the victors trade. Each information he gave you broke your heart more. And when he finished it was just little bits and pieces left. It felt as if somebody stabbed you.

“I never wanted to do any of this…I only wanted to stay..I only wanted you.” He said his head was on your chest and you were playing with his hair.

“I know, I know.” You assured him kissing his head gently but passionately.

All he had ever done was for you. Every little thing. From helping you carry your shells home to selling himself just to ensure your safety. You were beyond grateful.

You promised him that you would never judge him, that you would hold him forever.

And that you did.

Each night when he came back you were there to hold him, help him scrub his skin, spray your vanilla perfume he loved so much all over the house and him to get rid of the smell of roses that lingered on his body and clothes.

You took care of him. You always would. It was him and you against the world. Against the awful and unfair world you lived in.

But your love was stronger. Strong enough to overcome the capitol. Snow couldn’t break you.

Even if he wanted to, you would always find your way back to each other.

And now holding him in bed as he finally calmed down, it felt as if it was just you and Finnick in the world.

Just you and your victor.

❛ ━━━━━━・❪🐚❫ ・ ━━━━━━━━━━ ❜

HI GUYSSS!!! I hope you like this one i’m not so sure how I feel about it…

BUT ANYWAYS thank you @coca-lastic for the idea and I hope you like it!!!

Thank you for reading my previous post and thank you so much for all of the reposts and likes it means a lot 💝

#finnick x reader #finnick fanfic #finnick imagine #finnick odair #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #hunger games finnick #thg finnick #hunger games #thg series #thg #thg fanfiction

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thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 4 months

Text

Please just stay with me tonight (and please don't let tomorrow come)

and I will do the best I can, with the little that I know - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader x conner kent

length: 1.2k

genre: fluff, comfort, light light angst

warnings: coming of age story babey. timmy and kon are trying so hard to grow up well. so is reader. they're falling in looove but they're all stupid

a/n: oh look another new verse cool cool cool

It's summer in Metropolis; the sun is beginning to set, slowing down over the horizon to bathe the world in a pink, hazy glow. You, Kon, and Tim are slouched on the couch of your new apartment, boxes piled high around the three of you.

"You know…" you begin, sagging against Tim.

"We can always unpack tomorrow," Kon finishes for you. You hum in agreement and roll your head over Tim's shoulder to look up at him.

"Yea," he huffs tiredly, "yea, I'm good with that."

"We should go out," you say, sitting up and ignoring the grumbled complaints of Kon as you jostle him where he was settling in against your shoulder. "The fair is best this time of day. Come on, please?" Kon and Tim exchange a love-struck glance as you look up at them - a glance that maybe you would notice if you weren't so busy pouting at them. A glance maybe the two of them would be aware of if they weren't so busy each trying to hide the fact that they're so in love with you.

"Alright," Tim says, pulling himself off the couch. "I'll figure out which of these boxes we put our boards in…"

By the time the three of you were skateboarding down to the boardwalk, you were all trying desperately not to think of the mess you'd left while you tore through boxes trying to find what you needed, and you were giggling quietly to yourself at the whole ordeal.

"Stop laughing like that," Kon says, but his voice gives away his own laughter, "it's not funny, we're going to have to clean that up later."

"Yea, yea," you say, waving your hand dismissively. "Tomorrow, though. Tonight I get to just eat funnel cakes and drink slushies until I can't stand anymore and need you to carry me home." Tim snorts at your words.

"Oh, yea, that's romantic," he says sarcastically, but neither he nor Kon misses the blush that spreads across your cheeks at his words, although you do your best to hide it as you pull up to the fair on your boards.

"Hmm, nope, not quite. Try again - you never know, maybe the eighth time it'll work," you comment lazily, taking a bite out of your funnel cake as you watch Tim and Kon fail spectacularly at one of the fair games.

"You try it then," Kon quips back, trying to shove the ball at you. You dodge him, though, moving to hide behind Tim.

"Nuh uh… they're rigged, Kon. That's why neither of you can win." You laugh as Tim scoffs at your words, snatching the ball from Kon and aiming at the stack of pins.

"We'll win," he says stubbornly. When the ball misses yet again, he turns to you, hands on his hips. "How many of those have you eaten?"

"Beautiful subject change, Timmy. This is my last one, I promise," you say, curling your hand around Tim's elbow so that you can drag him away from the game, Kon following behind. "Here, Kon, help me finish this. It's almost dark out and we need slushies." Kon grins at you and takes the rest of the funnel cake from your hand, letting you continue to pull the two of them through the fair.

"Cheer up, Tim," he says, mouth full. "You know this next part is the best."

"You were right, Kon… this is the best." Tim's words are quiet, his eyes trained on the horizon where the last light of the sun dips over the water, blanketing the three of you in darkness. You rub your hand on your jeans, the condensation from your slushie making your fingers cold.

"Aw, you getting all sentimental on us?" Kon croons, slushie straw still in his mouth as Tim scoffs and jostles his shoulder, mumbling a shut up under his breath. You lean back on your hands, feet swinging over the edge of the pier as you listen to the other two.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" You ask softly. The other two look at you.

"We said we'd do this when we all finally moved in together. We sat right here on this pier when we agreed that the next time we all met up in Metropolis, it would be to build a home together. Of course this is right," Tim says pointedly. You huff, keeping your eyes focused on the rippling water underneath the three of you, watching the way the waves hit the wooden supports and dissolve back into the darkness.

"No, I mean… are we doing the right thing? Like, being here, I mean, and - and doing all of this together… how do we know we're growing up right?" The two of them are silent in response, Tim frowning, eyes forward, while Kon stares intently at you. "I feel like we're standing on our own feet for the first time," you continue, "and if we trip ourselves up - or, even worse, if we trip one another up… I just - I don't know if we're doing this all wrong."

"I don't know if there's a right way to grow up," is Kon's quiet response, his voice more serious than you're used to. "I know that's… not the response you want. I know you take a lot of pride in squaring your shoulders and planting your feet and knowing that you're doing the right thing and headed in the right direction - and that's something I love about you. You always know… you know who you are and what you're doing and where you're going. Honestly, I… I really envied you for a while because of that. But… I think this might just take some stumbling. That's why we're doing it together - if you fall, we'll catch you. If one of us falls, you'll catch us. We've got each other." Kon smiles after his speech and you think, for a brief moment, that the sun's come out again, reversed time just to shine on you one last time before you're all adults. But it's just Kon - Kon with his sunshine smile and unwavering faith. Kon, with his feet planted so firmly and his posture so steady - and you realize that you envy him for the very thing that he envies about you. Funny how that works.

"What if we do trip one another up?" Tim says, hands clenched in his lap. "What if you're right and when one of us stumbles, we just take the other two down with us?" You reach over at Tim's words - at the tense strain in his voice, and tangle your hand in his so that you can silently coax his fingers to relax.

"Maybe Kon's right…" you say softly. "I'm sure we will mess up. We'll make mistakes and we'll argue and then we'll make up again. None of this is going to be perfect - we're not perfect, despite our best efforts. Maybe it's time we learn to make some mistakes." You smile gently, squeezing Tim's hand in your own. Kon grins at your declaration and Tim sighs, tipping his head back to stare up at the sky, the stars beginning to shine ever so slightly through the haze of the city lights.

"Yea…" he says wistfully. "Maybe it is time for us to learn how to make some mistakes."

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chaotic-tired-fox · 1 year

Text

Okay so my last post blew up so here’s more obscure random Resident Evil facts for y’all!

Part one: here

Part three: here

☠️The white dog you save in Resident Evil 4 is a reference to Hewie the dog in Capcom’s other game Haunting Ground which was released at around the same time the original Resident Evil 4 was. The main character Fiona also shares resemblance to Ashley.

☠️ Chris and Claire’s parents both died in a tragic car crash said to be so bad they could only be identified by their dental records

☠️ Jill’s infection (and later cure) of the T-Virus significantly slowed down her ageing

☠️ Chris is the only main character without a clear romantic interest (Leon with Ada, Claire with Leon and Jill with Carlos)

(Edit: A few people have said Claire and Steve but Steve was only 17 at the time of his death so no I don’t care how much chemistry they might’ve had, he was a minor and Claire was 19)

☠️ In the original RE2 Jill had a picture of a man on her desk, in the remake it is changed to a dog instead.

☠️ Barry Burton is one of the only characters in the series to actually retire, moving up to Canada with his family. He and Claire still stay in contact.

☠️ Leon’s signature handgun is actually a modified Samurai Edge he named ‘Silver Ghost’ made by Joseph Kendo the brother of Robert Kendo you meet in RE2 and RE3. Originally the gun was created for Barry Burton but given to Leon instead.

☠️ One of Joseph Kendo’s books on firearms can be found in Ethan’s house at the beginning of Village.

☠️ Capcom’s other zombie series Dead Rising actually has a few references to Resident Evil in them though my favourite is a restaurant called Jill’s Sandwiches

☠️ Luis Sera was apart of Umbrella’s sixth laboratory in Europe which oversaw the creation of Nemesis.

☠️ A detail not many know about Hunk is that he possesses two hidden blades mounted to his wrists almost exactly like the ones seen in Assassins Creed

☠️ Jessica and Raymond are two villains from Revelations that are not only still alive but in possession of a T-Abyss sample and haven’t been seen in the timeline since 2005 what happened to them and the sample is a complete mystery.

☠️ Another storyline that hasn’t been explained yet is Natalia from Revelations 2 and if she may or may not be possessed by the consciousness of Alex Wesker

☠️ It’s implied in the Shadow of Rose DLC that Mia Winters lost custody of Rose sometime in her teenage years

☠️ Chris can canonically pull off front flips whereas Leon can backflip

☠️ Lobo, Tundra and Night Howl of the Hound Wolf Squad actually have little smiley face stickers on the back of their helmets whereas Canine and Umber Eyes do not.

☠️ In every main series game he’s been in (RE2,RE4,RE6) Leon has had to crawl through a sewer

☠️ All of the cgi movies as well as Infinite Darkness are considered completely canon to the story.

☠️ Upon the release of Operation Raccoon City, players could participate in an online ARG which gave away exclusive files on the characters including a psychological evaluation of Hunk which is the most information we’ve ever gotten on his character. The link to it can be found: Here

☠️ Wesker’s British accent was the result of each of his voice actors attempting to mimic the last. This was corrected in the remake of Resident Evil 4 (sadly)

☠️ You can interact with the play park in RE6 with Chris, Piers and Ada and each of them go down the slide differently

☠️ The HWS member that tackles Ethan at the reservoir is Canine and the one standing next to Chris is Night Howl.

☠️ Night Howl is also the author of the laptop reports you find in the Church and the secret underground area where the Mutamycete is in the village.

☠️ Canine is the youngest member of the HWS and the oldest is Umber Eyes

☠️ Lobo from the HWS shares striking similarities to Hunk (Read my full theory on it Here)

☠️ The Duke from Village and The Merchant from RE4 actually know each other and The Duke describes them as ‘old friends’

☠️ Sergei Vladimir, leader of the UCBS is the tallest human character in the franchise standing at 6’7.5”

☠️ Thanks to the Resident Evil 4 remake, Leon can now both speak and read Spanish

☠️ In the Heavenly Island comic, the man Chris sends to assist Claire is Parker Luciani from Revelations

☠️ In RE8 the Village is heavily isolated from the outside world thanks to Miranda and thus has remained primitive but Heisenberg had his own arrangements with the Duke for regular newspapers and cigars from the outside.

☠️ Wesker actually met Claire once while he was still leading STARS. He described her as a ‘lovely girl.’

☠️ That being said Claire swears more than any other main character (Chris, Leon, Jill)

☠️ Chris and Claire have matching leather jackets that both say ‘Made In Heaven’ on the back which is a reference to Queen (the band)

☠️ Although it doesn’t appear in the remake, Barry’s ‘Jill sandwich’ line is considered canon and referenced by his daughter Moira in Revelations 2

☠️ Revelations for the 3DS was so infamous for having its text misspelled on the side of the case Capcom had to issue replacement sleeves for all the buyers who had one.

☠️ Heisenberg calling Chris a ‘Boulder punching asshole’ means his feats in RE5 either made the newspaper or someone told him about it personally (one of the hounds maybe?)

☠️ Expanding upon an earlier fact of mine, Chris knows 7 fighting styles which are: Airforce Combatives, Karate, Boxing, Judo, Wrestling, Capoeira and Kali

☠️ Jill also knows 7 fighting styles which are: Modern Army Combatives, Taekwondo, Ju-Jitsu, Gymnastics, Tricking, Lucha Libre and Kali

☠️ Leon knows 6 fighting styles: Taekwondo, Ju-Jitsu, Wrestling, Kali, Krav Maga and Systema

☠️ The reason why there’s no children in the village in Resident Evil 4 is because Saddler’s blood ritual killed them all before the events of the game (that and the developers agreed child enemies would be far too disturbing)

☠️ The developer of the original RE4 suggests that the best snacks to have while playing the game is Diet Coke and lightly salted potato chips (eaten with chopsticks to avoid greasy controller hands)

☠️ Neither Hunk nor anyone in the USS wear Umbrella logo patches (as much as cosplayers tell you otherwise lol)

☠️ In the RE4 remake, Ashley refers to herself as a ‘master of unlocking’ which is a reference to Jill’s title given to her by Barry in the first game

☠️ Chris and Leon were designed to be complete opposites of each other and you can still see that today even with subtle details (Chris punches, Leon kicks. Chris smokes, Leon doesn’t. Leon is flirtatious, Chris is indifferent)

☠️ Wesker’s red eyes glow brighter any time he experiences strong emotions which is why they sometimes shine through his glasses

☠️ Chris’s zippo lighter was actually a gift from Claire given to him when he joined STARS

☠️ Chris can’t read piano sheet music but he can read guitar

☠️ Jill can play the piano

☠️ The story behind the basement music used in the directors cut of the original Resident Evil is so infamous and has a pretty wild story behind it. The music itself is horrendously bad and said to have been composed by a deaf composer but spoiler alert that composer wasn’t deaf at all and instead was fooling the world. The story is insane and I highly recommend checking out this video on it for the full story here

☠️ Beltway from the USS Wolfpack has a metal prosthetic leg

☠️ Beltway also swears more than any other character in Operation Raccoon City

☠️ The original RE4 has more releases than any other Resident Evil game because of its success

☠️ The original RE4 was also planned to be a lot more survival horror based like it’s predecessors but the remake of the original RE didn’t sell as well as intended so the game was reworked to be more action based instead.

☠️ Crimson head zombies were also completely unique to the remake of Resident Evil and also make an appearance in Operation Raccoon City

☠️ Leon’s relationship with Helena is unique in the fact that neither of them are interested in each other and Leon instead views her as a protege because she reminds him of his younger self.

☠️ You cannot shoot the merchant in the RE4 Remake

☠️ During his time working at the Spencer Mansion, Wesker used to take long hikes around the Arklay Mountains

☠️ Mr X isn’t the only Tyrant of his type in fact multiple of him were released around Raccoon City and it’s also implied two separate Mr X’s are encountered during the story of the RE2 remake

☠️ Out of everything, crows are the most effective carriers and spreaders of the T-Virus

☠️ Hunk’s name is actually an acronym that stands for Human Unit Never Killed

☠️ Leon S Kennedy is the only playable character with a middle name, that being Scott (in fact he might be the only character in the franchise with one but don’t quote me on that)

☠️ Originally Leon’s hair was depicted as brown but was later changed to blond which it had stayed as until Vendetta made it brown again. His canon hair colour is usually agreed to be blond however.

☠️ Same goes for Chris’s eye colour which was originally blue (like Claire’s) until they changed it to brown and back to blue again in Village.

☠️ Birkin discovered the Golgotha Virus by accident while experimenting with Lisa Trevor. In the REmake you can see the G Virus tentacles on her back.

☠️ The brand of clothing and gear the Hound Wolf Squad use is a real brand you can buy exact replicas from for Airsoft called Volk Tactical Gear. There logo is printed on HWS weapons in game.

☠️ Ghosts were technically made canon in the Resident Evil universe thanks to 7 and 8 but seem to only relate to the Mold and Mutamycete (You see a ghost girl in 7’s demo/prequel and in 8 Shadow of Rose goes in depth with it)

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bradshawssugarbaby · 9 days

Text

Heavenly Kind of State of Mind - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley takes you out to thank you for taking care of him when he broke his nose. He didn't expect dinner to turn into something else.

pairing: baseball!Bradley x reader (Angel)

warnings/content: depictions of broken nose, Bradley being a manwh*re, sexual references, fluff, awkward first date.

word count: 2.3k

taglist (also tagging those who were interested in Take One For The Team since it's a similar vibe and explains the lack of updates lol): @avengersfan25, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @nouis-bum, @mamachasesmayhem, @floydsmuse, @kmc1989, @dckweed, @katfanfic, @nerdgirljen, @whatislovevavy, @mrsevans90, @averyhotchner, @yuckosworld, @tgmreader, @allepaula, @lourd-ita, @mariaenchanted @sorchathered, @sarahsmi13s, @hangmansgbaby, @djs8891 @primroseluna @silversprings-mp3 @drxgxnslxyer @gardenavenue @seitmai @unhinged-bitch @mattyskies

Bradley wasn’t the dating type.

At least, that’s what he told himself on the drive over to the San Diego pier.

As Bradley crossed the bridge from quiet, serene Coronado into the bustling downtown core, he tapped his hand against the steering wheel, nervously drumming the beat to a classic rock song. He pulled up into a parking space, looking around the parking lot for your obnoxious little car with its pink interior that he’d been thinking about since you took him to get his nose checked out. The break had healed nicely, unable to tell that two weeks prior, his nose had met with the fist of a grown man. Bradley sighed as he realized you weren’t here yet, adjusting his sunglasses in his rearview mirror.

He didn’t date.

It wasn’t his thing.

The awkward small talk. The painful silences. The uncomfortable stage where you waited to see how the other person wanted to proceed, all for it to fall apart in the end anyway. He knew dates were just a stop gap to heartbreak. He was the expert, in fact. In the years since his marriage fell apart, he’d skipped dating all-together, resolving himself to one night stands and quick hookups as a means of bypassing the inevitable heartache he’d be faced with if he’d gone the dating route.

After his marriage, he didn’t know what he wanted. He’d wanted kids, he thought, but then again, kids meant his career got less focus. Kids meant he’d have one of two choices — retire and become a picture-perfect dad, working a normal career and being the doting husband and father he knew he’d want to be, or, stay playing baseball, continue his dedication to his career, and always feel guilty for not being home, fielding the upset accusations of his wife, telling him he was doing it as an escape, running from his responsibilities.

Being alone gave him freedom. It gave him the ability to further his career and focus his attention on whatever the fuck he wanted. And he liked it that way.

However, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop you from occupy every thought that he had over the past two weeks. Being unable to play didn’t help — doctor’s orders had him benched for two weeks until his nose had healed.

He’d attended practices, worked out at the gym a few extra times for good measure, and even took a guest spot in the commentator booth for a game over the past fourteen days to keep himself busy, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you.

Every time he thought he was comfortably distracted, focused on something else, his brain would circle back around, coming back to you each and every time.

It was exhausting.

He tried so hard to push it off. Too hard, in fact. As he sat in his Bronco, hands still drumming on the steering wheel as he listened to the radio, now blaring The Beach Boys through his car, he hummed along to the familiar tune, hoping that it would provide him a little reprieve from the all-encompassing thoughts of you.

Just as he closed his eyes, letting his imagination take him to the beach, walking across the warm sand, cool waves lapping at his feet as he stepped towards the ocean, he heard a gentle tapping on his window. Snapping back to reality, his eyelids fluttered, eyes opening wide as he spotted you gently tapping your knuckles against the window.

He turned the car off, pulling the keys out of the ignition and stuffing them into his pocket as he hopped out of the driver’s seat. Your warm, friendly smile was enough to make him weak in the knees and he could barely keep himself together when he saw you standing there in that sweet, pretty little sundress you were wearing. He just hoped that his light-washed denim jeans didn’t betray him and give away how tight they were getting.

“Thanks for inviting me out,” you smiled as you looked at Bradley, hand raised to gesture at his healing nose, “Looks like you healed up nicely, Bradshaw.”

“Not having baseballs flying at my face for the last two weeks might have helped. Stayed out of bars too, wasn’t about to risk having another drunken baseball fan taking swings at me.”

“You just didn’t want to lose another bar fight, did you?” you teased, pursing your lips as you looked around at the pier.

“There’s like four different restaurants here, I figured I’d let you take your pick. Reservations aren’t an issue,” Bradley explained calmly, giving his head a gentle nod as he surveyed the parking lot.

“Wow, you have that much influence here? Aren’t they used to pro-athletes?”

“That’s not what I meant. I made reservations at all four. Just in case.”

“Wow, never had you pegged as a people pleaser, Bradley. I’m impressed.”

“I’m not,” he replied stubbornly, shaking his head. “I just didn’t want to pick something and find out you were deathly allergic to seafood or something. Killing you with a food allergy didn’t seem like an appropriate way to thank you for helping me the other night.”

“You’re right, unexpectedly poisoning me doesn’t sound like a good thank you. You’re in luck though, no food allergies.”

Bradley let out a sigh and looked around again, looking more vulnerable than ever. He looked uncomfortable, nervous even, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“Steak?” You hummed, raising an eyebrow as you tried to break any tension between you. “I could go for steak.”

“Steak works,” he grumbled, nodding his head. He leaned in towards you, his lips just milimeters from your ear as he whispered softly, trying to be as quiet as possible before being spotted.

“Photographers are over there, they’re gonna want to snap a few photos of us. Are you ok with that? We can either play it up or downplay it. Up to you. I can always walk in ahead of you if you don’t want the attention.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat as he whispered into your ear, the hairs on the back of your neck standing at full attention. Craning your neck to look above his shoulder, you spotted a white Escalade with a short, weasel of a man sitting in the front seat, camera poised and ready to capture a shot. Your eyes flitted back to Bradley as you nodded your head.

“Give them a show,” you nodded, granting him permission to play up the dinner, “Maybe it’ll help stop people from watching you for a reaction now that your ex’s upcoming nuptials are plastered over every glossy magazine there is. I can’t even read Cosmo without seeing her—”

Bradley grumbled something at you, interrupting your ramble. He took you by the hand and nodded his head, looking back over his shoulder towards the camera before his gaze landed on you once again. Before a word was spoken between the two of you, Bradley’s large hand was on the small of your back, pulling your body in against his. Lips pressed together, you felt your body melt back into his hand.

Although you’d never admit it to his face, you’d thought about kissing Bradley Bradshaw’s lips over and over and over again since you met him two weeks ago. You’d thought a lot about Bradley, more than you’d care to admit. You thought about those large hands of his, picturing his rough, calloused palms cupping at your tits, feeling their weight as he gently squeezed at them. You’d pictured his lips on your skin, soft and slow, pressing hot kisses over every inch of exposed flesh, unable to keep his hands and mouth off of your body.

Bradley Bradshaw had you tangled up in a crush that rivalled the ones you’d held in high school. And weirdly — you found yourself refusing to give it up. Since that night you dropped him off to get his nose examined, bloodied and battered and vulnerable in the passenger seat of your car - you’d been completely head over heels for him, whether you liked it or not.

As Bradley’s calloused hand held yours, enveloping it in his large fingers, his expression softened, lips forming into a gentle smile. The two of you walked hand in hand towards the restaurant, with Bradley giving his name to the hostess as he approached. He gave another glance towards the photographer behind him, furiously snapping photographs from the seat of his car, headlines practically writing themselves in his eyes as he watched Bradley closely.

Bradley didn’t want to admit it, but you agreeing to give the press a little show was helping his career more than anything - appearing to be on a genuine date would help quell the rumours about his long-storied sexual escapades since his highly publicized divorce.

When his marriage crumbled, he went through a series of bad decisions. His temper was already the stuff of legends in the game, with stories about locker room fights and fines for unsportsmanlike conduct, but those rumours proved true when his life began to fall apart around him. He’d been caught, on more than one occasion, with a pretty blonde in a compromising position with him. Dancing in bars, drunken stumbles in hotel lobbies, walks of shame the following morning. He’d earned the nickname Bradley “Hit-It-And-Quit-It” Bradshaw for crying out loud, and while it wasn’t something he was proud of, it sure wasn’t something he chose to dispute either.

As Bradley tucked your chair in, he leaned down to whisper in your ear once again, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he spoke.

“Let me know if this gets uncomfortable for you,” he nodded slowly.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, shivers running up and down your spine.

Bradley took the seat across from you, smiling politely at the waitress as she took your drink orders. Moments later, his hand wrapped around his beer glass, raising it to his lips as he took a long sip, the frothy head brushing against his mustache as the liquid passed his lips. He watched as you looked out at the pier, eyes gazing at the sunset over the horizon, the sky painted shades of pink and orange.

“It’s nice view sitting here, isn’t it?” Bradley nodded in agreement as he spoke. “It’s my favourite. I haven’t come in a while though.”

An awkward silence washed over you both.

The kind of silence that reminded Bradley why he hated dating.

An uncomfortable pause later, Bradley cleared his throat, nodding his head towards you as he forced an uneasy smile. You looked back at him, sensing his discomfort and wanting to smooth the tension as best as you could, you said the only thing that came to mind as a safe topic of discussion.

“Are you ready for the game tomorrow?”

“Hmm? Yeah, yeah,” he nodded casually, sipping his drink. “I’m excited to be back on the roster. Did you hear the excuse they came up with for how I broke my nose? PR said a bar brawl wasn’t a good look, so they said I did it during practice.” He scoffed, laughing softly.

“Practice? What’s the story they came up with?”

“Mhmm, said I missed a rogue line drive, caught it with my nose instead of my glove.”

You shook your head and laughed, cocking a manicured eyebrow up at Bradley as he spoke. Another awkward pause hung in the air as you took a sip from your wine glass. Your eyes drifted back to Bradley, sensing his nerves.

“Alright, enough of this,” you laughed, shaking your head, “Why do they call you Rooster?”

Bradley’s eyes went wide as he set his drink glass down on the table. His dark brown eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked at you. A strained laugh escaped his parted lips, his dark brown curls moving as he shook his head.

“It’s not exactly dinner conversation,” he said simply.

“What—you’re joking,” you retorted with an incredulous laugh. “There’s no way.”

“‘Fraid so. Rooster Bradshaw. It’s not because I’m up early for practice every day.”

“It’s because you’ve got a big—”

“Not at dinner,” Bradley warned, shaking his head.

“So, the whole, you know,” you frowned slightly as you thought over how to word your inquiry, your voice dropping down to a whisper, “Bradley-hit-it-and-quit-it-Bradshaw thing, that’s connected to it?”

“Unfortunately,” Bradley grumbled, shaking his head, “It’s not something I’m proud of.”

Another awkward moment passed, the clinging of silverware against a dish was the only sound emitted from the two of you as you sat there. Between bites of steak and sips of wine, the odd question would slip out, basic small talk that no one enjoyed on dates, facts about the two of you that weren’t important to anyone. You had to remind yourself at several points that this was never a date - it was never intended to be. It was a thank-you. A half-hearted gesture of kindness from Bradley in exchange for you not running to the papers about his bar-room brawl and his broken nose. A gesture of thanks for not fuelling the already tainted reputation he had for himself.

Between the breakdown of Bradley’s marriage, his subesquent outbursts that he was prone to devolve into at any time on and off the field, the heated locker room exchanges that got him traded between teams, and the now infamous, and probably over-dramatized accounts of his sexual conquests, his life was falling apart around him. You keeping his broken nose a secret was the first kind-hearted gesture anyone had made towards him in he didn’t know how long.

All Bradley knew was, despite the clumsy awkwardness, the silences and pauses, the uncomfortable pressure he was putting on himself despite reminding himself it wasn’t a date. Bradley was left wondering.

Maybe he wished it was.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw au #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw au #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x y/n #top gun maverick au fic #baseball au

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least-carpet · 9 months

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I am curious: how do you think would work realistically a jc and wwx's reconciliation? Have you any meta on them and their relationship?

I'm sorry this took a minute, anon! Work has been frankly chaotic. But I saw an anti-reconciliation post¹ and I have been roused from my post-work stupor.

Unfortunately, you asked me for something I'm incompetent at, which is plotting. (Otherwise I would have already unleashed my ningcheng fic upon the world.) What I can talk about is what I find compelling about potential reconciliation and potential scenarios.

Why do I love a post-canon reconciliation?

Apart from really liking their relationship and finding it compelling—IMO it's the heart of the narrative of the first life—what I actually enjoy about it is what it offers in terms of development for Wei Wuxian.

I read Wei Wuxian as having displaced and projected a lot of his unresolved trauma onto Jiang Cheng. I've talked a little before about my reading of Jiang Cheng as the "bad feelings" sin eater of the Yunmeng Trio—neither Jiang Yanli nor Wei Wuxian feel like they can express deep unhappiness, but Jiang Cheng is bad at hiding his, so in some way it's his job to embody the collective unhappiness of the children of that family system.

But although this makes Wei Wuxian merry and likeable, it's not actually good for anyone, or even sustainable—when he loses control, he really loses control. And his coping skills are extremely self-destructive, as we can see from the post-war downward spiral of drinking and avoidance. I also think his experiences in his childhood (losing his parents and being homeless) plus his wartime experiences gave him some kind of trauma disorder that contributes to his terrible memory, which he's turned into his primary coping mechanism (apart from alcohol). If I Simply Close My Eyes And Run Away, My Bad Feelings Can't Get Me!

But, like, repressing your feelings doesn't work forever. He's compartmentalized his whole first life to function in the second one, but that means giving up on everything and everyone he loved, including the Jiang siblings and Lotus Pier. That's incredibly tragic to me.

Sometimes I think antis are so happy to demonize Jiang Cheng in order to minimize the depth of the loss Wei Wuxian has suffered. If he never loved Jiang Cheng, if they were never close and devoted to one another, if their childhood was an unending misery, then wouldn't Wei Wuxian be much freer in the present?

But what I think has happened is that the loss is so huge that it's completely terrifying and threatening. So are the feelings around killing Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli's death, and the death of Wen Qing and the Wen remnants. It's too much, so he blocks it out or, in some cases, projects it onto Jiang Cheng.

Of course, Jiang Cheng will never forgive him, because he irreparably ruined Jiang Yanli's life and then she died trying to save him and Jin Ling became an orphan. It's all his fault; it can't be forgiven; he might as well give up on it...

Jiang Cheng is obviously very angry and upset with him, it's true. But you can see how projecting his guilt and shame over his actions onto Jiang Cheng and then running away from Jiang Cheng is also a way for him to escape his guilt and shame over what happened to Jiang Yanli. (And to escape all the repressed resentment he has for Jiang Cheng because of the core transfer.²)

But there are two tragic elements of this approach. One, that by doing this he yields up any possible relationship with Jiang Cheng, and with the Jiang Sect, because by all means Wei Wuxian must escape him in order to outrun his terrible feelings. Two, that it's another coping mechanism that distorts the reality of the situation, which is that they were all swept up in power games beyond their capacity to manage, and they did their best—the Jiang siblings, the Wen siblings, Jin Zixuan, and Wei Wuxian—and it still went badly for everyone except the Jin Sect.

I don't think he can confront that yet. But I do think that Wei Wuxian feels very safe with Lan Wangji, and sometimes a safe and supportive relationship can provide the resources to do things you didn't think you could do before.

Can you imagine a different conversation, that begins with the bald acknowledgement of failure and wrongdoing³? "I never meant for all of that to happen. I did what I thought was right, but I never thought Jiang Yanli would be harmed, and I didn't intend to kill Jin Zixuan. I am so sorry. I miss her."

GIVE THE CATHARSIS TO ME. GIVE IT HERE.

A Wei Wuxian who has reached a point where he's capable of that accountability and vulnerability is delicious to me. A Wei Wuxian who can get there can return to Lotus Pier and rebuild a relationship with the living sect and his living sect brother.

How could it happen?

The trick is how to get there, 'cause it's like trying to herd cats where one cat is mortally afraid of facing the second and the other one has betrayal trauma and abandonment issues. But the cats love each other! They do!

I don't see Jiang Cheng initiating. I see him as being more open to a reconciliation, now that he knows why Wei Wuxian did what he did, but I see him as being profoundly afraid of trapping people in relationship with him or inflicting himself on people who don't want him around. (Not, like, for politics. In that arena I assume he's unpleasant when necessary to great effect.)

Fortunately, Wei Wuxian can be led if you're cunning enough to do it and you bait the trap with something good (see the plot of MDZS for Nie Huaisang's very successful demonstration of this principle). He also will increase pursuit if you dangle and withdraw the bait.

The question, of course, is what makes good bait for catching Wei Wuxian. Some options:

Option 1: murder mystery. Someone dies in an exciting way that involves Jiang Cheng. (Wei Wuxian will involve himself, dude loves a murder mystery.) It could be in the Jiang Sect or the Jin Sect; if it involves Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng will jump in with a swiftness.

Option 2: Jiang Cheng marriage rumours. Doesn't even have to involve unsavoury rumous about the potential wife; Jiang Cheng getting married without him (like Jiang Yanli) would dredge up some feelings, I think.

Option 3: Jiang Cheng tragic illness or curse rumours. You better be sure it was in a past life, cause it looks like this one might be over soon!

Option 4: Forced together time (due to a night hunt or a kidnapping, etc.). It's time for the getting along shirt!

To borrow from SVSSS, you might need a scenario-pusher for it to happen. But the world of MDZS is rife with these opportunities, and cultivators can live a very long time. So there's hope yet!

Footnotes:

1. This is a perfectly reasonable viewpoint to come to by the end of the novel. It's simply one I don't share.

2. See this passage from the confrontation in the Guanyin Temple:

"It wasn’t something he liked to reminisce about. He didn’t want to be reminded again and again of what it felt like when his core was cut out or what price he had to pay. If this were exposed in the past, he’d most likely laugh and comfort Jiang Cheng … But now, he indeed didn’t have the strength left to put up such a confident, nonchalant pretense.

From the bottom of his heart, he knew he wasn’t so indifferent about it after all.

Was it really that easy to move on from such a thing?

Of course not." (Chapter 103, "Hatred," ExR translation)

3. I saw a different post complaining about Wei Wuxian apologizing to Jiang Cheng in reconciliation scenarios, and I just, like, he kicked off a political firestorm that ended in the death of Jiang Yanli and her husband. This is completely separate from the non-consensual surgery and all the lying he was doing about that. He owes him multiple different apologies! And Jiang Cheng should also apologize to him! That's why they apologize to each other in the Temple, because they know they hurt each other! The point of an apology in an intimate relationship is to connect with the person you are apologizing to in order to repair the relationship, and the Temple was not the time, which is why they need a private do-over! It's not humiliation, it's intimacy, connection, and repair. How do y'all live your lives.

3.5 Also, imagine it to be more in-character than that.

#anon asks #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #yunmeng shuangjie #chengxian #yunmeng shuangjie reconciliation #mdzs +#meta #least-carpet thoughts

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sublimecatgalaxy · 7 months

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Ahhh it’s been so long since I’ve been on here n I saw ur writing for PEETA?! I’m currently rereading the series n On Mockingjay and want to cry everytime he’s mentioned. Anywhoo can I request telling Peeta ur pregnant (obviously after the war is won and all that) in honor of baby #2 I’m due with in a October?<3

GIIIIIRL CONGRADU-FUCKING-LATIONS!!!!! I'm so so so happy for you, so so so so so happy omg. I hope this is exactly what you wanted it to be.

I also wanna reread all the books before the next Hunger Games movie comes out, so excited for that one.

There's a haze across the lake outside our house, steam rising up from the warmer water as dusk settles upon the surrounding acreage. The sky is a pale orange, like Peeta's favorite color, and the stars are already out, speckling across bare sky like freckles.

My hand wanders down to my belly, though it's not growing yet, I know what's growing in there as I think to myself now, sitting on the edge of the peer as I take a deep breath in, filling my babies lungs with the most genuine of oxygen.

He doesn't know yet, I didn't want to tell him until he finally had a break from all the stress he's been under the last few years, finally bridging the gap of his therapy and coming up perfectly clean from all the capitals torture.

He's finally him again.

"Hey, there you are." Peeta's voice behind me makes me smile to myself, realizing this is a better time than never to finally rip the bandaid off and tell him our big secret. "I've been looking for you."

"I'm right here. Where I always am." I smile up at him and I watch his eyes trail over me as he sits down beside me, legs swinging off the dock beside mine. It's so still, everything is quiet except for the frogs singing their song.

"You okay?" He asks quietly, pressing a kiss to the side of my head while he wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. He smells like the pastries he was just working on inside, warm hazelnut and caramel wafting all the way from the open kitchen window to the pier.

"I've never been better." I grin, looking up at him with heart eyes, my whole body buzzing with love as I stare up at him through my lashes.

"What's got you so happy?" He asks, brushing some hair from my face as his thumb brushes against my bottom lip and I giggle giddily, giving his knee a gentle squeeze.

"I have a secret."

"Oh yeah? Can I know what it is?" He asks with a silly smile, eyes flickering from mine, all the way down to my lips.

"I'm nervous," I say through a small, worried smile and his expression softens to something so wholesome, so caring as he worriedly looks across my expression.

"Don't be nervous. It's me."

There's a pregnant (pun intended) pause between us as I think of how to bring this up in a way that's not just blurting out 'you knocked me up', even though that would probably make him laugh. My mind wracks the conversations we've had about having babies, making a family, and he's never given me one ounce of fear that he may not want it with me.

"You always wanted to have babies right?" He pauses, brows furrowing together as he gives me a slow, drawn-out nod.

"It was always the plan after I was de-conditioned... right?" He asks, leaning a little away from me so he can get a good look at me and for a moment I think that he's connecting the dots in his head.

"Right." I huff, giving him a bright smile. "So..."

"Oh my god." His realization is sudden, eyes widening and his smile spreading across his lips as quickly as the thought comes into his head. "Really?" He asks and I giggle, head tossing back in laughter as Peeta grabs my shoulders and shakes me. "You're joking? You can't mess with someone like this-"

"I'm pregnant." I squeal and he throws his arms around me, tugging me to his chest as a small cry escapes him and suddenly, all of the pain of the last few years closes like a book just as another one opens.

#peeta #peeta mellark x reader #peeta x reader #peeta mellark #the hunger games series #the hunger games fic

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ellieslaces · 1 month

Text

CAN’T CATCH ME NOW. two

presenting: umbrella’s hunger games

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis: after being Reaped and subjected to your worst possible nightmare — becoming a Tribute in Umbrella’s Hunger Games — a new horror awaits you in the Capitol where sparkling dresses, and lavish foods, and extravagant gifts cover up the gritty details of Capitol lifestyle. but your guard mustn’t be let down, there is only one enemy and it is not any of the 23 other Tributes who await to tear you limb from limb for a chance at fame and fortune, but Capitol itself that awaits to strip you down and sell your pain for there enjoyment.

content warnings: harsh language; violence; gore; class discrimination; usual hunger games/resident evil warnings; slight misogyny

notes: mentions of heavy violence in this one; class discrimination; slightly misogynistic themes; usual hunger games/resident evil warnings

chloe talks:

word count: 4.92k

now playing: buzzcut season ; lorde

can’t catch me now playlist

the districts ; prologue ; one

the outfits for the tribute parade are from this post!

There was something especially alluring about the Capitol and its way of life. Not really the sparkling atmosphere and the grandeur of the clothing, homes, and food. Not the money that was handed out to be spent as one pleased. No, what was the most alluring — to you anyway — was the false sense of security.

The fact that everyone in the Capitol seemed to have forgotten the so called ‘Dark Days’ where brother went for brother, and sister for sister. Where everyone starved and no one had any hope or reason to go on. This falsity of security was what — you believed — made the Capitol so strong. For who is to change something when ignorance is its strength?

No amount of protesting or uprising in the Districts could ever make the spoiled citizens of the Capitol realize just how fragile their entire system of living was. Simply, because they were not subjected to the brutality that was borne from these protests.

They would not lose their homes in mass fire brigade attacks. Or starve because they had no source of income to pay for food. Or be whipped at the post in the square as an example for what would be the consequence if anyone else dared to step so much as a toe out of line. No, the Districts were.

Which was possibly why you stood in the train car, eyes wide as you saw the crowd of Capitol citizens awaiting your arrival at the train station to the heart of the country. People in colorful wigs and outlandish costumes and caked makeup cheered and waved and hollered and laughed at your arrival. At the prospect of you or Piers being their newest Victor.

“They’re insane.” You muttered, earning a small, singular snicker from Piers who stood at your side watching the crowd as the train come to a slow stop.

“They’re ecstatic!” Allium — who’d you forgotten existed for the past half glorious hour — corrected with gentle yet cheerful words. He came up to you, patting your back with two quick pats. Pats, Allium Copperhead’s show of affection, you’d learned this in the seven hour ride to the Capitol.

“Oh God, look.” You grimaced, seeing a couple holding up signs that had yours and Piers names plastered on them with the words ‘our future Victor!’. Did these idiots not see how dark and contradictory that sign was? No, obviously not. Because death wasn’t the worse case for them if you lost, just bets.

Piers shook his head, Claire coming quickly to intervene and prepare you for what was about to happen. Again. She’d already sat you and Piers down before after your little post-Reaping confession of willingness to die to get the boy Tribute from Twelve out. To which she’d hushed you quickly and demanded you never speak of that to Chris. Though, you suspected maybe Chris would understand better than she would.

“Once you get off the train, some Peacekeepers are going to escort you to prepare you to meet with your stylists.” Claire explained, earning a small scoff from Piers.

“Right, ‘cause we need to be groomed before we’re killed on television.” Piers grunted, causing you to stifle a small laugh behind your hand. This caused him to earn a small tsk from Allium who stood beside you.

“Being at your best will get you sponsors!” Allium rebutted, his eyes stern but holding a certain type of affection that was really just blind pity as he shook his head.

“And we can’t get sponsors unless we’re pretty?” You challenged, arms crossed over your chest, brows raised as you turned toward your Capitol escort. Giving him your most intimidating look.

Claire shot you a warning glare — she’d previously informed you to stay on Allium’s good side because he could be the only thing between life and death in the arena for you with his influence. Second to Chris and Claire. But he had friends, and if you made him like you enough, he could convince those friends to become your sponsors and save your life.

“Well, it can’t hurt being at our best, my dear.” Allium shook his head, a slight sympathetic affection in his voice. Your face fell. How typical. So many female Tributes were overlooked and made up to be pretty instead of actually taken seriously. Which was why so many of the Victors were female — they’d taken advantage of the fact that why were overlooked. But, some part of you, despite knowing this was normal, was still angry to be brushed off as eye candy and not a real threat.

Begrudgingly, you let Allium win this round. As Claire said, there was plenty of time to prove him wrong in the arena. If you lasted that is. The pool of Tributes this year was especially viscous. As required, Umbrella had provided files on each Tribute to all the Mentors as to train their specific Tributes to defend themselves. After all, the enemy wasn’t any of the twenty three other children you were fighting, it was the Mutts Umbrella Corp. was so desperately proud of.

There were rumors upon rumors concerning the Mutts that Umbrella curated for each games. Some were completely fabricated and placed into the games at random. Some were made specifically for a certain Tribute at some point in the games to make it harder to win. That’s exactly what had happened to the District Twelve Victor, Krauser. Apparently, he’d never been the same.

With a quiet and menacing back and forth, Claire relinquished Leon Kennedy’s file to you. She’d managed to get an extra copy — something about asking one of the computer scientists in the train to make another — and let you have it. For the remaining five hours of the ride, you’d poured over the file. Reading every little detail of Leon Kennedy’s life in District Twelve.

It seemed, after all, you two weren’t so different. He was an orphan too, his entire family murdered by Peacekeepers for committing a petty crime. He was raised in the local Twelve orphanage, but unlike you, he wasn’t ever taken in by anyone. That was where you differed, and also where your similarities ended. You were raised with the luxury of not being required to work as family of Victors. But Leon did not have that opportunity. He was issued to work in the mines, like everyone else over the age of eighteen. You read through his startlingly short history, this boy being almost as much as a mystery as before.

Despite not containing much in regard to his past, you held onto the file. Maybe you could connect with him somehow. Or maybe you were just grasping for straws to find some last lingering bit of humanity in these games. As stupid and naive as it sounded, you wished that maybe Leon would be like you. That he wouldn’t want to kill, that he’d want to just die instead of becoming a killer.

But, you knew many people went into the games thinking they weren’t killers, but left to be crowned Victor of their District. A terrible irony — a wish to not become some pawn, but playing the game anyway. Because, what is the point in playing if not to win?

The train came to a lurching stop, snapping you from your thoughts of the file that Claire had taken back for the moment. The crowds outside were cheering and shockingly loud. Much too loud for you.

Piers glanced outside, a grimace gracing his features. “We might not even make it to the arena at this point.”

Claire cut off your scoff of laughter with a small sigh, one of encouragement. “The Peacekeepers won’t let anything happen to you.”

“‘Cause you’re precious cargo. Capitol goods now.” Chris nodded in agreement, thick arms crossed over his chest as he sauntered into the room, four Peacekeepers flanked at his side.

Before Claire could even try to reprimand her brother, Chris cut her off, holding up a hand. “I know, I know. But we gotta go.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

The Peacekeepers silently walked your way, two assigned to each you and Piers. One on each side of you, each holding an arm. You scoffed. “I can walk, you know.”

“Oh trust me, sunshine, they know.” Chris rolled his eyes, referring to how you’d pushed off the Peacekeepers after your Reaping. So these were the same soldiers then.

Your brows curved downwards, lips set in a frown as the soldiers guided you through the train car. A quick Look over your shoulder proved Chris, Claire, and Allium were following, close behind.

“Now, neither of you freak out, okay? It’ll be fine.” Chris said, Claire nudging his arm with a hiss. His words caused you to whip your head around.

“Why would we freak out?” You demanded, eyes wide, brows set in a glaring frown. Chris’s silence alarmed you. “Chris! What do you mean? Why would we freak out?”

The Redfield siblings came to a stop at the entrance of a tall, greyscale building, Chris’s hands in an encouraging thumbs up. But his face was a big-ass giveaway that it wasn’t going to be fine.

However, Allium followed, his steps jaunty and his smile encouraging — or supposed to be, but it really just unnerved you.

“Chris is right, you’ll be fine. Your stylist teams are the best of the best. Nothing but the best for my Tributes.” He nodded, shooing you along, despite being at the total mercy of the Peacekeepers at your sides.

You and Piers were led into a large room — somewhat like a doctor’s office where there were partitions. There were already a handful of Tributes there. Some stood by their assigned Peacekeepers, others sat in disposable gowns on beds.

Eyes followed you and Piers as you were led deeper into the room, ranging from menacing glares to looks of wonder. After all, you and Piers had already been declared as this year’s prodigies. People had already begun to make bets that either of you would be the Victor. And you suspected these Tributes hated you already. Because, it wasn’t fair, was it? Of course not, not all Tributes had the same chance you did.

Piers was directed off toward the left, but you hardly noticed as you were studying the room, searching and trying to memorize each face you saw. You were guided toward the back of the room, directed to sit on the cushioned table until your styling team arrived. A disposable cloth gown as shoved into your hands with gruff directions to change before one of the Peacekeepers drew the curtain closed. Sealing you off from every other Tribute who couldn’t wait to get their hands sticky with your blood.

It must have been hours upon hours of brutal torture — at least that’s what it felt like as the stylist team picked you apart like a pack of rabid vultures with an eye especially for body hair. At first, they started by crudely undressing you, pulling the gown you’d been instructed to don off your body then staring at every part of your exposed skin. They proceeded to lay you on the cot and scrub your body down with harsh yet pleasant smelling products.

Oil after oil, lotion after lotion were applied to your skin after the trio of stylists ripped your skin with wax strips, your teeth grinding down as they would tear off the paper without warning. Once your body was smooth and oiled, they circled you with tweezers, plucking away any stray hairs that their trained eyes somehow missed. From the neck down, you were virtually hairless.

By the end of your time with your team — a trio of eccentric, yet much more digestible individuals named Marko, Nelia, and Corall — you smelled like an overripe peach. They ushered you through a door in your makeshift cubicle, instructing you to lie on a cot as you waited for your personal stylist to arrive.

This wasn’t a feeling you much cared for, being slick and oily as you sat on the cot, feet swinging over the floor as your eyes never turned away from the metal door that was closed after your team left. Your stylist — what an inane notion. Who the hell needed a personal stylist? Not you, that’s for sure. But, to win the games, you needed to not only be pretty, but make an impression. Sponsors, those were what really could make or break your survival in that arena.

Time crawled by as you sat in that room. Bland and grey. There was no art, no color, no decoration, no personality to the room. It felt more like a holding cell than a meeting place. In this room, your thoughts ran rampant. You wondered what the arena would be this year. What horrors you’d be subjected to. What Umbrella would cook in there labs to send into the arena to hunt you. Mutts — they were worse than the twenty three other Tributes you had battle.

A swift knock sounded at the door to the room, the grey metal door swinging open to allow your stylist to walk in. Your eyes immediately tracked to the figure — and you were pleasantly surprised. A woman stood at the door, her grey eyes kind yet serious. Her dark curls were pulled back to a bun at the base of her neck, dark blue streaks scattered throughout the strands. She stood tall, a pantsuit that matched the shade of her dyed hair, and thin glasses in the same shade. She seemed to emit the color blue in all its comforting coolness. It reminded you of rainy days and a stormy sea.

She spoke your name as a question, almost as if she were making sure it was you and no one else. Except, she said it in such a confidence that even if she had mistaken you for someone else, you would have just nodded and taken the name as your own.

“I’m your stylist, Ingrid Hunnigan.” She hand out a hand — her nails the same shade of blue as the rest of her outfit and God did she look put together. “How are you?”

Ingrid was the first person in the Capitol to ask you that. And it seemed she truly meant it. You nodded, dropping her hand as you let your own fold in your lap. “I’m okay, I guess.”

“Fair answer,” Ingrid shrugged, pulling up a rolling stool to sit in front of you. She sighed heavily, pulling off her glasses, the action made her look younger and less put together. “I know this is a lot for you. And I won’t say it’s… as grand as everyone else claims it to be. But, I want to make this as simple and as easy for you as possible.”

Her words shocked you. A Capitol citizen who didn’t think the whole process and games themselves were grand? She must be wildly unpopular around here.

“I’m, I’m sorry?” You stammered out, hating how unsure and small you sounded. But, this woman had just been the first person here not to congratulate you with the exception of the Redfield’s. How the actual fuck had she landed this job?

As you stared at her in disbelief, you noticed there was also a swipe of dark blue eyeliner on the top of her eyes. Simple yet elegant. You knew you immediately liked her — she was down to earth, not as flighty and eccentric as the rest of the Capitol staff you’d come into contact with. She was calm and collected and likable. She seemed trustworthy.

“Not what you were expecting me to say, I know. But, I don’t see the point in congratulating you when you may die in that arena.” She shrugged, placing the glasses back on her face once she’d wiped them off with the edge of her suit jacket. “I’m here to make this easy, okay? To help you make an impression so you have a chance in that arena.”

There was a moment of confused silence on your end as you just stared at Ingrid, brows pulled together as you weighed whether or not she was being honest or simply trying to win you over. But she seemed genuine. “Thank you.”

Ingrid gave a small smile before she sighed, giving a solitary nod and pushing the rolling stool backward, pressing a button on the wall. “Are you hungry? We could talk about what to expect from the Tribute Parade tonight over some food.”

You responded with a quick nod — you were in fact, hungry. For some reason, being poked and prodded and scrubbed until you were raw did stir an appetite in you. “That would be nice.”

“Good.” Ingrid nodded, pulling a sketchbook from under her arm as she rolled the stool back in front of you. “We can discuss what I have planned for your outfit tonight.”

Oh boy, great. The outfits for the Tribute Parades were always nothing short of ridiculous. Overly exaggerated and obnoxiously ridiculous. Always a little too on the nose of what each District represented. Usually, District One’s weren’t so bad, unless the stylist had some grand, overused idea to dress them in all gold. Because apparently, gold was the standard of luxury. What an observation.

“I know you’re expecting some kind of overwhelming get up made of pure gold. But, I don’t want that. I don’t you uncomfortable, okay?” She spoke, flipping through the pages of her sketchbook. You craned your neck slightly to get a peek at what she’d come up with.

“What do we think about this?” You sat back as she lifted the sketchbook to display what she’d sketched up, the outfit you were going to be wearing.

Your brows shot up. It was shockingly… plain. Nothing too extravagant about it. Of course, there was a certain modem of extravagance to it, but it wasn’t as ostentatious as previous years. Rather than some excessive display of gold and other gems that were obvious of luxury, it was a simple gathering of peacock feathers. It looked more of a bouquet of feathers that would be tied at your waist than a dress. The shoes also radiated comfort. Simple slippers that would criscross laces up your ankles. The whole thing seemed so simple. It wasn’t overdone, and it even looked comfortable.

“It’s,” you were somewhat lost of what to say. It wasn’t as if you knew anything about fashion or style, so you weren’t the one to ask. Except you were, because you’d be wearing it. “I like it.”

This made Ingrid smile, she had a comforting smile. “Good, I was hoping you would. I didn’t want something uncomfortable, something that you’d hate. I think what people misunderstand about luxury is that it needs to be grand. Sometimes, luxury is simple.”

Oh how you liked her. She knew what it meant to be a person, that you weren’t some doll to dress up just because you were Capitol goods now. You were still human, and she acknowledged that.

“I agree,” you nodded, taking the sketchbook as she held it out to you. Your eyes studied the different sketches she’d come up with of the outfit. Different angles, the mixture of colors, the textures. She’d really thought this through.

“I’ll need to get your measurements, but we can do that after we eat, if that’s okay with you.” She said, gingerly taking back the sketchbook before she smiled at you again.

You nodded, finally feeling like something was your choice. “Yes, that would be fine.” You had a lingering feeling that you would get on quite well with Ingrid Hunnigan.

The Tribute Parade was nothing but a showcase of each Tribute for Capitol entertainment. Though, wasn’t that what the entirety of the games were? Yes, the chariot rides were meant to be an introduction to each of the twenty four of you. But, it was also a time for the Capitol citizens to gauge which Tribute they would dote upon. Who they would sponsor and who they would cheer for to win in the end.

This was another red herring of the entire spectacle of the games. These people would judge you based upon how you were dolled up, from which district you originated from, and possibly — if they cared to learn — your name and age. They knew nothing of who you really were. And they wouldn’t, not until the final interviews the night before the games began. Which was about two weeks away. Much too far away for you to even think about right now.

You’d spent the afternoon with Ingrid, talking over a late lunch about what to expect from the parade. The itch to ask what she knew of each Tribute — especially Leon Kennedy — almost drove you crazy. Until right before she’d walked out of the room and you’d blurted it out.

“Oh, no, I don’t know anything about any other Tributes besides you and Piers. I wish I did.” She explained apologetically, stating that each stylist only knew the details of their own assigned tribute.

When she saw the disappointed look in your eyes, she paused, brows pulled together. “I’ll see what I can do, though. Is there anyone in particular you want to know about?”

“Could you find out anything about the Tributes from Twelve?” You asked, unsure if Ingrid was honest about actually doing her best to finding out what she could, or if maybe she was just trying to butter you up.

Ingrid nodded, her face serious but there was a kindness in her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do. See you tonight.” You were surprised by her warmth and willingness as she walked out of the room.

And you were even more surprised when she’d kept her promise and brought you new information while prepping you for the parade.

“Wait, so, he wasn’t even originally from Twelve?” You questioned, arms splayed out to your sides as Ingrid did the final touches on your feather dress before you loaded onto the chariot.

“Apparently not. His parents were originally from Two, but somehow when they ended up in Twelve.” Ingrid nodded, adjusting a rather tall feather that framed your face. Her eyes were concentrated on her task.

You frowned. If his parents had stayed in Two, maybe he wouldn’t be here. Or, at least he’d have a better chance. This perplexed you — he was now a Tribute with such a small chance all because his parents decided to relocate to a lesser District. It hardly seemed fair.

“Well, you’re all done. And there’s Piers.” Ingrid stood tall with a pleased smile, her eyes flicking to where Piers and his stylist walked in your direction.

“Wow, feathers suit you.” You gave a half smile to your fellow Tribute, earning a scoff of a laugh from him.

“Likewise.” His eyes swiveled around the room, gauging each of the different Tributes’ outfits. “At least we aren’t half naked.” He motioned toward the District Four pair.

Ingrid gave a disapproving scoff. “Tactless. They’re kids.” Well, your stylist seemed opinionated about that subject. She shook her head, rolling her grey eyes before returning her attention back to you and Piers. “Did Chris and Claire prepare you for tonight?”

“Of course we did, we’d be bad mentors if we didn’t.” Chris’s voice cut through the air before you could even respond. It’d been hours since you saw him or Claire last. Before you met Ingrid.

“Good,” your stylist smiled, giving a solitary nod as she reached forward, swiping away a bit of blue eyeshadow from under your eye. “You’ll just get on the chariot. You don’t need to do anything, other than smile and wave if you feel like you’re up to it.”

“Sure, I’m up for smiling and waving at people betting on my life.” Piers shrugged, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

He was in a similar outfit as you — regal peacock feathers crafted into a suit that fit his frame perfectly. He looked luxurious, yet dangerous. A perfectly lethal combination not to be overlooked.

Ingrid let out a small laugh before a bell sounded, signaling it was time for the Tributes to load onto their respective chariots. As Piers stepped on, Claire’s hand gripped your bicep gently yet firmly.

“I need you to focus, okay? We’re in the Capitol, you can’t play around.” She murmured, her voice full of concerned sternness.

“I’ve never played around.” You answered, voice low yet warning. Your eyes met hers, silently telling her you knew what this was about.

And she knew. “I need you to drop this. You haven’t even spoken to him.”

“So? I don’t need to talk to him to know he deserves to win these games more than anyone else.” You shrugged.

Claire stared at you for a long moment, her eyes narrowed as she realized what you’d done. “What did you do?”

“I can’t learn about my opponent? How unfair.” You shook your head, gently yanking your arm from her grip and loading onto the chariot.

You knew you’d have a long and grueling discussion with her later. About how stupid and naive you were being. And she’d have a point — you didn’t know Leon Kennedy. You read his file, heard some Capitol gossip. You haven’t even met him yet, and you were willing to risk it all. But, when had your gut ever lead you astray?

“Claire, I really don’t want to talk about it.” You sighed, exasperated already as your mentor followed you through the apartment the Capitol provided for you and Piers.

“That too fucking bad.” Claire shrugged, hot on your heels as you walked into your room for the duration of your stay in the city, beginning to untie the ribbon at your waist holding your dress together. “We’re talking about it.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to shut the door on her, but her foot stopped the door from coming into contact with the frame. She stood in the doorway, her eyes icy on yours.

“What is the big deal?” You huffed, arms splayed at your sides.

Claire shook her head, eyes sad as if she thought you didn’t understand. “You don’t know him. You need to fight for you, no one else.”

“God, Claire! I’m not gonna become some killer to get out alive. If there’s someone who deserves it more than me, I want them to have it.” You rebutted, voice begging as you walked closer to her. “I need you to level with me. To try and understand.”

“I can’t, I can’t understand why you want to die in there.”

“I don’t want to die.” You shook your head, sighing as Claire immediately jumped to the dramatic conclusion.

“Sure seems like it.” She muttered.

“He is what I could have been!” You shouted at her, all these emotions you’d bottled up since your Reaping overflowing. “If you and Chris hadn’t found me and taken me in, I would be just like him. He, he didn’t deserve to watch his family die. He has no one. And to me, he doesn’t deserve to die either.”

This finally seemed to shut her up. Claire stood there for a few long moments, her brows creased and eyes set on you. A large part of you was nervous. Not for what she would say, but for what she didn’t say. It was too long before she let out a sigh.

“All right. This doesn’t mean you can’t try once you get in that arena. But, if you want to try to help him, I won’t argue, I won’t fight you on it. You just, you have to promise me you’ll give a good fight, okay?” Claire conceded, walking over to you, eyes set on you with a kind sternness you were so familiar with.

You nodded vehemently, your eyes wide. “I swear. I’ll try, but, I need to try to help him and the girl from his District too.”

Claire frowned, a sad somewhat guilty look in her eyes before she pulled you into a warm embrace. “You’re too much like me and Chris, y’know?”

“I know,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around her middle, letting your eyes fall closed with the comfort of her against you.

It was a while before she let go, stepping back and exhaling heavily. She held out her hand, a small metal chip resting in her palm.

“This is everything I could find on Leon Kennedy and Helena Harper. Just, insert it in the tv on the wall.” She motioned to the screen on the wall that was currently projecting the city streets of the Capitol. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, gingerly taking the chip and holding in your hands as if it were glass.

Claire nodded once, smiling a little before she turned around to walk out of your room. She paused at the doorway. “Don’t be late for breakfast. Your training starts in the morning.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You nodded, giving a sarcastic smile as she shook her head, walking out and closing the door behind her.

Fuck sleep, you thought. All that mattered right now was getting this outfit off, and reading on the District Twelve Tributes. You wanted to be prepared for when you’d meet Leon Kennedy at training tomorrow.

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#can’t catch me now.#can’t catch me now #leon kennedy x you #re2 leon #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #hunger games #resdient evil #hunger games au #resident evil au

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barbiedragon · 4 months

Text

Seaside Rendezvous

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem!reader (WOF)

WC: 1.2k

12 Days of Smuff-Swimming & Face-Fucking

Warnings: Rough oral (m receiving), spanking, fingering, slightly Dom!Tom

A seaside getaway leads to a steamy evening

Excitement bubbled in your chest as the train rolled out from the Victoria Railway Station. Your feet bounced against the floor as you cast a broad grin in Tom’s direction. He exhaled a puff of smoke, meeting your excited grin with one of his own. It was always good to see a smile on his face; he had been through so much. It was hard to believe two years had passed since the war ended. The remnants remained as the entire world mended the broken pieces. You wondered if life would ever truly return to normal.

You had planned this excursion partly to give you and Tom time away from the humdrum of everyday life. The two of you had scrimped and saved for train tickets to escape the city on a stuffy summer day. You took in the sights of the Sefton coastline as the train rolled through Merseyside toward your destination of Southport Beach. You were looking forward to the sea air and the sand beneath your toes. You had even put a little extra money aside to splurge on a bikini, the newest trend in bathing suits. It had been worth every shilling you shelled out for it.

Your hand pressed into Tom’s as you walked to the beach. You closed your eyes, inhaling the salty smell of the sea that lingered in the air. Children ran about, chasing each other, while you and Tom found a little area to set up, rolling your towels out on the sand.

“I’m going to change.” You tucked the red bikini with white polka dots under one arm before heading to the red and white striped changing tents.

Tom’s eyes widened when you rejoined him. “Well, look at you, love. Red is certainly your color,” he smirked. He had already changed into his black swimming trunks, showing off his slender yet muscular things.

“Glad you like it.” You gave a cheeky wink before stretching out on the towel next to him, in the mood to soak up the warm sun before venturing into the water.

Tom’s head rested on his folded arms, closing his eyes while you wiggled your toes into the warm sand.

Once some time had passed, Tom was pulling you to your feet. “Come on, let’s go for a swim.”

You barely had time to react as the cheeky bugger flipped you over his shoulder. A soft yelp flew from your lips when he deposited you into the water with a loud splash. The little shit, you were going to get him back for this.

“Tom!” you huffed, struggling to your feet, and fixed him with a glare.

“Hey, we’re all about having a laugh today, yeah? Couldn’t resist,” he teased, helping to steady you before dipping his head to kiss you.

“Mmm, you’re right,” you hummed against his lips.

You enjoyed the water with him, swimming out and feeling at peace. Everything would be ok in the end. You and Tom stayed in the sea until your fingers started to prune, then decided to treat yourselves to piping hot fish and chips. Legs dangled over the pier while you fed each other salty chips. You took a walk after the meal, exploring a bit before returning home. You felt cheeky on the train ride home, slipping your foot out of the sandal before pressing it into Tom’s lap. Your toes wiggled against his crotch.

“Oi, what game are you playing?” Tom hissed, his eyes narrowing as he pushed your foot out of his lap.

“Just resting my foot there,” you replied innocently.

“No, you’re being a little minx.”

“I’m being nothing of the sort.”

Your foot pressed into his lap again, gently rubbing him until you felt an all too familiar bulge in his trousers. He silently slipped a cigarette between his lips. The slow exhale told you would be in trouble later for this. Your stomach clenched in anticipation. Not a word was said as you headed back to the flat, sweat beading down the back of your neck. The air was knocked out of your lungs when Tom pressed you against the wall. His hand fisted the hem of your green dress, slowly inching it up your thigh.

“Thought you could play games with me, hmm?” One brow cocked as his lips settled into a thin line.

You stammered softly as you felt the heel of his palm pressing against the wet spot forming in your knickers. “Was only trying to have a bit of fun, like you had dumping me in the water.”

“Oh, a bit of fun, eh? How about we have some fun now, I’ll remind you how to behave properly.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine while his fingers rubbed against the wet patch.

“Please,” you practically begged.

Once seated on the sofa, Tom tugged you across his knees before ripping your knickers down your legs. Your dress bunched around your waist, and you gasped at the crack of his hand along your bare backside. Each slap was well-aimed and delivered, making your skin prickle with heat. Yet it did nothing to quell the heat between your legs. He pinned your hands behind your back as you wiggled in his lap.

“My cheeky little minx is in need of a well-smacked arse, isn’t she?”

“Yes, Tom,” you mewled, his hand bouncing against your skin.

Once he was satisfied with his handiwork, his knuckles grazed gently over your abused flesh, and you felt his erection poking against the swell of your tummy.

“Let me apologize properly, Tom.”

“Get to it then.”

You dropped between his spread legs, tears gathered on your lashes and splatted across your cheeks as you undid his trousers to free his stiff cock. Your tongue ran along the tip before taking him deep in your throat. He grasped the back of your head, pulling you tighter and causing you to sputter around him. You felt a vein pulsing under your tongue.

“That’s my girl, I’m gonna fuck this pretty mouth of yours.”

The snap of his hips was brutal, making you gag, but you were determined to see this through. He needed to let off some steam, and you never minded a little pain mixed in with your pleasure. Your nose pressed against his taut belly as your cheeks hollowed while the warm cavern of your mouth pleasured him. Your jaw ached by the time he spilled down your throat. You meekly released before swallowing every drop of him. His thumb traced over your swollen lower lip before swiping the remnants of your tears away.

Tom drew you into his lap, with your dress still around your hips. You leaned into his chest, letting your legs splay as he teased his fingers along your damp folds. One sank deep inside, joined by another soon after, stretching you wide. His nose pressed against your cheek as he found a steady rhythm, his fingers filling your cunt and curling inside to find your sweet spot.

“Are you gonna come for me, pretty girl?”

“Mmm, yes, Tom!” you rasped as the pressure built in your belly.

A few soft strokes of his thumb over your clit sent you toppling over the edge. You rode the feeling out, rutting against his fingers in the aftermath. The long, slender digits pressed against your lips, and you sucked them clean. Tom’s arms circled your waist, holding you tightly as the evening settled in. Your eyes slowly drooped shut as you snuggled close. It had been a wonderful day.

#fae's writings #12 days of smuff #tom bennet x reader #tom bennett #tom bennett world on fire #tom bennett smut #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett imagine #world on fire fanfic #world on fire smut

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thepaperpanda · 2 years

Text

𝓓𝓪𝔂 5 - An Aggressive Gentleness || Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Everyone knows Hangman is good, but you'll have a chance to discover that he simultaneously has a bit of a persuasive streak as well.

Warnings: smut (unprotected p in v, spanking)

Word count: 2325

Author: Rouge

A/N: the the prompt for today is: Spanking

Jake "Hangman" Seresin was one of the world's greatest and most successful pilots. He was a known womanizer, and he had as many downed planes as broken hearts among all the women he dated.

Yet, ever since you joined his team, he couldn't take his gaze away from you; you were not only a beautiful, young woman, but you also had a strong personality.

"I know there's a big age gap between you and me, Y/N," he said as the two of you finished the bottle of red wine that night, sitting together on the pier over the ocean. "But I really want to take you out. Would you be interested in having dinner with me one evening?"

As a result, you both agreed to meet for dinner a few days later.

Despite your expectations, the dinner ended up being much more enjoyable than you expected. It sounded too good to be true. You teased, playing with your glass, "Maybe Hangman isn't such an asshole as everyone thinks."

You could feel his knee against yours under the table as you sat there staring and smiling at each other, your hand in his.

Of course, it could have been an accident at first, but when it returned, went away, and then returned again, all doubt was removed. It was done on purpose as a signal, a kind of request, to emphasize the request for a date. Again, perhaps a little old-fashioned, but extremely intimate and alluring.

Jake let out a little sigh, observing your face carefully as he said, "Don't judge a book by its cover."

"If I didn't interact with you on a daily basis and while on duty, I'd say you're an asshole," you concluded, scrunching your face. "You are charming, but you are a total asshole. However, I don't regret our dinner together."

Jake was certain he knew the game because he'd played it before; he was obviously used to dealing with stroppy little bitches like you. He was well aware of what you were doing and what you were up to. He seemed to be able to read you, understand what you were thinking.

He kept gently rubbing your palm and pressing his knee firmly against yours as he looked you in the eyes. "You have the most enticing eyes, Y/N," he murmured as he gazed deep into them.

A cocky smile spread across your face as you made a small yhym sound and rested your chin on your palm. "Just like the last girl, I'm sure."

Since it wasn't the first time you heard those sweet words, you already knew what they meant. This was a popular saying among guys as if it were a kind of spell.

"I can see through your eyes that you are a passionate, intense woman. A woman who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. I notice a lot about you." As he accelerated, his foot landed on yours and ran up the side of your calf. You were his type, there was no doubt. This became especially apparent when his knee pressed firmly against your closed knees at first, then even more so after a moment or two.

You sighed heavily and decided to stop him. "I have to be honest with you - sweet nothings don't appeal to me at all. I've heard these things too many times to believe them."

Jake drew your hand to his lips. "Come to my flat, Y/N, and let me love you there," he said as he licked the back of your hand and looked you in the eyes.

“If you stop acting so weirdly sweet, I'll go with you."

Jake gave you a brief nod in response.

You took a cab to his apartment. It was a second-floor walk-up flat in a fairly large town house, nicely furnished in that fading elegant style that appeals to the well-to-do and aristocracy.

Hangman turned on one lamp but not the others. The street lights cast a nice, dim, romantic glow on the large lounge. He made no pretense that this was anything other than a sexual encounter. He didn't make small talk, offer you a drink, or request that you sit. None of that was necessary; he and you both knew it. You were there for one and only one reason - to have sex.

As Jake kissed you passionately, he took you in his arms. There was no preamble or asking permission; it was a wonderful kiss. As he held you tight, he moulded your bodies together and his lips found yours. While your lips touched, your mouths were closed, but as you pressed them together they slowly opened. As he licked your lips, he ran his tongue along your gums, over your teeth and into your mouth. Unlike the Hangman everyone used to know, he was patient, slow, methodical, and amazingly erotic. You could feel Hangman's hands running up and down your back.His hands fiddled with your bra strap, the waistband of your short denim skirt, which was just a whisker below your pubis line and the top of your bum crease, and the hem of the white, loose, short-sleeved top.

Jake took your hand and led you to his bedroom.

The room was quite small, but it had a double bed. Although it was dim, you could still see each other. Standing beside the bed, Jake held your hand as you faced each other. Bringing your palm up to his mouth, he kissed its top; he took one of your fingers and softly sucked it, earning a moan from you.

You didn't speak, you'd gone beyond words, they simply weren't needed.

It wasn't long before Jake let go of your hand and stepped back a few feet. With his eyes glistening in the dim light flowing in the room from a streetlamp, he began undoing the button of his heavy, cotton, khaki shirt. Having fully undone his shirt, his fingers were now undoing his leather pleated belt. He was so confident and so assured, which you found very sexy and enchanting. Still, he didn't take his eyes off of you. “You’re so fucking pretty, Y/N.”

Reaching downwards, you grasped the hem of your top. You saw approval in his eyes as his belt came undone and he slowly pushed his zip down. Between the opened edges of his shirt, you could see that his chest was toned and muscular.

You both dropped your tops as if on cue. Jake's eyes wandered over your chest, focusing more and more on your round breasts, almost making you squirm with desire. Through Jake's masterful gaze, you became more receptive to his unspoken persuasions.

The silence was broken by Jake. His erection was evident and clear and gave him absolutely no embarrassment whatsoever. As you dropped your bra, he sighed, "You're so fucking hot, Y/N. What are you waiting for? Go on."

Undoing the brass button on the skirt, you slid the short zip down. The skirt slid down your legs as you wriggled it over your bum and hips. A surge of high-octane arousal surged through you when you looked into Hangman's hungry eyes. You soon pushed your panties down your legs as well.

As Jake took off his boxer shorts, his hardened erection rested proudly against his well-built abdomen.

Seresin reached for your hand, the one holding your panties, as you stood completely naked in front of him. He gently pulled them away from you. His eyes bore deep into yours as he rubbed his nose on the gusset, taking deep breaths as he did so, making animalistic noises at the same time. After that, he used your panties in a rather extravagant manner, rubbing them around his balls and up and down his erection without any embarrassment at all. As if to say don't you dare complain, he stared intently into your eyes before cupping his balls in your panties and rolling them around before pushing the silky underwear back across his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him, pressing himself against you, moulding your bodies into one. As he cupped your round bum in his strong hands, his cock squirmed against you. Jake squeezed and kneaded your buttocks all the while kissing you hungrily; he stroked your bum, pinched it, rubbed it, and caressed it.

As you got your hand between your bodies, your fingers tingled with desire as they ran up and down his erection. It was everything an erection should be; hard, warm, smooth and slightly throbbing.

You then went to bed.

Jake carefully positioned you on your front and laid beside you. The hand that wasn't tugging your hair had slipped down your back and reached your bum. He stroked it and squeezed it. Jake whispered, "You have the most glorious arse I've ever seen," as he stroked it softly. All he had done when you were standing beside the bed was repeated, but he now focused more on your cheeks. After easing your legs apart, he parted your bottom's cheeks. He spent ages running his fingers up and down that sensual groove, on, over and past your extra sensitive entrance to your anus, on the base of your spine in one direction and into your fully soaked pussy in the other.

All hell broke loose within your body and mind. You could not help but notice as your body shook with the various sensations that you were cumming without any form of penetration, without your sensitive clit being rubbed or your pussy's lips being stroked. “Jake!” You managed to whimper loudly, nuzzling your face into one of his pillows.

Jake smacked your bottom several times. Not that hard and not that much, but enough to make your bum sting and for you to recognise what he was doing. Nevertheless, the combination of the pain from him pulling your hair, the stinging from where he'd spanked your bottom and the pleasure he was giving you with his fingers made you cum, very heavily indeed.

You hadn't even finished your orgasm fully when Hangman turned you over. After what he'd just done to you, your pussy was still tender, and your breasts and nipples were still pulsating. As he moved up and held his cock against your lips, you willingly opened your arms and wrapped them around his hips.

The moment he bucked his hips, forcing his dick completely into your mouth, you wrapped your lips around his rock-hard erection, gagging yourself.

Jake's hand hit your bottom quite hard, so much so that it jerked your head from his cock as Hangman turned you to your side a little, to gain better access to your bum. In a matter of seconds, he hit you twice.

Putting his cock back in your mouth, you grunted. Each thwack and smack was probably harder than the last. He spread them over both cheeks. Pumping his girth in and out of your mouth, you gagged, reaching out to massage his balls.

Jake grunted lowly as he hardened. Seresin hit you several more times after he realized you weren't opposed to what he had been doing. Now he was doing it harder, and it was stinging, but not too painful. It was amazing to see that each time he smacked your ass, and since he'd found a sort of rhythm, his cock began to jerk inside your mouth. His hardening and growth increased with each smack. “Fuck, look what you’re doing to me,” he grunted, taking a fistful of Y/H/C hair, tugging on it a little. He was now spanking you with a steady series of blows that covered every inch of each cheek and occasionally drifted down to your thighs. Between each blow, his hand gently fondled your asscheek.

With that gentleness combined with the aggression of the spanking, you experienced sensations you hadn't felt before. While Hangman grunted and groaned and mumbled how wonderful you were and what a magnificent bottom you had, you sighed and moaned at the pleasure you were receiving, taking his cock out of your mouth with a loud pop sound.

Jake then fucked you. Straightforward, you on your back, him on top, your legs wide open and wrapped around him. Jake’s thrusts were fast and strong; his bed was swinging with each of them. It was quite quick and hard. Like the expert he was turning out to be, he didn't offer or ask for more foreplay. After what Jake had gone on so far there was no need for more and he seemed to be acutely aware of that. He didn't need to get you wet and you didn't need to get him hard, what you'd been doing for the past half hour or so had done both of those necessities.

“Fuck!” You screamed, digging your nails into his back, rolling your head back on his pillow. “Fuck you, Hangman! You’re so fucking good!”

“I’m good, Y/N,” Jake grunted into your ear, instantly turning his head to suck hardly on your exposed neck. “I’m very fucking good.” You were obviously soaked and your lips were bloated from the blood that rushed to them during the previous orgasms. No complaints, just a straightforward hard and fast fuck and that, to be honest, was what you truly wanted.

After cumming together, Jake laid on top of you, pinning you to the mattress with his weight, then rubbed your cheeks and neck with his kisses. “Do you want to stay for the night?” He asked simply, rubbing his nose against yours.

Nodding to him, you slipped your hands into his hair and massaged his scalp. "Yes."

Despite his nakedness, Jake kissed you one last time before getting up from the bed. "I'll bring a pillow and towel for you."

As his thick, sticky cum ran down your inner thighs, you rubbed them together and bit your lower lip. You definitely had the best fuck of your life.

#hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin smut #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #hangman x you #hangman smut #top gun x reader #top gun x you #top gun smut #top gun maverick smut #hangman top gun #tgm fic #paperpanda kinktober #kinktober 2022

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swtjce · 7 days

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hyung line as college!bfs ☆ nct wish

word count : 858

pairing : hyung line x reader

note : ive done it... save me

sion

walks with u to ur every class even if his own class is across campus

attends every club formal event with u bcus he cant let ppl see u without him!!! esp if ur dressed all pretty

despite wanting to be around u all of the time he will give u more than enough time to urself or w ur own friends

hes jumping into dance circles at parties but will periodically check in on u to see if ur doing ok

"did u eat yet" "ok did u wna go get food"

never gets jealous or competitive when he sees other guys flirting with u. hes v confident n trusts u 1000%!!

hes just better and he knows it

gets shy often so pda doesnt come easily

so when he holds ur hand while walking through campus u feel really giddy

doesnt let u eat in the dining hall bcus he thinks the food sucks so he tries n brings u lunch everyday

always there to lend support or advice whenever u need it

otherwise hes quietly cheering u on w the biggest smile on his face

he takes care of u a lot but u always make sure to return the favor!

he needs a lot of reassurance too so u always take time out of ur day to tell him how much u appreciate him

cup his cheeks n give him a kiss!!!!! he will smile so big...

hes v studious n never puts off his work

his good work ethic rubbed off on u but even during study sessions u both cant help but get even a Little distracted

laughs at all of ur jokes n ur not sure if its bcus ur funny or bcus he wants to make u feel better

riku

will do anything to take the same core classes as u so he can have a partner

if someone tries to take u as a partner first he will whine n cry until the other person gives in

designated study buddy even though u two get distracted 100% of the time

when ur rlly stressed from exams count on riku to be there to give u comfort n lots of hugs

whenever u get up for something as small as presenting or as big as mcing for ur club event, riku will always be there cheering the loudest for u

"THATS MY GIRLFRIEND!!!" then covers his face in embarrassment

randomly calls u over zoom just for fun...

works at ur campus bakery n passes u free bread n pastries even after getting in trouble w his boss

also jumping in the dance circle n will take 5 min breaks in between to chug his water n fan himself

dragging u to every campus event..........

when u two have sleepovers ur sharing his twin bed

he will hog the blanket n steal ur plushies + the entire pillow

drunk riku is either spitting out nonsense or theres a constant string of i love u's

u two are learning tiktok dances in ur free time n saving them for ur drafts just to look back on later

always at ur apt/dorm? unannounced?

but ur roommates n housemates are used to it

plays volleyball for fun w his friends n u come to his lil games to cheer him on

yushi

takes pottery as an elective n every piece he makes he dedicates it to u

begs that u visit him at work with the widest eyes

gives u free drinks all the time even after getting caught n almost fired

lets u take as many silly pics of him bcus he knows ur gonna post it on main....

and gets super Happy when u post him

u two are regulars at his favorite stir fry restaurant! the owners love seeing u two together n will always add on the unofficial college couple discount

lives on campus so u two have lots of sleepovers together..

dormmates recognize ur shoes n always expect u to be there

always tagging along when u need to run errands! whether itd b for groceries or returning a shirt he will b there!!

ur always studying when hes around :((( < yushi

ur laptop on the coffee table n ur back against the couch as u sit on the floor..

sometimes he will come over n just lay his head on ur lap while scrolling thru his phone

matching accessories.. lil things like scarves, gloves, etc

has a cute selfie of u two as his lockscreen and an off guard of u walking along the pier as his homescreen

part of ur schools dance crew along w sion

u love watching his performances! u never get tired of watching him and bragging to everyone about how talented ur bf is

"and u didnt bring me flowers?"

matching merch for ur college... just showed up once day with two varsity jackets for u n him

is actually on the unis soccer team n is one of their best! #allrounder

u go to his games in his jerseys all the time just to see how big his smile gets on the field

#nct #nct wish #nct wish imagines #nct imagines #sion #riku #yushi #sion imagines #riku imagines #yushi imagines #nct fluff #college au

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merrinla · 6 months

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Just reading the epilogue file that didn't make it into the game and comparing it with the full release. So many questions. So few answers.

In the previous version of ending scene, six months later, you and your companions gathered around the campfire with the Withers and everyone told how he was doing. Halsin was talking about "nine whole wagons of children" he is now taking care of. And this line is marked as a non-romantic answer.

At least at first it was a line for a player who didn't romance Halsin. Moreover, the answers of other companions are also marked as non-romantic. Many lines are incomplete and in |such modules|. For example, Minsc and Jaheira's answers look like this:

Minsc: |MINSC BLOCK| Jaheira: |JAHEIRA BLOCK|

Usually a line is marked if there is an alternative line in the dialogue. In this case, two romance flags are turned off (=False) at once. If Halsin is your only love interest (State_PartneredWithHalsin) and if you romance someone else and him (State_PartneredWithHalsinSecondary). In theory, there should be two alternative answers. This doesn't mean that nine wagons of children aren't mentioned. But whatever he was planning to say, the developers rewrote this ending.

At the end of the game after the pier, you meet with Halsin in the room and discuss what's next only if you romance him. Then he'll tell you that line about orphans.

youtube

And a bit different dialogue for those who have become an Illithid.

youtube

There is also a special dialogue for Origin Karlach. To be honest, I don't like it because he sends her to Avernus alone. But what confuses me even more. Whatever answer you choose it will be marked as if you chose death. And this is the future flag. No idea what the point is.

As another example, in the ending with spawn Astarion some of the answers are also marked for the future. If we look for a way to walk safely in the sun again. And if Cazador is alive and we're going to hunt him.

In other words, the game remembers your choice. But why, if this is the end? That makes sense for epilogues or dlc. Most likely the first.

But who knows. Dataminer Chubblot (this guy is amazing btw) found a bugged epilogue scene in the game where the Withers tells the fate of your companions. In the video he mentions Minsс, Halsin and the player.

Sleep, rest, revel. But be ready. For thou mayest yet be needed.

Sounds like a hint. Although the scene looks pretty raw. I'm not sure if they will finish it.

A player who has become a mind flayer should hardly hope for a continuation. A small consolation for Halsin fans, in this epilogue you stay with him.

Meanwhile, I will cross my fingers for future content.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #halsin #halsin romance #bg3 datamine

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athenswrites · 8 months

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Welcome Back to the Collection of Athens Writes

Hi! I'm Athens/Andy (they/them). I am a somewhat old yet somewhat new face on writeblr. I'm currently a second year student at a university in the deep south, studying history and anthropology in order to become a museum curator. Most of my free time is spent writing, which is the driving force behind this blog. Writing has become the love of my life over the past ten years.

AthensWrites has had two prior iterations. All I posted here in the previous iteration was privated, including Not Your Typical Fairytale. Don't fear, NYTF will make a glorious return ;)

With all that said, welcome back to the odd writings of Athens, and I hope you enjoy your stay. Below the cut, I've detailed some of my current projects, which range from Sci-Fi (my favorite) to thrillers to fantasy to realistic fiction. I've highlighted key content warnings and tags for each, just to keep you aware. If you'd like to hop on a tag list for any of these stories, please let me know! Some of them I post more frequently than others. I am also very tag list and tag game friendly so PLEASE tag me in stuff. If you need other people to tag in a writeblr tag game, look no further than this post!

The collection is constantly updating and evolving, so stay tuned!

Not Your Typical Fairytale (#nytf)

Although originally planned as a standalone novel, NYTF has now expanded into three separate books: Knight of Dawn, Queen of Noon, and King of Dusk. There's an additional collection of short stories/untold stories planned as well, tentatively titled Pawn of Midnight.

Content warning: gore, death, violence, graphic scientific experimentation, derealization, paranoia, drug use and abuse, alcohol use, child abuse (physical, verbal), relationship abuse (verbal, manipulation), sex (consensual) Related tags: nytf, Piers Hall, Grady Yensey, Rene Dubois, ATLZoS

Knight of Dawn

Piers Hall is the newly crowned monarch of the post-apocalyptic State of Georgia, after their mother, Queen Adele, was declared unfit to rule. Despite meaning well, they find themself unprepared for the role, especially as political rivals, like North Carolina’s President René Dubois and Councilmember Shanna Miles, close in on their tail, seemingly threatening to topple their rule. When various palace staff start to show where their real loyalties, it seems like Grady Yensey, Commander of the Royal Guard and their closest friend, is the only one they can trust. Piers and Grady must scramble to uncover the truth behind Queen Adele’s questionable associates, Piers’ missing past, and President Dubois’ shady activities

International Alliance of Superhumans (#iash)

Superhumans have existed as long as we have, normal people who suddenly develop seemingly magical powers overnight. That’s why the International Alliance of Superhumans was founded in 1945, to help control these superhumans to better humanity. Now, the Alliance's ideals and control is falling apart, as the Underground and the Union threaten its weakening rule over the superhuman community. Fireball is the golden hero of the Alliance , the face of the organization, the beloved apprentice of the Chief Administrator after the death of the one and only GoldenSon. He’s brave, courageous, kind, and always up to take a photo with the kiddos, accompanied by his partner, NightSong. He’s taken down villains from Quantum Rift (the killer of GoldenSon) to Árbol Terror, and now has his eyes set on taking down Hueso Blanco and Morpheus Nox before they can tear a hole in reality. Brigid Roberts is the face behind the mask of Fireball. They’re the only child of the now-deceased Nikki Roberts and find have found themself seeking revenge for Nikki’s death…while also trying to manage this superhero business and their senior year of high school. It doesn’t help that the administration of Wesmoreland keeps threatening to expel them for their aggressive behavior. Hueso Blanco is the epitome of an ex-Alliance villain, a well beloved hero fallen from grace, after Árbol Terror and Quantum Rift convinced him to join the Underground. Now with both of his former allies dead, he leads the Underground, and with the help of Morpheus Nox (an up and coming villain with a terrifying similarity to Quantum Rift) he plans to tear a hole in our reality, ripping out world apart. Martin Garcia-Flores is the sole caretaker of his younger brother, Elias, and would do anything to protect him. After the Alliance's violent threats, he left, in order to protect what was left. He lost friends and family and his love to the Alliance's corrupted side, and now works tirelessly to bring it to his knees…while also trying to work three separate jobs to keep himself and Elias afloat. When fate brings Brigid and Martin face to face, maskless and vulnerable, the two come to understand they may not be as different as they’d both previously thought. Content Warning: violence, gore, death, family abuse (physical, verbal), alcohol (use) Related Tags: IASH, superhumans, Brigid Roberts, Martin GF, Hueso Blanco, Fireball

Space Clue/The Murder of Fredrik Lexand (#tmfl)

In 2183, humans abandoned earth as her ecosystems collapsed and became uninhabitable. Now, the remnants of humanity live in the Lexand Starfleet, a group of 16 name-brand ships, sailing towards deep space. In control of it all is Fredrik Lexand, the 17th great grandson of the original founder of Lexand StarFleet. From his living pod at the head of StarSeeker Alpha, he controls everything and anything that happens to humanity, from their food to their spouses to where the remnants of humanity will travel to. The weight of the world on one man’s shoulders (who are we kidding, of course he has lackeys who do all the menial work), worshipped as a god. Until the morning he is found brutally dismembered, mangled parts of his body strewn all over his office. Humanity freezes, watching intently, as the Lexand Pod is locked down by Detective Scoud Tambry, swearing to uncover the killer, and avenge the Corporate god-king. Content Warning: Violence, gore Related Tags: tmfl, space clue, Triple A Siblings, Scoud Tambry

Something Queer is Afoot (#SQIA)

Something Queer is Afoot is a massive collection of stories, all centering around queer life and romance. The Queer Crew is the group which most of them are centered around. This collection is MASSIVE and has about 10 different novella-length stories within. The content warnings listed below covers ALL of SQIA. Content Warnings: su*cide, death, homophobia, transphobia, abuse (physical, verbal, and sexual), drug use and abuse, religious trauma, sex (consensual and noncon/r*pe) Related Tags: SQIA, tqc, nlth, frf, sunandgun, boc

Still to be added: All of SQIA's individual projects, Cryto Conspiracy, The Great Fantasy American Road Trip, World of Ateine, Neon Squad

MORE TO BE ADDED SOON, SO STAY TUNED!

Athens' Current Objectives....

Blog Tag Directory:

#athenswrites: Personal writing

#athens answers: ask games

#other writeblrs: exactly what it sounds like, other writers I've reblogged

#writers I love: reblogs of close friends or writing that just hits me different

#rblg: general reblog tag

I'm pretty good at tagging extensively, so if you need to find something or are looking for a specific wip in my blog, there's a high probability I've tagged it like crazy

#writeblr #writing #writeblr intro #writeblr community #boost #new writeblr boost #nytf #scifi #fantasy #iash #superheroes #creative writing #writerscommunity #writer #lgbtq

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