#stab me i’d survive that better | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skylarsblue · 2 years

Note

Yo itz me again may I request the slashers with a yandere s/o that's like very loyal and very devoted to their slasher and then one day they are like chatting together and their s/o is like "I would do anything for you" and the slasher bf would be like "ok then stab this pencil in you eye " ofc they aren't serious they was just joking than their s /o was like " bet" straight up grabbing the pencil and almost stabbing in into their eye and then the slasher bf will stop them before it was too late

I've had this thought for a long time. Yandere Slashers are cool, but yandere reader? That's underrated. I know Danny is a DBD killer, but, he suits this concept so well that I had to add him. This took way too long and I apologize, writers block is a bitch.

(CONTENT WARNING: Unstable reader & attempted self-stabby. Some mild descriptions of what WOULD happen if Y/N wounded themselves)

Michael Myers (ANY)

He doesn’t believe you at first , he wholeheartedly doubts you’re as loyal as you say you are. Main reason being, humans have a natural want for self preservation. He is a threat to you. That’s just a fact, and he’s certain that when it comes down to it, you’ll choose your life over your loyalty to him.

So when you say “I’d do anything for you.”? He will question you, he won’t take it very seriously. Perhaps he’ll appreciate the sentiment but he’s not buying it. His doubt shows in his gaze. It’ll rise when you said you could prove it.

“Stab me.” You said clearly. And for the first time in awhile, the Shape was caught off guard. “Go on, stab me. I’ll stab myself if you want.” Michael nearly scoffs. But he humors you, certain you’d back down once you saw him encouraging it. Michael set his knife on the kitchen counter, waiting for your hesitance & anxious expression. He feels another wave of surprise when you waste no time to grab the knife. He goes rigid when you take hold of the handle and aim for your ribs, face showing nothing but determination and a strange calm. Before you can make the full motion, he catches your wrist, leaving the tip of the blade mere centimeters from your skin. Michael’s shock doesn’t show in his body, nor on his face behind his mask. But he’s astounded as you look up, doe eyed, head tilted. “Why’d you stop me?” You asked. Michael let out a breath from his nose and took the knife away. You blinked as he, awkwardly, patted your head. It was quick & unpracticed, despite the fact he’d done it before. He believed you now. Admittedly, now he was far more curious about just how far that loyalty went. For the sake of stress, however, he’d rather not find out.

Thomas Hewitt

While Thomas sometimes doubts your affections for him, it’s not the way Michael does. It’s because he’s insecure. He thinks you deserve better. But your admissions that you’re so dedicated to him, that you’d do anything for him? It makes his heart warm. He takes it seriously, but in a lighthearted way. A kind statement that you’d always be there for him.

The only people that may doubt just how dedicated you are would be his family. Charlie Hoyt in particularly. He will doubt every loving proclaim you make, assuming you just want to placate Thomas to keep your role in their house. A survival tactic. He’s taunting with it.

Hoyt chuckled at his end of the table then, looking at you sharply as you sat on the opposite end. “Aight then, why don’t’cha prove it?” He questions. You nodded. Luda Mae kept quiet but shook her head, Thomas frowned as he stood in the doorway of the dining room. Both he & Luda tensed slightly when Hoyt brought out a knife. He walked over and stopped a few few away, stabbing the blade into the table. “Take out ya eye, the left one.” Hoyt instructs, confident you’d back down. Thomas is tense but he doesn’t move. He’s come to trust your loyalty to him, but he’s certain in your natural instincts, you wouldn’t go that far. Luda sighs from her place at the table. “Cha-Hoyt, that’s really not necessary-“ The older woman is cut off as you reach for the knife’s handle. You are calm & composed as you flip it and aim the blade, taking only a second to properly align it with your left eye. Luda barely as time to gasp as the blade comes only a centimeter from your iris, but your hand is stopped by one you’d come to adore. You tilt your head back to look up at him. Thomas’s breathing is heavy as he feels adrenaline rush his veins, brown eyes wide in shock. He takes it away & places it on the table, before he narrows his gaze at Hoyt, frowning. Even Hoyt is shocked. Perhaps impressed. “I’ll be damned, maybe ya do mean it.”

Bubba Sawyer

Similar to Thomas, Bubba is more willing to believe you when you say you’d do anything for him. They’re overjoyed when you admit it. They assume the same thing as Thomas. You mean it in a sweet way, serious but not to the extent you truly mean.

Bubba may not take it as heavily as you mean it. It’s not that he doubts you, just that he takes it like anyone else would. They believe you only mean it like “I’ll always be here for you.” Now, of course, that meaning certainly fits, but it’s not quite to the level of dedication you’re actually promising.

“I mean it Bubba, I mean anything.” You clarified again. Bubba nodded and gave a sweet pig-like squeal. Nodding innocently. You smiled softly, but shook your head. “Bubba, dear, I don’t think you understand. I mean I’d cut my own hand off for you.” Bubba stopped moving for a moment. His eyes were wide, blinking in astonishment. He tilted his head. “I mean it! Here.” You took the meat cleaver off the wooden countertop. Placing your nondominant hand on the surface, eyeing where to bring the blade down. The blade didn’t come into contact with the muscle & bone of your wrist, but it came close. Bubba held your weapon wielding arm in their large hands, squealing & whining in distress. They shook their head frantically as they took the cleaver. Your words were cut off when Bubba hugged you into the plushness of his stomach & chest, patting your head & petting your hair. “Okay, okay, breathe Bubs. I’m fine. I just needed you to understand just how far I’d go for you.” You reassured, patting his back. They whined and nuzzled their face into the top of your head. You continued gently hushing him until he calmed down.

Bo Sinclair

Bo’s probably more suspicious of you towards the beginning of your stay in Ambrose. Understandably, of course. You waltzed into a town where two twins turned people into wax statues. It’s not a common thing to accept. He wasn’t very trusting to begin with, even if those circumstances weren’t present.

While he’s come to like you, he will still have a paranoia about you calling the police, or perhaps trying to hurt one of them. There’s a voice in his head that insists no one would love him that much. To ignore murder? He’s certain you’re just going with what he wants in order to stay alive. That thought often haunts him when he realizes how much he likes you. Bo’s not shy about telling you either.

Bo scoffed & shook his head. You’d been there about four months & he still didn’t believe you, no matter how many times you told him of your loyalty. You knew why. Bo was a guarded man, thanks to a shitty childhood, it was completely understandable that he’d doubt every person who he came across. It became clear that your words weren’t getting through. “I mean it, Bo. I told you! I don’t plan on leaving or ratting you out, I love it here! I’d do anything for you!” You insisted for the millionth time. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah? Fuckin’ prove it then.” He challenged. You stared at him. He watched your gaze narrow in determination, calm despite everything. He rose an eyebrow when you turned to the counter top. Reaching for a pair of kitchen sheers. Bo’s face turned to confusion when you grabbed it, holding it steady. “Pick a part.” You said. “What?” “Pick a part of me. Anything.” You clarified. Bo was beyond confused at this point. He shook his head as he thought of an answer, deciding to pick what he liked most about your face. “I dunno, your mouth?” “My lips or my tongue?” Bo huffed. “Fuckin’, tongue I guess? What does this have to do wit’ provin’ yourself?” His question became choked at the end when you grabbed the end of your tongue and opened the dirty blades. Adrenaline jolting his extremities as you went to place your tongue between the blades, only to have the hand holding the scissors to be pulled away. “The hell ya doin’?! Are you fuckin’ crazy?!” He insisted. Your other hand dropped as you stared at him calmly. “I told you. I’d do anything for you.” Bo’s was visibly taken aback. He let out a breath and took the scissors from your hand. “Do you believe me now?” Your question made him look over your face again, scanning the peace in your features. “Yeah...yeah I believe ya.” He muttered.

Vincent Sinclair

While Vincent’s not as hostile about his doubts in your loyalty as Bo, he still questions you. There’s a part of him more willing to believe you’ll stay, though there’s a bigger portion of their brain that insists you’re only trying to survive. They dread the day you’ll slip up and it will end up one of two ways. You’ll manage to successfully leave, tell everyone about what happens in Ambrose, and their brother & themselves will end up rotting in prison. Or perhaps die in a police shoot out. The second option is that they’ll catch you before you can, and Vincent will have to silence you in wax.

Still, when you proclaim you’d do anything for them, they love to hear it. Even if it’s hard to believe you. Vincent wishes he could just take the declaration & be happy with it, not doubt your every move. The more you do to prove it to him, the more guilty he feels for doubting you. Perhaps that’s why you felt it was best to shock them into believing you.

Vincent leaned slightly to allow you to push his hair out out his masked face. “I’d do anything for you.” You whispered, you’d said the same thing at least six times a week. You could see their eye gaze at you past the socket in their mask. There was softness to his gaze but it was mixed with uncertainty. You sighed. “You still don’t believe me.” He almost flinches at it, you know he can’t help it though. “What can I do to make you believe me?” Vincent shook his head. There wasn’t anything more you could do, you did so much for them, it wasn’t you at all. He knew full well it was himself. You huffed a breath, looking around the basement. You caught sight of a knife on the table next to you. You reached for it, making him jolt. They watched you in confusion, the tip of the blade pointed at them. “I’ll prove it to you.” You stated. Vincent’s confusion turned to surprise when you flipped the blade towards you, aiming for the eye. Their breath caught in their throat and their hands rushed forward. Your gaze unfocused from the shiny blade only a millimeter from your cornea, looking at Vincent again. His chest rose and fell with quickened breaths. You allowed them to take the knife and place it on the table again, pulling you to his chest. They let out a shaky exhale. They rarely spoke, but when they did, it was deep, raspy, & unpracticed. “I believe you.”

Lester Sinclair

Lester’s probably the most willing to believe you when you say you’d do anything for him. He might even delusion himself in thinking you mean it more seriously than you do. Jokes on him though, he doesn’t need to convince himself of anything! Because you do mean it that seriously.

Lester’s not going to ask you to confirm or prove it. He’ll be grateful that you’re around to begin with. However, he may occasionally ask what it is about him that makes you want to stay. These are days where his insecurities weigh a bit heavier on his shoulders than usual. Lester was often ignored/emotionally neglected by his parents when he didn’t measure up, and while he’s become a bit better at coping, he still sometimes wonders if it’s something wrong with him.

You frowned and turned around, drying your hands from the dishes you were doing. Bo & Vincent always used a massive amount of plates when they visited Lester. Who, currently, sat at the little table in the kitchen. Fiddling with the edge of his stained flannel. “What?” You asked. “Just like...why would ya choose me to stick with, that’s all. I mean, why me?” The man asked softly. Your chest clenched in sympathy. You set the dish towel down and turned to him fully, stepping over. “Lester, I’ve told you this before.” You replied. “No no, I know, I was just...wonderin’.” He shrugged, nervously tipping down his hat. You sighed. You turned and slid a knife from the knife block, freshly cleaned. Lester didn’t see it happen, he looked at the floor until you walked back towards him. “Do I need to prove how far I’d go for you?” You asked. Lester swallowed and shook his head, he looked up and jolted at the sight of the knife. “Well you don’t seem to believe me. I have no issue showing you.” You said as you set your hand on the table’s surface. “Hey now, what’re ya-” Lester cut himself off when you rose the blade. Nearly sending it through the back of your palm. That was, had he not stopped you. The chair slid loudly on the tile from the force of him getting up. “Whoa whoa! Don’t do that!” He insisted. You turned to look at him, setting the knife on the table as he looked over your face with wide eyes. He blinked in awe as your took his face in your hands. “Lester, when I said I’d do anything for you, I meant it. Now quit questioning yourself, okay?” You asked. The blue eyed man swallowed and nodded. “Alright, I believe ya. Just...please don’t go stabbin’ ya’self.” He said softly. You smiled and turned to peck his cheekbone. “Only cause you asked, sugar.”

Jason Voorhees

Jason values loyalty above a lot of things. Almost everything, really. He’s not likely to show you any doubt he may have, because once he trusts you enough not to kill you, he’ll feel guilty for when he doesn’t believe you. The more effort you make, the less & less he’ll wonder your sincerity.

Still, he’s been tricked before. There are times where he’ll recall these moments & wonder if you plan to do the same thing. That you’ll try to slip away from him when he’s distracted by trespassers. There’s a voice in the back of Jason’s head telling him that he’ll come back to an empty cabin, that it’s only a matter of time that he’ll need to do away with you. And he fears that day immensely.

Jason stood in front of you in the cabin. He’d rushed home after taking care of some intruders, only to have a bit of a panic when he couldn’t immediately find you. You’d been taking a bath, but rushed out when you heard his boot steps turn into running. Hearing frantic searching in the rooms. You barely had time to dry your hair, an inconvenient time to try and have a wash day. Jason settled down a bit when he saw you. But you knew immediately what he had been thinking, the thought making you sad. “Jason, honey, I told you this. I’m not going to just up and leave you.” He looked to the floor, a bit ashamed, but you could still sense his uncertainty. You looked around and caught sight of his machete, stabbed into the floorboards, covered in blood. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll prove to you that I’d do anything for you, okay?” You said as you went over to the blade, pulling it out of the floor. Jason tensed as he watched you wrap your hand around the handle. It looked so strange in your hands, so much smaller than his. He jolted visibly when you rested your hand on the small table in the room, trying to get a decent grip on the machete, a bit of an awkward angle. You set sights on the space where your fingers connected to your palm, spreading them out, gaging the position in which the blade would land. Wanting to make the cleanest sever possible. As you tensed your forearm, bringing the blade down, you expected to feel the searing pain and gush of blood from your digits. Instead, there was a dirtied glove stopping the weapon from falling. You looked up at him, seeing his one working eye wide and worried, blue irises staring down at you. He quickly took his machete back and set it down, pulling you tight to his chest. You looked up at him after settling your arms around his thick torso. “I mean it when I say it, baby. I’d do anything you want or need, okay? Stop worrying so much. I’m not going anywhere.” You said softly, smiling sweetly, as if you hadn’t just tried to cut off your fingers. Jason exhaled and nodded, petting your hair.

Danny Johnson

If any of these slashers would work well with a yandere-esc partner, it’s Danny. While Jed is the suburban sweetheart, bringing you flowers & offering you coffee dates, Danny is willing to paint the town red for his lover. Both acts are genuine. They both express how he really feels for you, but one is more open, more honest to his true nature. If you know about his...”hobby”, then they’ll be more inclined to believe you. You’ve reached that point of trust with him. Now, if you say this around Jed, before you know about Ghostface? He’ll doubt you more.

That being said, they has every reason to doubt you. Not only does he have some major abandonment issues. You can thank their mother for that. On top of that, he has issues being vulnerable. That, you can thank his peers and father for. And lastly, he’s a murderer, one motivated only by his sick desire to hurt others. While he doesn’t have any desire to harm you (in a non-sexy way), they know that their temper can be frightening. And when at it’s worst, he knows it can seem directed at you. Deep down, Danny is certain you’ll leave him eventually, because he doesn’t deserve you. As narcissistic as they can be, they think you’re too good for him.

You frowned as you looked at Jed’s cheekbone, seeing a darkening bruise that laid there, splotchy broken blood capillaries adding to the few imperfections to his face. He spoke to you with his charming grin anyway, straight white teeth exposed as he chuckled while telling a story. He flinched slightly when you reached your hand out, tracing the mark gently. Jed blinked before he gave a little smile, standing up fully, rather than leaning against your kitchen counter top. He slid the coffee mug away from him. “Who hit you?” You asked, voice soft. He noted a strange glint in your gaze. “No one, just got smacked with a door.” He said. You shook your head, frowning. “Someone hit you, who?” “Why does it matter, doll?” Jed replied lightheartedly. You shifted your gaze to make eye contact. “You do remember the time I said I’d do anything for you, don’t you?” The brunet man tilted his head slightly, he nodded though. “Yeah, but I don’t see what that has to do with this.” He said. “You don’t think I’m being serious?” You asked. Jed chuckled again, rolling his shoulders. “You make it sound like you’re gonna find this person and kill them.” He fought the urge to laugh at his own little joke. Your face remained calm and determined. You lowered your hand and stepped away from him, reaching for something in the sink. Jed’s shoulders tensed when he saw the glint of a blade, watching you turn, peaceful and concise as you looked at him. “Clearly, you don’t believe me. So I’ll show you.” His brows furrowed as you flipped the handle of the blade, only to feel a shock of surprise when you aligned the tip of the knife to your cornea. It happened so fast he barely had time to reach over the island to grab your wrist, the edge of the knife only millimeters from blinding yourself. You looked up at him. Jed looked between you and the knife, before he let out a breathy chuckle, smile twitching onto his face. “Jeez doll. Alright, I believe you...no need to go stabbing yourself.” He said softly. You let yourself set the knife down. Unbeknownst to you, Jed concocted a plan in his mind, wondering if he could really let you in on his hobby. You seemed dedicated enough. He smiled at the thought.

Billy Lenz

Billy’s gonna love hearing it, that’s for sure. It’ll get excited when you say it, it’ll probably send a lotta blood below the belt. Billy loves hearing your dedication to him, though it doesn’t think too much of it.

Whenever you say that you’d do anything for him, he’ll take it at face value, even if it makes him rather giddy. Having you show it will make him feel rather clingy, he’s not sure what he did to deserve having you be so sure of your adoration for it. But Billy certainly isn’t complaining.

Billy hugged your waist tightly, burrowing his face into your chest. He’d been peppering you with questions after your proclamation that you’d do anything for it. A large grin across its face. “Yes, Billy, I’d give up my money for you.” You said fondly, petting his hair. Billy squirmed before looking up at you. “Would...would you, would you st-tab yourself for me?” He questioned. You tilted your head, knowing the question wasn’t really that serious, still, you smiled. “Why of course I would. Where would you want me too?” You asked, recalling the switch blade that always rested in your pillow case. Ironically to protect yourself from intruders like Billy itself. The brunet man hummed, giggling a bit, he hadn’t been completely lucid the past two days but you didn’t seem to mind much. “Your uh...your hand!” It slurred. You shifted and reached behind you, feeling around in the pillowcase of the pillow you rested on. Billy tensed a bit when you revealed the handle, pressing the switch to send the shiny & sharpened blade up. Green-hazel eyes watching the knife with cat-like curiosity, pupils wide. “Alright then. Hand it is.” You took your other hand off his shoulder and held it up, open palm, taking the other and gripping the knife. Before the blade could enter the center of your hand, Billy’s hand blocked your wrist. It looked at you owlishly, blinking in awe. You rose an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to?” It shook its head slowly. You put the knife on your bedside table, letting your hands fall back into Billy’s hair as he leaned against you again, looking up at you. “Believe me now?” You asked lightheartedly. Billy nodded, relaxing again when you began petting his hair. “Cutie...” You cooed softly.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms expects this of you, but for some reason, he doubts you constantly. Believing you’ll eventually try to leave him, and to be fair, everyone else before you did. Brahms isn’t exactly used to people meaning what they say when it comes to loyalty.

Most of the time, he’s grateful that you say it. It brings him some peace, makes him feel more content that you mean what you say, that you’ll stay with him. However, there are some days and some events that tend to make Brahms inconsolable. These tend to be things like phone calls from old friends/family or when the grocery boy shows up. (We’ll use Malcom for an example). It’s times like these where Brahms becomes certain that you’ll leave him for whatever reason. Maybe because you miss your old life or because Malcom managed to charm his way into your heart. Even when you reassure him, he doubts you.

Brahms kept his arms crossed and his gaze at the floor as you both stood in the kitchen. “Brahms, I mean it, I promise Malcom is not going to steal me from you! He has to deliver the groceries and I have to be here to accept them. Even if he flirts with me, I swear to you, I don’t flirt back.” You said. You’d been trying to reassure him for the past twenty minutes, nothing seemed to be working. You sighed and approached him. He flinched away from your attempt to rest your hands on his cardigan-covered arms. “Brahmsy, I mean it. I’d do anything for you.” You whispered to him sweetly. Brahms turned his head to look at you, green eyes sharp as they looked past the sockets of his mask. “Prove it.” His voice wasn’t childlike this time, deep and demanding. You sighed again. “Alright, I will.” You said with a single nod, turning to walk away from him. He stared into your back as you grabbed a knife from the knife block. His face twitched in confusion for a moment as you turned to have him. His pupils shrank as you aimed it at your face. Brahms’ arms uncrossed and his hands twitched as you ensured it was lined up properly. He had to dive a few feet, moving quickly. He pulled your arm down, keeping the blade from coming anywhere near your face. You looked at him and heard him breathing shakily behind his mask, adrenaline lowering just as quickly as it had risen. You took a breath and set the knife on the kitchen table, turning to hold his face in your hands. “When I said I’d do anything for you, I mean it, Brahms. And I need you to stop doubting me on that. Okay, baby?” You asked. Brahms swallowed and slowly nodded, brown curls falling over his forehead. You gave a smile and pecked the porcelain cheek. “Good boy. Now, your lessons are supposed to be happening, so let’s get you to the piano.”

5K notes · View notes

deepdisireslonging · 29 days

Text

A Good Handle on Things

The Reader turns heel, which turns on her boyfriend. Despite not having much time to explore the possibilities, the Reader makes the best of it.

Pairing: Will Ospreay x Reader

Warnings/Promises: public SMUT in a closet, subby!Will, handjob, oral (male receiving), quickie, implied further smut

Word Count: 1215

Note: Happy Easter! This Ospreay guy is starting to grow on me. I haven't thought much about writing for him. Let’s change that, shall we? Happy reading!

To the roar of the crowd, you happily left the arena. Things were going perfectly. Your new gear was a hit. And, more importantly, the crowd despised your heel turn. The cost was high, threatening your relationship with over half of the women’s division. Maybe with the heat, more people would become invested in what you ladies were up to, and Tony Khan would finally agree to more TV time.

You were as much of a success backstage as the crowd hated you out front. After receiving your congratulations for becoming AEW’s most hated woman, you practically skipped to your dressing room.

Where a tall drink of tea was leaning against your door.

“Well done, love. Couldn’t have stabbed my best friend in the back better myself.” Will wrapped your arms around his neck so he could bury his nose into your hair. “No hard feelin’s between us, right? I don’t think I’d survive being your next target.”

“Not that I can think of,” you said with a giggle. Then you leaned into his embrace. And pressed into something promising. “Will, honey. Is there something else hard between us?”

He looked up at the ceiling, innocent as a rotten rosebud. “Maybe-“ he dragged out. “And maybe… I think I like you best as a heel. It’s… it’s something, ta say the least.”

“To the least.” You bit your bottom lip, and started curling your fingers in the short hairs at the base of his neck. “I’m glad you like my new schtick. But, I hate to break it to you,” you reached past him and opened the door into your dressing room, “but we’ve got to hit the road.”

“But-“ He followed you in. Snagging your wrist, he pinned you to the inside of the door. “But I want to see this other side of you. I want to-“ he pressed his lips to your forehead, sliding your wrists over your head, “I want to explore your bad girl side.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’ll have to explore me later. We’ve got a bit of a drive, and then an early morning in just a few hours. Maybe tomorrow night?”

With a pout, he moved out of your space so you could change and toss the last of your things into your suitcase. On your way out, people kept stopping you to have you repeat bits of your promo. Will didn’t seem bothered by it. At least, not irked enough to tell people to buzz off. But he kept shifting his weight. Avoiding your gaze when you’d finish. His hand seemed twitchy when you took it. And he was limping.

“Are you okay?” You guided him and the luggage to one side so you could give him a once over out of the way of the pack-up crew. “Did you pull something in your match? Did the Doc look you over yet?”

He muttered short, flustered things to keep your hands off his ribs. But when he shifted his weight again, his grey sweatpants revealed the problem. “Really, it’s nothing. Nothing I can’t- can’t handle later.��

“Later? You can’t drive with… that.” You had to smile at his antics. It was sweet of him to not push his desire onto you when he was so obviously in need. You looked around. Until you spotted a doorknob. You dragged him towards it, gasping in delight when it turned under your grasp.

Will tried to resist. “But- you said- you said we have an early morning. And we- we could get locked in here.”

“Not the worst thing we’ve done. Besides, there’s always some of the guys that stay late. They’ll see our luggage and know we’re still nearby. Or they’ll call.” You held up your phone, activating the flashlight so that you had a little illumination. It was then that you could see how Will’s chest heaved. How his eyes drank you in. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it more than before. “I haven’t touched you yet, and you already look like I’ve ravaged you,” you whispered. It was supposed to come out as a laugh, but your own breath was short. And your heart pounded in your ears.

Outside, the packing-up of the show drifted away. At any moment, surely, your phone would start ringing.

“We-“ you licked your lips. “We don’t have much time.”

You tugged at Will’s sweats and brazenly pulled his length into the open. He groaned loudly, making you reach up to slap your other hand over his mouth. He laid his palm over your knuckles, reaching back with his other hand to steady himself against the wall.

The Heel rose up inside you.

“You gonna be quiet for me?” you whispered. Gently giving him a twist, you leaned in to lick at the underside of his jaw. Will’s eyes rolled back and he moaned again. “Gonna be good for me?”

He nodded frantically, thrusting into your grasp.

How many times had he taken you like this? In his dressing room or yours, or in some empty hallway. Shoving his hand down your pants to curl his fingers into your desperate slick while the other one kept you quiet. Now you know why he did it so frequently. It made your breath stutter to see him shake with need. To feel his length pulse in your hand. In the bare gleam of your phone, his eyes fluttered as your tugging and twisting quickened. You pressed your thighs together, rubbing them for a bit of friction that would never be enough. You didn’t care. Will’s grip tightened over your hand on his mouth. His nails bit into your skin.

“Getting close, pretty boy?”

A broken whimper was his reply.

You maneuvered your grip until you could press Will’s hand over his mouth. “Being so good for me. Letting me boss you around. Keep it up. Just a bit longer.” With that, you sank to your knees.

Your lips had barely wrapped around his length before he was throwing his head back. His release filled your mouth, spilling out and dripping onto your shirt. Doing his best to follow your order, he pressed his hand hard over the sounds that tried to escape as he rode out the high.

When he was spent, you tucked him back into his pants. And you tugged at the bottom of his sweatshirt till he let you steal it.

“I’ll change into another shirt when we get the bags to the car.”

His eyes were wild as he tried to catch his breath. Running your fingers over his cheeks and forehead, his flushed skin told you everything you’d ever need to know about whether to try this again or not.

“But-“ he gasped, swallowing hard, “but you?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get mine later.” You let wickedness overtake the gleam in your eye. “Maybe I can put on a show for you?” He grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the hall cupboard. The bags tipped over, rolling and sliding across the concrete until he had all of their straps and handles under control. “Well, come on, then. I can’t leave my bad girl waiting. And for the record,” he kissed you hard, pinning you against a trellis, “you can boss me around any time.”

***

Masterlist

Other hallway quickies:

Jealous - Smut with Elias

If We Get Caught - Smut with Jimmy Uso

Finish Me - Smut with MJF

Back Hallways - Smut with Roman Reigns

Our Princess - Bobby Fish x Reader x Kyle O’Reilly

#will ospreay #will ospreay x reader #will ospreay smut #aew smut #reader insert

85 notes · View notes

inamindfarfaraway · 3 months

Note

Stumbled across your post on Carmilla and Cain from one of my favorite artist and just wanted to say that I loved that post incredibly!!

I loved the way you articulated the ability for free will to shatter heavens expectations! It had me thinking about free will in general so thank you for sharing that goodness!

Thank you! This analysis just came to me as a fun little observation, I wasn’t expecting it to gain so much traction. Free will is very thematically important to Hazbin Hotel, isn’t it? Lucifer believed in the good it could do, but accidentally created evil by giving it to humanity and fell for it. Since then he’s seen all the pain free will can cause and become embittered. Charlie, however, believes like he used to and fought for human souls passionately and selflessly enough to bring him back around. The Elder Angels who ordered the Exterminations and the Exorcists who carry them out seem to alternately hate and fear free will’s power, and by their indiscriminate condemnation of sinners as inherently irredeemable, not want to acknowledge it at all.

If the theory that Adam could live on as a sinner in Hell turns out to be true, I’d love to see his character and thoughts on his mortal family and free will explored, because he must have SO much baggage, which could explain (though not excuse) him being The Worst. An interesting detail in the backstory Charlie reads is that he’s never actually stated to eat the forbidden fruit. We see Eve take it, but not him. Maybe the reason that he’s in Heaven, but we never see or hear of Eve or their children in either afterlife, is that in this canon’s version of Genesis, he’s obedient and didn’t commit the original sin, only to be cast out anyway. Regardless of what exactly happens in Eden, he and Eve are forced to fend for themselves in the wilderness. Suddenly they need survival instincts. They can bleed and starve and get sick and loads of animals want to eat them. They have existential dread. Not to mention the marital tension. Why? Because the same angel who stole his first wife messed with his second one! As a result, people can sin. They can hurt each other. This allows Cain to invent murder on his brother. He’s then cursed to wander the Earth, eternally living with his guilt and grief. Oh, and where can dead souls live on now? Where might Abel be trapped forever? Hell, a dimension made of evil, everything bad about the new and degraded human experience taken to the ultimate extreme. You’ll never guess why it exists (Lucifer. It’s Lucifer again). So Adam loses two kids with one stone that was indirectly thrown by one fucking bird guy. Can you imagine how you would feel, having lived that life?

You would have issues. A lot of issues.

No wonder he scorns redemption so much. In his eyes, free will is synonymous with sin - with suffering. But thinking damned souls to be evil incarnate at least lets him take vengeance. It lets him feel the wrathful satisfaction of physically stabbing and hacking his way through representatives of the force that cost him paradise. Broke his family. Killed his child. Maybe he was a genuinely good person when he died. For the most part. Maybe stewing in all that unprocessed trauma while watching the horrors of human history unfold and being venerated and indulged in the perfect afterlife without any of his family changed him for the worse. If you can have a redemption arc in Hell, you can have a corruption arc in Heaven.

After all, Lucifer lost faith in humanity over time. But he has Charlie. Adam’s ‘daughters’ in Heaven are the Exorcists (he calls them “[his] girls” and names them, so he probably creates them), of which I bet Lute was the first. That’s a really twisted dynamic. Like, “From now on, my kids are killing people on MY terms”. Lute having parallels with Charlie makes her being the new main villain even better!

This got out of hand. What I mean to say is, the first human family and how they relate to the theme of free will have huge potential for exploration and development. And if Adam is reborn as a sinner, it would be precisely the Hazbin Hotel blend of heartbreaking and hilarious to have him reunite with Eve, Abel, Seth, etc. in Hell and they’re all like “What. The FUCK?” and his whole horrible personality just collapses in on itself.

#what have i DONE why did i humanize ADAM?#he’s THE WORST #but i guess he is human #that’s the point #he was fhe first human soul and immediately set the standard of suffering and getting fucked up #that fight scene where adam is pure rage and lucifer is gleefully mocking him isn’t so funny now is it?#lucifer: you come and me and my DAUGHTER #adam: oh now you care about kids? now you don’t want your kid to die? would’ve been nice if you’d thought of that in eden!#hazbin hotel #cain and abel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hh adam

52 notes · View notes

katyawriteswhump · 3 months

Text

the power of love part 2 (new steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part one here Also on AO3 (where it's tragically in need of some love *sobs*) Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Chapter Two

Steve POV

Steve blinks his eyes open. Fear lurches then fades. Leaning over him, kinda blurry, are… Robin? Munson!?! He’s at home. Lying on the couch in his parents’ living room, to be precise.

“Steve? You back with us?” Robin appears wild-eyed, spooked out. She’s holding a bloodied cloth over his bat bites, which stab like new again.

Steve presses the heel of his hand to his brow, disguising his pained whimper with a shaky, “Yeeeeah.”

“Phew! Not delirious? Only a bit woozy, huh?”

“You seriously still shitting yourself about rabies?”

“To be honest, no. That’s slithered so far down my list of things to lose my mind over, I’d forgotten. Trust me, he’s as likely to have it as you now.”

Eddie, who hovers at her shoulder, pokes out his tongue, kinda jokey. The rest of Eddie’s face is still slightly blood-smeared. Haunted. His hair is a mad mess, his bandana repurposed as a bandage about his elbow. Steve glances down his own aching body, which is damp, vaguely shivery. Near naked, in fact, with a towel tucked around his waist.

Oh yeah. He went for a swim, and then…

“Shit! Are you seriously mopping my blood with Mom’s linen napkins?” Steve tries to push himself up, and flops back down, humiliatingly fast. On top of that, his head throbs—when does it not, these days? He makes a more concerted effort to sit, forcing himself through a wave of nausea and dizziness, then notices: “Shit, shit, SHIT! I’ve bled on the couch—this cost a thousand bucks!”

“I knew there was a reason Wayne avoided white faux leather,” says Eddie, as he and Robin share a look. “Oh, and a Munson never splashes less than fifteen-hundred bucks on soft furnishings.”

“You’re hilarious,” mutters Steve.

“Your Pops can chew my head off,” says Eddie. “Some of that blood is yours truly’s. I mean, I got got bad. Really bad. And theeeeen… I got better.” He narrows his eyes to inquisitorial slits, which bewilder Steve, given how rough he feels.

Robin lifts the ruined napkin. “You’re bleeding like before Wheeler first bandaged you up. It makes no sense.”

“Nothing’s made sense for about two and a half years,” Steve points out. Actually, scratch that. Little of his life has made much sense. “There’s a first aid kit in the kitchen, with proper bandages. Where did you think I got the Hibistat towelettes from? Didn’t you morons think to look?”

Robin hurries off. Eddie takes over holding the now thoroughly disgusting napkin over Steve’s bites. “Woah, he’s not lying,” she calls. “His parents keep an actual first aid kit with actual useful crap in it.”

“Yeah, in case you forgot in the last thirty seconds,” says Steve, “the Harrington family bleed.”

“It doesn’t even come out green,” Eddie says. “Totally destroys your ‘rich folk are aliens’ theory, Buckley.”

“Haha,” snarks Steve.

“This might take a minute,” calls Robin. “I had no idea there were so many sorts of dressings. We don’t want a triangle one, huh?”

Left alone, Eddie doesn’t seem able to look Steve in the eye. He’s giving off such awkward vibes that Steve takes pity, nudges Eddie’s hand away, holds the napkin himself.

“I guess this is where I thank you for saving my life,” says Eddie.

“From what I could gather from Dustin, you’d only gone and done the same for us. Not a hero? Total bull.”

“Those weren’t normal circumstances.”

Eddie’s so squirmy, Steve flinches away too. He’s felt drawn to Eddie for some time. He likes the guy way more than he’d expected, finds he likes looking at him too, crazy rocker tresses and all, but… Jesus Christ! Talk about shitty timing.

It’s not the first time Steve’s been blindsided by a crush on a guy. Plus, he knows Eddie is queer; he’s one of the few other friends that Robin’s lately ‘come out’ to. However, Steve’s simply not gotten the energy to figure out if the weird fizzle of chemistry he feels is all in his head. What he really wants is to stagger upstairs to bed and sleep for a week. No time for that, though. He groans, threads the fingers of his free hand through his damp hair.

“We need to take advantage of this earthquake chaos. Get you outta town right now before somebody comes looking.”

“Yeah. I figured as much.” Eddie sighs hard. “No more facing down ferocious monsters. I return to being Eddie the Banished.”

“Not much choice, man. Look, we can bring bedding, whatever supplies we need from here. Take one of Dad’s cars and find a place to lay low till we know what’s happening and what the next plan of attack is.”

“You were worried about the couch and now you’re suggesting we jack your Pop’s wheels?”

“I don’t give a crap about the furniture—it was a dumb knee jerk reaction. I mean, things change. People change. Last time I looked, we weren’t exactly bestest buds.”

Now we’re off saving each other’s lives.

A loud crash from the kitchen slices between them. “Sorry!” yells Robin. “Kinda dropped… everything.”

“Need some help there, Rob?” Steve tries to push himself to his feet. His head rush is instant and epic; his vision blacks out, nearly taking his entire consciousness with it.

“Easy, easy!” Eddie’s arms are around him, clumsily guiding him back down. Steve whimpers before he can stop himself; his stomach churns and he feels painfully sick. Eddie wedges a cushion beneath Steve’s head, presses the cloth back to Steve’s bleeding side. “Robin’s right. You need those injuries looked at. I go alone.”

“No.” Steve snatches a shaky breath. “Way I see it, we’re both deep in the shit."

“I’m the one with the murder rap snapping at my butt, Harrington.”

“And I’m the one who’s been harbouring a known fugitive, stealing Winnebagos, and Christ knows what else. Crap, I bet they’ll blame me for Nance’s sawn-off shotgun. While the rest of those underage brats get off light, I’ll be dragged to jail as sure as you.”

“Your daddy can afford a lawyer, man.” At least Eddie’s looking at Steve now. His words still feel like a punch in Steve’s already bleeding gut—with those knuckle dusters that’d gotten lost somewhere on the ride.

Steve retaliates with as daggers a glare as he can conjure: “You wanna thank me for saving your life, Munson? Then stop trying to ditch me.”

Part 3

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

...

tags: @estrellami-1 (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, I would probably cry... in a good way, honest! Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :)

#steddie #steve harrington whump #platonic stobin #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington hc #stranger things fanfic #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #stobin #steve harrington fanfic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction

57 notes · View notes

oddballwriter · 9 months

Text

Peacock Spiders

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: A blurb in which you and your boyfriend, Steven, watch a video about peacock spiders and learn about their intense mating rituals, and make light hearted jokes about it.

Warnings: There is sexual cannibalism jokes but there is none of either of those things actually in here. Also, there are no actual spiders involved, just the mentions of them.

Author’s Snip: I don’t really know what this is. I was just bored and watching BBC Earth clips and thought of this. So enjoy it I guess.

Notes: This was not proof read prior to posting this. So if there are any spelling or grammar errors in this don’t come at me.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Watching clips from animal documentaries was one of you and Steven’s favorite pass times when you had nothing better to do or watch. This time, you two were lounging around as the sound of David Attenborough telling you about the suicide mission that male peacock spiders have to go on in order to have a chance at mating with a female. In which one of the threats is the female spider herself and he has to dance in order to survive her attacking him. And unfortunately, sometimes the male still gets killed after winning her over. It was a very interesting thing to learn about, and made for some discussion between you and Steven.

“Imagine if we as people did that.” Steven commented. “Having to follow the smell of a woman’s perfume for who knows how long and then once you catch up to her you need to start dancing in order to get a date.” Steven mused as he tried to use examples of similar things for the sake of the hypothetical situation. “And while you’re doing that she’s actively trying to stab you in the neck.” he added. “I wouldn’t even make my first attempt. I’m sure of it” Steven claimed. “I can hardly dance under nonthreatening circumstances. I’d be done for as soon as I started.” he said with an airy laugh riding along in his voice.

“I find you dancing actually really cute and endearing.” you comment, not wanting to leave Steven having said something about himself with such low-self esteem. “Well, if we were two tiny little spiders mating I’d still be a goner since you would have eaten me by now.” Steven joked.

“Oh yeah,” you say before smiling and looking at Steven. “I keep forgetting to do that part. You better keep your eyes peeled now, Grant.” you joked back with a wink causing Steven to laugh.

#moonknight #moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #moonknight x reader #moon knight x reader #blurb

136 notes · View notes

stitched-mouth · 9 months

Text

TALK TO ME SPOILERS

Just watched Talk To Me, loved it. First horror movie in a while that actually scared me, that being said though it was VERY predictable.

And I don’t think it needs a sequel. Like a sequel would just be telling the exact same story with different characters, not interesting. If they could make a story continuing from Mia’s perspective as a ghost I’d love it though. But that’s a nearly impossible story to write.

Also one specific thing that I loved about this movie is how using the hand and temporarily connecting to spirits is framed like drug use. It’s the new drug teens use at parties and get hooked on and I just kinda loved that connection. Although I do see some people hating it as it is very cringy to see teens using drugs at party in movies but I think it was handed very well here.

And how the end references the beginning with the dying kangaroo. Mia is heavily encouraged to put the kangaroo out of it’s misery but opts not to, and kinda cruelly leaves it dying on the side of the road. But when she is encouraged to put her close friend out of their misery, she goes for it and things end badly for her. I strongly think she did actually try to kill Riley but had no control of her body anymore and when she throw Riley onto the road, she actually threw herself. Not her opting to throw herself after being unable to kill her close friend. She didn’t chicken out this time and it ended badly for her. It makes me think the writers have an issue with putting people and animals out of their misery, especially since Riley survives this and makes a full recovery. It’s like the writers are saying even if someone is on death’s doorstep they can still very much so recover and if you try to or actually put someone out of their misery, karma will get you. I don’t really believe in this message but I like that they had a message in there that explained the dying kangaroo in the beginning.

And I loved the bad ending. I want to see more protagonists end up as ghosts in the end. I don’t know why, it’s just a cool uncommon concept. That being said, I did feel very extremely bad for Mia and kinda wished she had a better ending.

Maybe this is a controversial opinion, but I hated Jade. She turns her back on Mia so quickly and never seemed like a good friend anyway. Also she treats her brother like shit. Like girl he’s 15, if you’re going to do ‘drugs’ in front of him you don’t get to act surprised if he asked to join in. And you can’t physically stop him, like he’s 15 and I know you started doing that shit at his age. Also how she just stood by looking all sad when her boyfriend was being humiliated. No wonder why he hates you touching him. Why did the writers make Jade so unlikeable?

Also Sue, I think she was straight up abusing and neglecting those kids. Mia seemed like she was parenting both Jade and Riley in the beginning of the movie; until she started playing with ghosts and Sue has the audacity to blame Mia. Like she wasn’t the hired babysitter, she is a teenager and your daughter’s best friend why are you leaving her to parent your kids?? And acting like she’s responsible when one gets hurt?? Like Sue can be mad at Mia was partying with her kids when she made it clear she didn’t want a party but she should be mad at all the teens for being irresponsible. Not solely mad at Mia as if it was her job to keep her kids out of trouble.

Wish Max had more screen time, cause his character made NO sense. But I was real sad when he got stabbed. Like he was running to help his daughter, found her in the same way he found his wife when she died and then she stabbed him 😭😭😭😭😭 I almost started crying in the cinema. He also looked a lot like my own Dad, who I have a complicated relationship with, so his and Mia’s relationship felt so similar to me and my Dad and it hurt

I was simping for Hayley for a lot of the movie. And I’m once again questioning my sexuality thanks to them. I’m hoping to see Zoe Terakes in a lot more movies, I’ve heard they are already well known in Australia but this was my first time seeing them so again I hope to see them again. I’m really disappointed the whole movie was ban in Kuwait just because the actor is gender non conforming. We still have transphobia in 2023? Wow.

(Credit to @louxkate for the gif)

edit: just found out I’m not the only one simping for Hayley’s actor, Zoe Terakes, which makes me feel better about not understanding my sexuality.

gonna go see this movie a second time now.

#stitched #stitched talks #stitched writes #talk to me #a24 #talk to me movie #talk to me me film #zoe terakes

65 notes · View notes

whatbigotspost · 1 year

Text

While I’m on another unsolicited professional advice trend this week, I just want you to know, that if you’ve been told since day 1 like I was, that the world is cruel, cold, unforgiving, and cutthroat, that is a lie.

Are there instances of the cruelty of life around us all the time?? ABSOLUTELY. Are there assholes who will stab you in the back to get ahead? 100%. But if you want to, you can and will find other people who don’t buy this mentality. Who care about others. Who build more kinder environments to help each other survive the cruel shit instead of BECOMING THE CRUEL SHIT.

I took a few calculated gambles over the past month and erred on the side of being overly transparent, dropping any semblance of a professional “game face.” And it actually paid off. No one was waiting to take advantage of me…they were all exceedingly helpful and supportive or gracious or told me vulnerabilities of their own. (Even someone who 5 years ago I saw as legitimately evil…now she’s like. Actually? Really? Changed? An apology AND changed behaviors?)

Like people are capable of such immense helpfulness and support to one another if we choose to be.

I was taught by people (mostly 1 person) who have lives I’d never want, that the world is completely dangerous and lonely. They are dangerous. They created that world and I happily left it and it’s one of the best choices I’ve ever made. If I get into spaces that remind me of that original world view and those feelings, I’m getting better and better at listening to my instincts and getting the fuck out.

I’m probably not gonna get rich sticking with the other “I care deeply about others” crew, but I don’t give a shit…it’s worth it beyond measure.

#career stuff #career advice #nonprofits #abuse

157 notes · View notes

ornii · 1 year

Note

My Bitter Half series? Shut up and take my money!

It's monopoly money but the point still stands!

I Never expected that short story to get such praise. But if people want more of it, I’d be glad to I love the Siblings Dynamic, so here’s part 2 AKa: (Y/n) Pissing Wednesday off for (insert number) minutes.

My Better Bitter Half, Part 2

Chapter 2: Sibling rivalry, Part 1.

“The whole snarky Goth girl thing might have worked at normie school, but here things are different. Let me give you a wiki on Nevermore's social scene.”

Enid and (Y/n) walk between Wednesday down the hall.

“I'm not interested in participating in tribal adolescent clichés.”

“Well, then use it to fill your obviously bottomless pit of disdain. There are many flavors of outcasts here, but the four main cliques are Fangs, Furs, Stoners and Scales.” She explains, they eventually reach the Quad, the main social hub of Nevermore.

“Those are the Fangs, AKA vampires. Some of them have been here for decades.” (Y/n) motions to the ones in deep dark glasses. A few of the more feminine vampires eye the Addams Twins, more importantly (Y/n). They growl and wink at him, some batting their fangs.

“That bunch of knuckleheads are Furs, AKA werewolves. Like me!” Enid smiles, and the howling of werewolves echo along the annals of Nevermore.

“Full moons get pretty loud around here. That's when Furs wolf out. I suggest you pick up noise-cancelling headphones.” Enid said.

“I'm assuming Scales are sirens?” Wednesday said.

“You catch on quick.” Enid smiles, and motions to a girl, dark beautiful skin with azure blue eyes.

“And that girl, Bianca Barclay, is the closest thing Nevermore has to royalty. Although her crown's been slipping lately. She used to date our resident tortured artist, Xavier Thorpe. But they broke up at the beginning of the semester. Reason unknown.”

“Fascinating.” Wednesday says, obviously sarcastically.

“I know, right? My vlog is, like, the number one source for Nevermore gossip.” Enid says with a prideful gleam. (Y/n) sighs at this, until Ajax, a friend and local stoner approaches Wednesday.

Yo, (Y/n) Enid! You're not gonna believe the dirt I heard about your new roommate. She eats human flesh. Chowed down on that kid she murdered.You better watch your back (Y/n).” Ajax says to Wednesday, “You look, shorter, did you grow your hair out?” He asks.

“Ajax.” You say, “That is my Sister Wednesday, the girl who is Rooming with Enid.” You say and he peers over to her, stoned out of his mind.

“O-oh uh—“ he begins but is halted

“Quite the contrary. I actually fillet the bodies of my victims, then feed them to my menagerie of pets.” Wednesday says, which blows Ajax’s mind.

“Whoa. You're both in black and white.” He says to the twins. “Like a living Instagram filter.” (Y/n) shakes his head

“Ignore him. Gorgons spend way too much time getting stoned. He's cute, but clueless.” Enid says, ignoring Ajax, the three continue to acquire her schedule.

“It's a small school. There wasn't much online about you. You should really get on Insta, Snapchat and TikTok. I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation.” Wednesday responds deadpanned.

“Are, you sure this is your sister?” Enid asks (Y/n), who grins.

“Unfortunately yes, In all her glory I’m sure.” You say coldly, The day ends and the family must bid goodbye to the twins, Pugsley hugs Wednesday.

“Pugsley, you're soft and weak. You'll never survive without me. I give you two months, tops.” She said

“I'm gonna miss you, too, sis.” He responds, he hugs (Y/n) who gladly reciprocated, and tags a “stab me.” Note on pugsleys back.

“I’ll miss you too little brother.” You say and the family leave in the car, the two stand silent before you spoke to her.

“A Word of Advice Mi Hermana (My Sister) Any plans you have of running away end right now. Mother has alerted all family members to contact her the minute you darken their doorstep, I will be watching you, closely.” You say as you go lucky attitude quickly fades.

“As usual, you underestimate me, Mi Hermano. I will escape this educational penitentiary, and you will never hear from me again.” She says, (Y/n) growls a bit and folds his arms.

“I detest saying this, but You are a brilliant girl, Wednesday, and.. as much as It annoys me, I’d… I’d honestly miss you if you left.” You admit, Wednesdays cold stare slightly warmed as you gritted your teeth.

“Mother wishes for you to stay here, you’re lucky you aren’t in prison like Uncle Fester. Don’t throw your life away over your pride.” You say and walk away leaving Wednesday to consider your words, but as siblings go, she wouldn’t take your orders laying down.

The Next day, (Y/n) effortlessly knocks Rowan down in their fencing, using his quick fencing ability.

“Coach, Coach, he tripped me.” Rowan complains.

“It was a clean strike, Rowan.” You say, “Widen your stance, build more muscle and I won’t knock you over like a twig.” You say, you turn your attention to the other novice fencers.

“Anyone wish to challenge the Prince of Nevermore?” You say, and one voice speaks up.

“I do.”

(Y/n) turns to face his sister, Wednesday. Geared to the toe for fencing. You can only laugh and tilt your head.

“Wednesday, as amusing as this would be I’d rather avoid hurting my own blood.”

“Do you? It seems nothing has changed since you left home, you’re still a coward.”

“Ooh!” The fencers say from parts of the room, (Y/n)’s smile Fades to silence and burning fury. (Y/n) snaps his fingers and the teacher looks up.

“Professor, I’d like a match with Wednesday Addams..” you say coldly and he nods, “First to three strikes.” The siblings get in position and pit on their gear. Drawing their sabres their intense glares focus on each other,

“En garde.” They say in unison and move in, the strikes were fast, fluent and held so much animosity. Each stroke inches closer to a point, before a quick jab to (Y/n)‘s neck won Wednesday a point.

“Point to Wednesday.” The Coach says, Wednesday voice was muffled but (Y/n) could hear it.

“You know what they say Brother, “Pride Cometh before the fall.” She says, (Y/n) moved in, much more ferocious and hungry for victory. The blades dance and trade before (Y/n) lands a point on her heart. The score is even.

“Let's finish this.” You say.

“Agreed. For the final point, I would like to invoke a military challenge. No masks. No tips. Winner draws first blood.” Wednesday says.

“Fine.” You respond and tear your mask off.

“I’ll apologize to mother when she visits you.” You say and Wednesdays focus was dead on you, and the final round began, the bladed tips were fast, sharp and each swing and jab were inches, millimeters away from landing a point, each attack felt so, raw, full of fury and strike, their blades clash once more and Wednesday goes for a stab, (Y/n) for a downward slash. And blood, was spilled.

(Y/n) and Wednesday sat in the nurses office together, both bleeding. Wednesday had a small cut on the top of her head, and her brother? Not as fortunate. He had his upper shirt removed as there was a stab wound in his shoulder. It was being patched up by the nurse and wrapped. The nurse leaves as the siblings sit together.

“Sorry for being a bit too, aggressive.” You say to her, Wednesday kept staring forward.

“I apologize for almost piercing your heart.” She said.

“I’ll admit, what you said got under my skin, you always had that ability to bring the worst emotions out of me.” She explains, “What’s Family good for?” You say sarcastically.

“I meant what I said though, I’d be amiss to have my other half missing. As much as you Hate it mother cares for you, as I do.” You said, you put your hand on her leg and try to reassure her.

“Just, Take what i Said into consideration.” You ask her, Wednesday turns her head to face yours. “I’ll consider it.” She responds.

“Thank you, I’m still going to stab you back though.” You say smirking, and Wednesday attempts to hide her grin.

“You’ll have to Earn it.”

#netflix #male reader #reader insert #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #enid sinclair x reader #brother #siblings #the addams family

258 notes · View notes

apocalypse-shuffle · 1 year

Text

LEE CHRISTMAS (the expendables 2010 series)

─────────────────────

“A Different Direction” (Lee Christmas x Fem!Reader)

| It’s the bar scene from part two, but Lee doesn’t get back with Lacy in this version.

| Reader is always black unless I say differently

| SFW, some very tame pda, alcohol consumption

| this is a rewrite/reimagining of the bar scene

| 1k+ worlds

Sitting next to Ross feels good. Lee even finds himself smiling into his beer as he takes a swig. He’s feeling particularly thankful for having made it through another mission. For surviving another wild blood pumping trip and then being able to come home to you.

His eyes are automatically drawn to you in the packed bar. No amount of anyone else even pinging on his radar as you talked to the bartender, getting the two of you’s second round of drinks because he’d gotten the first.

He gets stuck staring at you. It’s like you’re out of a movie. How you’re moving around, laughing at whatever joke the bartender makes, looks borderline fucking ethereal in his mind. The song playing changes and Lee doesn’t even notice until you do. A smile splits across your face and you mouth about loving the song, and while putting in your order the lines of your body easily catch onto and sway to the beat.

Lee’s not a dancer but at that moment he wants to be moving with you. Hands on your hips behind you as you tease his obvious lack of skill, kissing the curve of your neck when you throw your head back in excitement. He notes some of the song lyrics in his head to look up later.

He must be damn near enthralled because Ross nudges him with a chuckle and he still doesn’t dare look away.

“I gotta say, my friend, I am glad you decided to heal from that other girl.”

Lee shrugs.

“She wasn’t bad, she just…wasn’t for me in the end.”

Ross’s brows go up in a way that says ‘you think’ but he ultimately agrees.

“Her cheating on you ain’t enough to make her a bad person?”

Lee shakes his head and spits out his usual reasoning. Sometimes people just made bad split second dicisions that end up fucking everything up. Shit happened. He would know.

“Nah, she’s just morally dubious.”

From the corner of his eye he can just see the bewildered look Ross throws his way.

“Which is?”

“The split side of being morally grey,” he purses his lips with a slight grimace. “The effects are murky.”

“Oh yeah,” Ross intones and Lee knows he’s making fun of him. “Real fancy way of confirming she just has a world class cheating gene ruling her decisions.”

“Someone clearly stabbed you in the heart, bud, people do make mistakes sometimes. I knew your heart was nonexistent but this is a new level, the absence of light isn’t even dark enough for what’s going on in you.” Lee takes a moment to let his shit eating smirk be noticed by the other. “You want me to kiss it better?”

His team lead lets out a gruff huff of laughter and shakes his head.

“I’ll pass.” He nods at you, “Just please tell me you’re actually going through with this one.”

Lee takes a swig of his beer and only takes his eyes off of you for a second to look at Ross like he’s crazy.

“Course I am,” he points at you with the tip of his bottle and you just so happen to look over at him and smile at the same time. It lights him up from the inside and he smiles back even as he talks. “I’d be crazy not to marry her.”

Ross grunts in acknowledgement and pats Lee’s knee as you start heading over.

“I’m just glad you’re not still entertaining being in a relationship with a woman whose first instinct was to cheat on you. Y/n is good people though, she makes you less unbearable.”

Lee rolls his eyes before he’s completely caught up in you again.

You smile at them as you get within spitting distance and Lee can’t help but track the way that unlike with Lacy, when he was stuck on desperately trying to make it work with her, the guys don’t either ignore you when you’re not directly engaging with them or give you stilted responses.

Barney doesn’t do any of those things with you. When you ask him things he answers about as happily as he ever does anything he doesn’t despise and when you greet him he responds while actually looking at you.

Lee had honestly never realized before how much the guys disliked Lacy until he finally gave up on them and found you almost a year later. In fact even though the three of you are a little separated from the other’s table the team still takes the time to greet you, even Gunner, as you walk past them.

He reaches for you, in the pretty dress he’d had the pleasure of watching you pick out for tonight, and when you readily grasp back at him he pulls you into his lap. You settle there like you were made for it and he can’t help the smile that splits across his face as he watches.

“Hey you,” you murmur. He brings your hands up where they’re still connected to kiss at your knuckles.

“Hey,” he murmurs back against the ample darkness of the skin there.

You smile and duck your head at the intensity he regards you with. Stunning. You squeeze his hand, shy smile still in place, and then turn to Ross.

“Hi to you too Barney.”

At your words Ross actually glances up and fully acknowledges that you’ve talked to him. He even gives you one of his rare angst riddled half smiles. It’s genuine, the man’s just allergic to anything the elicits too happy of a response Lee’s sure of it.

“Hey Y/n, how you been?”

“Fine,” you shrug, sparkling eyes briefly flitting to Lee’s. “Better now that Lee’s back though. You think next time you could fit me into the schedule? A month’s a long time to not have his little accent bouncing off my walls.”

And Ross chuckles in response. Wow, Lee really was a love sick fool with Lacy if he hadn’t realized just how much his closest friend couldn’t stand her.

“I’ll make sure to check my calendar for you next time,” he nods at him. “Though why anyone would rush to hear his badgering British shtick is lost on me.”

You pat at his hand as you lean into Ross’s space, “Maybe I’m a little crazy,” you mock confess.

“Hey!” Lee exclaims as Ross chuckles. The older man presses his hands to his knees as he throws him a teasing smirk before standing. Lee tamps down the urge to flip him off and pout at the way you’re laughing with him. Ross nods amiably at you both before lumbering off to join the group.

Once he’s gone, and all eyes from the table are not on y’all anymore, Lee turns to you and finally lets himself pout.

“What are you giggling at, eh? Just last night you were begging me to talk to you.”

You laugh some more, a snort sneaking in in the middle, and pivot towards him. A kiss is delicately placed at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t sulk,” you say against his lips. “It’s unattractive.”

You pull away with a tiny smile pulling at plump glossy lips and Lee stares at you open mouthed before shaking his head. He pulls you to him more securely, letting go of your hand to wrap both his arms around your waist. You nuzzle your head onto his shoulder and kiss at the dip of his neck. He laughs down at you and then kisses those smiling lips. It’s brief but it makes his heart pound as you give him your full attention. The two of you were captured by the other.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” his eyes dance as he speaks to you. “I’d miss you calling me handsome.”

Your laughter fills his ears, and call him a romantic all you want he already knows, but that sound fills his lungs with fresh air and renews him with hope that not everything in the world’s utter shit.

NOTES: Was watching Expendables and I like Jason Statham, you know the drill.

#lee christmas #the expendables #black!reader #black y/n #lee christmas x black!reader #lee christmas x reader #the expendables imagine #jason statham #black reader

205 notes · View notes

clatoera · 9 months

Text

Always Remember We’re Burned for Better Chapter 15: If I’m On Fire, You’ll be Made of Ashes Too

...Hey y’all. Sorry I sucked again and didn’t post for 17 days. I had a literal breakdown over boards and worked 70 hours a week two weeks ago and! Yeah! Here we are! Back to full length chapters too so! woo.

Direct quotes from Mockingjay are not mine!

TW for Glimmer’s speech at the end (Finnick’s speech in the book/movie)

Title from My Tears Ricochet (T swift of course)

AO3

Masterpost

As always. thank you to my besties, who I feel bad tagging every week, but I don’t feel bad tagging @kentwells ever so!

Anyway...let's do it.

“We’re never going to lose these ‘mentally unstable’ bands if you keep taking a swing at everyone who looks at us wrong.” Finnick flicks a shred of bread in Cato’s general direction, sure that no one would see him dare to waste food, even if that food was a glorified crouton. “You know she isn’t here for you to impress, right?”

“Leave him alone, Finnick.” Glimmer sighs, tired of yet another version of the same conversation. Cato’s unhinged. Glimmer’s unstable. Cato’s a loose cannon. Glimmer’s not to be trusted alone. “Gale deserved it, anyway, he’s running his mouth that the two of us are together-“

“And we would never.” Cato stabs the slightly sharper end of his spoon into the tray of lunch, having lost his privileges to any further utensil when he threatened to carve out Gale Hawthorne’s eyes with the spork he had just been upgraded to. “No offense, of course, Glimmer.”

“Oh, none taken! You were never my type anyway.” She offers over her full fledged fork and goes back to ripping up the stale roll to toss back at Finnick. “Besides , they were starting the same rumors about me and you Finny, that's not a rumor we need Annie to hear when we get her back.”

Such is how they, as the surviving victors, had decided to talk. It had to become when we got them back, not if. False hope or not, it was all they had to get them through day to day life in the hell hole that is District 13. It was a light at the end of an impossibly long tunnel that was the other side of this great war.

“I’ve had worse. He doesn’t even leave a mark.” Cato brushes off, taking Glimmer’s offering with an appreciative nod. “His only value is fawning over Fire girl anyway.”

“He keeps her stable enough. Which, you know you aren't getting any closer to getting them back by going after her personal attack dog, right ?” Finnick warns, noting how Katniss sits a safe distance away from Gale at their assigned table entirely across the room, firmly lodged against her little sister’s side.

“I find it hard to believe she cares about Peeta if she’s so easily moving on.” Glimmer huffs before she rests her left elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “I’ll never be able to love someone else. And I don’t want to. You’d have to kill me before I'd just…move on that easily. She changes her man more often than she changes her braid.”

“Oh he wants her, but she doesn't feel the same.” Finnick assures, fingers falling into a familiar pattern of braiding his napkin. It was obsessive and unintentional, but it kept him in one piece. “She feels like she owes him, I think. For getting her family out…”

“And he left Peeta’s behind.” Cato reminds, a tone in voice that could nearly be disgust if someone really wanted to call it such, if they really wanted to look for meaning in the way he refers to the families from Twelve. “Seems like a low blow, leaving behind the family out of jealousy.”

He’ll deny it, fervently, to anyone who even suggests it, but there's something about the bombing of District Twelve right off the face of the map that settles inside him wrong. Sure, they were an outlying district, but wasn’t that the whole point of Panem? All the districts contribute to a greater good, providing some sort of service to the others. Twelve and Two, while plenty different, are both the mining districts after all. Maybe the mountainside villages of Two make the shantytowns of Twelve all the more desolate, but at their core, were they really that different in what they provided to the capitol?

If twelve was so expendable..what really makes the others any different?

Glimmer is the next one to renew the lease on her ‘mentally unstable’ armband, and lose their utensil privileges, when she actually uses a fork and goes after the same insufferable district twelve boy for having the audacity to insinuate that her relationship was fake.

–

“You two are wanted in the conference room.” A guard, maybe twice their age, announces at the door of their cell– room, okay fine it’s a room, but it may as well be their prison cell.

Glimmer shoots Cato a hesitant look– noone has ever wanted them in a conference, noone has ever given a single fuck about what they have to say about anything that happens to or around them. At this point though, what would the benefit of executing them be?

“Sorry, Conference call isn’t on my schedule for the day.” Cato holds up his left arm, with their printed schedules tattooed in for the day. Not that either of them followed them– ninety nine percent of their time was spent inside these four walls of this room. “Maybe if you factor it in we’ll consider–”

“It is not an option. You are expected promptly. Failure to attend will be seen as a direct act of discompliance and will have severe consequences.”

Cato tightens his jaw before he slips his feet over the edge of the bed, nodding to Glimmer to do the same. The narrowed look of her green eyes in his direction tells him all he needed to know– she can imagine the same consequence as him, which isn’t a direct threat to the two of them at all.

They say nothing as they follow this armed man, weaving through halls and up elevators, a route they could not re-create on their own even if they combined their brain power with the intention to do so.

The door has a keypad, opened only with a scan of the guard’s eye rather than any code they can memorize and exploit later.

Glimmer glances out of the corner of her eyes as she is ushered into the room a step in front of Cato, fully taking in the physicality of the guard as she passes him. They could probably take him, if one dispatched the gun from his hands and the other got him down.

Glimmer’s mental notes were tossed to the wayside when she saw the contents of the room.

Around a conference table sat Miss Mockingjay herself, Finnick Odair, a newly sober Haymitch Abernathy, Plutarch Heavensbee, Beetee, and a gray haired woman Glimmer could vaguely identify as the president of District 13.

Her eyes must betray her absolute distrust in the members of the room, as the guard behind her grabs her by the shoulders and goes to push her to the table, when Cato’s hand encircles one of the man’s wide wrists.

“Don’t touch her.” He warns, though it comes out as a warning growl. Cato would fight, that much he had proven over and over during their months long stint in the pit of hell that is District Thirteen.

“Now there’s no need for any of that–” Plutarch interrupts, and with a wave of his hand Glimmer’s shoulders are released and she steps forward on her own accord. “Please, sit. You two were invited here as guests for this conversation..”

“Oh, Guests? That's what we are here now? Guests?” Glimmer quips, but settles herself down in one of the conference chairs furthest away from anyone else, anyone who could reach up and grab at her. Guests, sure, of the local psychiatric lock down unit maybe.

“You have both been extended a generosity by District Thirteen under our protections. And you were both granted an even larger generosity under Miss. Everdeen’s Mockingjay deal. It would behoove you both to listen to the expectations that are required of you both.” The gray haired woman begins, addressing them both. However, it is like she sees through them both, refusing to look either in the face and instead staring through as if they are beneath her, unworthy of her attention.

Something about her steely gaze and underlying threats in her tone feels familiar to Cato, and for the briefest second it is like he is back in President Snow’s office being given an ultimatum with Clove at his side.

What he wouldn’t give to have her at his side now.

“...requested of you.” Plutarch intervenes, holding out a hand to stop the president from continuing on with what Cato assumes would be demanded. “We believe that having two victors from previously Career districts openly on the side of the Rebellion could help the cause, especially in District Two.”

“And before you start with the ‘we aren’t on the side of the rebellion’ crap,” Comes from Haymitch, who is more sober than either of them have ever seen him, looking dare they say well shaven and clean, “Remember who the Capitol has. If you think they’re being treated well out there… you’ve got another thing coming. This is how we get them back.”

“The faster we bring in the districts, the closer we are to Annie. And Clove. And Marvel. And Johanna and Peeta.” Finnick offers, also somehow miraculously looking healthier than he has since their time in Thirteen began. He had mentioned being allowed outside with Katniss for a few hours– the sunlight did him some good, clearly.

“It is expected that you will do your part to help this Revolution.” The cold voice of President Coin cuts through the warmer tones of past victors and a gamemaker, staring right into the center of Cato’s face. “If you give us cause to believe that you would in any way be a threat to this cause, we would have no choice but to remove that threat, and the threat your respective partners would present as well, once we got our opportunity.”

The threat is not even veiled, but before Cato can give her the rise and reaction Coin is prodding out of them, Katniss herself chimes in.

“That’s not part of the deal. The victors are pardoned. All of us.” Her tone is not the young girl who won the game, or the girl who gave everything for the sweet little sister that even Cato couldn’t hate, no, that was the voice of the leader of this rebellion. The power and insistence of someone with a lot more pull than she’d give herself credit for.

“Everyone is doing some part,” Plutarch interjects, attempting to assuage the underlying power struggle between the President and the Mockingjay. “Katniss is going into the battlefields, she’s shooting rallying calls on the front lines. Finnick has agreed to begin doing special features on fallen tributes from each district. Pulling on the heartstrings of every district one by one.”

“Glimmer, you were very popular in the capitol, maybe you could reach them.” Haymitch suggests, with a wave of his hand. “Smile, toss your hair, whatever it takes..”

Before Glimmer can snap back in response Cato takes over, despite how she deserves to say whatever the hell she wants at this point.

“How are you even getting in? Doesn’t Snow control the airways?” Cato leans back, arms crossed over his chest firmly, a stance of both disbelief and judgment. “Do districts even have televisions for this to get across?”

“I am responsible for the creation of a lot of the airways.” Beetee explains, wheeling his chair over to access a remote before clicking on the screen. “Here’s what we have so far.”

They watch the reel of Katniss in District Eight, as a hospital is obliterated in the background. They watch her on the front lines rediscovering District Twelve, and most notably, they hear her voice filling the air as she sings a song of rebellion and lovers running to their conjoined deaths.

“...maybe your talent should’ve been singing, not Fashion.” Glimmer comments, though there is no sarcasm or venom in her own tone. It’s a compliment, a genuine one, when she says, “you have a lovely voice, Katniss.”

“Peeta thought so too.” Katniss admits, finally making direct eye contact with the career girl for the first time. “It just..it wasn’t for everyone else.”

“Look at that, this government can exploit you, too. It’s not just the Capitol!” Glimmer snorts, shaking her head before glancing at Cato out of the side of her eye.

His jaw is locked, his knuckles nearly white from how tightly he is squeezing his fist together. Something in the conversation had successfully gotten to him, and while the source of all of his self control is locked in a cell in the captiol, he somehow manages to hold himself back for once.

“Katniss…let us talk. Alone. Finnick too.” Glimmer requests, glancing between the other two young victors in the room. There’s only four of them left, maybe only four left in the whole world for all they know.

Now is the time to make new alliances.

“Absolutely not.” President Coin interjects, shaking her head furiously. “The safety of Katniss is too important–”

“They won’t hurt us.” Finnick assures, giving a knowing nod to Glimmer and Cato both. There is an understanding, an agreement, amongst the victors. “Let us talk.”

Haymitch puts his hands up to prevent any further debate or questioning. “I say we give them ten minutes. We can wait right outside the door for them, come in the minute we hear a raised voice for something being thrown.”

“Ten minutes.” Plutarch agrees, and that seems to convince Alma Coin to eventually agree as well.

“You get exactly ten minutes. Nothing more.” She pushes herself back and the elder men at the table agree, shooting Glimmer and Cato a look of diluted venom, not quite a snake but maybe a scorpion instead.

The immediate second the door is closed, Glimmer lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t like her at all.”

For the first time ever, Katniss smiles at Glimmer, in a wordless agreement. Maybe the leader of the rebellion couldn’t say it, but the unhinged victim from District One certainly could.

“What the fuck is going on out there?” Cato immediately presses Katniss, the only victor who has seen beyond the perimeter of thirteen and into the real world. “Who’s fighting, is there an actual war happening?”

“All of the Districts have joined, except for District Two.” Katniss begins, oddly at ease with two of the people who were most determined to kill her. “Two provides the army, I guess–”

“Peacekeepers, yeah.” Cato agrees, giving an unsurprised nod. That was always the other option– you either went in the games and won or the high level of training guaranteed a higher rank in the peacekeepers upon graduation. There were the outliers, training partners who resented each other for not getting into the games, who married and tried to combine their mediocre genetics to create a victor child. That had not been successful, possibly ever, but every year there were one pair who tried it. “Two won’t be easy.”

“....even One is in the war? On our side” Glimmer pipes up, for the first time verbally acknowledging that yes, she is with the Mockingjay, too. “That’s a loss for the Capitol, they rely on us for..just about anything they enjoy.”

“It was you and Marvel, Glimmer.” Finnick reaches forward to grab at the remote, shuffling through additional propos as they talk, an audio buffer to protect their conversation from the inevitable listening ears just outside the door. “It had to be everything you said before the games. They had enough of sending their children to be trafficked. They’ve sent enough luxury goods, their sons and daughters aren't going to be added to the list of their hottest commodities anymore.”

“....do you know if Cash and Gloss are…”

“We don’t. But what we do know is that the Capitol is completely cut off from everyone but Two.” Katniss adds, looking between the two.

“You two need to see this.” Finnick interrupts, before he settles on a hidden file of a recording deep in the depths of a desktop folder . “They already think Katniss hasn’t, and I know they kept this from you two. You’re a liability when you’re angry.”

“What do you mean they’re keeping something from us, they keep everything from us, what else could it be-” Glimmer is cut off by her own gasp of shock, when the screen lights up with a scene in the President’s mansion. Peeta– looking far worse for the wear, fifteen pounds lighter than he had been just a week ago on the recording, with deep dark circles under his eyes– is flanked on either side by two other victors.

Their other victors.

Glimmer is on her feet first, a look of pure horror on her face as she reaches out to the screen to touch the ghost of Marvel’s face.

Like Peeta, he is easily fifteen pounds lighter than he had been when they were lifted from the arena. And though the collar of his shirt doesn’t seem to conceal bruises the way Peeta’s does, he looks overall limp. Lifeless. As if the fight has been sucked right out of him. Most notably to Glimmer, of course, is his eyes. The shining blue of his eyes lacks the joy and brightness she had come to find her home in, the one constant source of comfort ripped from them both.

“What did they do to him?” Glimmer whispers, frantically looking around the duration of the screen for any other clue. “Are they starving them? What are they doing to him?”

Clove does not look as distinctly ill to the untrained eye. Always small, the drop in weight is not as blatantly apparent on her. Sure, the darkness under her eyes is abnormal, but anyone would see it as a normal response to lack of sleep and stress. There is some purple discoloration at the top of her black dress, that may even be passed off as a shadow rather than bruising.

But when she slightly tilts her head to the side, Cato recognizes in an instant the way the corner of her lip twitches downward for the slightest moment. It was a tell, a tell only to someone who had spent the majority of his life pulling from her.

Pain.

Clove was never one to show it, not in the academy, not in the games, and surely not for the nation.

Cato, though, knew her tells and her secrets more than he knew his own.

“What the fuck did they do to her.” Cato pushes himself to a standing position immediately, his voice barely above a whisper. For all he can growl and scream, there's something almost more haunting about the way he whispers in this moment, like a man possessed. “Why the fuck did he touch her–”

“It’s a message to us,” Finnick has to explain, as Katniss locks her gaze on her feet and never at the screen. “They don’t say anything, Peeta does all the talking, but look at them. It’s a message, Cato. You’re here, you are guilty, and she is going to pay for it.”

Katniss does not look up, she can’t stomach to watch the violence that has occurred to Peeta yet again. Peeta, who has suffered for the crime of loving her, for the crime of being too good.

“I’m going to kill him.” Cato snarls, and though it isn’t said it is immediately understood who he means.

“You’re going to have to fight me for it.” Katniss chimes in, though she continues her lock on the floor while Cato and Glimmer keep their eyes locked on the screen.

“Why aren’t they speaking?” Glimmer half whimpers, unable to tear her eyes away from the remnants of her loved ones on the other side of the screen. “Why aren’t they saying anything!”

“Because Peeta’s the mouthpiece. Peeta is to the Capitol what Katniss is here. They started this rebellion, they have to represent it. They’re a message to you two, and you two only.”

“...has there been any sign of Annie? Or Johanna?” Glimmer tries, though her heart is with the dulled eyes of the man she loves on the screen.

The silence that follows provides the answer they needed, without ever needing to even be said.

“...I’m in.” Glimmer agrees in an instant, backing away but not breaking her gaze. “Whatever you need from me, I’m in.”

“We have to get them back.” Cato begins, though he has also moved to a standing position right in front of the tv. “I’m going to get her.” And though he’s made the threat before– and been shot down at the idea– the demand has new meanings. They need to get them and do it fast. “....I don’t know what I can say or do on these stupid videos. I have no big story. I don’t think I’m much help…”

He wants to argue, he wants to come up with an excuse as to why he’s no use, but he can’t. He’d do anything for that psychotic girl, walk to the ends of the earth for her, if it meant she was safe in his arms.

“Fuck it, I’m in.”

They never planned to die by being suffocated alive in the tomb that is the bowels of District 13 in a bunker, if they were dying it was in glory in the games or at their own hands on their own terms.

Cato, Glimmer, and Finnick were resolved to their own tiny corner, much like the lunch table, where none of the other citizens would dare come near them.

Cato sits on the floor, the heels of his hands digging so deeply into his eyes that it stung. If there were any light– which there is not– Glimmer would have been able to see the way he is digging into the skin of his hairline, like he wants to peel his skin from his skull.

It had been a nightmare to get him to agree to come under ground after the disastrous interview.

Peeta had been flying solo in an interview yet again, though Clove and Marvel must’ve been nearby. When whatever trance Peeta was in broke, he had warned them of their impending death, and the feed cut out as fast as the Capitol could manage.

Not fast enough, of course, to drown out the blood curdling scream in the background of Peeta’s broadcast. It would have been ambiguous enough, with no face to the name of an anonymous woman, until the single word she managed before the broadcast cut came across clear as day.

Cato.

Him. She was calling for him. Screaming for him, really, and here he was. Unable to get to her. Unable to help her.

“She called for me.” Cato repeats, over and over and over again, bordering a state of catatonia and hysteria as he refuses to get off the ground.

“I know.” Glimmer sighs, a half hearted agreement. There was nothing she could do, to ease his comfort. It was clear as day– Clove had screamed his name from deeper inside the President's mansion, and it was clearly a call of desperation.

Clove would kill her if she called it a cry for help, even if for all the world that is exactly how it sounded.

While it could have been a warning, like Peeta had given. A dead girl walking calling out in warning you too, Cato, he’ll kill you too. It could have been confirmation of what Peeta was saying.

No matter what her intention, it did not change all Cato could hear.

She had been his longest friend before she was his world, his longest ally, and they had always had each other’s backs. That was a plea rooted deeply in their childhoods, deeply in the core of who they are.

That was not a cry of a desperate girl, that was not the scream for her lover. That was a scream and cry for her partner, the one person in two she was supposed to be able to rely on to be there if she got in too deep of trouble.

And he failed her.

Not as her life long best friend, or as the man who married her.

He failed her as her partner.

He is only pulled from his self effacing spiral by the feeling of something soft brushing against his calves.

He nearly flinches when he realizes it is the tail of a soft little animal against his legs, and not some sneak attack.

A purring noise immediately betrays the creature as Katniss’s sister’s cat, the only pet in all of thirteen. The little thing didn’t like Katniss and so it already earned a bonus point in Cato’s book, and he thinks of his own little sister every time he sees the little blonde that belongs to the girl on fire. He gives the cat a half-hearted pet, remembering how desperately his sister had begged their parents for a cat for her fourth birthday, and how he nearly bought her one with his winnings a few years prior.

He lets himself think of the dog he and Clove will never get to have and begins to give the cat a more diligent pet in honor of the future they have lost.

He failed her. He failed her. He failed her.

He’s lost her.

The four of them, the surviving, youngest victors, are led above ground before anyone else is given clearance. It of course had to be deemed safe before they let precious Katniss Everdeen step foot above ground.

“What the fuck.” Is the first thing Cato thinks to say, when he takes in the surrounding destruction. Where as he had expected the smoke and ash, nothing could have prepared him for the blanket of white that littered the smoking land. For a second he wonders if it is snow, if somehow a nuclear winter has fallen upon them, but the warmth of the air pushes that idea right out of his head. He’s acutely aware of the team of videographers focused in on Katniss, priming and prodding her to make some statement about surviving an attack by the capitol.

There is a soft crunching under his foot, and when he sees the slightly luminescent spray of white rose petals under his heels, he realizes (though he does not understand) that they are walking in a sea of white roses. He is about to pick one up, to run the unnatural petals between his fingers, but he is immediately startled by the panic coming from Katniss just over the rocks.

“He’s going to Kill Peeta. I can’t do this–”

Cato steps forward, over the edge of the rocks to catch a glimpse of Katniss, as she slowly starts to unravel before the cameras.

There is a woman with a half shaved head with a camera in the girl’s face, prodding and poking at her to brag about the survival of the center of the rebellion against a direct attack from the Capitol, but Katniss is fading fast at their insistence.

“He’s going to kill him, because I’m the Mockingjay. I can’t do it.” Katniss utters as she staggers away, trying to avoid the cameras shoved in her face and their persistence.

Haymitch Abernathy takes her by the shoulders, and leads her out of the way of the Camera, but it isn’t enough for Cato.

Because if they’re going to kill Peeta, they’re going to kill Clove too.

He pushes the camera out of the woman’s hands, not enough to break but enough to be indisposed just for a little while.

“She isn’t fucking doing it,” Cato reaffirms, hand still resting on the camera equipment, not breaking it but not opposed to doing so.

Finnick leads the camera crew away before Cato can make any permanent damage to the equipment or the war effort.

–

“Why the fuck didn’t you let me go, I’ve been threatening to go for months and you left us behind!” Cato pushes firmly in the middle of Haymitch Abernathy’s chest, cornering him into the wall. “I should be there! It’s my fucking job, she’s mine.”

“You couldn’t be trusted not to go off on your own, Cato.” Haymitch explains, gently placing his hands on the young man’s shoulders. “It was impromptu, there wasn’t time to get you properly trained.”

“Properly Trained? I gave my entire life to training for this! I know what i’m doing–” He snarls at the older victor, and without Enobaria and Brutus here to cool him off he might just carry through on his most intrusive of thoughts, the ones that say to crush the man’s skull against the concrete wall. “I’m better trained than anyone in this hell hole.”

“You aren’t reliable. You’ll throw the whole mission to get to that girl, they couldn’t risk it.”

“Let me make something so incredibly clear. I will throw any mission, I would throw this entire district, I would let this rebellion burn to the ground if it meant getting to her. I do not give a single fuck about any other person in this entire district, but her.” Cato drops his grip on Haymitch, letting the man relax against the wall. “If they leave her behind, I am going to kill every single one of them. That’s a promise, Haymitch. I don’t need a sword or a knife or a gun or a fork. I will kill them.”

“That's exactly the problem, Cato”

“What is he doing..” Glimmer whispers, wiggling her thumbnail between her bottom front teeth. Her nails bleed from her biting to the quick, watching as Finnick commands the attention of the camera and the media screen behind them.

“It’s to distract while they’re in the training center,” Someone, Glimmer doesn’t care who, informs her.

Listening to his words, with his allusions and language with only insinuation, she wipes the blood of her fingers on the sad gray of her clothes, and steps forward.

“Put me on.”

Beetee quirks his head at her, and Plutarch gives her an unsure look, not quite trusting she knew what she was offering to do.

“Finnick has it.” Plutarch assures with a patronizing half smile, before redirecting his attention to Finnick and the broadcast going out to all of Panem.

“We were told to do our part, this is mine. Put me on.” Glimmer once again insists, this time walking herself right into the eyesight of the camera.

They cannot stop her when she steps in directly next to Finnick, as he recalls stories of secrets shared as late night pillow talk, as the exchange for his service.

“Stop sugar coating it.” Glimmer demands, stepping into the light of the camera.

The girl presented to Panem is a far cry from the beautiful bombshell of a victor she was once paraded around as. Once perfectly manicured nails bleed from the quick she had bitten them too. Once perfectly shiny, bouncing curls fall in two half braided pigtails, with crinkled waves going the length of her hair, frizzy ringlet curls framing her eyes. There is no perfectly winged eyeliner, eyelash extensions, or expertly applied blush.

She is not a shimmering shining prize, but she is still Glimmer.

“Finnick is so considerate as to give you a filtered version of what happened to us. I’m not. We weren’t just ‘sold’ to the highest bidder. I was brutally, violently raped. From the time I was fifteen years old. I have been held down until I screamed, and I have bled and begged people to stop. My sister, my brother, Finnick, Marvel..and countless others. We are not being rented, we are being violently abused. There is a trafficking ring of Victors. Starting from our childhood. I was fifteen. Fifteen years old! Finnick was Fourteen! We were children!” Glimmer catches Katniss out of the corner of her eye, who has a whole new layer of horror painted on her features. Katniss nods at her, to keep going, because if she is enraptured so is the entirety of the capitol.

“It doesn’t stop there! My entire life has been this. I’ve been sent to procedures where I don’t even know what they did to me! I’ve been drugged unconscious for days! I have sat in bath tubs full of my own blood, and woken up in sheets so wet with it that I couldn’t stand the next day! We lose our childhood to the games, but we lose our innocence to them! Seven years. Seven years of horrific abuse, and if I didn’t? Then my parents die. Then my older sister and brother, who already did all of this to protect me. They go after the people you love. Call this what it is. It is violence and it is abuse.”

Together, Glimmer and Finnick offer a passionate plea.

Finnick exposes name after name of a capitol official and bought him, listing the secrets of each and every one. Between stories Glimmer accounts graphic details of a girlhood lost, of specific moments of begging for death after fighting so hard for her life. Finnick exposes the President himself and his history of poisonous treachery, while Glimmer recounts the long nights and the aftermath of such horrific, harrowing moments of her young life.

Ultimately they lose the broadcast until Katniss steps in and directly asks for the President himself.

Glimmer steps out of the light, and realizes for the first time that she has tears running down her face, uncontrollable and unstopping.

Cato can’t help it, when he grabs her and pulls her in what could pass for a hug. He’s seen Glimmer as, well, Glimmer, for a long time. A career victor from One who had gone through a little too much at the hands of the capitol. Something about her now, though, goes deeper than that. She is someone’s little sister, someone’s little blonde sister who was robbed of the sweetness his own was so remarkable for. He is all too aware that he may never see his own again.

She is a brotherless sister and he is a sisterless brother, who would give just about anything to make sure his little blonde baby sister never even knew the kind of horrors Glimmer experienced even existed.

He watches over Glimmer’s head, as Katniss pleads her case to the president directly.

“You asked me to convince you I was in love with Peeta. Haven’t I at least done that?” Katniss questions, and there is an earnestness in her voice that even Cato cannot ignore.

Maybe she had convinced them all.

The next words Cato picks up on send a chill to the very root of his spine.

“Don’t you think I know your friends are in the tribute center? Cut them off.”

If his blood could run cold, it would have. As the feed cuts out, and Katniss begins to spiral- “He was taunting me, he knew the whole time!”-- and the reality starts to come from Beetee– “we can’t communicate with them” it all falls into place. The seemingly unbroken communication, the opportunity to plead directly with the president of the country..it all made more sense as reality set in.

It was a trap.

They were never getting them out.

“They’re dead.” Glimmer whispers, pushing him back and turning to face the screen. Her sob catches in her throat before she even realizes it is coming. “They’re dead, we aren’t ever getting them back!”

The four of them are corralled into a single, padded, locked room on the same level of the command center using various levels of sedatives.

Hours pass, maybe. They can’t be sure, in their windowless room, with some drug coursing through their system.

Finnick rocks and ties his knots, and Katniss has gone catatonic, resting her chin on her knees, humming that creepy death song from the propo she filmed what seemed like ages ago.

Glimmer lays against a wall, tears freely flowing from her eyes, matching the level of helpless she feels deep in the core of who she is.

Cato paces. Whatever they calmed them down with has started to wear off in him, based on his sheer size alone.

“When did you know you loved Annie?” Katniss nearly whispers to Finnick, voice and face flat in affect. “Was it immediate?”

“No. It was gradual. She snuck up on me.” Finnick nearly smiles, but then passes the question on to Glimmer. “What about you? When did you know?”

“We were friends for a long long time at first. I would sleep in his room a lot. Nothing ever happened and then..well It was actually during Clove’s games. I looked at him one morning and I realized that I wasn’t afraid when I was with him. He was right there, right in front of me the whole time.” Glimmer nearly smiles, but the tears do not stop. “Come on Cato, like we weren’t all there.”

Cato stops, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand for a moment. “We uh..we were fifteen. We trained together since we were ten, you know? She was at my house with my baby sister and I realized that I knew exactly how many freckles she had on her face. One hundred and forty seven. That isn’t a normal thing that you notice about someone.”

There is a soft silence that befalls them, as if it hits them at once that they are giving eulogies to the love they have lost.

“....It was on the beach in the Quell. That's when I really knew.” Katniss offers without prompting, the softness in her voice confirming what they had slowly grown to accept.

Somewhere along the line- during the quell, apparently– life began to imitate the art of the star crossed lovers' performance.

Time passes slowly in thirteen.

How long exactly, none of them know.

The door swings opens without so much as a knock, and Haymitch lets himself into the room of sedated, miserable victors, before he announces:

“They’re back.”

#clato #cato and clove fanfic #clato fanfiction #thg fanfic #thg au #ARWBFB TAG #always remember we're burned for better tag #glimmer and cato are bonding #trauma bonding besties #its almost time for..the reunitings

33 notes · View notes

euphroseia · 1 year

Text

The Strongest

Felix x gn!reader

Word count: 868 words

Genre: non-idol!au, angst

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of liquor intoxication, not mentioned but implied suicide

If you liked my writing, please give me a reblog. I’d appreciate it and it will help me a lot! You can also let me know your thoughts about the story here. Thank youuuu! 💗

“Would it have been better if I was the one who died and not her?” You ask the person on the other side of the phone as you stare at nothing but darkness; you question but you don’t want to hear the answer. Wandering over the thoughts that have lingered in your brain, getting lost in the feelings that cling to your heart that will never leave you anymore. You don’t want them to leave either, because after all, they’re the only ones who stayed and remained with you.

Losing your sister was hard for you too, but why do they act and make you feel as if you should have died in her place instead? You almost died as well, you were in that accident too. Months of therapy, both physical and mental, did not help at all. The injuries healed, but the random pain on different parts of your body when the nights are cold? They are still with you. The memories of your sister slowly losing her breath barging into your dreams after finally being able to sleep? They never left. They hunted you and you are sure they will keep on hunting you as long as you are alive.

It was not your fault, it wasn’t anyone in your car’s fault. The driver of the truck that bumped into your car was drunk, and you? You were driving safely and observing traffic rules properly. You have always been a careful driver.

The truck driver has already been jailed. Your relatives and everyone close to you and your sister have seen the footage of what happened, but still, they chose to make you get eaten up by guilt.

You never believed them, of course, even if you have to swallow all the painful words and blames your family has thrown at you. You know the truth, you were there and after recovering, you saw the CCTV footage where the accident had occurred as well. But when the person you least expected to, heck, you never once did, told you that it was your fault his girlfriend died, you can’t help but believe that if it weren’t for you, she would still be here with him.

“This is all your fucking fault, Y/N.” His words felt more painful than a stab piercing directly into your heart. Twisting the knife from left to right, making you bleed until you lose all your blood. The strong facade you had to build with the courage you weren’t even sure you had, crumpled down as soon as you heard what Felix said. Felix doesn’t sound mad, but you know he is. You know him very well, maybe more than how your sister knew him; after all, he is your best friend. You can feel his wrath even on the other side of the phone.

He knows you very well too. You won’t even doubt it if he says he knows you more than you know yourself. And that is why, that is why, hearing him say those words has made you question everything you knew and saw. Maybe it was really your fault. If you were not the one who picked up your older sister from the airport, then maybe she would still be here with all of you; or at least what they want, with them.

“Would things be better if I am gone?” You asked again, but this time, you rephrase the question. As much as you don’t want him to answer, you couldn’t care less anymore. Surviving what happened to you and your sister, is death itself. What’s the point of living when everyone is slowly trying to kill you.

You heard him sob. You want him to say no, you need him to. Maybe you said everyone made you feel they wish you died instead of your sister, but Felix? He didn’t. He visited you in the hospital while you were recovering and taking your therapies. Felix brought food to your apartment when he called and you told him you weren’t hungry even if it has been days since you last ate. He was the only reason you stayed, and if the only reason finally slips away from your hand too, then continuing is not an option anymore.

“Y-yes. Yes” He sobbed more and more, cries echoing through the phone; it was so loud, you can’t hear anything else. But what he said was clearer than any crystal, despite him stuttering.

You felt the last string tied onto you and Felix, connecting you two together, snapped. You are not even exaggerating for hearing your heart get torn apart. But you were glad he found the courage to tell you that. It must have been so excruciating for him to take care of the person behind his lover’s death. Hearing him tell you what he really was feeling, means he doesn’t want to lie to you anymore.

“Okay, Felix. Thank you and I love you. Things will start getting better now,” were the last words you mustered before ending the call.

He was courageous for telling you the truth, but you were the strongest for enduring everything and holding on for as long as you could.

106 notes · View notes

cadybear420 · 1 month

Text

Cadybear's Reviews- A Courtesan of Rome

Welcome to the fifteenth official Cadybear's Reviews post! Ironic that this is the fifteenth. Unfortunately this is about 10 days late for Ides of March this year. Today I'll be talking about A Courtesan of Rome, which I have ranked on the "Platinum Tier" at 9 stars out of a possible 10. My last playthrough of this story was around November-December 2021.

I’m rather fond of this one.

This is one of the few MCs where it makes sense for them to have a lot of pre-set aspects about them, and for the record they did do a fantastic job establishing it via the flashbacks. And even then, they also manage to give us enough player agency by allowing us to choose her motives, methods, and goals. So it’s a very neat and fair balance between pre-set and flexible.

This is also one of the few pointfully genderlocked books– while male courtesans did indeed exist in Ancient Rome, they’d likely have had vastly different experiences to that of female courtesans. Chances are, the male MC version would have so many dialogue changes that it’d basically be an entirely new book. Don’t get me wrong, I’d definitely love to see a male MC version of this story, but I can understand why PB would genderlock it.

Admittedly the story can drag at times, and the “8 years ago in Gaul” flashbacks can be a bit of a trudge (granted they do set up the story well), but it is worth it. My only real problem is that according to some fans who are history experts, this story does stray a lot from historical accuracy. But I guess not every periodical story is gonna be perfectly historically accurate.

That, and also the way they handled Xanthe is just… not good. Other people have explained it better, but basically, in a general sense, Xanthe isn’t much different from MC. Both are courtesans as per being victims of human trafficking, both are forced to rely on seduction to survive and overpower men– but the story villainizes Xanthe, while MC is pushed as heroic and morally grey/complex for the exact same shit. All because… Xanthe is kind of catty towards MC?

I didn’t think much of it in either of my two playthroughs, but I’ve seen other people bring it up and looking back… it’s too major to ignore. It’s hypocritical at best, and has some very troubling (racist) implications at worst. Especially in a book that’s meant to be an empowering periodical womanhood story. So it did end up bringing the book down a tier.

We rightfully bitch about the cheap “straw loser villain woman who exists solely to have exaggeratedly bad behaviors solely to make the MC seem better” and “pitting women against each other just because they want/do the same thing” tropes all the time in Choices stories like TNA, FCL, and TBB; and while I do still rank those books much lower due to having more objective problems overall, the trope is much more unforgivable in this book given the context.

However, while the story does have some pretty major problems, it does also have a lot of good aspects going for it that did make me mostly enjoy it. But who knows, my opinion might change after a replay.

I will also say, it’s really fun to diamond mine this one for OG HSS Book 2. Getting to stab Caesar and then taking down Principal Isa right after. So I do have a bit of a soft spot for the book in that regard.

#choices stories you play #choices #choices game #choices stories we play fandom #choices stories we play #acor #choices acor #a courtesan of rome #choices a courtesan of rome

7 notes · View notes

ghostradiodylan · 2 months

Note

Let’s play a game:

Smoochy on the forehead, stab and then beat to death, befriend and then pretend to ditch them just to see how they’d react with Dylan, Ryan, and Kaitlyn

(It’s like kiss, marry, kill btw)

UR SO MEAN 2 ME.

First I smooch everyone on the forehead. Then I tell Dylan and Ryan that sadly I must kill one of them for the other to survive. They will then fight to the death for the honor of sacrificing themselves for the other and end up in a deeply romantic murder/suicide or suicide/suicide situation and I won’t have to kill anyone myself. 😂😭😭😭

I know killing Dylan is kinda my brand, but I love him very much and he’s very important to me. I wouldn’t be able to kill him but I also wouldn’t want to take Ryan or Kaitlyn away from him! He would not want to be my friend after that!

Ryan would probably take being befriended and abandoned better than Dylan. Dylan’s got that whole rejection sensitivity thing, I wouldn’t do that to him. Ryan would probably just replace me with a podcast.

I would very much not want to kill Kaitlyn, I love her so, but she’s also probably the most difficult to kill in terms of having a lot of skills (she probably knows karate or something in addition to her gun skills!) so I’d probably just let her kill me. I’d put up a little bit of a fight though, just for show.

#fuck marry kill #smooch befriend/abandon kill #the quarry #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #kaitlyn ka #this is how I die #I am a worthy sacrifice to Kaitlyn ka #mean asks from mean people /j #beautiful asks from beautiful people #sargeantsarmy showing up in everyone’s inbox like jigsaw

9 notes · View notes

supersources · 2 years

Text

random lyrics from songs in my ocs’ playlists as prompts (pt. 1)

(very specific and vague at the same time, i know) cw: drugs mention, death mention, and overall not good toxic vibes lmao sorry.

* how come we’ve both become a version of a person we don’t even like?

* we’re in love with the world, but the world just wants to bring us down.

* you better believe that i’m trying.

* i hope i learn how to get over myself.

* i want you so bad, but you can’t fight fire with fire.

* light a blunt up.

* i feel everything from my body to my soul.

* when i’m coming down, is the most i feel alone.

* thought i’d be a better man but i lied to me and to you.

* don’t you know i’m no good for you?

* nothing ever stops you leaving.

* i’ll only hurt you if you let me.

* i could lie and say i like it like that.

* i’m in serious shit.

* i feel totally lost.

* if i’m asking for help, it’s only because being with you has opened my eyes.

* wanna fly to a place where it’s just you and me, nobody else, so we can be free.

* they say it’s my fault.

* should i leave or stay?

* you’re set in your ways and you say i’m to blame.

* all i know is that i’m trying.

* i wanna believe in you, but you make it so hard to do.

* i don’t know where we went wrong.

* why can’t you be good to me?

* i don’t ask for much.

* can you be good to me?

* i’ve been on my own for long enough.

* maybe you can show me how to love.

* i can’t see clearly when you’re gone.

* i can’t sleep ‘til i feel your touch.

* i won’t keep your secrets now.

* and i know you’ll be the death of me.

* you’ll never be in love.

* i can’t drown my demons, they know how to swim.

* i love the way i light up when you call me.

* i see rainbows when i think of us.

* you’re my favorite mistake.

* i always fall for the things that will hurt me.

* i swore i’d never dance with you again.

* every time i think i’m free, you’re calling me again.

* can’t believe that i keep coming back, but you make me feel so good.

* you know i can’t say no to you.

* from the beginning, i knew you’d be the end of me.

* every time i get close, somebody’s letting me down.

* i only got good intentions, i don’t wanna mess this up. i wanna open up.

* why fall in love? just so you can watch it go away?

* all this time i didn’t know you were breaking down.

* you’re too young to know it gets better.

* you’re still young, you got time on your side.

* i’m self-destructive, i’ll probably die early.

* oh well, it feels too good to let it go.

* i’m barely surviving.

* i’ve been lost and confused for a while.

* they say “you got talent, don’t let it go to waste” and it’s funny ‘cause i’ve been wasted every damn day.

* i want you ‘cause we’re both insane.

* dressed like a good boy, you’re so clever.

* aren’t you tired of always playing a part?

* go be a puppy for somebody else.

* always played the good guy, but then you stabbed me in the back and acted like it was fine.

* you got a dark side no one knows.

* go ahead, you can say it’s my fault.

* maybe when i die, you won’t hate me.

* go ahead, you can say that i changed. just say it to my face.

* one drink and i’m back to that place, the memories don’t fade.

* would have done anything, everything for him and if you ask me, i would do it again.

* they say all good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you.

* i just thought it was fun.

* does it make you feel better seeing her in my sweater?

* i heard she asked about me, and i bet you lied to your teeth.

* i’m scared to love.

* i know your intentions, i don’t blame you for wanting more.

* i have a fear of intimate moments.

* you don’t have to stay and lie. if i’m not your type, you can leave whenever.

* i need your lips on mine.

* we can be corny, fuck it.

* tell me, are you feeling down?

* tell me, are we finished now? ‘cause every time you leave, you find your way to come back around.

* i need time to realize that i can’t be yours.

* i remember when i met, i thought the universe sent you... thought you were someone i could vent to.

* i love it how you know i’d only come right back for more.

* why i thought it was forever?

#rp meme #rp starters #rp prompts #sentence starters #inbox meme #inbox starters #rp ask meme #starter prompt #roleplay starters #roleplay prompts #sentence meme #askbox meme #askbox prompt #ask meme #sentence prompts #mine: prompts.

163 notes · View notes

theherosvillain · 3 months

Text

5: Something that you'll never kill

Previous - Masterpost - Next

CWs: captivity, violence

After a night of restless sleep, I didn’t feel much better. My ribs ached, and I felt a sharp pain down the left side whenever I took a deep breath. I couldn’t tell whether the rib was broken or just cracked. My arms and my torso felt bruised, but I didn’t check to see how bad it looked. I didn’t want to know.

The hours of rest only made me more aware that I was running out of time. Gingerly, I sat up on the cot and assessed how I felt. Could I run in this kind of condition? Fight? I swung my legs over the edge and slumped over, then hissed at the stab of pain in my ribs. Fuck. I couldn’t handle another fight. Running would hurt like a bitch, and I’d be slower than usual, but …

My fingers tightened on the thin mattress. It was wishful thinking, but what choice did I have? I’d been missing for more than a day already. Someone must have alerted the police, but maybe they wouldn’t take the disappearance of a troubled kid like me that seriously.

The police, honestly, were the least of my concern, and I could dodge questions from my aunt and my friends, too. I was used to that. My biggest worry was not getting out of here at all.

I picked the lock again. It took longer this time—a pretty good indicator that I needed more rest, but I pushed through until it clicked open, ignoring the lingering aches as I stepped out into the hallway. Then, immediately, I heard footsteps.

I stiffened, but before I could move, Ryker turned the corner, his scowl zeroing in on me. “You just don’t fucking know when to quit, do you?”

Normally, I’d give him a witty retort that would only piss him off more. Now, I barely had time to brace myself before he threw me to the ground, and his boot met my possibly-broken ribs. He didn’t even kick that hard, but I hissed in pain as I wrapped my arms around myself. “Thought you would’ve learned your lesson last time,” he muttered.

“Ryker, that’s enough.” Vale’s voice was disapproving, but only mildly. I stiffened; I hadn’t even sensed him approaching. I really needed more sleep. “I told you not to cause any permanent damage.”

I only uncurled when I heard Ryker step back. “He’ll survive,” he said.

“You’re dismissed. He’s not going anywhere.” Vale’s shiny black shoes entered my vision, stopping far too close. “Are you, Phantom?”

“Fuck off.” The words slipped out, and my breath froze in my chest. I braced myself for more pain. I rarely swore when I was acting as Phantom—it was part of the persona, being polite, but I was in too much pain to maintain that façade. Still, I got the feeling Vale would take the disrespect a lot less kindly than Ryker had.

There was a beat of silence. I heard Ryker walking away. Vale’s shoes stayed planted on the floor. “Do not speak to me like that again,” he said, his voice low and calm. I nodded, not daring to lift my head. “Now get up.”

I painstakingly rose to my feet, suppressing the urge to swear as my injured ribs shifted. It killed me to follow orders, but I couldn’t risk another injury. Vale had barely touched me yet, but I was under no illusion that he wouldn’t. He barely made sure I was standing before he turned his back and started walking, like he was expecting me to follow.

The worst part is, I did.

“I spoke with Amoret,” he said over his shoulder. “It was … enlightening.” He paused for a brief moment before he added, “She mentioned that she’s your mother.”

I flinched. I really wasn’t in the mood to think about that. “Why did her name surprise you?” I blurted out instead. It was a blatant dodge, but as long as we were talking about Amoret …

Again, he paused. I didn’t really think he’d answer until he said, “I knew Vivienne Thorn a long time ago. I hadn’t been aware that she and Amoret were the same person.” Despite how shitty I felt, the edge in his voice made me feel a tiny bit better. I hadn’t fucked up. If Vale was angry at Amoret for lying to him all these years, then I did exactly what I meant to do. “How long have you known she was your mother?”

The question jolted me out of my short-lived satisfaction. “Since the other night,” I muttered, my arms crossed carefully above my injured ribs.

He glanced back at me. “I take it you’re unhappy with this revelation?”

Oh, he had no fucking idea. I managed to keep a straight face. “It’s not the best news I’ve ever gotten, no.”

He scrutinized me for a moment before facing forward again. I wondered why he’d even asked. Why did he care what I thought about it?

By now, I recognized the way to the office, so I wasn’t surprised when we ended up there again. The desk was scattered with papers, and as I approached, a cold feeling washed over me. Sitting on top, front and center, was my school photo from this year: my bangs swept to the side, eyelashes dark with mascara, the collar of my purple top slightly askew. Printed above the photo, in big block letters, was the word MISSING.

All I could do was stare, the blood draining from my face. No. Nononono—

“So.” Vale’s voice cut through the panic buzzing in my veins. “Wren Argent.”

I whirled to face him, gripping the back of the chair as my legs threatened to give out. “Don’t ever say that name again,” I snapped.

“This is you, isn’t it?” He inclined his head toward the newspaper, as if I hadn’t fucking seen it. All I could do was nod stiffly. That was me—my civilian self, in the paper, on Axton Vale’s desk. His hand grazed the edge of the paper, and without thinking, I snatched it away with my powers. It crumpled in my fist, and I tried to take a deep breath, but the pain shot through my ribs. I stopped.

Vale studied me like I was a puzzle, and I wanted to shrink down and disappear, away from his prying eyes, away from the realization that he knew. “There is one thing I’d like to clear up,” he said slowly, eyeing the paper in my hand. “By all accounts, your civilian identity seems to be a … girl. Are you—?”

I cut him off, mortified and furious all at once. I wasn’t out, especially not in my villain life. When I was Wren, my gender was whatever I needed it to be. When I was Phantom, though— “I’m a boy.”

The words so rushed they sounded like a lie, and I was certain he’d call my bluff. To my surprise, though, he nodded slowly, although he still looked bewildered. “But—”

My grip on the chair tightened as my powers welled up inside me, threatening to break loose. I shoved them back down, reminding myself that I couldn’t afford another fight. “Is that really the most important thing here?”

His eyes narrowed. After a brief pause, he said, “No, I suppose not.” My relief only lasted for a second before he reached for a different newspaper. “I’m assuming this is why you became a villain.”

My stomach dropped as my eyes zeroed in on the familiar headline: LOCAL PROFESSOR ARRESTED FOR VILLAINY. It wasn’t the only article written about my mom’s arrest, but this one, in particular, had framed it badly. All the evidence was circumstantial, but the tabloids acted like it was such a concrete thing, like the Hero League actually had proof that my mom committed those crimes—

I cut off the train of thought before it could go any further. Even after all these months, it made my heart pound with rage. I tried to take a deep breath, and my ribs ached in protest. “Yeah,” I said, not quite looking at Vale. “That would be why.”

“What, exactly, were you trying to accomplish here?”

Rage spiked through me, my powers threatening to burst out. I counted to ten in my head before I felt controlled enough to meet his eyes. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

He set the paper down, his full attention on me. “I want to understand your motives. Your mother was arrested for villainy, and you became a villain yourself because …?”

“Because she didn’t do it!” I snapped. “Amoret confessed to framing her—” I cut myself off and looked away, fists clenched. I said I wouldn’t explain myself.

“You don’t have any evidence of that, do you?” I swallowed, still not meeting his eyes. I was working on it. Vale let out a weary sigh. “Phantom, you’re clearly a very bright, driven, and powerful young man. What you lack, though, is perspective. You’re a wolf lowering yourself to the level of sheep.”

I laughed, and it came out sounding hysterical. Between the pain and the panic, my grip on the chair was the only thing keeping me standing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you are wasting your time.” His tone was clipped, matter-of-fact. “You could be doing so much more with yourself.”

The newspaper crinkled in my fist. “Like working for you?” I asked icily. The possibility of it made me feel ill. I only had a vague sense of what Vale did for a living, but I knew it was nothing I wanted to be a part of.

“Working under my guidance would be a much more productive use of your time than the petty villainy you’ve dedicated yourself to.”

I doubted it, but I didn’t doubt that he believed it, and that part scared me the most. I had to get the fuck out of here.

I bolted for the door. Before I could get far, his hand landed on my shoulder, and I froze. “Just where do you think you’re going?” His voice was almost casual, his fingers digging into my skin. “I know where you live, Phantom. I know where your friends live.” My breath froze in my chest. The door was right in front of me, but I didn’t dare move. “Ariel Becker, Danika Cameron … you wouldn’t want anything to happen to them, would you?”

I whipped around, and my fist slammed into his jaw. He grunted, staggered back—then his hand jabbed my side, and my ribs exploded in pain. I gasped and doubled over, and he yanked me up by my hoodie. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. The neutral expression on his face had evaporated, replaced with simmering rage. “If you ever do that again,” he said in a low, calm voice, “I will kill them, very slowly, and I will make you watch. Do you understand?”

My mouth went dry. I swallowed, my eyes darting away. “Yes,” I whispered.

He grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look back at him. “Yes, what?”

It took a moment for my brain to catch up, and another moment to push past the bitter taste in my mouth. “Yes, sir.”

I stumbled when he released me, my back hitting the door. I stayed there, trying to breathe through my aching ribs, and watched him dab the blood off his mouth with a handkerchief. Then he turned back to me. “Go back to your room. Think this through. You’re a smart boy, Phantom. I’m sure you’ll reach the right conclusion.”

Mechanically, I left the office. I could run, I thought. He’s not following me. He won’t expect it. I could run.

Then Vale’s words rang in my head again, cold and clear, and I decided to stop thinking.

I shut myself inside the room and sat down on the cot, reality settling over me like a heavy weight.

Title credits: Thank You For The Venom - My Chemical Romance

Tag list: let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates!

#original writing #original fiction #wip #fiction #oc: the phantom prince #oc: axton vale #(try not to) kill all your friends #oc: james ryker #captivity #violence tw #chapter summary: diversity win! the guy who kidnapped you respects your pronouns!#this really is a moment where i'm like oh oops i haven't mentioned that he's trans yet have i

8 notes · View notes