#except for Victor getting sick

[victorluvsalice]

-->Though I quickly learned I had bigger problems than Alice cooking naked, when I discovered Nalani had wandered around to the back porch and was doing some herbalism at the grill. :O!! Fortunately, she was good enough not to set any mood-killing fires, and she and Felipe eventually wandered into the kitchen to chat with Alice (now clothed again, yay) and offer their help with the cooking. While Clement Frost did his best to snag some leftover fruit pie and grand breakfast. *sigh* Food's coming, good sir! Alice eventually finished the meal (getting level 5 Gourmet Cooking skill in the process, nice) and called everyone to the table --

-->Cue a mess as I tried to get everyone to at least SIT at the table without getting distracted. *shakehead* It took quite a bit of wrangling as Sims got distracted playing on their phones, going outside to check on the specters on the front porch (who were currently sprinkling their playfulness all over Angela Pleasant), and trying to get other food from the fridge, but EVENTUALLY everyone (well, everyone who could fit -- sorry, Nalani, it's a six-seater!) sat around the damn table. Oh Sims, why are you like this... Anyway, everyone enjoyed the food they had in front of them, and Smiler tried telling some stories about pirate captains and castaways, because it was actually Talk Like A Pirate Day on top of everything else. XD Neither of their attempts actually fulfilled the goal (they kept ending the stories early), but everyone seemed to enjoy themselves regardless, so -- win?

-->With the meal sorted, I noticed the weather was just getting worse and worse -- so while Clement, Felipe, Nalani, and Rory kept chatting to each other in the kitchen (and getting more leftovers out of the fridge -- guys, come on), Victor headed out back to the weather machine and cleared the skies before downing a Potion of Plentiful Needs to fix his exhaustion and other failing needs. With the rain tapering off, Smiler cleaned up the dishes in the kitchen, and Alice got her tripod set up on the front porch (ignoring the passing NPC kicking over their garbage can) -- and then, once everything was clear, I sent the gang out to the front porch to take some trio shots to fulfill the "take 20 pictures" goal!

...as you can see, first shot was kind of ruined by the appearance of orange tiger stripes all over Victor. Oops. XD Not sure WHEN he got sick, but it certainly made things a mite more inconvenient when it came to pictures!

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton Chapter 4, Part 1

masterpost am still sick. no editing or concrit please. *sad coughing*

Wally had already known that Danny was smart, but watching Danny work with Barry, Victor, and the others put Danny’s intelligence in a whole other category. Danny was science smart.

The swift progress from everyone working together making a way to communicate with Wally using readings from Danny was encouraging. What wasn’t encouraging is how Danny seemed to fade a little more every day.

“—take a break, Danny,” Dick said. He’d taken his role of mother hen seriously, as he always did.

“Yeah, one sec,” Danny mumbled around the screwdriver in his mouth. “Just let me finish these wires. We’re almost ready for another test.”

Dick hummed before agreed, “Okay—after the test—eating and taking a nap.”

“N,” Danny whined.

“Don’t N—,” Dick replied. “Flash wouldn’t—killing yourself to save him.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t!” Wally agreed, even if no one would hear him. Everyone else might still be a little static sounding, but he knew Dick well enough to know what he was saying.

“Already died,” Danny grumbled to himself as he kept working on the wiring.

Dick chose not to respond to the aside, which was probably for the best, and settled back against a wall of the converted bio lab instead. Wally leaned next to him.

“I know that we both know that letting someone stay involved is important for mental health, but you have to be willing to ground Danny when the time comes,” Wally said, just to be able to say it. “I can feel him getting weaker. I’m worried that it’s an exponential thing too, and who knows how much it will worse when the sensors are working.”

Dick sighed next to him. Wally nodded along as if Dick had been agreeing. In the background, Danny, Barry, and Raven were talking.

“I know, he’ll be suborn about it. But you could always point out how he’s the only way to get me back,” Wall shivered as a sudden wave of cold passed over him. “We’ll know that’s not why, but if it works, it works, right?”

“Wally?” Dick asked his name in such an absolutely wrecked way that Wally spun and was reaching out before he remembered that Dick couldn’t see him.

Except that Dick was looking right at him.

Wally could tell, even with the lenses.

“Can—can you see me?”

Dick nodded slowly.

“And—and you can hear me?! You can hear me!” Wally reached for Dick.

His hand went right through him.

Oh.

Small steps.

“It’s hard to hear you,” Barry said, over to Wally’s side in a rush. “It’s like Danny has said, you’re all static. Visually too. It’s like the channel isn’t turned right. But! We can work on refining that until we’ve locked onto the right frequency and then we can work on pulling you out of there! Your aunt is going to strangle you as soon as she can touch you, so be ready for that.”

Wally barked out a teary laugh. “Yeah, she would. I’ll take that. I’ll take being touched just about in any way right now. I mean, just talking to you all! I didn’t know if…”

“Never,” Dick said admittedly. “We’ll always come to get you. And luckily you were smart enough to find Danny.”

“I think that was all luck, nothing smart about it. I’m just glad that—Danny?” Wally looked over to Danny, who was leaning against the equipment, and just knew that things were about to go badly. “Barry! Catch him!”

[alloftheimagines]

haymitch abernathy | until sunrise

words: 1.7k warnings: MINORS DNI. off-page sexual and physical abuse, blood, suicidal ideation, alcohol, drugs, angst, hurt/comfort description: You’re the Capitol’s plaything. All he can do is clean you up after a particularly terrible night.  I just finished Sunrise on the Reaping and had to get out some Haymitch brainrot.

A knock on his door is never a good sign. When Haymitch is in the Capitol for the Games, he keeps to himself when he can, lost in the fog of drink where he can convince himself that nothing can touch him. 

But there’s one exception. You.

You’re the only reason he opens the door at all. A fresh victor of District 12, it’s been your turn to serve the Capitol over the last couple of years. Last Games, they still had that thing in your ear, keeping you drugged and controlled to establish you as the Capitol’s docile little darling. This year, you’ve spent every party either in a cage or satisfying potential sponsors behind closed doors. It makes him sick, so he drinks more and more and more, but it never makes it easier. 

Now, in the hallway, you’re more gaunt than ever. Barely there at all. There are cuts all over your skin, blood dribbling down your temple, your neck, even your damn legs. 

“I need…” you whisper, and the words are slurred. Unlike him, it isn’t a choice. Your clients like you better when you’re inebriated, not able to fight back. You’re theirs to do with what they want. 

You frown as though you’ve already forgotten what you need, but he knows. 

“Come in, sweetheart.”

When you step forward on buckling legs, he has to catch you, just barely holding you up. His white liquor breath mingles with your sour one as, somehow, this quest for stability becomes something more. He’s holding you tight while your head lolls against his shoulder, because it’s the least he can do and it isn’t nearly enough. He feels responsible. He helped you win those games. After years of following the rules, learning the hard way that rebellion got people killed, he’d seen a spark in you. A spark that could have destroyed the games if he was just smart enough to figure out how. 

Snow had seen the flame. Snuffed it out. It pains Haymitch to think it, but he would have been better off letting you starve without sponsors. Letting you die in the arena. This… This is his fault. He cared for something again, somebody, and now it’s killing you both. 

“What’d they do to you?” he whispers when he’s shut the door behind you. A stupid question, born from horror rather than a genuine need to know. With the bite marks, bruises, and slashes across your skin, he can imagine. The Capitol are almost as genetically mutated as Mutts these days, so many of them resembling animals with sharp-filed teeth among other hideous implants.

“Got one… with fangs n’claws,” you mutter. 

He looses a jagged breath, half-rage, half-despair, and guides you carefully over to his couch. The apartment is still in darkness, lights too bright for his ever-pounding head. Besides, the view of the Capitol illuminated under the stars yawns outside his window, a beast not quite slumbering. Never does. The city never stops; night just casts a blanket over their depravities, but there are holes in the velvet that keep the place lit dim.

Curtains aren’t allowed. He already asked. 

With you slumped on his pillows, he can get a better view of your state. Regrets looking immediately. Glittering dress the colour of grey doves has been torn by greedy hands. Where your skin isn’t bloody, it’s black, blue, green, your very own kaleidoscope of pain. It’ll be worse in the morning, but right now, you at least have the detachment the drugs grant you. Not like him, who feels every fucking mark on you. 

He rubs a hand over his unkempt stubble. Tries to figure out where the fuck he should start. If you were cognisant, he’d have led you straight to the shower, knows how unclean you feel after a night like this. But you’re not, and he’s not going to be another monster who strips you bare without you knowing. 

“Gonna clean you up best I can, okay?” he finally decides. “You rest now.”

Your mumble is unintelligible, but it still pierces another needle through his chest. How can the two of you keep going like this? How can you mentor more tributes, knowing that an arena death would be kinder than this slow torture?

Turns out his liquor comes in handy for more than just getting wasted. He grabs a cloth and his half-drained bottle from the kitchen along with a bowl of warm water, then returns to you, kneeling on the carpet at your feet. 

“I got you now,” he whispers, then starts on your sprawled legs. You whimper when he reaches the first gash, right below your knee. “‘M sorry, sweetheart. Know it stings.”

You bite your lip, fingers curling into the velvet arm of the couch as he keeps going. “Haymitch.” It’s a croaked whisper, barely audible at all, but he hears it like an alarm bell.

“I’m here,” is all he can reply as he wrings the blood from the cloth. Goes again. Where your dress is bunched towards your hips, he sees bite marks on your inner thighs and feels nauseous. He sucks in a sharp breath. Leans back to press his fist into his mouth so that he doesn’t yell, or sob, or do something. He’s had his time, his punishment. It’s your turn now, and all he can do is be there at the end of the night. He takes a swig of the liquor in his hand, but it just makes the burn in his throat worse. So bad he has to step away, just for a minute, to collect himself. 

He doesn’t know your lazy gaze is watching his back, waiting for him to return. The only person who keeps you safe in all this, or at least rides out the devastation with you. Without him, you wouldn’t be here. You don’t know if that makes him a blessing or a curse. 

“Gonna get you some water,” he decides. 

Don’t go, you think, but you don’t dare say it. Even now, you’re afraid the Capitol will see just how much you rely on him and take that from you, too. 

He comes back quickly, helps sit you up with a gentle hand on your shoulder as he tips the cool glass to your cracked lips. “That’s it,” he coaxes. “Thatta girl.”

Your face crumples as though it tastes foul, and he draws it back to dry the excess from your chin. “When’s… it gon’ end?” you ask.

“When we’re dead and buried,” he replies softly. “Till then, you try to stay with me, okay?”

Your hooded eyes glisten as you finally look at him. It isn’t easy, being this vulnerable. You’ve been used and abused all night by evil, depraved men. Men with weapons on their fingers, in their mouths, everywhere, not because they like to fight, but because they like to bleed people like you dry. You shouldn’t want to be anywhere near him now, but where else can you go?

He’s all you’ve got. Some nights, it just isn’t enough. “Don’t w’na do this anymore.”

“I know.”

“Could end it.”

“They wouldn’t let you. You know that.” His voice is gravel; pain. You hate you put it there with your dreams of death, but they feel closer now than ever. What if he didn’t tend to your wounds, didn’t keep your hydrated and fed and awake? What if he let you drift off the way he hadn’t been able to in the arena?

And he’s right. Even if he could let you go, the Capitol would find some way to get you back, whether they’d use your sickly corpse or find somebody to masquerade as you to keep up appearances. You’d just be making it worse, even if not for yourself. 

And he needs you. He’d never say it, but he does. The only other victor here, all you have is each other. Back in District 12, you sit in your grand house in the Victor Village for hours, listening to him shuffling on the other side of the wall. His presence always a frayed thread to grasp onto with both hands. You clean him up when he’s passed out on his doorstep, or sometimes, you get drunk together on your couch. Only then do your bodies intertwine the way you want, both of you too past consciousness to care whether somebody sees. You don’t know what he’d do without you. Choke on his own vomit, maybe. Drink until he drowned. You rely on each other — and it’s the most dangerous thing in the world. But also the only thing that keeps you going. 

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, and his face is fading in and out of the blackness now as he tends to some of the scratches on your face and neck. 

“Haymitch,” you whisper again, because if anybody can save you, it’s him. 

“Right here, sweetheart. Not going anywhere.” He’s so gentle against your raw skin you barely feel it at all, only moaning when he reaches tender spots. Finally, it stops. 

“Couch or bed?” he asks just as you’re sinking into the dark. 

“Couch.” Beds are where terrible things happen. Beds are where this happened.

“Lie down then, sweet. That’s it.” He guides you down to the cushions of the couch, a hand brushing the matted hair off your cheeks. You can’t tell if it’s comfortable or not. Your body isn’t yours to decide that, these days. He drapes a blanket over you, and it eases your shuddering limbs. Had you been shaking like that the whole time? You barely noticed. 

“You’ll stay?” If you were capable of it, it would have been a plea. 

He gives you the same answer as ever: “Where else am I gonna go?” And then, when you don’t reply, he takes your hand and gets comfortable on the carpet. He’s never, not once, tried to do more than that after nights like this, knowing too much touch will bring it all back. “Gonna be right here till sunrise, okay? Always gonna be another sunrise.”

It should be a comfort, but it feels like a death sentence. Doing this all over again tomorrow… 

But he’s here. He’ll always be here. The only good thing this world has ever given you. 

[painted-flag]

A VICTOR, part three (final) - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three (final) 𓃮 warnings: 18+ descriptions of violence and smut (fingering, pinv, slight biting kink and nipple play, possessive behaviour) 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor.

It had been a long, excruciating week. You had managed to avoid Commodus in that time. Attius was still insistent that you complete your duties despite the injuries, but you had managed to do them all in the lower levels of the palace. In the few instances where you needed to get work done in areas Commodus could be, you chose to do them very late into the night. 

There was not a word you could use to express the heartache you had felt at that time. It is funny that a person could be stamped so permanently onto your ribcage in such a short time of knowing them, but the emperor was a man you would never forget. 

In your dreams, you could still feel the touch of his calloused hands and the warmth that only he could provide – no other form of warmth like fire or the sun could compare or compete. 

The swelling in your face was gone, but you still sported a cut lip and the bruises were still prominent. Each night, you would go to Cassius to get a poultice to put on your wounds, which soothed the skin and removed some of the aching pain. 

While you had been smart in dodging Commodus and staying on the lower levels of the castle, you had to fetch rosemary from the gardens and it could not wait until night. So you found yourself, in the heat of midday, picking some rosemary in a secluded area of the palace gardens. 

It was calm, with a gentle breeze that kissed your skin. You held a woven basket with the handle tucked into your bent arm. With a small knife, you would cut off bundles of rosemary that looked ready to harvest and placed them in the basket. The motions were soft and serene and you found some peace with it. 

Footsteps alerted you to a presence behind you. You wanted to turn, but at the sound of their voice, you knew who it was and could not afford to face them. 

“You are not sick,” Commodus spoke from behind you, his tone full of contempt. 

You stopped your current task but still refused to turn around. Keeping your back to him was incredibly disrespectful, but you feared what he would do if he saw the markings on your face. How quickly would he cast you aside? 

“I have… recovered quickly.” You excused. Commodus scoffed from behind you and stepped closer. He was only a pace or two away from you and his close proximity had your knees weak and resolve crumbling. 

“You were never sick. I am not stupid…” His tone then switched to something that sounded almost insecure, “Have I done something to incur your indifference? Why do you avoid me? Whatever it was, name it and I shall work towards absolution. Shout it at me, insult me even, I give you permission for that. So long as you speak, so long as I can hear you talk because I have learnt that nothing… nothing hurts more than the absence of you.” 

His small speech could have knocked you off your feet. It sent your mind reeling. A strong urge to drop your basket and fling yourself into his arms washed over your body. How much you dearly missed the comfort of his embrace. He sounded vulnerable, not something you ever thought would come out of his mouth.

“It is not you, Caesar.” You hoped the honorific title would make him display more mercy toward you, but you failed to notice the depths of his devotion that had built up long before he invited you to his chamber so many nights ago. 

“Commodus.” He corrected what you addressed him as, “You of all people do not need to call me that. What is it that burdens you so?” He questioned. 

You knew there was no point in trying to keep it hidden. Your clothing thankfully covered most of the bruises, except for the one on your face. Slowly, while looking at the stone ground, you turned to face him. Your face raised and made eye contact with him, finding some solace in the green of his eyes. His look of desperation for your attention quickly morphed into simmering rage. You could see the bump in his throat move as he swallowed and his jaw set. 

He took the final step to get closer to you. Commodus raised his hand and hovered it right over your bruise, eyes scanning it over and over as if it was not real. 

“Who?” His voice was oddly calm. It was as if his mind had shut down, unable to fully process what he was seeing. 

“I am fine and–”

“Who did this?” Commodus interrupted. He gently traced over the bruise with the tip of his fingers, mapping the way it marred your face. 

“I have neglected my duties as of late. Master Attius did only what was necessary.” You tried to reason. His nostrils flared at your words. 

“It was him that did this to you?” You wanted to answer, but there was a sob that threatened to claw its way through your throat. You did not wish to cry in front of him, but the stress of everything had hit you. He saw the tears that welled in your eyes and pulled you in for a hug. However, his sudden touch on your arms caused you to flinch.

Commodus looked down immediately, grabbed your wrist, and pulled up the sleeve of your dress to see the bruises that littered your forearm and disappeared under the top of the fabric. His breath became laboured. 

“Nothing must go unpunished, he told me.” You bit your lip to hold the sobs back. Commodus let out a long sigh and rested his forehead against yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, letting the warm breeze hit your bodies. 

He eventually moved, lifting his head and planting a kiss on your hairline. His hands reached up and rubbed your shoulders gently, trying to provide comfort while also not wanting to make your pain worse. 

“You are not to do any more work today. Go to my room and wait there.” He instructed you. 

“Wait for what?” You asked. He did not answer you, only giving your temple one last chaste kiss before he turned around and left the garden. You could hear his harsh footfalls as he got further away and you were scared at what he was capable of. 

Commodus was angry and that was dangerous. You worried about what his wrath meant for anyone in the palace. Yet, you could do nothing but stand there as he left, bracing for the coming aftermath of whatever he had planned.

You swore that you would wear down the marble flooring in Commodus’ room. For the last few hours, you had paced back and forth. Sometimes you would sit in a chair for a few moments before becoming restless again and resuming your short march. There had been no word from Commodus or anyone as to what was going on. 

You surmised that was the best outcome. He had not gone on a rampage and caused chaos, which was good. It had only struck you recently that perhaps you had been terribly stupid this whole time. The way he looked at you in the gardens and his vulnerability at thinking he had done something wrong to you. There you came to understand the depths of the situation and that the feelings you held are in some capacity reciprocated. 

That was why you paced so relentlessly. He harboured feelings for you, which in itself felt surreal. You were nothing and would remain nothing, but somehow that was enough to catch his attention. Had it been that festival you sang at so many years ago? Was it that moment when the fates decide to entwin both of your paths?

The door on the other side of the room opened and you stopped pacing. You stood still, hoping to see Commodus. It was hard to conceal your disappointment when another man walked through the doors. He was old and hunched over slightly, but his face appeared kind. He carried a bag with him and set it down on one of the tables. 

“Excuse my brash words, but where is the emperor?” You questioned. 

The old man smiled and began to take items out of his bag; vials and bandages, “The emperor has not been in the palace for hours, my lady.” 

“I am not a lady,” You spoke. 

“I have been instructed by the Caesar to look over his lady that awaits in this room. I am correct in assuming that is you?” He teased you slightly and you felt a little more relaxed around him. You approached the table and looked down at the healing supplies he had laid out. 

“Yes, uh, that would be me.” You shrugged. You did not want to question why Commodus had referred to you as his lady but knew it was not something to take lightly. Whatever he said goes and there was no reversing those words. The more you thought of it, the more it warmed your heart. 

“Well, I am Cosmo, fair lady. Might I check over your injuries?” He questioned. 

You nodded with permission and he moved towards you. While he tended to your wounds, all you could think about was Commodus; where he was and what he was doing. He was not in the palace and Rome was a large city. A sinking feeling of worry and dread washed over you.

After you had been tended to, more servants came in to bring you new attire. The dress you wore was nothing you had ever come close to having. The tunica, stolla, and palla all matched with the vibrancy of orange and black. Commodus had picked it out for you and you could not help but wonder if he chose it because it was similar in colour to your favourite animal, the tiger.  

When you had gotten ready, guards escorted you to a waiting carriage. Each time you tried to ask what was happening, you only got the same short response; Caesar awaits you. By now, slight fear had entered your heart. He had been gone that whole day and the last you saw of him was when he became consumed by rage. Had he hurt others? Had he hurt himself? 

The large imposing figure of the Colosseum entered your vision as the carriage approached. There were not many times in your life when you had time to visit, but each memory had been ingrained in your mind. The sun was setting and cast the stone in a delicate golden light. The heat of the day waned and you became grateful for the clothing wrapped around you to shield you from the occasional cool breeze. 

You do not remember there being a gladiatorial game scheduled for that day and your suspicions got worse as you were led out of the carriage and into the Colosseum. There was no shouting, no screaming, or bounds of cheer. Nothing but silence greeted you as you walked up some stairs and found yourself at the cloth-covered entrance to the emperor's viewing box. 

The guards escorting you grabbed the silk curtains and pulled them away, allowing you to enter alone. The viewing box was grand, filled with seats for the senators. A large stone chair, like a throne, was placed up front in the centre. There, leaning against the stone railing, was Commodus. He had his back to you, but you could see he wore a regal outfit of black armour with silver and gold accents. A gold laurel crown rested over his touseled dark locks. 

Your heartbeat picked up at the sight. 

“Commodus?” You questioned. At the sound of your voice, he turned around and smiled. He raised both of his arms like one would do to welcome someone with a hug. 

“Ah, you’re finally here,” He approached you and placed one hand gently over the healing bruise on your face, “How are you?” His other hand rested on your waist to pull you closer. A flush fell over your body. 

“The healer says I am doing well. There are no complications.” You answered. You had no idea what to do with your arms, so you pressed the palms of your hands against the chestpiece he wore, feeling the bends and grooves of the detailed pattern and the coolness of the metal. 

“And how is your mind?” His thumb swiped back and forth across your cheek. 

“I am alright. It hurt for a while… everything is fine now.” You reassured him. During your week of avoiding him, you had missed his comfort dearly. While he had originally gone to you for solace, you became attached to him and learned that you wished to lean on him as well.

“Not quite, darling.” Commodus took your arm and guided you to the big throne. He sat down comfortably. While you looked around for a chair next to him, he pulled you down so you sat on his lap. The movement was abrupt but sent heat through your body. 

“Nothing can go back to normal until you see justice for the crimes you have suffered,” Commodus wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you securely in his lap. The armour he wore was almost cold, but his presence provided a warmth that erased that feeling.  

“Attius was well within his rights to punish me and–” 

Commodus grabbed your chin and turned your head to look at him. There was a quiet rage within his eyes, though not directed at you. 

“I’ll not have you speak like that, do you hear me?” He told you. You nodded which made him smile and leave a chaste kiss on your cheek, “Good. Now, I have prepared a show for you.” 

“A show?” You questioned. 

“More like a trial,” He motioned with his hands to a set of guards standing within the arena. They began to march towards one of the entrances and he continued to speak, “I will not have my lady wronged. Nothing must go unpunished.” That phrase clicked in your head, the one that Attius had used against you. At that moment, you understood what was happening.

The doors to one of the entrances opened and out came the person you were expecting. Your master, Attius, had his hands bound by shackles in front of him. He was led in by multiple guards, crossing the sandy terrain. You sucked in a breath when they got closer and you could get a better look at him. He was dressed in rags, but his arms and the lower half of his legs were exposed, showing the gnarly bruises that littered his skin. Splotches of blood, some aged more than others, consumed the brown cotton he wore. 

What shocked you the most was the bruise on his face that was almost an exact copy of the one he gave you. 

Commodus chuckled lightly to himself when Attius almost stumbled over. You now understood where he was for those hours of not being at the palace. While undeniably barbaric, something about his protective nature and thirst for vengeance on your part was, in a twisted way, attractive. When Attius got within speaking distance, Commodus tightened his hold on you as if to assure himself you would no longer get hurt. 

“You have committed an egregious crime,” Commodus spoke. Your hands placed over his that rested on your stomach and began to carefully thread your fingers through his. He had gotten tense and you were doing what you could to calm him down, if only slightly. 

“Caesar, please! Mercy! Show me mercy!” Attius was shoved down to his knees by the guards, kicking up some of the sand. 

“Mercy from me? No, it is not me that you wronged,” Commodus turned to you, his face of indifference and hate towards Attius morphing into adoration for you, “My lady, do you grant him mercy?”

For a moment, you wanted to. You may have many weeks ago, but lately, you had come to understand that violence was often necessary; all thanks to Commodus’ guidance. You thought of everything Attius did towards your fellow servants over the years. Each indignity, each strike, each time he would show no clemency. 

You wanted him to feel that fear. 

“No mercy,” You answered. Commodus smiled at you and his eyes twinkled with something akin to excitement. He surged forward to capture you in a heated kiss. You matched the fervour, pushing back and feeling the softness of his lips against yours. He hummed with satisfaction, tasting the fruit you had eaten a while ago on your lips. 

He pulled away and whispered, “You’re perfect,” He then turned to face Attius again, losing all sense of warmth in his gaze, “It is, with my fair judgement, deemed that the offended parties will fight until death.” Your brows furrowed at his words. He did not mean that you would fight, right? 

Attius looked just as confused as you, “Caesar, surely I will not fight her?” 

“Of course not,” Commodus scoffed as if the mere notion was the worst idea ever proposed, “No, you will not be fighting my lady. Moreover, my lady’s favourite animal shall fight for her.” 

While Attius was still perplexed, your face dropped. You looked around the arena, suddenly aware of a looming threat. Commodus would not, would he? But then again, this kind of violence was in his nature. You understood why he picked out your outfit for that night, how the colours matched that of a tiger. The same animal he had seen you weaving into the pattern of a carpet. 

Suddenly, growling could be heard, looming ever closer. With a loud thundering snap, a section of the ground was pulled back quickly. There was no time to spare as a tiger, large and snarling, lept out from the depths. A chain was linked to a collar on its neck but did little to disrupt its movements. 

Your eyes were glued to the scene, stuck in a state of both stupor and intrigue. Commodus was smiling madly and he rested his chin on your shoulder. You revelled in his warmth while you watched Attius fail to fight back with nothing but a short sword. 

The fight did not last long. Even if he was not beaten and frail, there was no winning against the ravenous beast. It lunged and sunk its teeth into his side. You could see the tiger's jaw clench down and elicit screams of pain from Attius’ mouth. When he fell, the tiger took it as an advantage and aimed for his throat, cutting off his wails. As the beast fed, Commodus leaned back in his throne and used a hand to turn your chin to face him. 

“Do you see what I have done for you?” He began, “Take it as a vow. All those that lay a finger on you will be eaten like scraps. That was the fate of that filthy vermin that marked your arm, the fate of your master, and the fate of anyone who dares come after you now. You belong to me and me alone. Right, darling?” 

You nodded, too lost in the trance of his eyes to speak. His thumb brushed your lower lip before retreating. From a small round side table, Commodus lifted a woven laurel wreath that was as green as his eyes. He placed it on you and adjusted it so it sat along the crown of your head. 

“It appears you won the fight. Congratulations, my victor.” He kissed you on the cheek before gently tracing the bruise on your face. There was still an air of contempt that he held while looking at your injury, but Attius’ death gave him more satisfaction. 

“Thank you, Commodus.” You said. 

“We shall celebrate,” He squeezed your hips as a signal to get up and you did. He stood up after you and held out his hand, “Come,” 

You placed your hand in his, warming at the familiarity of his touch. Taking one last glance at Attius’ still body, you followed Commodus out of the viewing box.

You had been eating at a table in Commodus’ chambers since the two of you arrived back at the palace. It was a private dinner, but still grand in the assembly of food laid out. The two of you ate and talked like you once did before you avoided him. It felt right to go back into that routine like all was finally right with the world. 

The sun had long set and the both of you finished eating and only talked after. As the night got older, you began to unwind. Commodus stood off to the side, facing away from you as he took off his armour pieces. You occasionally glanced towards him while sipping on wine – not remembering the amount of cups you had. By the time he had gotten down to his underclothes and was unfastening his forearm braces, you decided to voice a question that had been burning you inside. 

“Commodus?” He turned to give you his attention and hummed. You took another quick sip, “Why did you choose me?” He paused for a moment, as if your question did not entirely make sense.

“I’ve already told you. At the very least, part of it,” He took off his braces and placed them next to his other armour pieces. His footsteps echoed off of the marble flooring as he came back to you. Commodus rested his forearm over the top of your chair as he leaned over you. 

“You sang at that festival and I felt warmth for the first time. It followed me in my dreams ever since. Admittedly, I did not know if you were still in the palace as you did not frequent above the lower levels. I should have hanged Attius for keeping you from the light.” His fingers reached out to trace your arm, moving up the length, across your shoulder, and towards the exposed collarbone. 

All of a sudden, his posture went rigid. You could see the bump on his throat move up and down as he swallowed nervously. After a few tense seconds, he lowered himself to your eye level, crouching slightly. The gesture alone was incredible. Never would you have predicted an emperor would lower himself to your level, both literally and figuratively. 

“I am correct in assuming these feelings are reciprocated?” He asked. You understood why he had become so nervous. While naturally ruthless, Commodus was an insecure man who looked for approval in the faces of everyone around him. Whether one could consider that a weakness or a strength was up to them. For you, none of that mattered. 

It was almost comical the way you shared that same worry for a while. You too were scared that the depths of his dedication and care were shallow, but if today had taught you anything, it was that a notion like that was far from the truth. 

“You are correct, Commodus.” You responded, “I deeply care for you.” Those words washed over him and you could see how he instantly relaxed. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, scanning you up and down as if to see if you were real. 

He surged forward and captured your lips with his, an ecstasy of heat. You melted into the feeling and relished in the attention. His hands gripped your waist tightly and pulled you up from the chair until your lower back dug into the table. He lifted you to sit on the table, the plates and cutlery jostling with the movement. Commodus was devouring you and at that moment you realized you did not mind it at all.

His movement to pick you up and place you on the table caused you to gasp, which he used to his advantage. His tongue entered your mouth, exploring and dominant. Your breathing became laboured and your body felt fuzzy – as if all the sensations around you that were not Commodus faded into the background. 

He kissed you a few more times before gently biting on your lower lip, pulling away and letting it go. You opened your eyes and saw him staring right at you. His chest was heaving slightly and he kept his forehead resting on yours; completely unwilling to be further from you in any way. 

“That…” Your whispered voice trailed off. Commodus smiled at how dazed you were and was happy to see his power over you. 

Glancing out the window near you, you saw just how dark it was and understood that it had to be closer to twilight. Your mood instantly died. You would need to go to bed immediately. Already you had lost out on valuable sleeping time and knew it would cause you to lack in your chores tomorrow. 

“Commodus, there is nothing I would like more than to stay with you, believe me. But I need to go and rest. There are many tasks I have to get to tomorrow.” 

He looked at you like you had said something incredibly bizarre, “Did you not hear what I told you in the arena? You are mine and because of that, you will do no more work. From now on, my room is yours. You are my lady, the emperor’s lady.” His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, as he pushed himself to stand between them. Even sitting on the table, you did not reach his height. 

“And what will people say?” You questioned. 

“They’ll say nothing if they favour their heads.” Something in the way he said those words made you more eager for him. Deciding to take charge for once, you grabbed the fabric of his tunic and pulled him towards you for a kiss. Commodus moved with you as he was eager to participate, but remained gentle to not hurt your bruises.

There was a heat that bubbled in your stomach, fueling a hunger that you had never felt before. Instinctively, your hips ground against his. Commodus reciprocated, moving the clothed area of his hardening length against your core. The kiss got more intense, a mesh of heated breath and knocking teeth. He clung to you like a last resort, like you were his last chance to arrive in the Elysium fields. 

Your hands roamed everywhere, up his arms and down his chest, feeling the muscles that lay under the fabric of his tunic. The table moved with the force of each of your movements, becoming unstable. Commodus gripped your thighs, pushing them against his sides and wrapping around his waist. You let him pull your arms around his neck and he lifted you off of the table. 

His strength nearly shocked you, but it was not surprising. He pulled away from the kiss long enough so he could walk up the marble steps to the raised dias that held his bed. Before you knew it, you found yourself falling onto the plush silk sheets of his bed; or more accurately what he has now framed as your shared bed. The thought sent a fluttering feeling to the already burning part of your stomach and lodged up towards your chest. 

Commodus leaned down over you and rested on one forearm while he used his free hand to trace across your collarbone and neck, “You’re mine. Not the senate’s, not Rome’s, not anyone’s.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, begging for more attention from him, “Yours, only yours.”

Commodus leaned down and began to assail your neck; licking, kissing, and biting every inch. You trembled under his touch and became reduced to nothing but breathless moans. His hands pulled away at the fabrics that wrapped your form, the pretty assemble being torn off you. You would have been sad about it if it were not for the fact that he could easily buy you another. 

He took away each layer and left you bare under him. Commodus stopped his assault on your neck and pulled back to look at you. Despite the occasional bruise on your arms and legs and a fading one on your stomach, he reached out and gripped your hip and swiped his thumb back and forth as his gaze travelled over you. 

“My Venus,” He whispered. If you were not already unwound below him, you would have melted right there. 

“Commodus,” His name fell like a plea on your lips. You needed him desperately and began to tug at his clothing. He humoured you, smiling softly as he stripped down. Once he was bare, you latched onto his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. You felt the softness of his lips as your tongues explored one another. His chest brushed against yours and the skin contact made you moan. He felt just as hot as your blood, pulsing and begging under the skin. 

One of his large hands trailed down your stomach and brushed over your hip bone before caressing your inner thigh. In an instant, you opened your legs – entirely ready to surrender to him. Sensing how eager you were, he chuckled against your lips. 

“So impatient, my love.” His fingers moved up your inner thigh but stopped just as he got close to your core. You whimpered when he ceased his movements. “Beg, darling. Tell me how much you want me.” 

“Commodus please,” You moved your hips to try and get closer to his touch but he used his other hand to hold you down. He tsked and shook his head from side to side. 

“That’s not playing fair,” He scolded you. While his hands were preoccupied with holding you down, yours were free and you used that to your advantage. He may be able to bring you to heel, but you know you could do just the same. 

“Fuck being fair,” It was the first time you swore in front of him and his eyes sparkled at that, “Fuck me, Commodus, please.” Your hands moved to his lower stomach, lower and lower until you were able to grasp his hard cock. His entire body shuddered and his nostrils flared. Something clicked in him, a snap and his patience was gone. 

Commodus pushed up further on the bed and crawled on top of the sheets, moving right up to you. You had shuffled towards the headboard with your legs bent at the knees and together. His hands gripped your knees and spread your legs so he could slot himself between them. 

“Do you want this?” His warm breath tickled your neck as he trailed his lips across the skin, just barely touching but feeling so right. 

You grabbed his jaw with both of your hands and moved his head to look him in the eyes, “Would I have spread my legs for you otherwise?” His eyes darkened at that and you could feel his jaw clench. 

It was then that you had an idea that may not have been the best. You had seen how possessive he was of you and the violence he was willing to give to others on your behalf. You wanted to test the waters and see how much you could rile him up. 

“Are you going to stop teasing and fuck me or do I have to find someone else?” It was a fake threat. There was nobody else that could ever compare to Commodus; nobody else you would ever want to even speak to. His face fell into incredible seriousness and you let go of him, only for his hand to grip your chin. It was not strong enough to hurt but it held your attention. 

“I know what you’re trying to do, darling.” He leaned down with his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “By the time I am done, you won’t even be able to think about anybody else.” 

In an instant, his warm fingers brushed through your folds. You sucked in a breath at the contact. His fingers moved meticulously, discovering each stroke that made you shake under him and moan. Commodus kissed across the expanse of your neck and chest, dragging his teeth along the skin occasionally. You found it hard to keep your eyes open as you were entranced by what you felt. 

Your hands moved to cart through his hair. When you tugged at the strands, Commodus groaned. It appeared he was particularly sensitive there and you made a note to remember that in the future. He retaliated by latching his lips on one of your nipples, causing your back to arch. You felt one of his fingers slip into you at the same time while his thumb circled your bud. The fire that coursed through your veins was overwhelming and your breathing became erratic. He slipped another finger into you and upped the pace, dragging in and out with the rhythm of your hips moving. 

His name tumbled from your lips over and over again like you were reciting a prayer. His mouth left marks across your chest and neck, some of which you knew would not be able to cover. You had a feeling it was deliberate. In your haze of pleasure, you could feel your body pull taught. The point of no return was met. 

“Com… Commodus, I–” Your voice hitched as his thumb rolled over your bud once more. 

Against the heat of your skin, his voice murmured, “I know, darling. Let go.” It was as if that was the final straw you needed. 

The tense string of your body snapped and you found yourself shattering. He continued his movements, helping you ride out your high. Your head lolled to the side as you shut your eyes. His fingers moved out of you and you suddenly felt sad at the loss of contact. You craved more and wished to spend the rest of your time living in this bed with Commodus. 

“Open your eyes for me,” Commodus’ hands cradled your face. You slowly opened your eyes, staring right into his. His lips turned up, “There’s my girl.” He leaned in to kiss you and groaned at the feeling. Your body was still sensitive and recovering from your orgasm, but you craved more of him. 

“Commodus… please.” There were no other words that needed to be said. His movements were eager, but not rushed. He shifted up so he was on his knees and grabbed his cock that was slick with precum. Slowly, almost painfully, he dragged the tip along your folds. You whimpered at the feeling and lifted your hips to feel more friction. 

The haze of your previous peak was still heavy. You understood then why some people were so provocative in their transgressions. If you could stay like this with him forever you would stake your life to the ground and take that deal in a heartbeat. 

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too much at just the feel of his cock against your folds. He collected your slick on his skin, trailing up again until the head got caught right at your entrance. Gradually, he pushed forward until he bottomed out. You saw his eyebrows furrow and noise leave his mouth that was a mix of a sigh and a groan. He muttered a few curses. 

Commodus did not rush as he was content at the pace he was going because it made you come undone and desperate for anything more. The feeling of being so full made you squirm. You wanted friction or anything to bring back the feeling of ecstasy you had. Your heart felt like it was going to pump out of your chest. Being connected like this with him was the best feeling in the world and you cursed your past self for believing it was a silly fantasy. This was real; real and raw and so good.

He slowly pulled out, dragging until the last moment to make you feel empty. You whined at the loss of his warmth but quickly shut up when he pushed back in, burying himself to the hilt. He repeated that action a few times, each getting faster until he set a steady pace. Your hips matched his movements. His face was buried in your neck with his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You could hear his moans and grunts which only spurred you on further. 

You scratched the planes of his back, digging deeper with each thrust. Even when so deeply connected it did not feel like it was enough. Nothing could ever feel enough to be connected with him. Your scratching made Commodus move faster, picking up the pace. 

The change of speed caused you to release your hold on him, finding little energy to lift your arms. It was like you were under a spell and completely under his influence. 

“That’s it, gods, good girl,” Commodus murmured into your ear. You moaned back with small babbles of his name as your brain was unable to form a single thought other than him; his presence, his feel, him, him, him. It consumed your mind and left you a squirming mess. 

He took your hands that had fallen, grabbed your wrists, and pinned them above your head. Your legs wrapped around his waist and it changed the angle at which he was thrusting into you. The tip of his cock hit a soft spot in you that had you chasing stars at the back of your eyes. The stretch that he gave you was a good ache, one that spread out from your core and burned through your body.  

Commodus began to mutter words with each thrust, “Mine. My girl. My Venus.” He went on and on. Your chest rose against his, pushing for a bit more contact. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but his grip on your wrist was tight. His breath hit the shell of your ear, tickling it slightly. 

The familiar feeling of your build-up hit you and Commodus could tell. He continued the steady rhythm but changed the angle to reach deeper. You nearly shouted at the difference. While he was relentless, his posture changed slightly, becoming less composed as he chased the same high you were experiencing. Both of you could feel the bed moving under you, its sturdy build taking the movement. 

You were wound up again and pulled taught, but this time it felt more intense than the previous. Commodus lost his movement and fucked you with reckless abandon. All manner of control was lost and his perfect posture faltered. It seemed, like you, he had become just as mindless and broken down – doing everything possible to chase pleasure. Despite it all, you could still feel the care that he had for you in the way he muttered sweet nothings into your ear. You squeezed around his length as the build-up in your stomach started to increase. 

“Let go, love. Let me hear you.” Commodus instructed. 

Suddenly, like the waves that crashed against the shores of the home of your childhood, a flood of ecstasy came over you as you reached your peak and descended off of it. Your wanton moans filled the room, matching the sounds the two of you had been making for a while. Commodus visibly relished in it, nipping at your earlobe and kissing your neck. The feeling of your orgasm caused your walls to squeeze and made his movements falter. 

He pulled out suddenly, right as he came. The hot strings of cum coated your lower abdomen. He moved to rest his forehead on yours, eyes closed and face scrunched in the heat of his pleasure. Your legs felt numb. Commodus almost collapsed on top of you. He released his hold on your wrists and held himself up by his forearms on either side of your head. 

The two of you joined in a kiss. This one was a sharp contrast to the quick pace you had. It was slow and passionate, full of trust and care. His hands tangled in your hair, pushing it back with a gentleness unseen. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders, feeling the perspiration that gathered there. Both of your bodies came down from the high, chests rising and falling. 

You thought back to just a few short weeks ago when you were invited into his room. You were incredibly glad he only wanted company then. If not for that, you would have never been able to build this relationship with him. Moreso, you were incredibly thankful your younger self decided to sing at that festival and caught his attention. It seemed that little actions in life led to big changes. 

It still felt absurd now with your change of position. You were no longer a servant, no longer expected to fulfill the duties that had your body aching and mind hurting at the end of the day. 

It was so ridiculous to you, that you could not help but let out a chuckle. Commodus moved his forehead from yours and opened his eyes. You wished to get lost in those eyes. 

“And what do you find so amusing, hm?” He spoke. 

You looked at him with adoration, “Is it wrong to be happy?” 

“No,” Commodus moved to rest beside you, taking a spare cloth from the wash basin placed beside the bed and wiping your stomach down. There was something in his movements that felt almost… domestic. It was not something you ever thought of an emperor doing. “I’m glad you are happy.” 

A beat of silence passed as he laid down next to you on his back and used an arm to pull you flush against him. Your head rested on his pec, hearing the thumping of his heart. 

“Are you happy?” You asked. He squeezed you closer and kissed your temple.

“You made me happy long before all of this.” He answered. Your face scrunched up with wonder. 

“What do you mean?” You lifted your head to look into his eyes, fingers tracing patterns onto his chest. 

“Your singing. It followed me everywhere since that festival. From my mind,” He placed one hand over yours and guided it right above where his heart would be, “to here.” 

There were no words you could think of to respond with. The poetics of his words hit you. You wanted to drown in him, to stay there in that moment for a lifetime. You reached out to trace his jaw, thumb massaging the top of his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch and kissed the pulse point of your wrist. 

“I don’t know how I could ever thank you, for everything,” You could barely imagine what it would be like back in your old life, under the constant fear of your old master, “I may not know what I can do to repay you but–”

“Stay with me.” He interrupted you. There was a shine in his eyes, “You want to repay me? Stay. That is all I need.” 

You stared at him and nodded your head, “I’ll always stay.”

The two of you understood the depths of the promise. It was your own declaration of love, without the words being spoken. A mutual understanding and a promise of forever. It was not traditional to other couples, but again you knew this relationship already did not fit within the bounds of traditionality. It did not matter. 

You kissed him again, sealing the words upon both of your lips. There, you were content to start a new life; a better life.

This was incredibly fun to write! I am 100% open to writing more fics for any characters in the Gladiator films and plan to open up requests. So, if that's something ya'll are interested in, let me know.

Thank you all for the support! <3

taglist: @scrumptiousloser @juliusceasersblog @po1sonddol @cheesecakeluver @oscarisdaddy69

[blitzyn]

picture perfect

wriothesley x m!reader

request: none

a/n -> RAHH GUESS WHOS BACK. Sorry guys writers block is insane rn but I’m glad to get this out I just had to write it after thinking abt it as I was going to sleep one day. Anyways probably yandere crybaby neuvillette next. Also some unfortunate news I deleted genshin again so I will not be writing new characters BUT!!! I have finished invincible (show) so I’m excited about that

wc -> 2.8k

cw -> non-con, power imbalance, reader is intoxicated, ur also a stereotypical hetero footballer, blackmail, mild impact play, use of f slur in the beginning, FULL NELSON!!!

Wriothesley didn’t really know why he was at some stereotypical frat party—it was too loud, crowded, and it smelled like a nauseating mix of weed, alcohol, and sweat. He attended only because one of his buddies convinced him too, regardless of how much he insisted that he was fine being the “loner nobody” he is. Hardly anything caught his interest, and he could see the stares he was getting just from brooding in some corner.

Except that’s when he noticed you, one of the most well-known guys in the school. Everybody knew you were a notorious shit talker, but with the talent to back it up. After managing to catch the eyes of some scouts, you were granted a full-ride scholarship and almost constantly covered in girls. You were practically anyone’s dream.

And currently getting shitfaced drunk in the middle of a group that chanted your name. It was a drinking challenge, he deduced, after seeing you struggle to insult your opponent with a jumbled slur of curses.

“N–no, I can keep going. I’m not a f–fuckin’ fag,” he could hear you say, leaning heavily against the table littered in empty plastic cups with more refills on the way. He could see that you lived on the attention, thrived on it, didn’t care about your one-way ticket to liver failure. Your opponent ended up quitting hardly two cups later, branding you the victor with yet another cheer of your name. Wriothesley chuckled at the look on your face, all pale and uneasy, yet you tried to brandish a cocky grin while soaking up the praise like a sponge, not-so-subtly rushing out of the main area, most likely to vomit up your guts.

He lingered around for a while longer when he began to wonder where you went. Your friends didn’t seem to realize your prolonged absence, and he took it upon himself to slink within the shadows and sneak into some restricted area that the rest of the partygoers weren’t allowed to enter. He wandered around for a while, getting a feel of the place before stumbling upon your room, it seemed. If the fact that you were sprawled out on your bed wasn’t evidence enough.

“The fuck?” You jolted in surprise when you noticed Wriothesley’s imposing figure in the doorway. Though your eyes remained on him, they hardly seemed focused, and you didn’t bother getting up to push him out. “The party’s downstairs, d–dipshit.”

“I know,” he hummed in response, closing the door behind him with a gentle click. He raked his eyes up and down your body, his piercing gaze landing on your ass. Something in his groin stirred. “You look like shit.”

“Fuck you,” you groaned, feeling too sick and tired to refute how you’d normally do—close up and personal, chest to chest, borderline physical. “What do you want?”

“You,” he said so bluntly, so casually, you were genuinely caught off guard. He strolled closer leisurely, rolling his eyes when you opened your mouth to spew out predictable insults. “Yeah, yeah, that’s too ‘faggoty’, right? I get it.”

“Y’know, you use that word a lot. It gets a guy thinking,” he said with a thoughtful hum, feeling a heat beginning to pool within his body. His cock twitched against the zipper of his pants. “Maybe that’s exactly what you are—a fag, and people just don’t know it yet,” he theorized with a chuckle, finding your face scrunched up in disgust to be amusing. He kneeled down beside you, strong hands on your hips. Albeit slowly, he could see you piecing the puzzles of his intent together.

“I think you’re tired of all those girls,” he murmured, his breath hot and uncomfortable against your ear. “I think you want a man to fuck you.”

“What the actual—“ you began to protest when he suddenly shoved your face into the bed, muffling any words that you tried to say. You struggled to get up, clawing at his hand, but this damn freak was unnaturally strong. Goosebumps rose on your skin at the sudden temperature change when he yanked your pants down, yelling profanities into the mattress, but he paid them no mind. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip at the sight: you, so helpless and bare beneath him. You weren’t the tough guy that practically ran the campus. No, you were going to be his bitch tonight.

With his free hand, he spread one of your asscheeks apart, dragging his thumb along your taint to your winking hole. He sucked in a sharp breath, chuckling breathlessly when you tensed. He could feel you struggling beneath him, your feet kicking at his legs, and a dark thrill ran through his body. Swiftly tying your hands behind your back with the use of his belt, he leaned over to your nightstand and rummaged through it, searching for a bottle of lube he knew you’d have. Instead, he found an open box of condoms, a size too big, he realized when he took another look at your cock hanging between your legs.

Chuckling softly, he opened a different drawer and grabbed the lube, offering it a brief inspection before squirting a generous amount directly onto your asshole. He found it amusing the way you tensed at the sudden coldness of it, roughly slipping two fingers into inside you. You struggled harder then, your insides clenching down tightly around him like it was trying to force him out.

He spread his fingers in a scissoring motion while slowly moving in and out, giving you enough grace to at least adjust to the sudden stretch. “Oh, stop being such a bitch. Stay still,” Wriothesley demanded with a huff, twisting his wrist and crooking his fingers to find your prostate.

It was like a sudden shock of electricity ran down your spine when he found it, your entire body tensing at the unexpected arousal that came with it. You froze in sheer mortification at the feeling of your cock beginning to swell, the familiar throb between your legs overtaking your senses. Fuck. This was not good at fucking all. You—football all star—were NOT supposed to be getting off to some freak’s fingers like… like a—

“Oh ho! Look at that,” he laughed, pressing his clothed knee cruelly against the length of your hardening cock. You squirmed, your groans muffled. This was fucking humiliating…

“See, you’re hard!” He exclaimed like it was some grand discovery, and you really hoped nobody could hear him through the damn door. “You starting to realize that maybe the dominant, top dog lifestyle isn’t for you after all?”

You strained against your binds, wrists aching at the exertion to free yourself, but to no avail. He held you down firmly and securely as he stuffed you with three thick fingers. You tried to think of something, anything—a naked grandma, your coach’s hairy ass—

“Hey, looks like you’re lost in thought.” Wriothesley slid the hand on your nape to the front of your throat, yanking you up to make your back arch uncomfortably. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“Fucking… fuck you!” You choked out, your vision swimming and your mind a jumbled mess of thoughts and ideas.

“No, I’m fucking you,” he teasingly corrected, jabbing his fingers straight against your prostate when you opened your mouth to protest, a shamefully loud moan escaping your throat instead of words. The playful lilt in his voice was infuriating, and you hated that you couldn’t do anything to wipe that smug smirk off his damn face.

“Get–get off of me!” You hiccuped, gritting your teeth when he dug his knee harder against your cock, burying your face in the mattress until he relented, and you managed to relax somewhat. With a disgusting squelch, he pulled his fingers out and wiped them on your shirt haphazardly, and you began to panic at the sound of rustling clothes. He let your throat go and reached for the box of condoms, eyes widening in mild surprise when he realized that the packets themselves were a size smaller than what the box advertised.

“You seriously…?” He laughed when you looked away in pure embarrassment, deciding to tear the packet open and slide it on his throbbing cock anyways, his hips jerking up into his hand at the much needed stimulation. He didn’t feel like catching whatever STD you probably contracted from your many hookups. He notched the head of his cock against your slick asshole, a shiver running down his spine in anticipation, when his blue eyes brightened with an idea.

He dug in his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Hey, it’s your first time, right?” He leaned over your back and positioned the front camera towards your face, using his free hand to grab your chin and hold you still. “We should take a picture of this moment, don’t you think? Say cheese.” And with that, he shoved his cock deep inside you in a single, fluid thrust, taking a shaky photo of your pained, humiliated expression.

Wriothesley groaned softly in your ear, his hips flush against your ass as he remained still for a moment. He straightened his back and positioned the phone atop your nightstand, making sure he was recording before holding your hips firmly, pulling out with a slow drag only to slam himself back inside. He started slow and developed a relentless pace, admiring the way your ass bounced as he yanked you back to him over and over again.

“F–Fuck! Slow down!” You slurred, fingernails digging into your palms. The stretch was painful and uncomfortable and you could feel the beginnings of arousal deep in your gut, the heat intensifying by the second. You muffled your moans in the bed, but that only served to amplify the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin.

“Slow down? Is that what those girls said to you before? That’s cute,” he taunted, his voice strained. He angled his hips and sped up, his muscles flexing at the exertion. “C’mon, fuckin’ take it like. A. Man,” he growled, emphasizing his words with cruel thrusts, hellbent on pounding your ass into the mattress.

Was this really what they felt like? So full and helpless, like all of your nerve endings had been set alight? Fuck, you could feel every inch and ridge and vein as it dragged against your insides, in and out, over and over again in a dizzying rhythm. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

Suddenly, a sharp, burning pain bloomed on your asscheek, forcing you to tense and squeeze his cock tighter. “Fuck—fuck you! Stop doing that!”

“Doing what?” He questioned, the heat within his body burning brighter. His chest heaved with labored breaths, raising his hand to spank the other side.

“That! Fucking stop it!” You protested, trying your damn hardest to deny the ecstasy that pooled in your belly, to will away the ache in your balls. The sight of you falling apart on his cock, the sounds of your reluctant ecstasy filling the room, it’s almost enough to make Wriothesley cum right then and there. But he holds back, wanting you to orgasm first. What a gentleman.

Sliding a hand around your pelvis, he grasps your drooling cock with a firm grip, roughly stroking you in time with his punishing thrusts. He could feel you tense, your ass pushing back against him the slightest bit, and he could hardly suppress his victorious smirk. Your precum let his fist slide easily, squeezing the tip and thumbing at the slit relentlessly.

“No—stop! I’m gonna fucking… ngh, ah! Fuck! I’m gonna cum! Stop!” You warned, foolishly hoping he’d leave you alone, but your body wasn’t cooperating. He doubled his efforts at your wail, fucking you with wild abandon. He didn’t care who might be listening behind the door. Let them hear just how much of a slut you were.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it. Cum on my fucking cock, you filthy whore,” he groaned when you finally came, squeezing and fluttering around his throbbing cock. He fucked you through your orgasm, refusing to relent until your whines grew louder at the discomfort of overstimulation. He pulled out with a lewd squelch, his cock twitching in the aftershocks of his sensitivity before he grabbed his phone to get a close-up of your gaping, winking asshole, spreading a cheek to get a better view.

He set the phone back down and dragged you up by your hair, his breath hitching at the sight of your teary eyes and drooling mouth. Fuck. He did that. Dicked you down so good you could hardly tell left from right.

He could see you relaxing slightly, and chuckled at your stupidity. This wasn’t over until he said it was.

Swiftly, he lodged his cock back into your sensitive hole, ignoring the strained noise that escaped your lips. With a grunt, he hooked your legs over the crook of his elbows and interlocked his fingers behind your head, spreading you wide open for the camera. He could see the sheer mortification in your face when you saw your reflection on his phone, but you couldn’t stop the way your dick twitched at it.

“Fuck, look at yourself,” Wriothesley groaned, his hips jerking slightly. Your eyes were wide and your skin heated, legs still trembling from the force of your orgasm. You squeezed your eyes shut when he ground his hips against your ass, biting your lip to stifle the moans you knew were going to slip out anyways.

And you were right—not even a few moments after he began to fuck up into you, groans and whines were torn from your throat, guttural and carnal sounds that spurred him on. His stamina was endless, it seemed, as he resumed his punishing pace, driving into you so hard you could feel the very air being fucked out of your lungs. His cockhead nailed your prostate with pinpoint precision, forcing your cock to thicken between your thighs again.

“Oh, look at that,” he said against your ear, his voice strained and breathless, eyes fixated on the way your hole stretched so obscenely around his fat cock. “You’re hard again. That can’t—that can’t be a coincidence.”

“No–no m’not,” you babbled, eyes rolling back in poorly hidden ecstasy. The fire in your belly roared back to life, the heat intensifying quicker than before after having just came.

“Awh, are you going stupid already?” He cooed, his breath hot against your ear. He bit down on the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth in hard enough to bruise before soothing the ache with a lick. “That’s okay. You never did—fuck—use that brain of yours very often.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to protest, not with the way he was churning your insides into a mushy mess. You could see yourself in the reflection, eyes watery and lips parted, drool dribbling down your chin to your chest. You look fucking pathetic. Everyone would lose their shit seeing you getting your brains fucked out on some weirdo loser’s cock, and he knew it. He knew it in the way he squeezed your legs tighter, the muscles of his biceps bulging in his shirt as if to remind you of your place.

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum—“ Wriothesley choked out, grinding his teeth so hard it was a miracle he didn’t crack one of them. He was trying to keep as quiet as possible to let the phone pick up on every one of your slutty noises, his chest heaving up and down at the exertion. He squeezed you tighter, nearly stumbling as he pushed himself, his thrusts losing rhythm.

He squeezed his eyes shut when he finally came, his balls drawing up tight against his body. He could stop the deep groan from escaping him, listening to your whimpers and grunts.

You shuddered, eyes fluttering at the warmth that flooded you—wait, warmth?

Your eyes snapped open as he pulled out, leaving you gaping and empty and leaking his cum. You could see the torn condom clinging to his softening cock, yelping when he unceremoniously dumped you back on your bed.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and flipped the camera, getting a good view of your drooling cock and gaping asshole before ending the recording. He peeled the tattered remains of the condom off his cock and wiped himself with one of the stray shirts on the floor to tuck himself away, leaving you embarrassingly hard and exhausted.

“Maybe you’ll learn to keep your ego in check, yeah?” He gave your asscheek a pat in farewell, making his way out of your room feeling utterly triumphant. At least he had the decency to close the door.

cross posted on ao3

[florawriting]

My headcanon mixed universe shazam timeline

You may absolutely steal

This is a long one, buckle up

Billy (4ish years old)

The Batson family is planning a work/vacation holiday in the region of Kahndaq in Egypt. However, Billy becomes bedridden by an illness and is unable to join them, thus staying behind under the eye of Ebenezer. In Kahndaq Billy’s parents and sister die on the excavation site, leaving Billy orphaned. Not willing to deal with the boy Ebenezer throws Billy into foster care.

Mary (4ish years old)

Mary is found in Kahndaq and brought back to the USA, where she is adopted by the Bromfields through less then legal means. The Bromfields decide not to tell Mary about her adoption status.

Billy (end 8 to begin 9ish years old)

After being placed from foster home to foster home Billy has had enough of the whole circus and decides to run away. Together with his new foster brother and best friend Freddy, a disabled kid who has been suffering in the system as well, they escape.

Mary (begin 9ish years old)

Having endured the physical and emotional abuse from the Bromfields for long enough, Mary decides to run away. After being found sleeping on the sidewalk by the police she is taken in by the foster care system and is placed in the household of Rosa and Victor Vasquez.

Billy (10ish years old)

After another attempt to help someone ends with him being chased down by cops he finds himself in the Rock of Eternity, where the wizard deems him pure of heart and able to become his champion. Billy, now an adult superhero named Captain Marvel, becomes the sole protector of Fawcett before branching out to the rest of the municipality of Philadelphia.

Billy keeps this a secret from Freddy for about half a year until he is forced to reveal it. Freddy is a bit betrayed at first that Billy had not told him earlier, but turns around quickly and covers for Billy if necessary.

Billy & Freddy (11ish years old and 12ish years old)

Billy and Freddy start doing odd jobs for Whiz RTV, like selling newspapers. This gives them a small income to get food legally. The two of them also occasionally use the Rock of Eternity as shelter during cold nights.

During a battle with a villain (any can do except Black Adam) Freddy get’s injured. Unsure what to do, Billy goes to the Wizard and pleads to safe him. The Wizard, having seen Freddy before during his evenings at the Rock, instructs Billy to give a portion of his power to Freddy, turning him into Captain Marvel Jr. This leads to the two of them fighting crime together.

Billy & Freddy (begin 13 and end 13 years old)

Freddy’s leg is flaring up in pain again, and as it isn’t a one time injury, the power of Captain Marvel can not fix it. Freddy is forced to turn himself in to go to the hospital, much to Billy’s dismay. Freddy reminds him that if something goes wrong he is only two words away from freedom. Freddy and Billy part ways, both promising each other to check up when able to.

Billy starts to do more things on his own, he formally joins ether the JL or the JSA, he starts living more at the Rock of Eternity, he discovers more about his job as the champion of magic, all the while still making time to visit the sick children at all of Philly’s hospitals.

Freddy (14 years old)

After a while in the hospital Freddy needs to strengthen up before he can resume most of his activities, because of this he allows himself to be fostered by the only home that was willing to take him: Rosa and Victor Vasquez. However, the longer her stays, the nicer the house begins to feel. He becomes well acquainted with his foster siblings: Pedro, Mary, Eugene and Darla and even feels comfortable enough to invite Billy over sometimes, under the guise of him being a friend from school.

During this time he slowly starts going back to the roll of Captain Marvel Jr. He does truly take it slow, as he doesn’t want his condition to get worse.

Billy (begin 14 years old)

Billy is happy to have Freddy back, but is still skeptical about his living situation. However, from his observations he believes that Rosa and Victor are good for his friend so he lets it be. He also becomes closer with the other foster kids at the house. In particular with Mary, who he somehow feels a strong connection to.

Billy & Freddy (14 years old and begin 15 years old)

Billy and Freddy are faced by a new powerful foe named Black Adam. A shadow from the Wizard’s past that has come back to haunt them. Through certain events Billy learns what really happened the day his parents died and what involvement both Dr. Sivana (the one that financed the excavation) and Black Adam (the one that made the tomb collabs, albeit accidentally) had during the event. He also realizes that his sister Mary had actually survived the collabs and that she was in fact the Mary from the Vasquez home.

The two race to the Vasquez home to explain to Mary what had happened. While Mary first doesn’t believe them, as she has been told she was the Bromfield’s biological daughter for all her life, there is something nagging within her that was Billy is saying is right.

However, not long after Black Adam has come a similar revelation. He finds Mary, both for bait for Captain Marvel, but also because of personal interest of his revival. He also takes Pedro, Eugene and Darla with him as extra bait, as they were all there at the same time.

Cap and Jr. try their hardest to safe all of them, but find themselves being overwhelmed by the task. During a last ditch effort to safe his sister, Billy let’s out a large thunderstorm. Which shares his power both with his sister, and accidentally with the Pedro, Eugene and Darla as well. Now with the six of them, Black Adam is overwhelmed and beaten. Mary truly reunites with her brother, now that she knows everything that happened.

Billy (end 14 years old)

After the fight Pedro, Eugene and Darla lost their powers, however somehow Mary’s remained. Billy goes to the wizard for guidance, who says that his strong familial bond with Mary allows her to tap into the powers of Shazam when desired. Mary is a bit hesitant to become a full time hero, but does help out sometimes under the name Mary Marvel. Her foster siblings help her keep her secret and assist the marvels when necessary.

During this time Mary convinces Billy to come live with the Vasquez, as living on the street is not doing him good. Billy is very skeptical at first, as his prior experiences with foster homes have been very bad, but eventually reveals himself to be homeless and Mary’s brother to the Vasquez. After a long legal battle against Ebenezer and a DNA test, Billy and Mary are officially recognized as siblings and their parents inheritance is restored.

Billy (15ish to 16ish years)

Billy continues to grow closer to everyone in the family. Considering his long time best friend Freddy and Pedro, Eugene and Darla his siblings together with Mary. Because of this, his familial connection begins to shift. Instead of sharing the power of Shazam with Mary and his power with Freddy, Freddy starts being able to tap into the power of Shazam directly. The others follow soon after.

Because of this change, Freddy drops the title of Captain Marvel Jr. He is also now around 16 to 17 and thinks that the name doesn’t really fit him anymore. Pedro, Eugene and Darla are collectively dubbed the lieutenants by the media, but separately choose to take a name that doesn’t interfere with the Marvel title. Instead going by Thunder, Circuit and Bolt. Freddy decides to joint the bandwagon and names himself Voltage, although Billy does sometimes still jokingly call him Jr.

The Shazamily (Billy is mid to end 16)

Something happens that forces everyone to reveal their identities to Rosa and Victor. Both of them are shocked, but were suspecting something was off. They reaffirm their love for their foster children and become allies to the Shazamily, giving guidance when necessary.

[maysrinn]

District AU Family Tree

Featuring Lucy Gray really big Family line in the District AU! Coriolanus get off of her

Ive only did the Capitol AU before and a few things changed with the new book so let’s dip in!

A few side facts

Olive Pine (15) was the middle child of the three Baird siblings and definitely the more mature one, you couldn't leave Brody green (17) alone especially not with two apple tall Lucy Gray

Munchkin Lucy Gray was a runner and possibly the first official member to wear a rope as kiddy leash

Adelynn Blue was the stricter parent, capable of instilling fear in her two children with just a single glare-except for little Lucy Gray, who seemed immune to it. Some might argue that she inherited that trait later on for her own fledglings. On the other hand, Vincent Yale was a more relaxed father, keeping an eye on the kids being was always ready to step in when necessary.

While inheriting her mothers dresses, the guitar came from her daddy

Lucy Grays Aunt Lorelei Maroon was not married at the time and kept the family name Baird. Her soon to be husband was killed by peacekeepers when she was pregnant with Maude Ivory. She lost her life shortly after Maude Ivory was born due to sickness and infection.

Clementine Auburn inherited Lorelei Maroons Banjo as a gift from Maude Ivory

Maude Ivory also named Clementine after ‘my darling clementine’ the ballads she loved so dearly

Auburn is a tribute to the month she was born in, as the leaves glowed in the early autumn sun that October morning

Barb Azure ‘married’ her Gal down the road, and together they raised a daughter who tragically lost her parents at the tender age of three:

Unfortunately, both Barb Azure and her partner passed away prematurely.

Barb Azure and Emily were not officially married, the last name Baird was symbolic

Emily passed away at 30 from a lung disease

She was not buried on the Covey Graveyard

Barb Azure is Lenore Doves Mother, to be able to pay for Josie Minks doctor visits. She got sick after the same time Emily did, not wanting to loose her daughter as well she did everything that was necessary to secure money.

Josie Mink still passed away, however he did had more time with her mother than expected.

Lenore Doves father is a mystery as Barb Azure genuinely doesn’t know who he is, nor does she care.

Barb Azure (45) gave Birth to Lenore Dove in December and got to spend an hour with her lil girl before she passed away from complications and blood loss.

She was burried next to her lover like in the ballad she was named after ‘Barbara Allen’.

Lenore Dove was raised by Lucy Gray, Coriolanus, CC and Tam Amber

Lucy Gray and Coriolanus have an open secret relationship, everyone knows even when they think they don’t. With Coriolanus climbing the ranks and becoming Commander of 12 Lucy Gray continued to perform even tho they had the money at some point.

They did not move into victors village, even if their living situation would have even better off that way Lucy Gray felt sick to her stomach living in privilege while others had to die for it.

She was happy in a cabin near the forest Coriolanus arranged with his peacekeeper squad

Coriolanus likes to build things

Lucy Gray did loose both of her cousins, almost loosing her life as well during her last pregnancy with Cedar Fern which scared Coriolanus.

Her first bebe (clementine Auburn) was born four years at the age of 20 during Coriolanus last year of officer training, nobody told him for obvious reasons.

The obvious reason: it was out of his control and he would have come back to 12 immediately, nobody wanted that-

Every bebe has its own quirk but only Clementine challenges her father’s authority like there ain’t no one else. (Not only as father but also as commander)

Clementine having a disinterest to each new bebe addition, except for Rosie, she loves Rosie.

The only tributes Lucy Gray mentored and survived the games were family members, which did give her a bad reputation that she wasn’t trying hard enough for their kids.

Lenore Dove survives, however the circumstances Haymitchs family was doomed in both realities.

_____________

That’s all so far, surely I didn’t got everything but I hope this explains a lil the family dynamic and history in a short version to follow the content I post on this blog 👀✨

I hope this ins’t confusing! Until next time~

[writerjuliannaf]

Wolverine Headcanons

after a VERY long hiatus from Tumblr… I’m happy to say that I’m officially back!!

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨ ⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ ୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Has a chunky pet squirrel named Bruce

He likes to eat Logan’s sandwiches, runs around the mansion and knows to stay indoors, and he has a black cowl/stripe shape on his face —which instantly reminded Logan of Batman, sparking his pet’s name

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Frequently visits a local diner and orders the same thing every time: waffles drenched in maple syrup, with a large plate of bacon on the side

The waitress who always serves him is a sweet, older, southern lady —either named Althea or Ida— and she knows his order by heart, often calling him “sugar” or “baby” in her thick accent

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Is secretly VERY clingy when he gets attached and loves to cuddle

When I tell you this man loves physical touch of any kind (I’m talking in a non-spicy way) HE REALLY loves it… cuddling, spooning, holding hands, having you sit in his lap while you both eat… it’s non stop with Logan (but I’m not complaining, lol)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ He also loves when his hair and beard are softly scratched

Logan may seem like a no-nonsense baddie… but at the end of the day, he is a huge softie, loving his hair, beard, and back scratched. Who doesn’t? But Logan… he craves it

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Loves texting his girl, and often sends her too many gifs and emojis

I think when Logan finds the girl of his dreams (NOT JEAN) he surprises everyone at the mansion when they see him texting and smirking at his phone. Gifs, emojis, encouraging quotes from Pinterest, you name it… and he’ll send it to her. Because it not only makes her smile… but man, it makes him smile too

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Collects either shot glasses or pins every time he travels, especially when he’s on missions

I like to think this started when Logan officially moved into the X-Mansion, sooooo many years ago. He finally had a place to stay and somewhere to store his new belongings that he’d eventually buy/collect. And at first, he probably saw a pin/shot glass with a funny quote on it and decided to swipe it. But then, on each mission, it just became a habit

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Enjoys the musical 7 Brides for 7 Brothers because it’s very nostalgic for Logan and reminds him of the traditional lifestyle in the 1800’s

So this is not really that surprising, since he was born in the 1800’s (In 1832, right?) and I believe the movie was just randomly playing on the tv one day, and he instantly fell in love. It warmed something inside him to see, once again, how his life in the frontiere looked —since he probably lived in a Canadian small town that resembled the town in the movie

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Loves when you wear his shirts

Wanna make Logan extremely happy? Wear something of his. His shirts, sweat pants, jackets. And OMG… his cowboy hats!! This man is FERAL and he just LOVES when his scent mixes with yours. You could even wear his SOCKS, and I can bet you, you’ll immediately see hearts in his eyes

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ REALLY loves when you read to him, especially before bed

Okay… this gives beauty and the beast vibes. And I’m telling you, every time I see that movie (one of my favorite Disney movies, btw) I just imagine Logan just adoringly gazing at you like the Beast looked at Belle as she read. And Logan WILL beg you to read to him (in a casual way though, cause he still has that gruff reputation to maintain) more so before bed. Maybe his mom, or even Victor, read to him when he was sick? Who knows… but just know, it soothes him

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Most definitely hums and sings in the shower

He has a great singing voice, but no one knows that except you. And when you’re chilling in his room while he showers, just be prepared for him to belt out some 80’s rock songs or even some old country tunes. He also likes a lot of songs from the 50’s too, which would definitely give him that bad boy, biker/greaser vibe

⋆˙⟡ Comment, like, reblog & follow for more ⟡⋆˙

Thank you for reading!! And if you have any requests, lemme know ♡

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨ ⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ ୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

[givekennyabreak]

"I'll take care of you." (Platonic!Victor Kavanaugh x gn!sick!reader HCs)

Summary: You're down with allergies and your friend Victor is worried.

Request: "Maybe some sickfic, if you’re up for it? I could see Victor sharing a space with the Reader (platonically, of course) and/or letting them share part of the room given that it’s probably the quietest space in Colony House.

I’d love a little bit of Kenny/Reader too, if you want to throw some of that into the mix.

Something something “I don’t want anyone else in here, Vic, they’re all way too fucking loud—“ and both of them knowing Kenny is the one exception."

Rating: T

Pairings: best friend!Victor Kavanaugh x reader; Kenny Liu x reader

Warnings: mentions of allergies, 2nd person POV, lil Kenny x Reader <3, a small suggestive phrase, no spoilers, mentions of tea and medicine

"I'm not sick." you said, sniffling and holding in a cough as your throat itched like hell

Victor was unimpressed, to say the least. he was used to seeing you like this at least three times a year

(every time the weather changed, it triggered your allergies and got you hacking your lungs out)

as you guys shared a bedroom, he always knew when you were going to get them sniffles - the first batch of 15 sneezes in a row when you woke up one morning was the main sign

you always slept on a mattress on the floor, right beside Victor's bed, as it helped with back pain (you're young, but the throes of old age come fast)

when he hears you sniffling, the first thing he does is haul you up onto the bed with him by your arms, sharing a few blankets with you (not all of them. you can't hog them all)

when he notices it's not a cold, though, he's relieved - shooing you from his bed, bluntly as ever /affectionate

he does get a little worried if the symptoms don't fade within a couple days; it usually gets better quickly, with you sucking on lemons and using a warm towel over your face to help with the nasal congestion

when it perdures, Victor gets scared. By the fourth day, man's pacing in front of his bed and your mattress, mumbling "i think you're gonna die soon", with frantic eyes

you end up sitting on the bed with him, reassuring him it's all gonna be okay, this one is just a longer reaction to the weather change

"I used to get these long bouts the whole time when i lived in the city. i'm gonna be okay, promise"

he makes a blanket fort for the both of you, as a way to ward off the bad allergy spirits

lets no one get near you, nor lets you leave Colony House.

"no, you're going to inhale road dust and it'll get worse"

"Victor, it's not how it works-"

"if you leave i'll get donna"

"...fine"

you're room bound for a while, so a few of your friends come by (the ones Victor deem safe for you to get in contact with)

mari and kristi check on you on the first few days, and recommend a few teas that will help

"chamomile, ginger and cinnamon for the inflammation." mari said, glancing at victor. "i trust your companion will help you with that."

at some point your body was exhausted from the non-stop sneezing and coughing, you just wanted to lay down and rest in silence the whole day, but victor brought you a visitor

"there's someone here for u" "vic, i'm about to murder anyone who makes a sound near me" "not this one"

victor is blunt, honest to a fault and a little childish, due to his history, but the man wasn't dumb

so, when your eyes lit up as kenny walked in with a mug of tea in hands, victor smiled.

"my mom sent u this. she said it's bad for you to stay cooped up here"

that legit brought tears to your eyes. bless tian-chen and her heart

you drank the whole thing in a heartbeat. kenny stayed to talk - but it didn't annoy you.

victor didn't leave the two of you alone, though. he sat on a chair in the corner of the room

he knew what people who looked at each other like you and kenny did when left alone in a room.

(you were still very much too awkward to even admit your feelings, though.)

a few days after that, you were finally good to go! breathing normally, no sneezing or coughing, no body ache

Victor is so relieved he actually pulls you outside.

"i missed going outside. couldn't come because of you"

dude is blunt but means well.

you laugh out loud at that. "i missed coming outside too, Vic"

he'd drag you to the diner to eat pancakes to celebrate freedom

kristi and kenny joined the both of you at your booth <3

tian-chen put a couple more pancakes in your plate

"you have to get stronger. no more allergies"

you smile and thank her, while kenny bumps his shoulder into yours

he steals a pancake from you

and you don't complain, because a few minutes after you leave the diner

you find out pancake flavored kisses are actually quite pleasant.

up the road, victor smiles to himself.

[multimockingjay]

Won't Let You

Johanna Mason x reader

please send me johanna requests i want to write so much with her

Summary: The announcement of the Quarter Quell.

Word Count: .6k

Johanna sat in the living room of her dark victor home. She’d usually be sharpening an axe, but it was late spring at this point, and she had no use for chopped wood. The blinds were drawn as she sat in silence. Maybe she could read a book? Or maybe go on a walk? Before she acted on any thoughts, though the door pushed open, the crinkling of bags followed.

“There were way too many people at the market. I'm never going again on a weekend.” Y/n complained as she walked through the house setting all the stuff down in the kitchen.

“Did you get the stew I wanted?” Johanna called to her, not leaving where she was lying on the couch.

“No, I forgot.”

“What?” Johanna sat up from her spot.

“I’m kidding, it's the only thing you ever want of course I got it.” 

Both Y/n and Johanna had defied President Snow after their win causing both of them to lose everything. Everything except each other. Y/n was the only person that didn’t think Johanna was insane after her win and something about Y/n drew Johanna in, even though she didn’t want to admit it.

“What have you been up to all morning?” Y/n came in and leaned against the doorframe. “Moping around like usual?”

“This is not moping around. I’m relaxing.” For some reason, Johanna would never be mad when Y/n said something like that like she would be if anybody else said it. 

Y/n cocked an eyebrow and opened her mouth to say something back but their TV set flashed to life with that Capitol TV logo. She immediately stood rigid as Snow’s face was shown. The two women weren’t stupid; they knew it was the Quarter Quell, and both had a sinking feeling this was the announcement of whatever sick twist they were adding. 

“..and the tributes for this year's games will be picked from the existing victor's pool.”

Johanna didn’t even let it finish before kicking the table over, everything on it crashing to the floor.

“Bullshit!” She started to yell.

Y/n fell back against the doorframe. She couldn’t have heard that right. Her throat ran dry as she gasped for air, her legs felt weak, her hearing was fading in and out, not hearing most of the words Johanna was yelling. They were taking this in very different ways.

“Hey,” Johanna caught Y/n’s shoulders snapping her out of her daze. Her voice was still harsh but carried worry. She couldn’t stop from spiraling.

“I can’t go back.” She mumbled, over and over.

“Get a hold of yourself, sit down, quit getting worked up.” Y/n let Johanna take her to the couch.

“I’m alright.” Y/n finally choked out.

“You’re not. Can you let someone take care of you for once?” Johanna spat but not in an angry way. She threw a blanket at Y/n as she sank into a chair across the room. 

The silence was deafening. Not like the silence Johanna had been sitting in before, there were no curious thoughts on how to spend the day or friendly banter between them. Just agonizingly heavy silence.

“I can’t go back in the arena,” Y/n said after a while. It was an unspoken thing between them. Johanna had the kindness to not pry but she heard the rumors of how brutal Y/n’s game had been, and based on her reaction to this Quarter Quell she didn’t need to see proof.

“I won’t let you,” Johanna responded, probably quicker than her rational brain could catch up.

“But if my name gets picked-”

“I just said I won’t let you, don’t you listen?” Y/n scoffed at Johanna.

“You are the last person that would volunteer for anybody.”

“Well, I’m not as heartless as you think I am. I think this whole thing is absolute shit and I shouldn’t have to consider volunteering for you but whatever. I can tell you're not in shape to be in the games. You'd die immediately, then what would I do?”

“I don’t think you’re heartless Johanna.”

And for some reason, Johanna wasn’t angry anymore; she felt normal for the first time since she was a child. Just one sentence nobody had said to her in years.

[milk-is-stable]

I think it's really interesting to see the games from this perspective. I've only read the original trilogy and obviously that is all just Katniss' POV. You don't get to see how the other tributes are doing unless Katniss encounters them and you only find out who died when she does. And because of that, you're only reminded that they're just a bunch of kids when they show their humanity or innocence or fear to Katniss. But now it's like being a citizen of Panem and you see all of them even when they're alone - and it feels so realistic that a bunch of kids would cry and be mostly reluctant to kill with a few exceptions (honestly so glad Marty was gone relatively quickly, he would've been an absolute menace!). I didn't think the simulation game would hit me like this and feel so in-character for most of them as well! Sally sacrificing herself for Alexa broke my heart. It obviously doesn't help that I'm attached to plenty of these characters already.

Honestly, once I decided I was going to write out every day of the games, I decided that I would do so from a very detached, cinematic perspective. I want you the readers to feel like Capitol citizens, watching this on your TV. And they ARE just kids, which is really, really messed up when you take a step back from the drama and think about it. In the film adaptation, Gale says of the games that “you root for your favorite, you cry when they get killed. It’s sick.” And that’s exactly what you the readers are doing. Suzanne Collins was critiquing a lot of things with the trilogy, but one of them was the invasive nature of reality tv (particularly in the late nineties and early 2000s), as well as the TV news coverage of the Iraq war, turning the deaths of innocents into prime television content. There have been multiple times while plotting out when I want “cameras” to cut to other scenes and what order would be the most compelling to see each event in that I’ve thought to myself “this is exactly what the TV editors and game masters at the Capitol would be doing, finding the best way to make this carnage entertaining.”

Now, as a writer, I have a benefit of foreknowledge that they wouldn’t have, since they’d be doing it almost entirely live, but at the same time, I put the focus of the “camera” not necessarily on who I know is going to win, but on where the action is at any given moment. Robin hasn’t had a lot of screen time because most of his simulated events have been solo (so much so that I inserted him into Janae’s death just to make things more interesting), whereas characters like Michael and Alexa have a lot of screen time because they keep ending up in different alliances. And in the actual Hunger Games universe, there are sometimes victors who won not because they were the best fighters or the most ruthless, but because they’re the only ones who could survive what the Capitol threw at them (Annie, for instance, wins her games because she’s the only tribute who can swim well enough to survive a flood in the arena). So this is a relatively “authentic” recreation of what watching the Hunger Games on TV in-universe would be like.

The other fascinating thing about this project has been this: the simulator doesn’t know that Marty would be a menace. It doesn’t know that Caesar and Juliet were lovers, or that Pinocchio and Clarissa were siblings, and it doesn’t know who would be willing to kill and who wouldn’t. It’s all random. Part of the reason I’m presenting this seed over some of the others I tried IS that it had several surprisingly in character moments, like Caesar and Robin being fighters and Johnny and Julian being more subdued, but at the same time, it also has a lot of things that I wouldn’t have chosen had I written this with more intent. I would have definitely made Johnny + Janae and Alexa + Janusz allyships, but the simulator didn’t put them anywhere near each other. I had to lean on Johnny’s canonical visions and a completely made up encounter between Alexa and Janusz to give those two pairs any narrative satisfaction. Inga and Hugh also probably should have been allies, but once again, the simulator kept them totally apart.

So when people say “I like Jasper’s chances because of his magic!” or “Marty would have been a menace,” just remember…the computer didn’t know that. Chip probably shouldn’t be a menace if he was totally in character, but here we are with him having the highest body count so far, whereas Marty didn’t get anyone and Robin only has One kill because I gave him Janae’s accidental death for drama’s sake. I’m doing my best to incorporate as much canon into these kids as possible (I gave Sally a hint of her psychic powers, for instance; that’s how she decided who to ally with and who to leave, and Johnny has his future dreams), but sometimes I’ve gotta deal with the hand I’ve been dealt, lol. And everyone’s existing emotional attachment to these characters has made it great fun for me to push and pull within the confines of the simulator to deliver maximum feels, so I’m so glad that you and others are enjoying it! Thanks so much for the ask, and sorry if the answer was longer than you were expecting!

[temporoom]

also wu ming as tribute with xie lian as mentor and hong-er being one of the kids xie lian managed to save could potentially both happen, because wu ming DID volunteer in canon :З to be with him/help him. could also be tied into how e-ming got made - from sacrificing his eye to save humans stuck in Tonglu; so volunteering for another child would be on brand.

something something, wu ming seeing him spiral from afar and trying to help, but always failing to actually reach him, so the only thing left to try is volunteer instead of way-too-young-clearly-dying-in-first-day kid when he's 17.

also we can have the "wu ming's death" too - maybe he manages to break the arena but "dies" in the process; lucky enough for the cameras to stop working/wrenching tracker out and crushing it. also ghost city is not rebellion, but not NOT the rebellion, if you get what i mean.

also he xuan being reaped instead of shi qingxuan 😞 shi family (sqh himself??) doing something reckless that got them into spotlight, shi wudu willing to do anything and everything to protect his brother, he xuan paying the price

it could actually work even with shi and he families being from capitol too; with potentially having he xuan's sister or fiancé being turned into avox at first

also love the fengqing peacekeepers idea! also also potentially mu qing being the one xie lian first volunteered for; partially because xl does think he has best chances, but also because of his sick mother. mu qing would be forever grateful and also never, ever fully forgive him this.

Ooooh Wu Ming would definitely volunteer to take the place of another child! That would be super on brand. (He could have made his own little community like he did as Hua Cheng in Ghost City, except that they're all orphans from the streets and marginalized people that were left aside once Mu Qing left to become a peacekeeper). It would be his last chance to do something for Xie Lian maybe... I do think he would come and help him at the victor's village though, maybe as a help? But Xie Lian only notices him once he volunteers? Something like that maybe. And the death? Definitely plausible.

I like the possibility of the Shi family being from the capitol, maybe in the same way the Plinth were (like they bought their place into it) and in that case maybe that right was initally reserved for He Xuan but was taken away from him by Shi Wudu and now to get rid of the last evidence he made sure that He Xuan is sent into the arena instead? That could be interesting too.

Also the idea of Xie Lian volunteering for Mu Qing? Yeeeeees. It could even be a double edged sword if we think that Xie Lian is from a rich district and is a carreer tribute. So he volunteers to keep Mu Qing safe and sound so he can help his sickly mother, but Mu Qing thinks it's just because Xie Lian wanted the spotlight for himself as a carreer since it could have been his last chance to participate to the Hunger Games. It's too late anyway to make amends when Xie Lian come back because by that time Mu Qing and Feng Xin would have already been sent away to follow their training as Peacekeepers, leaving Xie Lian alone with the blood of other children on his hands.

[kix-mm]

Part 3 of A once cruel god. G/t short story?

A once cruel god. G/t short story pt3

Pt1 - Pt2 - Pt4

The human slowly woke up, feeling a wave of dread and fatigue wash over them. Victor, a young and powerful god, had recently reclaimed them after previously granting the human freedom. He renamed them to "Amber" after witnessing the human spiral into panic when called their previous title of "my flower." Amber was a name they never intend on using other than when Victor was around. Only to please him and avoid being ripped apart any more than the human already was. After all, humans only have so many limbs to have ripped off before the damage becomes lethal... In fear of this monster that they call a god to go back on their word (which he did), they never granted themselves a home, a companion, or even a job. That way, the damage would be minimal.

Their thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an all too familiar touch. A large finger, gently stroking their back. Amber felt the finger move away as soon as they flinched. “My fl-Amber, are you awake?” Asked Victor. Their stomach dropped, suddenly feeling ill when hearing his voice. No, no! Amber wasn’t ready to deal with this, nonono why couldn’t this have been just some horrid dream?!

Victor watched Amber quickly curl up under the covers. He bit his lip and tried again, in a softer tone this time. “Amber? You don’t have to hide away, it’s okay… I’m sorry I scared you. Please come out”

Ambers frail body contorts with horrid cracks and pops to his wish's command. their muscles cramped as their body sat up and pulled the covers away. This was involuntary to the human, but they knew better than to fight the commands of a god. This was known as gods will. If a divine being such as Victor were to want something badly enough, their words could literally force it to happen. He never meant for it to be a command. But his wish to see Amber was strong enough to make it happen. Victor watched in horror, unable to stop what he had started.

He held the human that gasped for air in the palm of his hand “I’m s-sorry Amber, that… wasn’t my intention. I-I didn’t mean to, honest!” Victor speaks. They could feel the pain and anxiety radiating off of Amber. He loosely wrapped his hands around the trembling human. Amber tensed and squeezed their eyes closed, trying to make themselves small. "i-it's okay, it's alright Amber, let me heal you, let me take the pain away"

Amber stares at the god with wide eyes. "No, no! Please dont! Please dont!!" They plead while trying to wiggle out of their hands. At first, Victor didn't understand why. He knew that even back then, his healing never hurt humans. It was only once he noticed the scars and blemishes disappearing that he understood what had Amber so distraught. Amber would rather suffer in pain than risk Victor seeing the human without those. But it was already too late. Most of Ambers scars had faded into nothing, except for the ones Victor had inflicted on the human long ago.

Victor knew that the feelings he had towards the human were strictly one-sided. He knew that his feelings were wrong, but he couldn't help it. Victor looked down in shame. "Sorry..." he mumbled. But the apology fell on deaf ears. Seeing the pink on the giant's cheeks made it harder for Amber to face him. Their body constantly shook with dread and anxiety. Was their torment about to start all over again? Or would it be much worse this time? If Victor was still into the same sick and twisted entertainment as he was before... There was no doubt that he would have found new ways to pass the time. Maybe he would be even worse than he used to be... and what about Victors love? Amber had already blown thir cover that the human had absolutely no room for Victor in their heart... would that even matter to Victor?

But Victor had no such will for Amber. If anything, he wanted nothing more than for Amber to finally get the comfort they deserve. Unfortunately, he knew all too well that it wouldn't be well received. There would be suspicion, the constant worry of why and what the real intentions were behind his kindness... it stung his heart knowing that Amber was most likely speculating what kind of horrible torture they would have to endure before being granted freedom once more...

Victor ever so gently picked Amber up, making Amber hold their breath and cling to their thumb out of fear of being dropped. "Too high, too high!" They squeaked. Victor paused. How was he supposed to pick Amber up if they were afraid of hights? He had never considered this to be a hinderness before "I um... sorry, let me just -" he continued to lift Amber and brought the human to his chest. "Will this be okay? I won't drop you... you're safe now, that's a promise." A promise? From him?

"J-Just like you promised that I was free?" Amber mumbled begrudgingly. That caught Victor off guard. "Yes, exactly, why do you bring it up?" He asks while gently stroking Ambers back, he was trying his best to console the trembling human in his hands, but his efforts seemed to only stir up the human more as they tried to minimize contact with Victor.

"I'm... I'm back here, aren't I? Back in the place I was promised to be free from..." Amber explained while trying to keep their head away from the giant's chest. Hearing the gods' heart pound so loudly was bringing back memories. And what was worse was when Victor noticed, and their heart suddenly stopped. obviously, that made Amber very nervous.

Victor lifted Amber higher. "Amber, you aren't a slave anymore, I'm not going back on my promises this time, I've become better, honest! Or at least I'm trying. That's why... that's why I need you, you are the only one who knows me. You must- no... I need your help, please... help me become better for you." He pleads to the human. A god, pleading to a human? That's new... that's something both gods and humans would joke about, and yet here he is doing exactly so...

[kayharrisons]

Nattie's (@kayharrisons) fanfic Masterlist!!!

Everything is below the cut! 🫶🫶

A little info: I tend to only write fem/afab reader unless specifically requested otherwise! I try to keep the y/n physical descriptions as vague as I can in fics so it's easier for y'all to imagine yourselves, but if I'm ever too specific then call me on it!

Key:

📖 Multichap

📃 One-shot

🙏 smut

☔️ angst

💕 fluff

No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her ☔️📖 ONGOING!

Bjorn Henriksen was the winner of the 24th Hunger Games, the first ever recorded Victor for District 12. He's unabashedly outspoken about the flaws of the Capital, angry after his continuous losses thanks to their hand.

When your name is the one read at the 25th Hunger Games, the first ever Quarter Quell, he knows without a doubt that he will do anything to keep you safe from both the clutches of the Capital and the Games themselves.

You are all he has left, after all.

Really fucked it up this time, didn't I my dear? 🙏☔️📖 ONGOING!

Summary: You and Bjorn are best friends, with certain benefits, have been for years. Except you want more, and Bjorn just doesn't seem to want to cave in. A small bump in the road may change that. 18+ only

It's getting dark, darling, too dark to see. ☔️📖 ONGOING!

Summary: your friends are dead. You and Bjorn are the sole survivors of the Romulus Space Station. You both hurt and heal together.

It's a goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it ☔️🙏📖 ONGOING!

Tyler, your best friend, invites you and a handful of your friends home with him for the summer.

It's a beautiful village, like something right out of a storybook. His cousin, Bjorn, is just as beautiful as the village itself, and you can't help but feel drawn to him.

Everything, however, is not as it seems to be.

Let's have some fun, this beat is sick, I wanna take a ride on your- [Kay x Reader x Bjorn] 🙏📃

You're the manager of the up and coming band Corbelan. Only you wish you weren't when you catch your lead singer and drummer fucking.

If you got a boyfriend, I'm jealous of him, but if you're single that's honestly worse - [Tyler x Reader x Bjorn] 🙏📃

He doesn't know what's worse; his cousin's girlfriend or the fact that he can't get her off his damn mind.

Non-Bjorn Characters (still played by Spike Fearn!):

Enchanted to meet you [Louis Green x Reader] 💕📃

You're not sure what you've ever done to make him hate you. Louis is convinced he's doomed to suffer (pine) in silence.

Sometimes there's no proof, you just know [Thomas Mortimer x Reader] 💕📃

As Mr and Mrs Wickens youngest daughter, the friendship you find in Tom is precarious in nature by default.

Sirens in the beat of your heart [the Vandal x reader] 🙏📃

Summary: it's a run of the mill job. Get in, grab the diamonds, get out. It goes off without a hitch, you're on your way out.

Goes off without a hitch, that is, until you come across a vandal, right in the middle of your exit plan.

I was a child before the day that I met Eleanor 💕📖 ONGOING

Upon the birth of Kay's baby, your boyfriend comes to the realisation that he wants one of his own with you.

If you got a boyfriend, I'm jealous of him, but if you're single that's honestly worse - [Tyler x Reader x Bjorn] 🙏📃

He doesn't know what's worse; his cousin's girlfriend or the fact that he can't get her off his damn mind.

Good ole fashioned lover boy 💕📃

Answered ask! Tyler and reader are married young, cutness ensues!

Non-Tyler characters (still played by Archie Renaux):

What would you do, if I went to touch you now? [DC. Simon Hitchson x Reader] 📖🙏☔️

You think he's a moron. He thinks you're a snob.

You can't seem to keep your hands to yourselves.

Let's have some fun, this beat is sick, I wanna take a ride on your- [Kay x Reader x Bjorn] 🙏📃

You're the manager of the up and coming band Corbelan. Only you wish you weren't when you catch your lead singer and drummer fucking.

Always an angel, never a god 🙏☔️📖 (ft Tyler x reader, Bjorn x Kay) ONGOING

Summary: you and Kay Harrison have been best friends since she was six and you were eight, joined at the hip and inseperable ever since. You grow up together, you giggle about boys and share everything with one another.

Kay wasn't, however, prepared to deal with the feelings of having to share you with someone else, of watching you fall in love with someone else.

Especially not her own brother.

Any requests then feel free to send em!!

One love, two mouths 💕📃

You've been in love with Kay Harrison for as long as you can remember.

[lifeiskentastic]

young!Noah wakes the gn!Reader

Gif by @richijerimovich

A/N: I'm sick and currently on sick leave, which can only mean one thing: a Ryan's movie rewatch marathon (and more fics)!

Summary: Your neighbor Noah wakes you up every morning. And this morning seems to be no exception.

Word count: 559 words;

I'm also accepting reqs rn!

Mornings in your town started differently for everyone. Some people got up with the first birdsong of their own free will, others were forced to do so, and still others were greeted by a real earthquake with every sunrise. Or a hurricane trapped in a human body.

'Get up!' your ear has been mercilessly terrorized since the morning. 'Do you really want me to do this?'

You tried to jump up and prevent the inevitable, but it was too late... Noah jumped into your bed in one jerk. Which, in fact, was a single bed.

'Noah...' You stirred sleepily as your neighbor began to jump on the mattress very diligently. So much so that you could only dream about sleep.

'It's not my fault!' He leaned over you and laughed right into your ear. Still rocking the bed.

'Uh-oh... Just a minute more...'

Your brain was working in the morning... In fact, in the morning it refused to function at all, and your whole being had only one single goal at this time of day - to sleep a little more. However, Noah was absolutely not satisfied with this arrangement. How could you exchange your joint plans to go to the lake for some insignificant nap?

'Don't make me...'

A moment after these words, and Noah purposefully fell on you. Literally. You sank under his weight, tangled in a pile of blankets.

'What, you want to get up now?' He said sarcastically, kept grinning from ear to ear, even as he slid his arms under you, hugging you tightly. Although, in fact, it was all just a cleverly planned trap. 'You had to think before!'

After a few more (completely futile) attempts to get out from under Noah, you had to surrender to the victor. But with a sincere smile. After all, no matter how annoyed, angry, tired, and all at the same time, you couldn't help but smile when you looked at Noah's cheerful face. So close to your own.

His warm breath tickled your ear, his arms were still frozen under your back, holding you in place, and his legs somehow managed to intertwine with yours. And you could not do anything about it. You didn't even want to.

You closed your eyes in the hope that you could get a few more seconds of peaceful rest while Noah seemed to have dropped his guard. But, of course, that was too much of a luxury.

'Ha!' Noah reacted the moment your eyelids closed. He shook his hands, causing the entire bed to jump, and loomed over you with a wide, smug smile. All you could do was sigh in disappointment. 'Thought you could get away with it, huh?'

And then he began his favorite part of the morning. Noah put his head in the crook of your shoulder and began to wiggle his nose, tickling you terribly! You couldn't stop laughing, completely forgetting even about the possibility of sleep. Especially when his grown strands of hair fell on your neck, unbearably tickling.

After a while, you finally got up, with tears of laughter in your eyes and a smile on your face. Later on, Noah would have a whole lecture about respecting private space and understanding the concept of a sleep schedule, but for now, he could enjoy your cheerful appearance and laugh together. Just like every morning.

[mochimochimona]

Analyzing Viktor and Jayce from Arcane - S1 EP5 Part 1, because I am overanalyzing and having way too much fun.

PART TWO: Link.

So we are starting right into the fifth episode, so far no yearning from Jayce because he is too busy to be counselor, but this scene re-affirmed my standing about Viktor beaing actually really confident, except if he is in closed proximity with Jayce (or angry lol). He is arguing with Jayce about him being not there for the progress they wanted to make. But I actually found something else, so hear me out: It is argued that Victor is somewhat reflecting the Undercity, I get that because he is from Zaun. But honestly I think his urgency and agency is actually to help himself, maybe even more as the people in the undercity. At least it's getting clearer here, because he gets angry a tad bit. "There are people who need our help now!"

I think Viktor is not always this outcalling and frustrated, that's why Jayce looks like he feels guilty. And again, this makes me rethink Viktors Charakter, because he IS GODDAMN CONFIDENT and quickwitted and goddamn panicked because he fucking dies omg.

Jayce is pissed off he gets interrupted (again probably) by his job as a counselor while he is talking with Viktor, whom he thinks is an important person to him, but not important enough to get back to the lab with (which is really important for their arc). Again, I do think they are still lab partners here. I am looking forward to get to the scene what made me re-think that, because I doubt myself already LOL.

And also Jayce sassy answer "today is your first day" - he: "second!" hahahaha. Getting off tracked I am sorry.

This post is getting too long, so read further if interested:

Now we get - again - back to my conspiracy theory that Viktor is influenced by Old Man Viktor or something, because the next scene is AGAIN weirdly presented. So grab your tinfoil hats we are going for a ride! So Jayce is like, in the hexgate, "The corruption runs deep, I try to root it out" (boy, WHAT FORESHADOWING I AM CRYING) and asks about the gemstones, giving Markus (it was Markus?) his attention and Viktor is like:

Vomiting his guts out and since he is not on mushrooms as far as I can tell this trip is a bit weird, BECAUSE:

Blood hits the railing and

He touches the blotch of blood coming from his nose, everything as normal as it can be. So if you wanted to tell that he is sick and he doesn't feel good you could easily make him shake, kept this angle or shot and blurred his view. Except they are doing this:

The shot changes and we see the hexgate in it's glory, warping.

And Viktors reaction is interesting.

The colors change from blue to red/purple and my boy is he on a trip or something.

Do you see the red inside the blue?

You can hear his (or a) heart beating. And his panicked face? Viktor, What do your nearly dead eyes see? (sorry, and sorry for making a lord of the rings reference)

More trippin', don't do drugs people.

It warps and Jayce is on Viktors side immedietly, asking if he is alright (ARE YOU BLIND BOY OR WHAT WTF).

The animation made a weird resonancing effekt here, before Jayce says "Viktor" in a bit of a panic.

Viktor: Realization it's Jayce, but this time he is not affected by the touch, but angry (still) and moves on to his lab. This is foreboding of their fallout by the way, because Viktor is not honest with Jayce (and Jayce is dumb oh good lord).

So first thing what comes to my mind, I hope you still have your tinfoil hat on....because it would be funny if he somewhat has a vision or some sorts from Old Man Viktor? From the Rune? If they wanted to frame it as an idea, again that would have been easier to convey.

this scene is either brilliant foreshadowing with the blood near the hexgemgatestone whatever, his reaction and resonance to the hexgem and the choice of color. I don't know shit about the void (which might be shimmer here I guess?) but what I get is that it's a power to corrput and is evil, not neutral evil but (chaotic) evil evil (wait, another reference, this time to dungeons and dragons, I am sorry my brain melts). So the choice of color is really great here next to what Jayce said seconds before. You see, I think nothing what animators do is without something in their minds, they intend to convey something. I bet foreshadowing, but since we are wearing our tinfoil hats I might add it could be that Old Man Viktor is guiding him through the Hexgate/hextech, or whatever else there is. Again, I don't know shit about shimmer, the void or the runes, so if you have something to add here I would be delighted.

You can ditch the tinfoilhat now. Back to the animators intentions: And that's why I think we are reading so much into the relationship of Jayce and Viktor (later on I guess), because a lot of people working on the animation were probably shipping them (I guess? Did anyone confirmed that from the animation team at Fortich?).

If it was foreshadowing (which I highly think) it is BRILLIANT again, can someone give the team a huge raise and also an oscar or something? Also, can we agree to smack Jayce in the head for NOT THE FUCK NOTICING. There is fucking blood on the railing?!?!? Get your head out of your ass and Mel (sorry). I am like ten minutes in this episode and I am loosing my shit.

Also Viktors limping is way way worse. Again, can someone tell me why no one is adressing this? Is Viktor making excuses like he has headaches (yeah of course, who would believe that while he has nosebleeds boy).

Back in the lab and we are cooking. I don't know how much time has passed or how long Viktor is working on that so I guess he just had an idea while he was coughing blood and ruining the nicely polished railings at the hexgates

(This shot is giving me motherly feelings, how Viktor is so hard working, though he must feel miserable. Also it gives me vibes of jayce beeing a little narcissist because he is staring at his reflection and also signing all of his notes, bru)

Also Jayce saying "So you had a vision" BRO I AM ONTO SOMETING. Go get your tinfoil hats people! The WORDING. They could have said "So you had an idea, inspiration". Are visions normal in runeterra?

Also I reached the limit of 30 pictures, so we will have a second post of this.

PART TWO: Link