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noirscript · 3 months ago

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chasing the light

Pairing: Nicholas Sterling III x Reader

WARNING/S: YANDERE. Noncon. Psychological Abuse. Obsessive Behavior. Emotional Manipulation. Violence. Physical Punishment. Pregnancy Manipulation. Coercion. Forced Submission. Stalking. Chase. Intense Psychological Terror. Controlling Relationship.

Note: Full story of Descent Into Madness. From the drafts! ^^ 8k word count 🫡 but will divide it into two three parts enjoy! Tags will be added later. After all parts are posted. Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Sequel

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You lay rigid in his arms, your breath coming in shallow bursts as his words settled deep into your bones.

You’re not going anywhere now.

The weight of that truth pressed down on you, suffocating.

Nicholas exhaled, slow and patient, as if he could feel the way you trembled beneath him. His hand never moved from your stomach, palm warm, fingers splayed possessively over the barely-there swell. You weren’t even showing yet—had barely begun to grasp the reality yourself—but he had already claimed it.

Claimed you.

"You still don’t understand, do you?" His voice was gentle, but there was something dark beneath it. Something dangerous. "You’re mine, sweetheart. Both of you."

His thumb brushed slow, lazy circles over your skin. You hated how effortless it was—how he touched you like you already belonged to him, like he had every right.

"You ran." The words were thoughtful, absentminded, as if he was working through the pieces himself. "Twice."

You swallowed hard, unable to speak.

Nicholas shifted, pressing closer, his body heat bleeding into yours. "I should punish you for that."

A fresh wave of panic shot through you, your body tensing on instinct. His fingers flexed in response, gripping your hip, keeping you still.

"But," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, "you need to be careful now."

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Not a threat. A warning.

"You wouldn’t want to do anything… reckless." His hand pressed firmer against your stomach. "Would you?"

Your breath hitched.

He was smiling.

He was enjoying this.

You tried to jerk away, but the shackle around your wrist dug sharply into your skin, yanking you back. Nicholas’ grip tightened in an instant, his fingers curling against your waist as he let out a low, displeased hum.

"Still so stubborn," he mused, tilting his head. "I should break that."

The words sent ice through your veins.

"But," he continued, as if the thought was amusing, "not yet."

A slow, dragging silence stretched between you.

Then, his hand moved.

Lower.

A deliberate, agonizing descent down your stomach, fingers ghosting over the curve of your hip.

You froze, every muscle locked in place.

Nicholas chuckled, the sound soft—too soft. "Shhh, sweetheart." His touch skimmed back up, tracing the shape of your ribs. "You’ll learn."

A breathless, shaking exhale slipped from your lips.

"One way or another."

The room felt smaller with every passing second, the air thick with something oppressive—something inescapable. Your pulse pounded against the weight of Nicholas’ hand, still resting over your stomach, his grip firm yet deceptively gentle. Like a collar around your throat, a leash you couldn’t pull away from.

He knew.

And now, there was nothing left to hide.

His fingers curled slightly, pressing against your skin, as if savoring the feeling of your body beneath his touch. You could feel the satisfied hum reverberating in his chest, a sound that made your stomach twist in knots.

"You’ve been so difficult lately," he murmured, his lips brushing the crown of your head. "Running. Lying. Acting as if you had a choice."

A slow, deliberate exhale left him, warm against your temple.

"But now," he continued, fingers tracing slow, idle circles against your stomach, "you don’t."

Your throat felt too tight, like you couldn’t get enough air.

His grip shifted, splaying wider across your abdomen, possessive. "Do you even realize what this means?" His tone was almost soft, but the quiet undercurrent of dominance sent a fresh wave of fear through you.

You tried to twist away again—instinct, desperation—but Nicholas’ other hand slid up, wrapping around your throat just enough to still you. Not squeezing. Not yet. Just holding.

A warning.

"Don’t," he said simply.

The command settled over your skin like iron.

You swallowed, pulse fluttering beneath his palm, and Nicholas sighed like a man indulging a child’s tantrum.

"You never should’ve left," he murmured, thumb brushing along the hollow of your throat. "I was going to be patient, you know." A quiet chuckle, dark and knowing. "I was going to wait."

His fingers flexed.

"But you made this difficult for yourself."

A shiver wracked through you as his lips ghosted over your temple. "I wanted to give you time," he continued, as if he were confessing something intimate, something vulnerable. "Time to come to me on your own. To realize that there was no one else who could take care of you the way I do."

His grip on your throat tightened—just for a second, just enough to make you gasp.

"But now… I can’t trust you to make the right decisions."

The truth behind those words settled in your bones like a sickness.

Nicholas’ touch drifted downward again, possessive and slow, fingers skimming across your stomach. His breath fanned against your ear, voice sinking lower.

"I won’t let you make any more mistakes."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

"You’re staying right here, sweetheart." A pause, his lips pressing just beneath your jaw. "With me."

A sharp, shuddering exhale slipped from your lips.

Nicholas only smiled.

"Don’t fight it." His hand flattened against your stomach once more, pressing firm and unyielding. "You already belong to me."

The days blurred together after that night.

Nicholas kept you close, never letting you out of his sight for long. If you weren’t in his arms, you were within reach—tethered by the invisible leash he had placed around you the moment he discovered your secret.

And now, everyone knew.

His mother had been the first to call, her excitement so palpable you could hear it through the speakerphone. “Oh, darling, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We have so much to prepare! You need maternity clothes, baby supplies—Nicholas, be a dear and bring her to the mall this weekend. We’ll get everything sorted.”

He had been reluctant at first, but she had a way of insisting that even he couldn’t refuse.

So now, you found yourself seated in the passenger seat of his car, staring blankly out the window as the city passed by in a blur. His hand rested lazily on your thigh, thumb rubbing slow, absentminded circles against your skin. A constant reminder that he knew you. That he could feel the tension in your body.

That he was waiting for you to try something.

You forced yourself to breathe evenly, fingers curling against the hem of your sweater.

You had planned this carefully.

Your excuse was simple—restroom. A normal request. Something he wouldn’t think twice about. And the moment you were out of sight, you would slip into the crowd, blend in, disappear before he could stop you.

Nicholas turned to glance at you, his sharp gaze assessing. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m just tired.” The lie came easily, your voice smooth despite the pulse hammering in your throat.

He hummed, fingers flexing slightly. “You should be taking it easy. No unnecessary stress.”

You swallowed. I know.

The mall was bustling when you arrived, filled with families, couples, people too absorbed in their own lives to notice the woman quietly planning her escape.

His mother greeted you with a warm hug, her excitement almost dizzying as she led you toward the baby section, chatting about cribs, strollers, things you couldn’t bring yourself to think about.

Nicholas stayed close, his hand never straying far from your lower back, his presence a shadow at your side.

You waited.

Bided your time.

And then—

“I need the restroom.”

Nicholas barely glanced at you, too occupied in conversation with his mother. “Go ahead. I’ll be here.”

You nodded, turning on shaky legs, moving with forced calm toward the restrooms.

Then, the second you were out of sight—you ran.

Heart pounding, you weaved through the crowd, slipping past distracted shoppers, turning sharply into an empty hallway leading to the emergency exit.

Freedom.

You could taste it.

Your hand reached for the door—

And then—

A sharp vibration.

An unmistakable chime.

Your stomach dropped.

Panic seized you as you heard it—his smartwatch. The alert echoing like a death knell through the air.

Nicholas had stopped talking mid-sentence.

The realization was immediate.

You barely had time to react before his voice rang out from somewhere behind you. Low. Unyielding.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

A choked gasp ripped from your throat as a firm grip closed around your wrist, yanking you backward. You stumbled, breath hitching as Nicholas caged you against the wall, his body pressed flush against yours.

His expression was unreadable.

But his eyes—his eyes were burning.

He lifted his wrist slightly, letting the dim glow of his smartwatch cast a cold light over your face. The screen displayed a blinking red dot.

Your tracker.

The one implanted in your arm.

"You really thought I wouldn’t notice?” His voice was dangerously soft, his hand sliding up to grip your jaw, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze. “Did you forget what I told you, sweetheart?"

A slow, deliberate pause.

"You can’t run from me."

Your pulse thundered against his grip.

His fingers tightened.

His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, his breath warm as he whispered—

"You’re never leaving me again."

A shudder wracked through you as Nicholas’ grip tightened, his fingers digging into your wrist like iron shackles. The emergency exit loomed behind you, so close yet completely out of reach. Your pulse pounded against his touch, a frantic drumbeat that only seemed to amuse him.

“You must be getting desperate,” he murmured, his voice a dark hum of amusement. “Running in broad daylight? In public?” His fingers flexed against your jaw, his grip firm yet unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to teach you the lesson you clearly hadn’t learned.

He tilted his head, studying you. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the moment you left my side?”

A harsh, shuddering breath slipped from your lips. Your free hand pressed against his chest, trying to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

Nicholas chuckled, low and knowing. “Sweetheart, you really don’t understand, do you?” His other hand lifted, the cool metal of his smartwatch grazing your skin as he traced the faint outline of the tracker buried beneath your arm. His touch was deceptively gentle, a sharp contrast to the possessiveness in his voice. “I don’t need to follow you.” He exhaled, slow and deliberate. “You belong to me already.”

Your breath hitched, panic clawing up your throat as you fought against the growing sense of dread.

“Let go,” you rasped, twisting in his grasp, but his hold only tightened.

Nicholas’ expression darkened, the amusement flickering from his eyes like a candle snuffed out. "Is that what you want?" he asked, his tone dropping to something colder. "To make a scene?"

Your stomach churned. The hallway was deserted, the noise of the mall a distant hum beyond the corridor’s walls. But if you screamed—if you fought—someone would hear.

Wouldn’t they?

Nicholas smiled as if reading your thoughts. "Go ahead." He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Scream for help. Let’s see who comes running."

You froze.

And he knew he had you.

His hand slipped lower, pressing against the small swell of your abdomen, his touch infuriatingly gentle despite the cruel mockery in his eyes. "What do you think they’ll do when they see you like this? Hmm?" His thumb traced slow, idle circles. "A pregnant woman, being rescued from her loving fiancé?”

The word fiancé nearly made you flinch.

"Or maybe," he continued, tone softening in a way that only made the sick feeling in your stomach grow, "they’ll see a hormonal little thing having a panic attack while her partner just tries to calm her down?"

Your throat closed.

"You wouldn’t," you whispered, barely able to force the words out.

Nicholas chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Wouldn’t I?"

And then, before you could react—

A sharp tug.

Your stomach lurched as he pulled you forward, his arm locking around your waist as he all but dragged you out of the hallway. You stumbled, legs nearly giving out beneath you, but Nicholas didn’t slow. His grip was firm, unrelenting, his strength a quiet reminder of just how little power you had in this moment.

You barely had time to register your surroundings before you were back in the store, back under the warm, artificial glow of the overhead lights.

His mother turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, her face brightening. “There you are! We were just—”

She paused, her gaze flicking between you and Nicholas.

Nicholas, who still had his arm wrapped so tenderly around you.

You, who couldn’t stop the slight tremble in your frame.

For a brief, fleeting second, hope sparked in your chest.

Did she see it? Did she notice something was wrong?

Then Nicholas sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation. "She got overwhelmed,” he said smoothly, shaking his head as if you were nothing more than a silly, emotional thing. “I told her to take it easy, but she insisted on rushing around."

His mother tutted, concern flashing across her face as she reached for your hands. "Oh, sweetheart, you should’ve said something!"

You opened your mouth, but—

"It won’t happen again," Nicholas murmured, his grip on you tightening in a way that sent an unmistakable message. "Right, love?"

Your stomach twisted.

The words sat heavy on your tongue, the weight of his threat pressing against your skin.

You could say something.

You could try.

But then—his hand slid against your abdomen, a silent warning. A cruel reminder.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure if you could risk it.

So instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat, forced a weak nod, and whispered—

“…Right.”

Nicholas smiled.

And just like that, any hope of escape slipped through your fingers.

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Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever

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moongumi · 7 months ago

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⁀➷ ∵ ❝under the allure❞

⟶ adler goes on an unexpected blind date that doesn't end how he expected

⟶ cw. MDNI, smut, age-gap, use of 'kid', lots of cussing, unprotected sex, oral, lots of kissing

⟶ wc. 5.7k

⟶ note. little bitta something i just wanted to write before i go through more chapters of 'with your heart in a headlock', enjoy, i didn't really check this over it was a pure 1 siting smut

Adler doesn’t expect himself to actually go through with it but after focusing on his entire career on Perseus and practically growing an obsession to it he felt lost after it was all over. Everyone tells him to go out and live, live his life but how is a man like Russell Adler meant to know how to live a normal fucking life. It’s not like he hasn’t tried before, he was married once—had children and well, it didn’t work out for him. He always chose the job over it all.

He knew at least that he could pretend to be normal until the next huge threat needed to be neutralised and he could return to his normal routine of tracking down his enemies.

Yet, it wasn’t unlike Woods to poke and pry at Adler’s patience. “How about you go on a date?”

Adler had a displeased expression on his face, lighting his cigarette before he turned to Woods with a grimace. “Are you kidding?”

“Nope.” Woods drank his beer. On his side his good friend Mason came back after getting more drinks for the table. “I’m serious, let loose.”

“You’re one to talk,” Mason chirped as he sat down next to Woods in the booth. He pushes a drink towards the youngest at the table who catches it with ease.

“Thanks.” Adler said.

Mason took a swig of his beer before placing his drink back on the coaster, pointing his finger towards Adler. “I was the one who came up with the idea.”

Adler looked over at the pair with a confused expression. “What idea?”

“The blind date.”

Wood lets out a sound, before he snapped his fingers, “Right, I forgot to mention that—it’s a blind date, plus it’s already been booked, surprise!”

“What?” Adler’s eye twitched under his shades. He could feel a vein about to pop in his head from the thought of going on a blind date set up by Mason of all people.

Mason who had an excited look on his face, smiled at Adler. “Look, I already set it up and you’d be a right asshole for not showing up.”

Adler could’ve easy rejected even the idea of it but he felt in the moment that he had nothing else to do, better than another day drinking with these two. “Who is it?”

Mason does a fist pump after Adler basically assured that he was going on that date. “Just someone I know.” He had this sneaky expression on his face, one that Adler did not like.

“Woah, is it one of ya’ girls?” Woods asked, with a teasing tone. Referencing the fact that Mason had his way with women and well, he goes through them like he does pints of beer.

Adler groaned at the idea, the ashes of his cigarette peppering down onto the table messily.

“Hey, I promise you she isn’t one of those girls. I mean she’s cute and all.” The look on Mason’s face merely tells Adler that the girl could be one of his girls, had just hadn’t gotten around to it just yet.

Adler sighed, “She doesn’t know about our line of work?”

“Nope,” Mason reassured. “She’s a friend of a friend’s.”

༝

Russell Adler sat in a cafe, way too early for his date tapping away his cigarette against the edge of the ash tray. He hasn’t ordered anything, no drinks or desserts yet. He doesn’t actually know what to order and well, doesn’t want to seem like an asshole—eating before his date arrived.

His date was arriving after her job, after 4 pm, Mason mentioned.

Adler’s eyes watched the television hanging from a mount on the ceiling in the small cafe, some more things about the Cold War, wherever Adler went he can’t seem to escape the job or the itch to do more about the state of the world.

He doesn’t even notice when you arrived.

You wrote down the cafe Mason mentioned, it was far from your job and well, you had a take a few trains to get here. You would have rather preferred it to be closer for convince but you couldn’t be picky.

You were also late, a lot later than the date was intended for. You even doubted that he would still be there.

So you felt a sense of relief walking into the very busy cafe seeing the man you’re supposed to meet still there, and he didn’t look annoyed at all.

He had his jacket off, resting it over the back of the chair next to him. He wore his sunglasses, Mason mentioned to find a man wearing umber tone aviators, light brown hair and a scarred face. You even recalled over the phone Mason reluctantly asking about the scars.

“He’s got a few scars, if it scares you—“

You scoffed, walking around in your small apartment.

“Why would a few scars scare me, Alex?”

“You’d be surprised.”

The scars on his face, there’s many and they were deep yet somehow even from a distance you felt like they suited him—even added to the appeal of him. He stood out in the cafe, something about him. The allure, his nonchalant way of sitting—

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” You said, pulling out the chair slightly squinting when it squeak a little too loudly. “Trains were packed after work.”

Adler gives you a tight-lipped smile, “No worries, I haven’t been waiting long.”

Which was a lie, he had been waiting over an hour but he wasn’t keeping track. Maybe the employees at the cafe were eyeing him up wondering when he was going to order.

You felt awkward, immediately as you sat down. Unsure of what to say to the older man.

“Mason—“

“I—oh, you go ahead.” You almost interrupted him, god, could this not get more awkward.

Adler didn’t seem to care much about the awkward silences or the lack of social skills. You weren’t usually a nervous person, maybe it was just him making you feel this way—you didn’t know much about him at all.

“Mason never mentioned your age.”

You blinked for a moment, in shock. Mason really didn’t mention anything to him at all. “Oh, uhm, I’m twenty-five.”

“Shit,” Adler sighed, pressing his almost finished cigarette into the ashtray as his other hand came up to his face. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “He said you’ve be younger but not—“

You immediately felt the need to explain yourself. “Mason mentioned your age and I don’t mind—“

“Yeah? You’re a lot younger than I am.”

You shrugged, before you drew a menu from the basket on the right of you and looked at the menu for what you wanted in hopes he would continue the date anyway. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal.”

Adler was reluctant, the age thing. A girl half his age, what the hell was he doing messing with this kind of thing.

Adler watched the way you bite your bottom lip whilst you turned the pages of the menu until your eyes would light up at what you wanted.

“Let me order, I come here often.”

Adler nodded, leaning back in his seat. “Sure thing.” He wasn’t usually the type to wonder what others thought of him but he even had a glance around to see what other people would think. What would his ex-wife even think of him right now. But it shouldn’t matter, even if he didn’t want to—he was enjoying it.

You ordered him a red velvet cake and an americano, something about how he seemed like he didn’t enjoy drinking sweet drinks. You weren’t wrong, Adler did only drink black coffee.

“So what do you do?”

Right, he was expecting this kind of question but he hasn’t exactly prepared a lie.

“I’m ex-military, retired now.” It wasn’t a lie but he kept a lot of the truth.

You hummed sipping on your warm latte. “Retired so young.”

“Young,” He laughs, “I’m old, kiddo, old enough to retire.”

“People don’t retire in their forties unless they made enough money,” You said, tapping your feet against the floor. “Plus, you shouldn’t call me kiddo—if you’re interested in me that way…”

Right. Adler cleared his throat, hiding the way what you meant made him feel. He shuffled in his seat.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

He didn’t exactly get a photo of what his date would look like or even description from your assumption. Not even a taste of the personality. You leaned across the seat feeling slightly less awkward as the date goes on. “Hm, what exactly made you agree to this anyway, seeing as Alex didn’t tell you a thing about me.” You giggled slightly at the end, not even on purpose.

Adler could guess that you knew Mason well enough to be on first name basis. You were pretty, he wondered how Mason hadn’t already got his hands on you.

He didn’t know if he should tell you the truth or make up something pretty to make you feel good about yourself.

“I didn’t have anything else to do.”

You shrugged, seemingly unfazed. “At least you’re honest.”

Adler takes a sip of the americano, it tastes really bad but he doesn’t make it noticeable. “What kinda’ job did you come from?”

“Oh, I work in a cafe—kinda funny seeing as we’re in one now,” You mentioned. “If we’re being honest, I wouldn’t have chosen a cafe for a first date, you also don’t seem like the type to hang in cafes anyway.”

“You’re not wrong, I’m glad we can both be true to ourselves.”

You’ve almost finished your drink at this point and well, you can see that he’d barely drank his. His eyes even behind the almost opaque sunglasses you could tell he was focused more on the television behind you than you.

You kicked your feet under the table, brushing your bare leg against his trousered ones. “Let’s go then, maybe a walk will do us well.”

༝

Adler doesn’t remember what a real date is supposed to feel like but even now he could tell it was a strange situation. The pair walked side by side.

He wasn’t sure if he was willingly to commit anything to this, to you. He could feel you brushing your arm against him walking closer to him to avoid bumping into anyone else on the sidewalk as he was approaching a nice park. It was winter, very cold.

He held his arm out for you, almost instantly you looped your arm around his biceps holding your body against him for warmth.

“Seems like some men don’t understand that they don’t own the sidewalk.”

Adler chuckles slightly at your complaints. He could smell the faintness of your perfume, it smelt nice—he couldn’t complain. He also can’t deny the fact that you were attractive, by all means, Mason seemed to only know pretty girls but they tend to lack anything more.

You appreciated him accepting your want of physical touch. You recalled your phone call with Mason.

“Is this guy your friend?”

Mason hums, before he responded. “Yeah, I’ve known him a while.”

“What have you told him about me?”

He laughed, “Nothing, surprise him.”

“That’s a terrible idea, this is going to be awful.”

He clicks his tongue, feeling the need to ask, “You sure you’re alright with it, he’s a lot older than ya’.”

“You’re a lot older than me, Alex.

He laughed again, “Yeah, but you’re not interested in me.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re annoying.”

Mason scoffed, “Well, he’s definitely not an annoying guy, he can just be a little…different.”

“What kind of different?”

You can tell Adler was a very calm individual, he tends to take control of situations. If he was in the military he must’ve been a good rank and well he ended up with scars like that on his face yet he’s alive—says a lot about him.

You were facing his scarred side, and just something inside you wanted to feel them. Caress those deep edges of his skin—

“Wondering how I got ‘em?”

You snapped out of it, letting out a soft chuckle. “I was but, you don’t have to tell me.”

He seemed to like that answer. You two stayed quiet as you walked towards a frozen lake, a few people were seen skating across.

Adler watched the way your face lights up seeing the skaters. You released him and walked up towards the edge of the lake.

“Seems fun, didn’t bring my skates though.”

Adler chuckles, “You don’t want to see me skating.”

You liked how he was joking around with you, it felt natural. “I doubt you’re that bad.”

“You don’t wanna’ see an old man like me skating like that.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “You’re not that old. You seem capable.”

Adler was merely pretending to seem like the average man his age. Of course he was capable, the things he did for his country proved that.

“So, how’d you know him?”

You looked back at the older man, with your brows furrowed. “Who, Alex?”

“Yeah.”

You hummed, “Family friend, I have an older brother.” Short and sweet.

“Do you enjoy your job then?” Seems like Adler had the hang of the whole, small talk thing and you merely entertained it as you continued to walk toward somewhere you could possibly sit at.

“Not particularly, I just do it—for now,” You said. “I’d prefer something more exciting, maybe I should join the military—“

“Don’t.” Adler interrupted, cutting you off with a stern look. “It’s not worth it.”

“You did it, you’re telling me there nothing about it you enjoyed?”

“That’s personal preference,” He explained. “There’s a lotta’ things better for you to do.”

You stopped in your tracks, “Or are you doubting my capabilities? Maybe I’d be a great spy or something.”

Adler chuckles, even if the slightest sense of his serious tone was still prevalent. “Sounds like something you could do.”

“I’d do you.” The words came out of your mouth faster than you could stop it. Your hand reached up and covered your mouth.

Adler lets out a short chuckle, slightly like a scoff. “Jesus, you’re just like Mason.”

“Woah, I’m not a man-whore like him.” You act offended.

Adler raised his hand, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant, you’re straightforward like him not the other thing.”

You breathed out, pouting instead. “Whatever.”

Adler could tell you were joking around with him but he still felt a pang of guilt. He followed you as you sat down in front of a fountain.

He sat down next to you, his thigh brushing against your leg. He now notices how short your skirt was, a lot shorter now that it’s ridden up your legs.

He noticed the way your tights had little snags in them, maybe from a long days work. This makes him wonder if you were wearing your work uniform underneath—get your head out of the gutter, why was he thinking of this?

You could tell he was looking, at your clothes at the slightest peeks of your skin. You bit the dried skin off your lips before talking to him.

You leaned back, your hands rested against the cold concrete of the fountain. “I don’t expect you to think this date was amazing.”

“It was great.”

That sly smirk on his face.

“Don’t lie, not all dates go well—sometimes first dates just suck.” Your age was definitely playing a part in this, the way you talked about how casual dates were too. It was nothing like how Adler had experienced it when he was younger.

He then thought if there even was a chance he would have a second date with you—if he even had the time, seeing as the Cold War was only nearing it’s end and he would be needed. He didn’t have all the time in the world as he had played it off like he did, he wasn’t really a mere retired man.

In a selfish way he wanted to see you, know more about you and see the way your cheeks reddened whenever he’d catch your excited gaze.

The way you bite your lips waiting for his response. Like you were just begging for his attention.

Your soft hand come to rest onto of his rough, aged hand. Your fingers feel at his callouses and the lines of his palms underneath. He could tell you felt a lot more comfortable with him, being close to him and actually being able to tell if he liked you.

He did like you but he can’t just forget that he liked a lot of things in the past but the job always came first—or well, he always chose it.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Your voice was soft, lingering with disappointment.

Adler’s eyes looked for your expression, he can’t tell what you’re thinking when you’re looking down avoiding his gaze like that. Yet, he entertained the thought. “What am I thinking?”

“That this isn’t going to work out, ‘cause you’re not willing to commit to it—‘cause I’m too young—“

“That’s not the reason—“

You don’t let him speak. “It doesn’t have to be serious. I don’t need it to be, this could last one night, a few weeks or months—even a year, Russell.”

Adler sighed, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette at the idea.

“You’ve not been on a date recently have you? Girls these days don’t all need someone to marry them,” You continued, attempting to convince him further.

It was quiet clear to him now. What you wanted from this. He can’t deny, it was something he wanted but felt like he couldn’t get it without the entire ordeal—your words made him feel like it was valid to imagine it being much more casual.

“A little fun won’t hurt anyone.” Your voice lingered in his ears

༝

He was easy to convince after that. You felt an even strange sense of giddiness managing to make his fold so easily, he seemed like a tough nut to crack.

He wasn’t a tough one to deal with when you had him in your small apartment. On one of the armchairs you had recently bought after needing somewhere nice to read your books.

His pants were hung off his legs as he sat on the fresh chenille cushion, his head thrown back against the back of the chair.

You were on your knees, a hand against the inner part of his thigh and the older holding onto the base of him with a hard grip.

His rough hand held onto your hair like a ponytail to the side of your head, exposing your neck and allowing him to get a better view of your actions. He groaned when he looks back at you with his full attention.

You stopped when he looked away, when he threw his head back in pleasure—to toy with him. You smiled at him, even innocently before prying your lips apart with the tip of his throbbing cock. Your wet lips glide over the slick skin, wrapping those pretty painted lips over it.

He gripped your hair harder forcing you to crane your neck up at him. God, your knees hurt in this position but the fact that between all of that you were getting warmer and wetter by the second couldn’t be denied.

His cock, hot and red slide down the flatness of your tongue to the deeper parts of your throat—you were good, you knew how to handle it. Easily taking him deeper than he expected or even had experienced. He let out the most erotic sounds you’ve heard.

Maybe you did like them older. And the way he still had his aviators on, it was like a power display or something.

“Holy fuck,” He moaned, reaching his other hand down towards your jaw and cheek. He holds your pretty face between his fingers and squeeze them to pucker your lips pulling you away from his cock. “Enough of me.”

You wanted to keep going, to see how long he could hold off—it was like a test. You wanted to prove to yourself you could make a man like him come undone.

Your eyes looked at him through those thick lashes, practically begging for him to handle you. He drew you in with his grip against your cheeks towards his face. His hot breath against your swollen lips.

“What a pretty girl.”

You bit your lips, leaning into him wanting to taste him. He held you back making you whine at him. “Mean.”

He chuckles darkly. He’s the one to make the move, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

Those scarred lips taste like heaven, a heaven one could only reach from crawling through hell. It burns so good.

You taste the dew from his tongue, rolling yours against his as if you could become one with him. His lips were so soft even with the scars, you could feel them and it added to the danger of it all.

The roughness and sloppiness of the kiss had his glasses sliding around, you reached your hand up and pushes his glasses off his face, it falling somewhere behind him.

You practically whimper against him. He released his grip on your cheeks, his hands finding their comfort in your waist gripping you closer to him.

He basically pulled you onto his lap. His bare skin rubbing against your tights, you could feel his erection—hot and leaking against the risen parts of your skirt. Your ass was hanging out of them, one of his hands reached down to grip onto it pulling you into a rolling motion against his groin.

“Fuck, keep doing that.” You almost melt against him. The only thing separating his cock from your core was the thin layers of the thighs and your thong.

He gripped the tights so hard they start to snag and rip against his fingers. He toyed with the flimsy and barely existent fabric of your thong. “What kinda’ girl wears a fucking thong to work?”

“A girl like me.”

He groans, ripping your tights even more. “You don’t mind right?”

“No,” You whimper against his lips. “Do whatever you want.”

With the tights out of the way there wasn’t much in his way. His fingers danced on your hot lips, fondling them and feeling at the warm skin. He felt it now, how wet you were.

“You’re this fucking wet already, holy shit.” Even he’s surprised. He pulled away from your lips, peering over to look at the way your cheeks giggled when starts to move his fingers.

“When’s the last time you fucked a girl my age, Russell?” You teased. “We all get this wet.”

His fingers pressed harder feeling the raw skin hidden between the folds, it felt like fire under his touch. “Holy fuck—you’re so fucking wet.”

He pushes his fingers past the fabric of the thong pushing it away. With the pressure the top of it pulls harder against your clit and adds to the experience. You moaned when he pushes his fingers inside, they slipped in so easy even he let out a deep sound from it.

“You don’t need much prep, do ya’?”

You shake your head, pressing your lips against his scarred cheek. “I like it when it hurts a little.”

“Holy fuck.”

His fingers were all the way in, curling and looking for where it feels the best for you. He doesn’t struggle to find it. Your face contorts with pleasure, nearly drooling against his face.

“Fuck, it feels good.”

Adler hummed, continuing to add another finger to the mix. “Good, tell me what you like, pretty girl.”

“I like everything you do, Russell.”

He turned his face towards your lips, capturing you into another deep kiss. The angle of it and the pressure. Your hands rested atop his shoulder, allowing you to roll your lips into his fingers.

You turned your head, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. “I want your cock.”

“Always so upfront, huh?”

“I know what I want.” You stated, reaching in front of you to undo your uniform. The buttons come undone easily and you merely leave it on.

Your breasts look like they are threatening to escape that tight bra, Adler reached over with one hand to cup your breast squeezing them between his fingers. His eyes glued to the way they bounce and the way your face reacts to his touch. He slipped his fingers under the fabric to feel at your nipples, hard just for him.

“Anywhere on your body that isn’t perfect?”

You rolled your eyes, he really did know the right things to say. “You haven’t even felt how good I can make you feel, Adler.”

He groans at that, especially at your soft hands reaching down back to his throbbing cock. It’s neglected but for a man his age—he didn’t struggle keeping it hard. You shouldn’t really be surprised, he’s different from most men.

“You sure about this?”

You nodded, biting your bottom lips now he realised it was your habit. “If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be in my apartment.”

༝

Things may have gotten a lot more intense on the bed. You knew you should’ve started trying to kiss him on the bed but it was sort of fun leading him to your bedroom, swaying your hips on purpose.

You stripped down to nothing and laid on the bed awaiting your prize.

“Don’t ask if I’m sure again, you know my answer.” You stated, seeing that look on his face as he takes off his shirt.

The older man laughs, tossing his clothes and climbing onto the bed and over your body. “How’d you know I’d ask that?”

“Gut-feeling.”

You laid back, feeling his hand gently come up to grasp your cheeks before he pressed his lips against yours again. His kisses were so intense and full of meaning. He desired you so much and you could just tell by the way it felt like he never wanted it to end.

He tastes and explores you with so much experience. His other hand drawing your hips against his harshly.

Your hand reached down towards his cock, grabbing it’s shaft and you pumped it to warm it up again—he only got slightly soft but you also just wanted to touch him.

His hand on your face felt so gentle compared to the way he kissed you like he was hungry—he moved his lips down towards your neck, pressing heavy and wet kisses against the skin, those are definitely going to leave a mark.

Your back arches off the soft bed that had too many pillows and blankets. You didn’t care in this moment what was going to get spoiled, fuck all that. You had your eye on one thing only, Russell Adler.

You drew his cock towards your entrance, rubbing it’s swollen tip against your wet lips prying them apart. Your slick covering his cock with ease, you can feel him trying to hold back. “No need to rush…this is my favourite part.”

You loved the burn on the way in, especially from a cock so thick and heavy like his.

He presses a gentle kiss against your chest craning his neck down to watch the entry. You pressed his tip harder between your legs, feeling him enter slowly—agonisingly slowly.

The stretching burn, your warmth cascading onto him. He rested his head against your chest right between your breasts as his breathing intensified. “Jesus fuck.”

His cock stretches you further, he seemed to be unable to hold back after a few seconds of your slow teasing. He pushed his hips ever so slightly making you moan out. “Ugh, fuck.”

You didn’t stop him. His lips pressed against your chest, moving to encase your nipples in his mouth as he fucks his cock into you. He finally buried himself balls deep inside and rests for a moment to catch his breath.

You chuckle, feeling the centre of your pelvis swell and warm up from the pleasure. “You done there old man?”

He scoffs with a chuckle, “You doubting me?”

He pulled out nearly all the way before pushing himself back in with speed, taking your breath away. You choke on your words and only pathetic whimpers left your lips as he settles into an unforgivable rhythm. Maybe he also knew a thing or two about fucking.

He gripped one of your legs and threw it over his shoulder to deepen his depth pressing his palm to the under side of your thigh to force it higher, resting the other on his hips as he drove into your core with his pace.

He rested on his forearm on the side of your face, watching every twist and curl of your face, every bead of sweat that fell from your forehead and neck. He wanted to see what he was doing to you.

“Hm, do you like that, does it feel good?”

You slobbered your words knowing he was teasing you. “Fuck you, of course it feels good!” You were practically crying out the last words.

He could feel it, you getting close. He removed his hand from thigh bringing it to your already punished centre, he places his thumb against your most sensitive bud—rolling it with his large digit with confidence.

He could feel your clenches, you couldn’t even lie and tell him you weren’t close. You were even grateful you didn’t have to tell him, cry out to him that you were going to come.

Your abused hole told him enough, spluttering and making pathetic noises on it’s own. He couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t making him so fucking close too, all of it, your face, the way your body reacts to the tiniest touches from him.

He pressed his face against the side of yours, “Come on, pretty girl, come for me.”

He didn’t have to ask again. You released one last whimper, lips quivering and brows stitching together as you came undone, the heat from your stomach spreads all over your body making you shake as you felt the burn build inside of your most sensitive parts.

It felt even better to feel the way he fucked you even harder then, to catch his own release. The way he pressed his lips aggressively and hungrily against yours, tongue basically fucking your mouth at the same time.

Your hands pawed and gripped at his back, leaving marks indefinitely.

His hand on your clit moved up, feeling at the divots in your hips, the curve of your waist towards the swell of your breasts before he rests it back at your jaw holding it delicately.

He fucks his cock into your oversensitive hole, you could feel him blowing his load deep inside of you. It felt so wrong to love how it felt.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours after he finished—he pulled out his cock gently as it began to soften.

You were breathing heavily, chest heaving up and down. You could see the sweat on his skin and his perfect hair now messy and greasier.

He looked down between your legs at the mess, the cum spilling out of you. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You were guessing the mistakes made during the haze of pleasure had finally caught up to him. You sat up, breast wriggling around as you did. “Don’t worry about it, that won’t happen.”

He knew what you were referring to, it lessened the worry—he didn’t need more children right now. He still felt guilty, he should’ve been more careful.

He began to sit up, but you reached over and grabbed his forearm. He looked back with a confused expression, “Gotta’ clean you up.”

“No.”

He looked even more confused, “What? You’re not one for aftercare and pillow talk?”

Adler just had to joke, somewhat of a dig at your age too after your little nick name for him.

You smiled, pursing your lips before your shrugged, “Not particularly but I had other thoughts in mind, old man.”

You pushed him back, forcing him onto his back over the bed. You jumped over him even with your thighs leaking with his fluids. You pressed your lips against his, “More.”

“Gods sake, I’m not like the guys your age.” Adler said between your lips even he had to know when to feel inadequate.

You pulled back, you don’t believe him, “I can wait for your buddy to get ready again.”

༝

And you did, for a couple hours after that anyway. Even Adler didn’t expect himself to be able to go on for so many rounds but he did pass out right after the last one.

“I really can’t go again, kid.”

“Shouldn’t say that to someone you just fucked.”

Adler grimaced, “Sorry, force of habit.”

He was knocked out and you hopped out of bed, ready to clean yourself up. You did manage to tuck him into your bed comfortably.

You reached your bathroom and cleaned up then looking out towards the door to check if he was still sleeping. Very much, sound asleep.

You pulled out one of your drawers and pulled on the hole on the backboard, reaching inside you grabbed a phone.

14 missed calls.

Of course. You sighed. You take the phone in your hand and walk out towards the bedroom again but going straight towards your living room and out the balcony. In the cold rough winter air your shorts and tank top served no purpose of keeping you warm at all, only for slight modesty if a neighbour was to see you.

You dialled the number back, it answers immediately.

“Did you do it?”

You leaned against the cold bar of your balcony looking down on the main road.. “Not yet.”

“What’s taking so long?”

You rolled your eyes, looking around. “These things take time.”

“Yeah? And all this time you were fucking him.” His accent thick, hopefully no one can hear him.

“You sound jealous.” You spot him, a few cars down the road with his windows down and an arm out tapping away his cigarette ashes. “Just part of the gig.”

“Sure, whatever you say—get it done.” His voice deadpanned, “The trash is stinking up my boot.”

He hangs up, leaving you to face the freezing temperates and the weight of what stands between that you will choose to do.

#russell adler smut #russell adler x reader #cod fanfic #cod bo6 fanfic #cod smut #adler x reader #adler smut #tw. agegap #tw. violence #cod bo6 x reader #cod x reader #adler #russell adler

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maddyguru · 3 months ago

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tw: incest, HEAVY angst, all characters are 18+, suggestive themes nothing too heavy, mentiones of weed, this is around the time geto is depressed, reader has maddy perez! personality, toxic relationship, it's literally inspired by maddy x nate, fighting, abusive? geto? MINORS AND ANTIS DNI

Everybody knew how Geto pushed them away that summer. And that leaves no exception to you, his little sister.

It was bad enough that he rarely comes home because he was in boarding school- but the fact that when he does come home, all he did was shut his family out and that includes you, too. What previously was his quality time such as a trip to the arcade or cafe hopping and even smoking weed with his favourite little sister, has now turned into nothingness; all you heard was silence.

Suguru turned bitter with the world. Well, not entirely the world, but just the world where non sorcerers such as yourself exist. He couldn't face his family and even you, his bratty, expensive little girl whom he loves to spoil with his time, money, and love.

He knows you're angry at him. He heard you curse, scream, shout, you name it. She fucking screamed at her own older brother and that honestly pissed him off because although Suguru knows she's really a bitch in personality, but he knows damn well that y/n never screams at anybody unless she really cares about them. The last thing he wants is for y/n to give a fuck about pathetic, suicidal, lil' ol' him.

Because he wants nothing more to forget their memories

As much as the contemplation he has for non sorcerers occupied his mind, she was there too- her siren eyes with that blue denim eyeshadow, her lips painted brown, cheeks flushing with a faint blush, their bonding session as they both took a smoke of the weed she stashed in her room to share with her older brother, and the fucking kiss they shared in his car- in his room, her pink, decorated room- Him kissing her neck. God fucking knows he loves her.

"Why are you being such a dick?"

That was the last fucking straw, he thought to himself. So he pushed towards her and his hands gripped her cheeks together, eyes staring into her startled ones.

"You wanna be a little brat again, you stupid cunt? fucking say that again to my face...!" His hands gripped her cheeks tightly, pushing her further into the living room they're in.

Now, Suguru knows you. Knows that despite the brave front you put on, that you would crumble eventually especially if he was the one who shut you down- he was the only one who has that hold on you, and now you're fucking crying- sobbing mess into his hands as he taunts you again.

He knows you're crushed with his behaviour. That loving oniichan you grew up with is no longer here- what's replaced here is a man whom you barely know- There were no trace of Suguru that you loved all your life, and he also, perhaps, have forget about the love he once had for you, following his hatred towards your kind.

The way he looks at you as his hands crushed your cheeks...

It was evident his love for you has depleted.

#tw.dark content #tw.incest #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #suguru geto x you #geto suguru x y/n #geto angst #suguru geto x reader #jjk angst #euphoria #tw. violence

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vampiric-tempt · 2 years ago

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Kinktober | 03

≡ violence | reiko x gn!reader * ˚ ✦

tw ➤ nsfw, smut, violence, mentions of blood, choking, bruising, biting + marks

a/n: this one is longer than usual :O I was cooking it up with this one

❥・*。You snarled, your hand covering the now forming bruise on the side of your face. "Can't you relax, Reiko?"

Reiko huffed readying into a fighting stance. "Your fault for being so fucking pathetic and weak. Learn how to back up your false claims."

You rolled your eyes. It was just the two of you in Reiko's personal training room which so happened to be because you couldn't keep your mouth shut, boasting how you could beat him in a fight.

"Fuck you," You spat, irking the warrior. He let out a low growl before charging at you once again. Only this time, his swings were much harder and relentless. You were struggling to counter each strike as he only left room for you to be on the defensive. His last swing, however, knocked you back into a wall, the impact forcing the air out of you.

"Reiko!" You strained out as his hand slammed onto your throat. He squeezed just enough to make you light-headed. You glared into his eyes, tired from his barrage of attacks.

"Give up." Reiko hisses.

You glare into his eyes as he peered down at you. You wanted to kick him in the nuts so badly, but you knew it would only result in a worse outcome. A few moments passed of just silent tension when suddenly you felt Reiko's other hand wipe away a drip of blood from your lips.

You frowned, quickly looking to him for an explanation.

"Tsk," Reiko pushed himself away, releasing you from his grasp. "Why do you do this to me?"

"Do what?" You ask sternly.

He stepped back into your space once again. His chest nearly touching yours. "Make me want you. Need you." He grabbed your chin, surprisingly not as rough as you expected him to. "You make me mad, annoyed, and I despise you. You fight me even though you know you'll lose every time. But-" He pauses for a moment. "I enjoy it every fucking time. Seeing you fight, seeing you hurt...it excites me."

You huffed in disbelief. "You're shit at confessing your feelings y'know."

"Would you rather I demonstrate y/n?" He tilted his head teasingly.

Now this caught you off guard. Many thoughts coursed through your head at once and it ignited a welcoming feeling in your core. You smirked, keeping up a confident composure. "I think I like the sound of that..."

With that, Reiko shoved you against the wall once again, his knee placing itself between your thighs. He pulled you into a heated kiss completely overrun by carnal desires. Your own hands feverishly traveling down his body and hooking your fingers on the band of his trousers.

Reiko chuckled into the kiss. "Desperate little one, aren't you?"

"C'mon, let's get to the fun part." You whined.

Reiko smirked, freeing his hardened cock and helping you undress. "Fuck," Reiko groaned taking in the bruises littering your skin. The bruises he gave you. "All marked up by yours truly."

He was quick to be on you again. His fingers playing with your arousal, prepping you just for him. You moaned at the feeling, thighs already shaking from just his hands. You were in pure bliss, but Reiko didn't want you coming undone just yet, his fingers pulling away.

He lifted your legs to be hooked around his waist, only having the wall and Reiko to support you. "Gonna fuck you so good." Reiko says before sinking you down onto his cock. You gasped feeling your walls stretch just for him. Reiko let out a strained breathe, finally filling you with the whole of his throbbing cock.

He began to thrust his hips upward, fucking you against the wall.

"Reiko, fuck-" You tossed your head back as Reiko hit your g-spot. He smirked at the reaction he inflicted on you, beginning to thrusts at that spot over and over again.

You moaned shutting your eyes as his hips roughly bucked into you. You tried your best to keep quiet, biting down onto Reiko's own neck to muffle your cries. Your teeth piercing his skin as the taste of iron reached your tastebuds. Reiko groaned in pleasure, enjoying every bit of it.

The sounds of his grunts and his hips slamming into yours filled the room, both of you drunk with pleasure. He growled feeling your hands begin to rake along his back, desperately trying to handle the pleasure he was giving you.

You were nearing your end, his dick filling you and his hands digging into your bruised hips. You knew there'd be nail marks all over you by the end of it. Everything just felt too good. "I'm gonna cum Reiko!" You whined, your legs squeezing his hips as your orgasm rippled through. "Reiko!" You gasped out, vision fading black for a few moments.

Reiko groans as your walls clenched his dick. It drove him crazy as he pushed you further into the wall, completely trapping you. He continued fucking you through your orgasm as he strived to reach his own.

You cried out, feeling him grow sloppier and rougher with each thrust until his body tensed, his cum coating your insides. "So fucking good," He groaned. "Look at you."

You were out of breath, body limp. If it weren't for Reiko's support you'd have fallen to the ground by now. "We should fight more if this will be the end result each time." You huffed out.

You felt Reiko's hands massage your hips, the bruises making you squint lightly.

"And I'll have you screaming my name every time."

╰┈➤ other kinktober 2023 mk1 works

#mortal kombat smut #mk x reader #mk1 x reader #tw. violence #kinktober 2023 #tw.blood #gender neutral reader #mortal kombat x reader #reiko x reader #mdni

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tridentide · 13 days ago

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01. THE REAPING

finnick's name was called so quickly that he almost did not recognize it. the capitol escort, a woman named accalia, says it blurred together, and messily. nothing like his name is said by his aunt and uncle, or how it had been said by his parents long ago.

her accent fumbles it, but finnick knows it is him by the way his peers stare at him, wide-eyed. his district partner, a girl volunteer by the name of marnie, is seventeen and ruthless -- but she has an almost gentle, apologetic smile as the fourteen year old shakily climbs the steps of the justice building. they wait a few more seconds for a volunteer, but there is none. district four had lost so quickly last year -- both dying brutal deaths in the initial bloodbath -- that no one wanted to take finnick's place. it was understandable, and yet, for finnick, he knew this meant certain death. his aunt and uncle visit him in the small room of the justice building. his aunt doesn't cry, but holds him so close and tightly that finnick finds it difficult to breathe. the tears streaming down his own face doesn't help matters, but his uncle cove does not get angry at his show of emotion. instead, cove wipes the tears from finnick's face, and gently reminds him how to make a net, and which knots are best for which purposes ; cove tells finnick of the fish they catch in their nets, and how to stab them through the heart to give them a clean death. at the time, finnick did not understand why his uncle would be speaking of nets, and spearing, at a moment like this. there would not be nets in the arena, and, career or not, there is no way finnick would come out of this victorious.

02. THE CAPITOL

his mentors, mags and esra, were an odd pairing. mags, whose motherly look instantly endeared finnick and marnie to her, was kind and understanding. she wiped away what was left of finnick's tears, and eased marnie into eating, even when the seventeen year old did not seem interested in any of the rare foods before her. esra was different. dressed in an all white suit with red accents, he's 35, and speaks like he's always trying to sell you something. he takes to calling finnick and marnie his "little guppies", or, occasionally, his "school of fish". he rubs finnick the wrong way until, upon catching the fourteen year old crying, he offers him a tiny sugarcube from a nearby tea cart. " sugar stops the tears, my little finnick. " he'd said. esra had won those famous arctic games, and since then, wore all white to represent the snow, and a red handkerchief for the blood spilt upon it. he'd killed his own district partner in a fit of hysteria. the shark under the ice, he was called. the tribute parade went as well as could be expected. the district four stylist, dante, dressed marnie in a beautiful floor-length sea-foam gown. her long, dark hair was in tresses down her back, and there were mini pearls on the edges of her fake eyelashes. finnick held a golden trident, dressed in greens and blues, with rope-like woven accents. poseidon, finnick realized quickly. a poor imitation of him, at the very least. the training was where things went a little awry. his career counterparts were much more trained and had decided quickly they wanted nothing to do with the scrawny fourteen year old, but marnie, for some reason, convinced one and two to take both district four tributes with them. she holds to finnick's arm during those tiny negotiations -- consciously presenting them as a pair. they would not gain marnie's killing expertise ( specializing in knives and swords ) without finnick at her side. just like that, finnick was a part of the career pack. he gets an eight in training, simply by showing off his knot - tying abilities, his usefulness with a trident. finnick makes a good show of it, forcing a trident in and out of a training dummy, and tossing it with a pretty high accuracy. marnie gets a ten.

03. THE ARENA

DAY ONE: BLOODBATH

regardless of what had been said in training, for the deals and sponsorships that finnick had managed to attain during his interview ( he played the collected and confident fourteen year old, scrappy and unwilling to go down without a fight ), he knew that once the games began, there's no saying what would happen. the arena is a swamp. the humid air, the bugs zipping around them, the marshy ground -- it is green and brown on all sides, and finnick could see nothing else but the cornucopia and the trident that awaited him there, thankfully close to where he begins. marnie, from finnick's view, is straight across, and districts one and two surround him. when the games begin, the tributes find it difficult to run as quick as they wanted towards the weapons -- the marsh impedes their movements heavily, and finnick grips to his trident thirty seconds later. he's quick and agile, and waves it about him angrily, like a trapped animal. no one looks at him. districts one and two may have surrounded him, but they do not attack. instead, they turn their backs, and stab at a few of the other tributes. marnie takes finnick's arm, and they move closer to the cornucopia. by the end of the fighting, thirteen are dead. the rest, besides the careers, have disappeared into the swamp somewhere. finnick did not do anything besides cling to marnie and his weapon, staring at the dead bodies that slowly sink into the soft ground.

DAYS TWO - FOUR: THE MAP

the next few days were spent wandering, and getting used to the surroundings. there was a decent sized lake near the cornucopia, but the arena, they were fast to find out, was mostly dense with trees and vines. it was the girl from district two, ignea, who discovered that by setting down bits of wood, they could create better pathways, and also mark where they had been. soon, the careers created their own mini roadway system. they begin the hunt early in the evening, when they catch a fire a mile or two away from the cornucopia, billowing smoke. it was the district nine boy, who died screaming. the careers' map, as they called it, created a solid network of tree branches to step on, and paths to cross. besides the bugs, falls were other hazards. on the fourth day, the district one girl, jewel, fell off one of the tree logs, and off the path, directly into what seemed like an innocent mud puddle. her district partner, luxe, laughs at her, until she starts screaming. jewel begins sinking, and in a panic, rips at the wooden path to try and hoist herself out of the mud. it doesn't work, and finnick holds out his trident to help. she grips to the edge of it, but with the slippery mud, it was no use. jewel sinks under the ground, and a cannon fires.

DAYS FIVE - EIGHT: THAT SMALL ALLIANCE

the swamp seems to eat everyone -- at least, that is finnick's opinion. since jewel's death, a few more cannons were fired, without the career pack discovering anyone. no matter how hard luxe and titan ( the boy from district two ) hunt, they cannot find the girl from eleven or the boys from eight and seven. two more, the girl from three, and the boy from ten, seemed to be in an odd alliance. luxe and titan had tried taking them on once, in the middle of the night, but they had fought back well enough, and forced the half of the pack to back away. the most annoying thing about the arena was the lack of sunlight. the swamp vines and heavy coverage was enough to block out most of the rays, along with the humidity -- it felt more like a sauna and cage. finnick was quickly getting claustrophobic the more that they wandered about the arena. the wildlife, thankfully, was edible. finnick's small catches of fish from a giant lake near the cornucopia was enough to keep the careers well-fed, and served as a good enough reason to keep him alive. marnie spent hours expanding their pathways, and often worked in tandem with luxe and titan to try and find the other tributes. finnick is alone at the cornucopia while the rest of his pack was on one of their missions when the district ten boy and district three girl, burst from the trees. they must have been waiting for finnick to be alone before attacking, and though they seemed skinny and malnourished, they did come at him fast. finnick screamed for marnie, for luxe, for titan, to make their way back quickly, and he grips to his trident. the girl strikes first with a chipped sword, swinging for finnick's middle. he manages to dodge, thrusting his trident forward. the girl didn't see it coming, or maybe she didn't expect the fourteen year old to put up much of a fight -- but finnick's trident slams into her stomach, and she drops to the ground. the district ten boy, enraged, jumps on finnick's back. he holds a knife up to his throat, and finnick thrashes. there's a small cut to his skin as he screams -- and then the boy gasps. there's a knife sticking out of his back, and finnick gets away quickly, trying to calm his breathing as he stares at the district three girl's unstaring eyes, the blood on the corner of her lips. marnie stands on the edge of the pathway, holding up another knife, just in case. two cannons fire, one after the other. finnick retrieves his trident, with one of the tri-tipped spears ripped off into the girl from three's stomach. the odd alliance had been dealt with. the career pack knows it doesn't have much longer before they must look at each other. marnie grips to finnick's arm.

DAYS NINE - TWELVE : THE BUSHES

on day nine, the career pack falls apart, though not by choice. they'd taken to expanding their base beyond the cornucopia, and now that there were only three other tributes besides them in the whole of the arena, they needed everyone to help keep an eye out. finnick trails last, cutting his broken trident through the bushes and vines along the path, just in case he stumbles across a hiding spot. the further they go into the arena, the darker it becomes. the trees and vines become thicker, and soon, there's no need to step on wood to mark their paths. their little "map" of roadways becomes useless as the marshy ground turns more solid, and luxe, at the head of their little group, cuts down vines brush to force their way through the swamp. the bugs grow in size here, and the constant buzzing against finnick's ear was an irritant, but nothing dangerous. until titan gets bit by one. the effect takes all of three minutes. it's as if titan turns wild, twitching and then, yelling as he shoves luxe off to the side. titan then looks to ignea, and swings his axe directly into her neck. luxe stumbles, and turns, obviously confused and disoriented. as ignea's canon fires, titan slams down on luxe with the axe. luxe moves out of the way, just as marnie shoves finnick backwards, yelling at him to run. the last thing finnick sees is luxe and titan sparring while marnie attempts to bring titan to his senses -- it doesn't seem to be working, and finnick was not about to wait and see the outcome. he follows marnie's instructions as he had this whole time, running back along the wooden path and through a few more vines. he trips off the path, into a mud puddle. finnick expects to be swallowed by the earth, the same way jewel had days ago, but nothing happens. he's covered in mud, but the ground is stable. he waits in silence for a long while, too terrified to move for the next hour. titan had long since stopped screaming, and then, there were two cannons. one, and then, a few minutes later, the second.

finnick had no way of knowing who it was-- whether titan or luxe or both had died, or maybe marnie, or one of the other lone tributes. he rises to his feet shakily, and discovers, confused, that he cannot find the path. the scenery all looks the same, and finnick grips to his broken trident, his other hand finding the small piece of rope in his pocket -- a gift from home that would not help him here. finnick spends the next two days alone, hidden in a few bushes, camouflaged by the mud he'd tripped into. he considers, many times, to get up and find marnie, but his instincts tell him to wait it out. his stomach grumbles angrily --- the supplies that the careers had since lived on was gone, at least by finnick's standards, and there was no fish to catch, no body of water big enough or close enough to spear anything. the fourteen year old devises a plan, grabbing and cutting down a vine, and tying one end off the other side of a natural path in front of him. he holds to his trident, and waits. on day ten, a parachute comes from the heavens, landing in front of finnick's bushes. he reaches with a trembling hand, and rips it open. bread and water. he devours it greedily, and downs the liquid quickly. the humidity alone was enough to leave him severely dehydrated. also on day ten, someone trips his little vine, and lands against the ground. they're slow to get up, and finnick is slow to react. he hadn't expected anyone to actually come down this side path.

finnick gets up from his spot, and before he can recognize his actions, his half - broken trident is embedded into the boy from eight's chest. his brown eyes stare up at him, shocked, before all life fades from him. finnick tries not to make any noise as he tries to dislodge his trident, but it seems stuck, solidly. eventually, he gives up, and retreats into his bushes for the hovercraft to pick up the body. he throws up the bread he'd eaten only hours before. the night memorial with the capitol theme alerts him of titan's death, and the boy from eight that he'd killed. marnie is still alive, along with luxe, somewhere -- and the boy from seven had lasted this long as well. in the middle of the next day, after finnick had hidden within the brush for hours, overheating and half - delirious, another parachute : a golden trident, glinting and beautiful, lowers itself directly next to finnick. he blinks, staring at this new weapon of destruction. it did not come from mags, or esra. it was far, far too nice. a wealthy capitol citizen must have spent thousands to give him such a pricy thing. it saves his life. finnick was inspecting his new gift when another cannon fires. he spends all of a minute wondering who died, when the rain starts. it creates a darkness and a fog upon the swamp grounds, and finnick's mud cover washes away slowly. he wipes at his eyes, and he hides the golden trident with him. his hunger grows. another person slips on the mud, and trips over his vine trap. finnick doesn't think -- his reaction time faster and much more desperate, with the shaking of his hands. he stabs down. a girl yells out. marnie.

he'd stabbed her, and marnie's blue eyes look at him in fear. " -- finn. " is her last word. finnick pulls out his trident, and stares at her, his mind refusing to connect her death to his own actions until he looks at the blood that comes from her, that covers his hands and the edge of his golden, gaudy trident. he screams, and he does not care who hears it. marnie dies moments later, after finnick had grabbed to her hand. she grips his arm in response, before her hold loosens. a cannon fires. finnick doesn't hear it more than he hears the mosquitos buzzing around him. that night, the memorial plays. finnick watches, pale and shaking-- marnie, and the boy from seven, who had been the cannon earlier. luxe is alive. the rain continues to soak him, and he cannot stop staring at the place where marnie died, the blood and mud mixing together horribly. he had to leave. day twelve, and finnick makes the decision to leave his precious hiding spot. he travels along aimlessly, until he finds the wooden path. the map had held, even if many of the logs and makeshift planks had slipped half under the mud. the arena slowly floods, and finnick wades through it, until he sees the glint of the metal cornucopia when a lightning strike overhead reveals it. delirious, he and his golden trident wander towards it, seeking shelter from the torrent of rain, the bugs that won't leave him alone. he rounds a corner into the clearing with the cornucopia, and finds the lake once again. shaking from lack of food, and dizzyingly thirsty, finnick makes a beeline for it. he crashes into the water up to his waste, dunking his head under, and drinking mouthfuls of water. he doesn't care about the uncleanliness, the muddy bottom, or the fish surrounding him. when he comes up, he twists his trident above his head, and goes to spear at a nearby fish. he doesn't think luxe is near him, until he gets tackled under the water.

DAY THIRTEEN : WATER

delirious, he and his golden trident wander towards the cornucopia as dawn breaks, seeking shelter from the torrent of rain, the bugs that won't leave him alone. he rounds a corner into the clearing with the cornucopia, and finds the lake once again. shaking from lack of food, and dizzyingly thirsty, finnick makes a beeline for it. he crashes into the water up to his waist, dunking his head under, and drinking mouthfuls of water. he doesn't care about the uncleanliness, the muddy bottom, or the fish surrounding him. when he comes up, he twists his trident above his head, and goes to spear at a nearby fish. he doesn't think luxe is near him, until he gets tackled under the water. luxe holds him down, and the only image finnick has of his is a blurry silhouette. he kicks and shoves, reaching blindly for his trident. the dual between him and luxe is a fever dream that finnick cannot remember to its fullest. luxe is a wild animal, thrashing at him with a dagger -- seemingly his only weapon, and finnick blocks and forces him back with the trident. eventually, in a scene that soon after becomes famous, finnick strikes first. he acts like he's falling into the water, luring luxe further away from the lake shore, and when he's up to his chest, with the rain pouring, finnick moves forward with his trident. luxe dodges, but not enough. he winds up directly behind finnick, and he twirls his trident above his head as a dagger pierces him from behind, and slams it backwards, directly into luxe's chest. he curls over him, and finnick, pain blossoming from the knife wound, shoves his body off of him. a cannon blasts soon after, along with the victorious capitol theme. finnick swims, injured, to shore. the rain stops, and the sun appears for the first time in thirteen days. finnick does not remember being picked up by the hovercraft. claudius templesmith's voice echoes along the edges of his hearing, congratulating the youngest victor in history.

#→ THE 65TH GAMES.#IF YOU READ THIS WHOLE THING BLESS YOU #BUT IT IS NOT A REQUIREMENT TO INTERACT LMAO #it's just here so i can reference it if need be #OR IF YOU WANNA REFERENCE IT!!!#tw. violence #i mean it is his games so read w discretion pls

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loafthecat · 1 month ago

Text

@crazy-pe3p tagging for part two BB!!!

I got a lil silly and just had to do this now lol- the sticks are getting to me-

TW FOR: Violence, body horror, blood and potential gore.

————————————————————————

“Trevor.” Dan turned around to face his brother, pupils shrinking as he looked at Trevor’s form. Aside from the crystals, He appeared slightly thinner than normal, his dark black hair that was messy before sure- but in the moment looked as if he’d been dragged through a entire forest, his glasses squinted and finally his eyes, one pupil dilated bigger then the other and a pink hue that wasn’t there before. His whole form worked well as a reflect of the lab itself.

Trevor stared at him, scanning across Dan from legs to head, Dan wasn’t sure what to do but at the least he could try get something out. So he spoke, “I’m just” here to check up on you, that’s all.”

Trevor continued to just look at him as Dan continued to explain, “I’m not here to ruin your plans or wotever, I was jus” checkin” up for a few others…. Walton’s worried sick about ya you know.”

Trevor didn’t reply.

Dan gripped his newly acquired scalpel as he tried to finish up his explanation, “and I’ve seen ya now, so I’ll head off and let Cerington and that know how you are….maybe get “em to help you fix-“ he gestured to the lab, “all this.”

Silence stayed between the two after that, what was only about a minute felt like an eternity, before Dan made the decision to finally exit the lab, turning his back and deciding to leave whatever was going on to Trev and the other higher ups. They were more qualified than him anyway.

Well- that was his plan at least until Trevor spoke.

“There IS no fixing this.”

“Wot-?” Dan turned his head quickly back to trev.

“I tried fixing it. I tried everything after it latched onto me Daniel and do you know what ended up happening-? Hmmm- take a guess-“

Dan stared, eyes darting around a lil, before gesturing in confusion, “it…didn’t work-???”

“E X A C T L Y- IT DIDNT WORK AND NOW I CAN FEEL IT STRIPPING AWAY AT MY MIND-“

Dan stepped back a little, spooked by trevor’s words.

“OOOOOOOH AND OF COURSE ITS THE MIND- ITS ALWAYYYYYYSSSS THE MIND- MY OWN BODY REJECTING MY VERYYYY WILL-“ Trevor clutched his head and clawed it inbetween slight pained chuckles, as Dan looked on with more concern.

“Trevor. I don’t know what you’ve done but you NEED to go to one of the other higher ups.”

“OH BECAUSE THEYYYYY WOULD HELP- LIKELY STORY AS IF THEY HAVENT BEEN WAITINGGGGGGG FOR ME TO FALLL- THEY ALWAYS HAD IT OUT FOR ME, CERINGTON ALWAYS HAD IT OUT FOR ME- THEY DONT UNDERSTAND MY BRILLIANCE AFTER ALL NONE OF YOU LOWLY RATS DO-“

“Trevor you NEED to get help from someone.”

“WHO DANIEL-??? ANSWER ME WHO-??? TELL ME WHO WOULD HELP ME-??? HM-? ANDY-? ALEXANDER-? YOU-? NONE OF YOU CAN HELP- NONE OF YOU CAN-“ Trevor smacked himself on the side of the head, refocusing his eyes for a moment before glaring at Dan, “…my apologies..one of the symptoms of this includes some sort of madness or erratic behaviour..at least from what I’ve viewed from my own symptoms….but my point still stands, no one can help me. I have attempted a cure, and nothing works. As much as I HATE to admit it I am past a point of no return and will soon lose-“, he paused, face scrunching up as he turned away in shame, “ALL control of myself.”

Dan stopped, thinking on what Trevor had just told him, “…..these crystals…they-“

“They work like a infection Daniel YES I alllllllllllll-llll-lll-ree-ready KNOW- NO SH^T SHERLOCK-“

“And your already gone-?”

“WELL UNLESS I FIND SOME SOLUTION AND FAST THEN YE-“ Trevor paused to readjust himself again. “Yes.”

“……f^ck sake’s Trevor….” Dan went quiet again, looking at Trevor and his sorry state. Sure he never liked Trevor that much, and Trevor WAS the complete scum of the earth, but whatever was going on seemed like a awful way to go out….losing your sanity piece by piece would be bad for anyone, but for a control-freak like Trevor it was worse then death. (Although Dan also pondered on if this fate was almost fitting-)

Trevor turned away for a moment again, reflecting on his fate as well…before his eyes shifted upwards in thought, slowly looking back to Dan and dilating bigger, “although- seeming that YOUR here- I COULD succumb to this thing knowing that-“

Dan tilted his head as Trevor finished, “I took YOU with me.”

“Wo-“ Dan meant to speak before Trevor lunged at him, pinning him down on the ground and giggling before raising a claw up.

“TREVOR WOT THE H^LL ARE YOU-“

“IF IM GOING DOWN, THEN WHY NOT FUFILL ONE LAST WISH-? AND TAKE YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE IVE OH SO COME TO DESPISE WITH ME-“ Trevor lunged down at him, Dan quickly moving his head just out of his reach and pulling out the small scalpel, aiming for and stabbing Trevor square in the side.

“HISSSSSSSSSS-“ Trevor echoed out in pain before Dan kicked him away, not hard to move Trev completely off of him but enough to create some distance as to where he could try make a effort to fully lose Trev.

Trevor didn’t take well to his brother’s attempt, going back to try claw at him again, being intercepted by another foot as Dan made more distance, his eyes darting around the room for anything to grab onto- a closet- a table- maybe even a hospital bed or- the side of the wall. The side of the wall he’d been pushed against, if he could turn the corner that’d get some distance between the two of em, not a lot but just enough to make a run for it.

It was his best shot. Dan moved back, keeping up with Trevor best he could, using the scalpel here and there to buy him a second or two, as the cuts began to pile up on trevor’s body- dispute the pain, Trevor wasn’t deterred, instead getting more feral, animalistic, taking a bite at his boot (which luckily didn’t pirce through the leather of it, thank god) one attempt at his arm, another at dan’s chest, the struggle going on as Dan built up his strength little by little.

One more push, just ONE more and maybe he could turn the corner and escape! Just one more!

Dan heaved himself in an attempt to cross the corner when Trevor called out in a blind rage, “YOU ARE NOT LEAVING ME HERE. WE ARE EXITING THIS THE SAME WAY WE CAME IN- TOGETHER-“

Trevor tugged on him, pulling his body back, fully pinning Dan’s body down with the help of his cybernetic legs, turning Dan’s face to it’s left side so he could strike, “LETS GET THIS FINISHED SHALL WE-?” Trevor pushed his claws into dan’s face, slowly pulling them down, pushing deep into his flesh as Dan struggled and flopped on the ground like a helpless fish without water.

Dan whimpered as Trevor slowly clawed his way down his face, the blood clutching onto Trevor’s claw much like the crystals that clung to his body, and at the sight of this blood Trevor began to laugh, a laugh which drowned out the quieter noises of his brother.

This was it, there was no way Trevor was stopping now, he’d move down to his neck, and then it was lights out and even if Trevor didn’t end up killing him, he’d end up infected with whatever Trevor had. No matter which way he looked at it there was no getting out of this…he would be gone, and once he was gone there was nothing stopping Trevor from getting out and going after Liam and once he was done with Liam…….there was no telling who’d he go after next.

Dan could already feel trev’s claw sliding down his chin as the pain only intensified, this was it- everything was over- and he didn’t even mention to last long enough so he could warn- wait-…..who was that- in the corner of his eyes he recognised a familiar shadowed figure that swiftly smacked Down on trevor’s skull with a cold iron medical tray.

“Get your- FUCKING HANDS OFF MY HUSBAND-“ Liam shouted in a pure rage as the tray slammed down on trev from behind, Trevor quickly adjusting and turning to meet Liam with a hiss only to quickly be met with a swift kick to the chest, enough to push him off and away from Dan. Dan moved himself up, moving his hand to touch his now blood soaked face as Liam went over to Trevor again.

Liam slammed the tray back down on his skull, again and again and again feeling only pure disgust for the man that had made him, his husband’s and his friends lives a living h^ll for so long, he continued to beat Trev in, only stopping in order to save whatever limited energy he had.

When Liam pulled back, Trevor was completely unconscious, almost completely drenched in blood and hopefully dead. Liam breathed in deep shaky breathes and turned to his husband.

“Danny….?” Liam’s voice softly called out as he gazed upon the left side of dan’s face which was peeled almost like a blood orange. He leaned down, switching his focus and gently cupping around dan’s frame as he attempted to speak to him, “Danny….? Are you alright…? I-“

“Lullaby-“ Dan spoke, he meant to continue but didn’t get the chance as Liam swiftly picked him up and began to bolt as fast as he could away from the room and away from Trevor. Daniel looked back on his brother, now lying almost motionless on the floor, before his mind went a lil blurry.

It was a lil hard to recall the trip out of the lab, his mind wasn’t in a place too, but upon exiting he was suddenly reawoken by the slide of the keycard, the door peeling back shut. No longer welcome to the likes of them.

He felt liam’s shaking breathes as the two slid down to the ground, against the door. He looked to Liam, who appeared utterly exhausted from his short scuffle with Trevor.

“Lullaby………?”

Liam looked back at him, “yeah……Danny..?”

“….liam. I NEED you to check that Trevor didn’t get any of that sh^t on me.”

Liam blinked a bit, not expecting such an answer from Dan.

“Liam PLEASE I need to make sure.”

Liam was tired but the desperation in Dan’s voice was clear as day.

“Liam….please…”

Liam shifted himself, gently using his hands to pat around dan’s body, checking for any crystals that could have latched onto him the Same way they may have latched onto Trevor, as Dan shivered in fear. His body came up clean, so Liam moved to his head, gently patting and shifting through his hair, finding it clean as well, then finally moving to the bloody mess that was the side of his face. His hand twitched back for a second, hesitant, before he very carefully felt the deep red wound, Dan hissed a lil with the pain but let Liam continue.

Then. Liam pricked something off his face. Dan could feel his heart sink as Liam pulled up a small sharp jagged object, they looked at it for a moment….but luckily…it came up as clear glass..just slightly blooded….. Trevor must have broke his glasses during the scuffle….still it came as a wave of relief. The two curled up into each-other now Liam was done making sure Dan hadn’t been infected as well, tired and sore from what just happened, the adrenaline finally running dry.

“..so……..wot now…..huh..?”

“I….I dunno…….but we’ve getting YOU checked up first…once we………move…of course….”

“Wot about trev….? We can’t just” leave the lab like that…….”

“Right, yeah-..uh…i dunno…jus”..I’d feel better if you were handled first- before we do anything with Trevor…..”

“I know….but….least we could do is try barricade the door shut…..stop anyone else from getting in..stopping him from…getting out……………y’know-?”

Liam went quiet, tilting his head a bit in agreement, before yawning, “well..we can think about that more in a minute…god…my head feels light after that….”

Dan buried into his chest…and nodded…for now they just needed to sit and try come to terms with what just happened…

They’d handle everything in a minute…..

Things weren’t that bad yet…they still had a few minutes to rest…..

..Just a few minutes…of peace

Just before the storm…..

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Well that sure was a doozy lol-

Pretty fun to write in all honesty however, should prob write/share more oc writing at some point-

everyone give a shout out to Liam for beating trev’s head in with a metal tray to protect his husband, almost as good as brutal pipe murder./ref (< if you know you know-)

Ps. If anyone is worried about Trevor, don’t worry he’ll probably be fine- if Ellie’s disembodied hand is still crawling around you can bet his ^ss is about to come back like William Afton./silly/ref

[ August Walton < mentioned, belongs to @emperorcandy

Alexander cerington < also mentioned, belongs to @randomgasleak ]

[Part one]

^ for anyone who missed it.

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absolventiia · 7 months ago

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❗❗❗ ( to maryse <3 )

/ Send " ❗❗❗ " for your muse to suddenly and unexpectedly kiss mine.

SHE HAD ONLY BEEN TRYING TO VISIT THE SEPT. the way of worship up north was so vastly different from the ways of worship in sunspear, and maryse was still trying to wrap her head around it all. the incense and candlelight, the darkened rooms and silence besides some general, soft chanting that almost seemed to echo along the stone. it made her feel a bit too CLAUSTROPHOBIC. and kneeling along the tables with her hands clasped tightly was also incredibly uncomfortable, the light fabric of her dress not helping to cushion her knees.

aemond did not usually visit her, these days. the war grows in scale, and he's often away or in a meeting of some sort. not that it bothered her -- considering the fact that they were not yet IN LOVE ( or perhaps, would never be. ) the good in their marriage comes from the fact that they are amicable with each other. despite the rumors that maryse has heard more than once upon her betrothal of aemond targaryen's coldness and cruelty, he was deceptively KIND, or at least generally thoughtful. more than most wives could say, in these situations.

as maryse finally decides she'd had enough of prayer and meditation for the day ( or, more likely her reddened knees ), she stands and exits the sept, allowing the guard to follow her towards the awaiting carriage. they were not FAST ENOUGH for what happens next. to be fair, none of them could be. maryse couldn't react as she's suddenly gripped from behind and tugged against a man, a cold blade at her throat. he screams something about starving, about the rotten food being served at markets, about the lack of dornish aid that they were promised would come with the marriage. that was the only thing he said, before there was a sword in his back, and he drops to the ground -- it is haedon, she recognizes vaguely. his hand is on her arm, the other holding tightly to his sword. the crowd around them scream, and the edges of maryse's dress is stained with the man's blood as she's whisked away into the carriage before anyone else could attempt to harm her.

she's in shock, shaking as they reach the keep. aemond was waiting there, somehow having already received the news about the events in the city. perhaps a guard had ridden ahead to let the family know. still, maryse cannot question it as she's picked up from the carriage seat, his lips brushing very suddenly against her own. maryse can feel aemond's arms around her, and she can BREATHE again, at least slightly. " . . . perhaps we should send a RAVEN to my mother. " maryse mumbles after a moment or two. " we may need to inquire about what aid she is sending. "

#・❥・MARYSE . 02 #sparedson #ANYWAYSSSSS #tw. violence #tw. blood #ask for tag

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dd122004dd · 2 years ago

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Their Mother 2

The mother of the Eldritch terrors wants to retireve them from the Spellmans clutches.

This is for @liliyhsblog who asked me for a part 2. I hope its as satisfying as part 1.

Warnings: Bloodshed, battles, tentacles, genocide, decapitation, murder, end of the world

~Previously~

“How stupid of you, to bring your only bargaining chip to the battlefield. One thing you seemed to have forgotten about Pandora’s box, is that it released all the plagues on the Earth.” Saying this, she opened the box, letting her children out once again, to destroy the Earth and consume it.

Watching the chaos unfold, the mother smiled with glee.

First from the box emerged darkness, her eldest daughter stood in all her shadowy glory. Her form was smokey, as if her powers could not decide on a final form. With hollowed out eyes and tiny obsidians embedded in her forehead, the eldest eldritch terror stood proud and tall. Glancing at her mother, she smiled till cracks appeared in her face. She turned towards the witches, quickly losing her smile.

Next came her son, the uninvited. He emerged from the box, disheveled with his untidy clothes and tangled hair. The mother tsked before waving her hand, immediately her son’s hair was returned to its former midnight glory, his hair was neatly braided like the Vikings of old. His sickle was sharpened and gleamed in the light while his clothes changed from tattered rags to armor, black leather armor that seemed easily penetrable yet worked as an impenetrable shield.

Glancing down at himself he smiled widely, giddy at his new attire. He smiled up at his mother, like he used to when he was still young. He nodded his head in gratitude and moved to embrace her but she stopped him. Reunions could wait for they were still in serious danger from the coven before them.

After him came her third son, the weird. They slithered out of the box, an octopus-like mass crawled to the mother then climbed up her body, perching itself on her shoulder.

Grinning widely at the Weird’s presence she gently ran her fingers over their head, restoring them to their original form. Feeling the familiar power running through their body the weird morphed into their original form which they had lost millennia ago. On first glance they looked deceptively human, an androgynous human yet on closer glance one would notice their hands shifted from tentacles to fingers and back. On their tongue were suckers, meant to pull in their victims.

Cracking their neck unnaturally the weird glared fiercely at the coven before putting on a menacingly charming smile. His pearly teeth and insidious expression made the Spellmans’ almost wretch.

After the weird, the imp of the perverse emerged. Cradling her child’s golden statue, the mother was enraged. What had the mortals done to her child? How could they turn him into a mere trinket to use as they wished? Sighing in anger she whispered, “Awaken,” the moment the word left her lips the imp started moving, as if it were waking up after a long slumber. Ruby eyes stared at the mother before a sharp grin formed on the little creature’s face. Slowly the imp unveiled its tiny wings and perched itself on the mother’s shoulder, caressing the large golden globe in its hands with its tongue, tempted to pervert reality in accordance with its will.

Next came the cosmic. The being was an intimate part of the cosmos, the unattainable and uncontainable force took a mortal visage. The cosmos was a pale, lean man dressed in a hanfu woven from the very fabric of the universe itself with spinning galaxies and nebulas almost alive on the fabric. His long black tresses trailed down his back. He was the picture of tranquility yet within his mind, chaos reigned.

The returned took the form of a corpse, mostly well-preserved but rotting in a few places. She was deathly beautiful yet she moved unnaturally, as if she was a mere puppet for a puppeteer. She was dressed like a bride, lace covered her arms and a veil covered her hair yet her dress was stained with blood and dirt, as if she recently crawled out of a grave.

The twin of the void emerged next. He was a tall man in a black suit and a hat. Mysterious and strange the man looked like a regular human with his black gloves yet he was anything but. He was created to be the yang to her yin. He was supposed to satiate her hunger, the one in charge of caring for her yet after millennia away from her he was remiss in his duties, leading to her growing impoverished. He was and is, the endless.

Lastly the void emerged. The void took the form of a gaunt little girl in a white dress with frayed hair, a far cry from the terrifying terror she used to be. Hunched over, she gripped her stomach as her hollow eyes stared at the Spellman coven. Licking her lips with her black tongue she stared at her potential meal, prepared to temporarily satiate her hunger with the young coven when her mother stopped her.

The mother looked at her children, disappointed in their current state. She tsked before giving them a little of her power to sustain themselves. Her once powerful creations were reduced to their impoverished states by the measly coven before them. Yet she knew not even their patron goddess Hecate would be able to defend the coven if she chose to intervene.

The coven, however were unwilling to submit to the intimidating terrors and had instead called upon their allies. Heaven, Hell and everything in between. Demons, ghouls and other creatures of all kinds accompanied the Spellmans in a quest for the survival of their universe. Seeing the eldritch terrors out of Panadora’s box Hilda stepped forward saying, “Well, now that you have your ‘children’ back why don’t you leave us alone?”

Chuckling darkly she answered, “Because I want to see your bodies scattered on this field in pieces, I want to feel your metallic blood flowing down my throat as I claim the debt owed to me.”

“What debt?”

“Your lives.”

As soon as the words fell from her lips the battle commenced. The witches fought well, reciting spells and moving elegantly against the attacks of the terrors yet it was not enough. Many witches fell, many were ripped apart and others ran in an tempt to save themselves yet it was all for naught.

The once green grass was a sticky amber, decorated with various body parts. The last of the Spellmans, Hilda and Zelda stood at the center of the field, looking at their surroundings with anguish, their coven was obliterated, the angels and demons torn to shreds. The head of their beloved niece was in the hands of the mother as she grinned maniacally at the pair.

“So much hassle for a little half-born, and yet, she died so easily. I’m disappointed,” she said with mock disappointment before tossing the blonde head at the pair.

Hilda shuddered as she fell to her knees, her grief consuming her as Zelda stood her ground, willing her tears away.

“Now, for a special punishment for you, you shall see your world get destroyed before you, too are consumed,” saying this, the pair were frozen in their places as the mother motioned for her children to finish what they had started.

First came the darkness and her everlasting cold, no one could escape their sins, their guilt, her torment.

Second came the uninvited, he ripped through the populace, feasting on their unwelcoming hearts as his powers grew.

Third came the weird, succumbing the Earth in water, crushing humanity’s cities and submerging them with the creatures of the depths that laid in wait for centuries.

Fourth came the Imp, he corrupted reality, twisting the very foundations of nature akin to a child playing with playdough. His creations were maddening, confusing, chaotic, refusing to settle. The very foundations of reality were cracking, crumbling as he continued.

Fifth came the Cosmic, he brought together the three realms, Heaven, Hell and Earth, they crashed in a symphony of pained screams that echoed through the vastness till everything went silent.

Sixth came the Returned, the dead arose to bear witness to the end, the deceased tormented those who remained, those who fought, those who had hope.

Seventh came the Endless, he brought with him an endless cycle of torment for the mortals, a cycle of eternity only breakable by one. He imbued his powers into the chaotic Earth, creating an unending paradox.

Eight came the Void, the last, the end of all things, she consumed the chaotic, fractured reality with much glee. Finally, she was satiated for the first time in millennia.

In the seven days it took the Christian God to create the world, it took eight days to destroy his creations, the very foundations of his fragile reality were shattered by the Eldritch terrors, it was almost poetic.

After her thirst for revenge was satiated, the Mother took her children with her, into a different dimension in order to grow their own powers once more so that they’d never be as weak as they were, ever again.

Under their mother, the terrors flourished, their powers of destruction grew equal to the Element’s powers of creation. The Universe was now more balanced than it had been in centuries.

#original character #the chilling adventures of sabrina #chilling adventures of sabrina #eldritch terror #the mother #chilling adventures of sabrina spellman #end of the world #tw. violence #tw.dark content #tw.murder #tw.decapitation

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rie-092 · 3 months ago

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HERO.

[ yandere! hero x demon king! reader ]

summary: it seems like the hero have already lost his mind.

yandere hero! who have always been the strongest human in the history. everyone in the empire idolized him and he have everything on the top of his hand. money, power and women. yet, he doesn't care about it.

yandere hero! who didn't like it whenever females try to touch him. sorry, but this dude have a trauma in the past when he got sexually assaulted back when he was a child by a maid. because of that, he became a complete woman hater and because of that, there was a rumor going around the empire that he was a gay.

yandere! hero who thinks that his only purpose in life was to defeat the demon king, you. because that is what the priest and the bishop ingrained onto his mind back when he was a child. that was the reason why his whole demeanour always change when you became the topic in a conversation.

he was honestly curious on what you look like. because the books describe you as a skeleton who was uglier than an ogre. but the demons whom he tortured for fun before always say that you were the most beautiful existence in the world.

yandere! hero who saw you for the first time and felt as if his world changed. you were beautiful, something that he didn't expected. and for some reason, you managed to awaken something inside him and he didn't know if it's a bad thing or a good one.

as a yandere, he was a delusional and a possessive one. after meeting you, this dude became a certified delulu.

like that one time when you sent one of your generals in a fight with him and his party. he was grinning all the time (which scared your troupe and his party) and was like—

“ the demon king sent you to me because the want to see me in action? ahhhh! they're so cute! very well! i'll give them what they want~”

you were honestly concerned about his mental health. and for the past thousand years and a hundred of heroes you killed in the past— this dude scared you the most.

and for some reasons, yandere! hero managed to infiltrate your castle. but did he kill you? no. did he kill anyone? no. because he knew that it will make you sad. instead, he always leave many gifts outside your room along with a message—

‘ you might be the demon king but you're the angel of my life (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠)⁠♡ ’

seriously. is all humans nowadays are as creepy as him?

for some reasons, this guy made you want to stop the war against the humans so that he can leave you alone.

and that's what you did. but for some fucking reason. the next day, he let your generals catch him and his party. and now, you were on your throne— staring at the supposed to be cool and quiet hero who was looking at you with full of adoration that makes you shudder.

and yandere! hero didn't let this chance pass by. no, he won't let you run away from him. he was stronger than you and he was also strong enough to destroy this chains on his arms and ankles. but he will stay put, for now.

before you could even order your generals to send him and his party back to the empire. you heard something that made your jaw drop, as well as his party's, and your generals'.

“ marry me, ( name )! ”

whoah, whoah. he finally lost it.

where in the hell did you saw a hero like him marrying a demon king?

but you see, he doesn't care and he will not take a no as an answer.

before getting caught by your generals, this dude managed to make the saint (one of the members of his party) set up the crystal that purifies the dark mana (which is basically one of the things that is essential for you and your people) in the middle of your kingdom's capital.

and he, along with the saint was the only one who can control that crystal. so if he wanted, he can kill your people. and without any doubt, he won't be sorry about it.

now, you better choose carefully — your people or a marriage with him? time is ticking, ( name ). and he is slowly losing his patience.

“ i can be a good husband, promise! i'll give you anything you want! money, power, hell— i'll even burn the world for you. so choose me, okay? because i don't want to kill your people, ( name )~ ”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere x y/n #tw.yandere #tw. mentions of abuse #tw. threat #tw. violence #tw. dark content #yandere hero #orginal character #idk what else to tag #(⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

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belongstocaptaindoyle · 2 years ago

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MARTIN MCCREADIE as EDDIE RICHARDSON (Legend) part II.

#martin mccreadie #eddie richardson #legend #my gifs #1960s #tw. violence #that smirk on the first gif uhhhhhhhh #' to queue or not to queue '#richardson gang #not helping on my m........ 😅

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lizardho · 24 days ago

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I’ve been thinking a lot lately about some of the people I interact with. I have a coworker who I am pretty sure is a MAGA type, and she is also a lovely woman who is dreadfully overworked and so good at connecting to patients when they call. I can see the conflict on her face when she talks to me, a gigantic tranny dork who speaks Spanish and affirms the LGBT community, but can also talk to her about her cows and knows about guns and stuff. I can see the fear in the eyes of my former Young Men’s leader when he misgenders me and realizes that I’m not an ideology but a person he has known for a long time. I can see the way my extended family stop and stutter over political discussions when they realize they are talking about me. And I don’t know why but lately it’s just made me think about my neighbor as a kid.

When we moved to Arizona, we moved next door to a lovely retired couple - John and Lucy. John was a veteran of WWII, he had an M.D. and a Ph.D. in radiology, and he LOVED us to pieces. His wife, Lucy, was a sharp and gifted woman - well spoken, very observant, and VERY clever. I just know that she used that cleverness as a mom to great effect, because with my and my siblings she always managed to find a way to send us home with candy and treats for a week despite my dad’s protests. We loved them, growing up, and even though they have long-since passed away I love them still, and I love what I learned from them.

John was, as stated, a WWII veteran. He was enlisted as a rifleman, and later as a front line medic, starting at Point Du Hoc and moving inwards to France and towards the Rhine. He let me do a report on him in 6th grade where he shared war stories with me he had kept to himself his whole life - he said it was out of respect for his friends who didn’t get to come home and tell their stories.

He said he told me because he knew I could respect the memories of his friends.

He showed me his collection of medals, and which he’d kept hidden away in a sock in his attic because he’d feel an immense grief any time he saw them. He had wanted to be a doctor his whole life, prior to being drafted he was studying medicine and had taken the Hippocratic oath to Do No Harm. He saw his medals as a reminder that he had Done Harm.

After telling me his stories he was able to convince himself that while he had Done Harm, it was only because his only other alternative was, to him, cowardice. He chose to be brave even if it meant acting against his Oath because he felt that if he didn’t do it someone else would have to go in his place and he would be responsible for the harm that befell them. I don’t think that’s true, but for him it was and that was something no being on earth could have ever dissuaded him from believing.

He shared wild stories - melee combat on the beach, clearing artillery bunkers, receiving a Purple Heart for being injured in hand-to-hand combat with a Wehrmacht rifleman he said he felt pity for because they were the same age and he had to imagine the man he was fighting had been drafted just like him.

He shared how he was awarded a Silver Star for charging a machine gun nest, but shared that he was most proud of not killing anyone in the process. He threw a grenade with the pin still in it and when the machine gunners jumped to avoid being blown up they were killed by someone else so he didn’t have to do it. He took the machine gun and shot the other machine gun in that French field to pieces so he didn’t have to kill the people operating it. He said they were giving out Silver Stars like candy but I knew he was being modest.

He told me about being redesignated as a medic, about how he crawled for about 500 yards on his belly to rescue an injured tank driver, then threw him over his back and crawled the same 500 yards back (1000 yards total) to treat his injuries. He said he met the man in an Army hospital in England after his spine was broken by a high explosive panzer shell was fired through a hollowed out French farmhouse and landed about 20 feet away from him.

He told me about all the people he helped and saved as a medic, he told me about his work in radiology and research after the war. He showed me a hallway that was quite literally wallpapered with academic honors he’d earned as a researcher. He told me about how his first Fourth of July back was a horror show for him because fireworks and German artillery make very similar sounds. He told me about how he woke up in a cold sweat well over half a century later hearing the screams of German artillery men being burned alive with flamethrowers, or hearing his own voice apologizing to the young German soldier he stabbed in the heart at Point Du Hoc.

He told me that when he was asked to present at a medical conference in Germany 25 years after the war ended that he was so scared he couldn’t step off the plane, and that his wife had to hold his hand and lead/pull him with her. He said he was not scared because he was worried about being triggered, but because he knew that someone somewhere outside of that plane had the course of their life irreparably altered by his military service. That to someone out there he was the cause of immense suffering and harm. That some unwitting waiter could be the son of the Nazi Officer he stabbed in the heart with a 12-inch hunting knife. That some woman asking questions in the audience would be the daughter or widow of a man he sent to judgement with a .30-06. He was scared that they would hate him.

He knew what the Nazi’s had done, he knew better than anyone I’d ever met. He’d watched the documentaries, he’s seen the PoWs returning from camps, he’d seen the civilians massacred and tortured by their regime, but he also knew that among the monsters were people like him - idealistic 20-somethings who only wanted to make the world better and were ripped away from that life by the Nazi war machine. And he spent his whole life mourning the loss of innocence and peace that was forced on so many people by such a corrupt power.

To be honest I don’t know if I could do that, but he could. He told me he could still feel the dead and lost with him, both when he slept and when he woke. He told me he thought he’d go to his grave never having told a word of this to anyone. That the stories of him and his friends and allies would disappear silently with him and those like him. That he had wanted that until he realized that he didn’t have to sell out to share the stories - that he could give the stories away for free to someone who would love the people in them, and not just the content of them. He didn’t want his stories to be used as Patriotic Pornography by some TV network or magazine. He wanted the people he knew to be respected, he wanted their memories to be honored and loved, and he entrusted me, a 12-year-old “boy” to do that.

He told me for years afterwards that after telling me these stories that he slept better than he ever had. That by sharing the stories with someone who could hear Him over the din of victory and glory and honor and revisionistic history. Someone who could see the man in the story and not just see the plot of a battle being won. He wanted to be human, and he wanted the people he saw die to be human too - everyone, not just the people on his side. He wanted someone to see and to know the anguish of having to look someone in the eye as heartblood muddies the ground beneath them and hope that they understand that this was not an act of love or hatred but an act of desperation. To hope that you had just taken out One Of The Bad Ones instead of a medical student or a poet who had been drafted. He wanted me to see how hard he had worked since then to build a world without scarcity, to build a world of peace. He wanted me to know SO badly that the cost of violence, any violence, even necessary violence, is always ALWAYS paid by both parties involved.

I think about the rise of the new right wing - the new Nazi movement’s traction in politics, and I feel sad and scared - the world that Johnathan J Yobaggy, my neighbor, my friend, and my hero, worked SO hard to build is being done away with by people who do not understand the cost of the path they are entering. I can see brief moments of recognition in the eyes of some of the people I mentioned - The former young men’s president who immediately regrets misgendering me and hen he makes eye contact with me and sees Me staring back at him and not a faceless “ideology.” I can hear it in the voice of my uncle who quietly comes up to me to apologize for some homophobic comment he made absentmindedly. I can see it in the eyes of racists and sexists being interviewed on TV when they realize that they didn’t vote for a concept, they voted for a real thing. And honestly, I have mixed emotions about it. Because while I understand frustration with the status quo, the importance of basic human needs like affordable good and rent, and I know the fear that comes with feeling powerless, I also can’t help but grieve the endless wheel of history bringing us back to this God Damned Fucking Place again. I hope we can avoid this fate, not just for our sake but for the sake of everyone who has ever tried to make the world safer. For everyone who has ever tried to make up for human nature, for everyone who has ever placed themselves on the offering plate to protect others from the cruelty they know lies just under the surface of mankind’s tenuous grip on progress. I want SO badly for there to be a solution to this, for the people who idolize the Nazi party and the impact of fascism to see that the price of this path is paid in more than just blood but in soul. That they’re allowing themselves to be devoured too. I want for the centrists and the fence sitters and the idealists who want to “change it from the inside” to see how dangerous our politics have become. I want them to see that they’re losing the things that make them great in exchange for a security blanket that’s now become far far far too small to ever work for them again.

Safety found in the past is already gone, and safety found in the future is only as real as a daydream. That any ideology that promises that by “joining us now we’ll make things rough so we can make things safe in a decade” is a promise made by those who will not have to fight the battles they send you to.

I don’t know if America was ever really great, but as long as John was alive it felt great to me. There is no ideology that can replace a neighbor. No tax plan that can replace a friend. No grocery bill that can replace community and connection. No amount of budget cuts that can replace kindness. No amount of suffering from people I hate that will ever make more love. I don’t know how to make America great, but I know how to make my America great and it is not by selling out integrity and compassion and community and fucking humanity to make eggs and gas cheaper. It is by seeing and hearing the people around me. I’m not Mormon anymore, but I still know the value of mourning with those that mourn and comforting those that stand in need of comfort. I’m not Christian anymore but I still have Eyes That Can See and Ears That Can Hear. I want to make this all stop but I can’t stop the collective power of tens of millions of people so instead I listen to my MAGA coworker tell me about how sick her kid was last week. I make jokes with my Young Men’s leader. I hug my uncle. I let them see me fully, as a human and not an ideology. As a woman and not the concept of gender. As a whole person and not someone who can be easily summarized or boiled down into something short and quippy. And I let them know I can see them fully too, and I can see all their humanity as easily as they can see mine. I just have to hope that this works - that enough people can See and Hear the people in their lives who matter to them to bring them out of their personal world of forms and into the real world.

I am probably, honestly, just spiraling a little bit. I took my ADHD meds today and in addition to helping me focus they make me a little anxious so I doubt things are as bad right now as they seem. But just in case there’s any truth to the way things seem to be going, remember, and I mean this seriously: Be kinder to each other, be gayer, and read more Terry Pratchett.

And for the love of god day hello to your neighbor.

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