#there is just no way that this man comes out of these games completely unscathed I mean come on

[science-lings]

I love the potential of how fucked up Phoenix could be/ is. He's got no mention of a family, not even when he was on trial for murder, he's been the potential victim of poison multiple times by someone who he was very in love with, (which leads to some very interesting flavors of trauma which could affect how he reacts to being sick and even getting medicated for being sick and explains his reluctance to getting romantically involved with anyone ever.)

He faints when under very sudden intense amounts of stress like a woman written by a man in a historical work of fiction (Maya channeling Mia for the first time, getting whipped a whole lot, etc) He gets hit in the head so hard that he forgets who he is and that's just fine apparently.

He found his mentor's dead body and has been threatened by the mafia and fell through a burning bridge into a death river, and his best friends keep getting accused of murder or kidnapped or going mysteriously missing or leaving him behind. All of this has to leave some scars on this man's psyche and that's before he was tricked into losing his purpose in life and adopting a kid right afterward.

I feel like so many characters and their traumas are based on the violent acts they've witnessed or have been done against them so it's kind of fascinating to me how different Phoenix's experiences differ from that kind of thing. He isn't bothered by loud noises like gunshots but he could refuse to take over-the-counter medicines or get paranoid over his things being poisoned or otherwise tampered with. Maybe his complete lack of mentioning any romantic relationships since he was in college is because that one just messed him up so badly that he's afraid to try again, even after so many years.

I guess I'm just so used to characters being traumatized by violence and abuse that it's really interesting when that deviates, especially among the fanbase bc you know the companies making these fucked up little guys aren't going to delve deep into the consequences of the things they put them through.

[thewritetofreespeech]

pairing: Gwayne x fiancé reader

summary: Gwayne may have lost the tourney, but he gained a better prize.

tags: female reader, reader is from the Reach, heterosexual relationship, hand job, mentions of injury, subtle Gwayne daddy issues (not sexy, just Gwayne being Gwayne), Gwayne being a simp for his lady

-----------------------------♟️----------------------------------

When Gwayne told his father one day, at about the age of six, that he was going to take up the sword and learn to be a knight, all his father said was, “are you sure?”

His opinion on the announcement did not seem to sway one way or another, much like his opinion on the actual son. Their lady mother had given him an heir, a spare, a daughter, and Gwayne. His brothers would be learned men like their father, so Gwayne thought he could be useful by being a marshal man for his family. He was actually quite good at it too. All of his instructors said so. His training partners. The men of their House bannermen.

But no one would know that now as Gwayne was quickly unseated in the first round of the tournament. A lucky shot. Luckier still as it could have been fatal, but instead just a wound to his left side and pride. To fall in front of his father and beloved sister wounded him still.

Gwayne had taken what was left of his pride and limped off the tourney grounds. Making it to an awaiting sick bay as injuries in tournaments were more common than not. He had to be stripped out of his armor like a pleb. Been tended to like an invalid while he grit his teeth and let the maester wrap his broken ribs. Just the one, actually. But it was enough to knock him out of the tournament for the rest of the week.

He sighed and rested his head against the headboard. All he wanted was to show his family that his efforts had not been in vain. To show them what he was working so hard for while they were in the Capital. Now he would have to wait for the next tournament. If his father even bothered to show up.

“Gwayne?” The knight looked up from his self-pity musing at the door and found his fiancé there. In his pain and grief over his disappointing show, he had completely forgotten she had been in the crowd too. Wonderful. Another beloved to witness his failure. “Are you alright? That fall…it looked rather nasty…”

“It wasn’t ideal.” He winced as he tried to move his arm to pull his shirt on. Finding it immodest to be in just bandages in front of a lady. She came to his side instantly, helping him pull his arm through with as little discomfort as possible. “Sorry you came all this way to witness such a poor showing. Or waste your favor.”

“It is not a waste Gwayne. Do not say such things.”

Gwayne reached in his pocket and pulled her ribbon from his trousers. She had given it to him the night before, in private, wishing him good fortune & safety in the events to come. He had had it in his breastplate when the games started, and squirrel it away into his pocket after he was injured so it wouldn’t be thrown away. “You should give it to a better knight then I. I’m done for.”

“You fell off a horse Gwayne, not the edge of the world.” She told him. “And, there is no better knight than you for me.” She pushed her offered ribbon back at him with a stern look. “If you keep speaking this way, I shall have to give back your favor and return to the Reach.”

His eyes lit up in alarm. Knowing that she meant his ring, and he could not have that. “Alright. I’m sorry.” To lose the tournament was one thing, but to lose her. Gwayne couldn’t stand it.

She smiled at him. Seeming pleased that he had gotten the hint on not being so hard on himself, and looked around quickly before she leaned in for a kiss. “I know you’re disappointed. But you’re alive and relatively unscathed.”

“And handsome.” He quipped back as he was starting to feel in good spirits. “Do not forget that.”

“Oh, how could I.” His beguiling fiancé leaned in to kiss him again. Longer this time. “Thank the Gods for fine helmets.”

It took Gwayne’s brain a bit to catch on that her hands were moving around his waist band. Perhaps it was the loss of air from their kissing. Or that his bell got run pretty hard in the fall and he was still recovering. Or perhaps still it was simply just her. But he caught on just about the time the cool air brushed against his nether regions, and he sprung up. “What are you doing?” He asked. His back teeth setting against the pain of his sudden movement as he fretfully looked over towards the door.

“Helping you relax.” She replied with some cheek. “I heard the maesters say you needed to do that and rest if you were to heal.”

“And you think undressing me in a room where just anyone could walk in is going to help me relax??”

“Well, no. Perhaps not that part.” Gwayne wheezed in a breath, as much as his battered ribs would allow, when she reached in and took hold of him. “But this part might.”

Gwayne knew not the touch of another, save his own hand. Though he took no vow like the King’s Guard when he became a knight, he had made a personal vow that he would be stalwart in his honor & practice. Dutiful to his House as to not sully it by laying Flowers at their doors. He does not ask how his future wife knew of such things. In all honesty, he did not want to know. All he could think about in that moment, after the shock and panic of getting caught, was how good her soft hand felt around his cock.

His member hardened quickly under her touch. Gwayne was still a young, virile man, with adrenaline still lingering in his veins, a strong breeze could get him up. He moaned quietly as his lady’s hand stroked him. Long steady pulls of her hand up & down. Watching as he was transfixed by this surreal experience that was happening to him.

“Does it feel good my love?” Gwayne nodded. His lord’s education failing him as he could not articulate in this moment how good it felt. “Good. I want to know how you like it, so I can prepare for our wedding night.” He moaned, or perhaps whimpered, at the thought. Just another 3 months. Just another 3 months and she would be his wife, and he would have her all to himself. Her body, her mind, her heart; though she had been clear that he already had the latter two. His hips bucked up at the thought of her beneath him and Gwayne let out a sharp cry that was crossed between one of pleasure & pain as his ribs were jostled again. Then he heard a flurry of scurried motion behind the door.

Panick set in, the fear of getting caught welling up inside him. Not just for himself but her as well. How would they explain such lewd behavior if they were caught? Her reputation would be besmirched. His father might call off the engagement in the face of such scandal!

Luckily his wife to be was not only beautiful but clever. Like all fine roses of the Reach. She quickly pulled a blanket over his midsection and placed their hands together over the spot where the obvious tenting would be. “Forgive me, my lady. I thought I heard his lordship call for help.”

“Such a steward of care you are, Maester Callen.” Her voice was sweet, complimentary, and hypnotic to Gwayne. “Just a twinge of the ribs from a sudden movement. The injury is new. Our silly Ser must have forgotten he had it for a moment.” Gwayne swallowed as her little finger brushed against the outline of him through the blankets. His jaw having to set as to not moan in a very indiscrete way in from of the maester.

“Are you sure he is alright?” Maester Callen asked. A curious look all men of learning seemed to get when they asked questions. “Your lordship looks feverish. There could be an underlying infection from the trauma—“I’m fine.” Gwayne barked quickly. His noble resolve hanging on by a thread thinner than this blanket. “I just need rest, as you said. Please,” ‘oh Gods, please, please, please!’ he thought as his lady continued to stroke him with just the finest touch to the point of madness this whole time, “leave us so I might finish my conversation with my lady and be about that.”

The maester seemed still curious, but asked no further questions. He bowed his head, then closed the door behind him as he left. “Good Gods….!” Gwayne hissed through his teeth as he writhed freely now that they were alone again.

“That was a close one.”

“You insufferable minx!” He hissed at her. That cheeky grin on her face was infuriating but also the vision from his dreams. “You nearly got us caught!”

“I’m not the one who inadvertently called him in here, now did I my love?” Gwayne had a few more sharp words for her but they all vanished as her hand pulled back the blanket again and stroked him fully.

His head tilted back with a moan. The fear of almost being caught, damning though it would be, had only heightened the sensation. He warned her that he was close, not sure if she knew what that meant, and let her swallow his final moans in a kiss as he came all over her hand and his linen dressings. She let him go, a soft kiss on his lips like a seal before she pulled away, and he slumped back against the bed like a witless fool.

“There. Now you can relax & rest completely, my love.” Gwayne nodded. Not sure what she was talking about right now, but rest sounded nice right now. “I shall come to see you tomorrow once they move you back to your quarters. We’ll have the whole afternoon to ourselves, since everyone will at the tournament.” Oh right. The tournament. He was supposed to apart of that. Showing his family & father how much he had trained for them. It suddenly didn’t seem all that important anymore. “Get better, my love.”

She kissed him one last time and then saw herself out. The picture of civility and the dutiful fiancé come to shower well wishes on her mate to be. No one knew, or would know, what had happened between them. Gwayne felt his spent cock twitch a little as he watched her walk away. Just 3 more months. Just 3 more months felt like an eternity all of a sudden.

[kazumist]

THROUGH THICK AND THIN .ᐟ

✩ — in which soshiro had forgotten the lengths of your love for him.

✩ — request: hi, can i pls request an argument with hoshina and how u resolve everything 🥹🥹🥹

✩ — includes: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader. hurt/comfort, angst if u squint. cw: arguments, implications of soshiro being injured but thats just it, soshiro is kinda mean Uhm, ooc!hoshina this is another experimental fic help me. wc: 1440. reblogs and feedback are much appreciated !!

if there was one thing sharper than the blades hoshina soshiro wielded, it would be the words that escaped his lips.

hoshina knows how to sugarcoat his words. he considers himself a good talker—negiotiator, if you would. however, when it comes to more sensitive topics, that’s when it all starts to crumble down. 

he never expected for him to catch feelings, especially with the line of work he takes. it’s too risky. dangerous. worrying. but he fell as deep as the ocean could get for you. you accepted it. him and his line of work. him as a whole.

yet soshiro seems to forget that sometimes.

getting out of a mission unscathed was impossible. he would always have at least one injury planted on him. it was a repetitive game of russian roulette where either his injuries would be severe or light. and unfortunately for him, today was sadly the former. 

a knock was heard at the door of the hospital room he’s staying in. a mission had recently just finished—about three days had passed, and soshiro was unconscious for the first two due to how he overexerted himself. “come in,” he says. and to his surprise, he saw you opening the door.

soshiro hasn’t told you about him being hospitalized yet—so how?

“captain ashiro told me.” oh. so that’s how. well, he was aware that you had also built a friendship with his commander. and that was completely fine with him. it was awkward when you walked over to the bed, pulling out the chair for you to sit on. you refused to make eye contact with him while soshiro just stared at you.

neither of you has an idea of what to say.

“i wish you told me as soon as you woke up. i was worried sick when i heard the news about the kaiju attack and all.” you said, keeping your gaze focused on your fingers as they played with each other. he flinches slightly as guilt starts to bubble up inside of him. it was already five in the afternoon and he’s been awake since ten in the morning. he wishes that he told you as soon as he woke up as well.

however, there’s one thing that has started to creep onto soshiro lately—fear. insecurity, perhaps. he gets haunted by the thought that you would definitely be happier in someone else’s arms and that you would be more happy being bathed in someone else’s affection. being with a man like hoshina soshiro was dangerous, as if it were a gamble to play.

because you never know if you’ll still wake up to him being alive the next day. and believe it or not: hoshina was scared—terrified of that possibility. he doesn’t want you to be sad, he crumbles at the thought of you crying in the first place. so he made it a task for him to push you away. to be distant.

to be someone you would hate.

that’s the only way he could keep you safe.

“sorry. i didn’t want to disturb you.” bullshit.

“why…” you trailed off. soshiro noticed that you werent playing with your fingers anymore and that you were now clenching your fists. “why would you think that? soshiro, your health matters to me.” his heart also clenched when he heard the slight crack in your voice. “why would it matter to you? i could die any day.”

“are you being serious right now?” he hates it. he hates the way that the first time he saw your eyes today, they were filled with such negative emotions. anger. hurt. confusion. “do i look like i’m kidding?”

“soshiro, why are you acting like this? did i do something wrong? i know we haven’t seen each other a lot because we’ve been both busy.” no, you didn’t. this is my fault, but this is also for the best. is what he wanted to say—but he just swallows up his words. “it’s nothing.”

“no, it’s not just ‘nothing.’ tell me what’s wrong, please? so we can fix it. it pains me when we’re like this.” it pains him too—it pains him so fucking bad. but hoshina soshiro is stubborn. so he will find himself accomplishing his task, whether it pains him or not.

because all he wants is the best for you, even if he wouldn’t be able to provide that.

— — — — — — — — 

he doesn’t know how things got so heated between the two of you. and he’s sure that you both might disturb the other patients who are confined in the room next to his.

“why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong? i feel like an idiot, soshiro! what am i?! some fucking mind reader on what goes on inside your head?!”

“like i told you, it’s nothing for you to worry about! what can’t you understand with that?!”

“what can’t you understand with me saying it’s not just nothing?!”

“and what can’t you understand with me implying that you shouldn’t care anymore?! dp i have to spell it out for you?”

you weren’t sitting down anymore, and hoshina doesn’t dare to speak anymore. fighting with you was the worst. and this time, he fucked up real bad. “i… it’s getting late. i should get going.” you say, and soshiro could feel a part of him shattering when he heard you hold back a sob.

the next time soshiro saw you, he was on his day off (a day off he didn’t really want to take but captain ashiro forced him otherwise since the doctors told him he shouldn’t be making his body engage in strenuous activities just yet). and the first thing he did? he visited you. he knew you get off work early on fridays, making you free for the rest of the weekend earlier.

he knocks on your door, although hesitantly. he’s nervous as he waits for you to open the door.

and he’s grateful that you still opened the door for him in spite of your last conversation with each other. you didn’t say anything as you opened the door further, inviting him in. the awkwardness gave hoshina a rush of deja vu about the awkwardness in the hospital room.

“i’m sorry.” although these two words don’t just cut it so easily, he thinks.

“do you really mean it? what you said in the hospital?”

his breath hitched as he found the right words to say. if hoshina was going to be honest, he hasn’t thought much about what to do at this point. surely, he had achieved his goal that night, right? “yeah.”

“liar.”

he turns to you immediately, and you were already looking at him to begin with. “you’re lying, and i could tell that because you’re nibbling on your lip. you always do that when you lie. just tell me the truth, soshiro, please.”

why should he? would you accept his reason? would you accept the insecurities that haunt his every waking thought? would you accept him even though he said such mean things to you the last time you saw each other?

would you still love him despite it all?

you would. you always would. 

and so he explains from the very start—when and where these thoughts started in the first place. and you listen to him intently, absorbing every single detail he says. once he was done, you took a deep breath. 

“god, you’re so stupid. did you know that?” soshiro lets out a weak chuckle at that, avoiding your gaze. you cup his face with your hands, making him face you. “look at me,” he refuses. “soshiro, look at me.” he then complies, slowly trailing his eyes across your features before resting them on your gaze.

“you don’t get to decide what’s best for me when it comes to this type of thing, okay? i love who i want to love. you don’t get to decide that i’d be happier with someone else. because i love you. i love you more than you could ever imagine, more than you could ever feel. remember that. engrave that inside your mind so you can never forget. you are the one i am helplessly in love with, soshiro.”

i love you. i love you. i love you. it repeats inside his mind. you are the one i am helplessly in love with. it echoes. soshiro feels stupid for attempting to become someone you hated in the first place. there was no way he could ever bear the possibility of you actually hating him.

how could he forget? you had already accepted him as a whole. through thick and thin, you will stand by his side.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Do you have any recs where Derek is absolutely in love with stiles but, stiles is completely oblivious? If you know any other fics like that but a different ship I'll take those too!

Yeeeesss!

Hindsight (Ok yeah, it all makes sense now) by Eternalsterek24

(1/1 I 3,269 I Teen)

In hindsight, Stiles should have recognized that the pack was keeping something from him. The problem, though, was that when you have weird friends, you don’t think anything of it when they act weird. 

Game On by stilinskisparkles

(1/1 I 6,391 I Teen)

Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by. He flicks the page in his book and highlights something, tossing the cap up in the air and catching it with his teeth.

Show Me The Way Back Home Baby by stilinskisparkles 

(1/1 I 14,968 I Teen)

In which Lydia and Jackson produce the world's cutest baby, and the pack goes crazy-- the good kind of crazy. Except for Derek, who is afraid of tiny cute babies and Stiles who plans to be the best Uncle ever. Even if Danny called dibs on Godfather.

Mating Habits of the Domesticated North American Werewolf by lielabell

(5/5 I 35,458 I Mature)

Derek doesn’t do pining. He doesn’t. So when it becomes clear that Stiles is much more interested in having Derek as a new best friend than a boyfriend, he puts on his big boy pants and makes it fucking work. He becomes the best goddamn friend a spastic teenager could ever hope to have.

To Build a Pack by Arieanna

(9/? I 53,294 I Mature)

Derek feels a pull in his chest, and it's a pack bond to Stiles. He thought the young man had betrayed him along with Scott, but finding out the truth, he makes Stiles a part of his pack. Now, with the pack coming together in a healthy way, they help Stiles discover that he's not just a sidekick, but a major player, and more important than Scott had ever given him credit for.

The more Derek pulls Stiles into the pack as his second, though, the harder it is to ignore the feelings that he's been having for the boy since they met. Stiles, on the other hand, has fallen out of love with Lydia, and can't figure out just why that happen

All the Weird Kids (Know How to Take it Slow) by Ionaonie

(26/26 I 112,477 I General)

Stiles never thought being part of a werewolf Pack would end up being so normal. Even being around Derek had a degree of normality about it. Even if he was still an overbearing jerk most of the time.

run and hide by whiry

(36/36 I 174,966 I Teen)

"Unlike Derek, Stiles still remembers the first time they met. He remembers the confusion at the pull in his chest, tugging him to the boy with big ears and light eyes. He’d been in the grocery store with his mother and Derek with his, and they had all been minding their business, but Stiles had a niggling in the back of his head directing him toward Derek. And when their eyes met for the first time? Stiles’ heart about exploded. He remembers grabbing his chest and gasping and his mother running over and Derek’s mother running over. The boys didn’t even say anything, and poor Derek looked so confused, and Talia and Claudia simply looked at their boys, looked at each other, and immediately set up a time to meet. And that was how it started."

or, stiles and derek suck at being mates, a new threat comes to town, and stiles has to desperately try to save everything he's ever loved from total destruction all while trying to get through his sophomore year unscathed.

[augustvandyne]

Lucy Chen x reader

Tim and Angela try to get them together by going to a dodgers game then flaking and the rest is just their “date” during / after the game

i love that timothy and angela are a part of this and that they are absolutely troublemakers/menaces in this honestly

dodgers game turned date

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Angela tries to convince you.

“That’s not very trusting, considering who it’s coming from,” You tease.

But it was true. Most times you were to have “fun” with your best friend here, it wasn’t very fun to you. But you had to admit that going to a Dodgers game, drinking beer, and making fun of people did sound kind of fun.

“Whatever,” Angela rolls her eyes. “Tim and Lucy will be there too. It’ll be fun. Friends from work.. do I need to mention Lucy again?”

Your cheeks are a slight shade of red.

Angela was the only one who knew about your crush on Lucy— correction, the only person you’d told about your crush. Everyone knew. Everyone except the woman in question.

Same with Tim and Lucy. She’d only told Tim, but everyone knew of her crush on you. Well, everyone but you, of course!

“No..” You press your lips together in a compressed smile.

“It’s settled,” Angela nods. “We’re going next week.”

“Okay,” You nod excitedly.

“Y/n,” Tim says as he tries to convince Lucy.

Lucy’s head peaks up from the table in the break room where she was spending her lunch break.

“W— what?” Lucy launched out of her seat to close the door of the break room.

“Y/n.. L/n?” Tim rests his hands on his belt. “We’re all going to hang out. Me, Angela, you, and Y/n.”

“What— when?” Lucy smiles joyfully.

“Okay, calm down,” Tim rolls his eyes as Lucy’s overexcitement. “We’re going to a Dodgers game sometime next week. I’ll let you know the exact day next week when me and Ange decide.”

“Okay,” Lucy smiles widely. “What— what should I wear?”

“A jersey should be fine,” Tim shakes his head with a bored expression.

“Wh— but I— I don’t even know if I own one!”

“You live in Los Angeles, and you don’t own a LA Dodgers jersey?” Tim looks disgusted. “Oh my.. I can spare you one. But it better come back completely unscathed. If you harm one of my precious jerseys, I will come for you. And it’ll look like an accident.”

“Oh..” Lucy pulls her chin back in surprise, her eyebrows raising. “Okay, then.”

“Just wait until Angela hears about this,” Tim shakes his head.

“Tim!” Lucy complains.

“What? It’s hilarious,” Tim shrugs. “Anyway, wear my jersey, but don’t tell Y/n it’s mine. She might get jealous. I’m pretty sure she already thinks you have a crush on me—“

“What! No! I like her—“

“Trust me, Lucy, I know. But she doesn’t know that. So we’ll have to make it obvious. So jersey, some jeans, wear your hair down, slightly curled— Y/n loves it. And some light makeup.”

“Hello? Who is speaking right now?” Lucy looks at Tim with an almost proud expression. “This is not the Tim Bradford I know.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Tim turns around, checking the time on his watch. “You have five more minutes on your break.”

Eventually the day came, and both you and Lucy were jumping for joy. Tim and Angela messaged the whole way there and angle their phones away from you and Lucy—even after you beg them to tell you what they were hiding.

You and Lucy both pull your cars in at the same time, and coincidentally, right beside each other.

You drive your own car, while Lucy drove Tim’s truck. Lucy thought it was weird but nonetheless she let it go because she was about to hangout with you!

The four of you walk towards the stadium entrance, Angela and Tim finding the concessions while you and Lucy found the seats.

Lucy and you are immediately drawn into conversation, definitely not making fun of the man and woman on their first date in front of you two—both you and Lucy agreeing you’d never go on a date here (little do you know)—when the messages from Angela and Tim come through.

Gotcha suckers! Have an amazing first date. We’re tired of listening to you guys complain. Talk when it’s over.

Lucy scoffs, an adorable smile taking over her features, “Those— those—“

“Suckers?” You finish for her.

“Yes!” Lucy sits back in her seat, shaking her head. A nervous feeling suddenly taking over her body. “I can’t believe this.”

You turn to look at Lucy, but her face is angled away from yours now, and her hat hides whatever look that may be plastered on her face.

“Luce,” You angle your body towards hers, trying to get her to face you fully as well.

“What do they mean first date?” Lucy cranes her head towards you. “You don’t like me, too.. do you?”

“Too?”

“Too,” Lucy nods.

“What do you mean too? Like you also have feelings for me?” You frown, not believing what you were hearing.

“Also? You have feelings for me?”

“Yes!” You all but jump out of your seat. “I have since..”

“We met?” Lucy is smiling widely now. “Because me too. Tim realized it on the first day before I even told him because I was too busy staring at you.”

“You were?” You ask, scratching the back of your neck anxiously.

“Yeah. I mean, what’s not to like about you? You’re an amazing cop and you’re gorgeous!”

Your smile curves into an upside down smile, a small blush taking over your cheeks. You dip your chin to your chest, trying to hide the new tint to your cheeks, but Lucy notices.

“Don’t be shy,” Lucy shakes her head.

“No, it’s just—“ You laugh. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.”

“So have I,” Lucy stares into your eyes, butterflies erupting around in her stomach.

“You know, I almost asked you out—“ You’re cut off by the announcement of the players and the national anthem.

You go and grab the two of you drinks after, feeling as though you’ve made things awkward, but you did just the opposite—you made Lucy fall even harder for you, if you could even believe that.

Lucy doesn’t really speak about what you were about to say until the game is over—although she wanted to ask what you were going to say so badly—when the two of you are walking back to your car.

“What were you saying back there?” Lucy frowned. “Before the game?”

At first you acted as if you had no clue what she was talking about, but you eventually gave in and said, "Oh, just— I was actually going to ask you to go out with me so many times I can’t even count on two hands anymore, really. I was going to ask you out after we became partners at the academy. When we graduated the academy, the day we moved to the LAPD as rookies, when you helped Tamara— god, I was gonna ask you to dance with me at Angela’s wedding and then— all those terrible things happened and neither of us were stable. We didn’t talk for months and that definitely hurt me. I don’t know if it hurt you, but I wanted to cry everyday. I almost kissed you on the spot the day that you finally talked to me again. Another time I almost kissed you was when we found you after— Caleb,” you spat his name. “kidnapped you. I all but revealed that I loved you right then and there—“

You’re cut off by Lucy’s lips smashing into your own, her soft hands caressing your cheeks as she bites your lip in a soft suction.

When she pulls away, your mouth is dropped open in shock at how amazing your first kiss was.

The woman in front of you smirks and grabs the keys out of your hand.

“Get in the car gorgeous, I’m hungry. Oo, maybe we can get some ice cream.”

You’re still in shock when you buckle yourself into the passenger seat of your car.

[slasherwife]

I remember reading headcanons where s/o brought over they friend and was pretty affectionate with them (like hugging, kissing their forhead etc), Is it alright if I ask for same thing with Jason, Bubba and Vincent?

of course my darling love!! 💗🌷

How the slashers react to you being very affectionate with your friend

featuring jason, bubba, and vincent

summary you have a guy friend (or any friend really), and you want to bring them over to your home and catch up on things! your slasher knows your attentive and affectionate behavior very well, they love it!! but… showing it to anyone else? i don’t know if they like that 🥲💗

warnings possessive and manipulative behavior

Jason

jason is the opposite of possessive. he’s very old. he’s undead. he doesn’t have a lot of things to worry about. his mental processes are very simple. if you say that you are his, then you are his. no question about it! he doesn’t worry at all.

but at the same time, no matter how old he becomes, he is still just a boy. ‘jason’, the boy who loved his mother and sunshine and eating ice cream. jason who had crushes on people, and felt his heart fall when they got with someone else.

when your guy-friend comes over, jason is minding his own business elsewhere. he’s not dim, he knows if your friend saw a 7-foot swampy undead man, they would suspect something really really strange🥹but naturally, jason is quite protective of you. he doesn’t take his eyes off your ethereal form the entire stay.

while jason is extremely mature, seeing you so affectionate towards someone is slightly hurtful. jason hates being the jealous one. he thinks it’s unfair to you, when in actuality it’s very valid. he goes back and forth in his mind, “this is their friend. it’s fine”—“then why are they touching them like that?”

but when your friend leaves, jason’s pain dissipates. at this point, he circles back to his original peaceful stance, that he trusts you more than anything and anyone. he trusts you like he trusts his own mother. you would never have any intention of hurting him.

once he finds you jumping into his arms when the person is gone, he knows immediately that he is all yours, and you are all his. 💞🫶🥰

Bubba

bubba is a very jealous person, i can start with that. bubba is a very cheerful, excited, curious boi 😍💗. in the sense that he doesn’t regulate his emotions as well as the other slashers, he will express his happiness and excitement very dramatically.

he acts out his emotions a lot. when he’s thrilled, he jumps up and down. when he’s sad, he sulks and sobs in the corner. when he’s happy, he dances. and when he’s jealous… well things definitely don’t go nicely🥲💝

he will certainly be watching you both somehow, the entire time. because like any other slasher hubby, they will want to keep a close eye on their partner. a very close eye💗 bubba doesn’t even want them over. he’s already jealous of the attention you’re giving them. isn’t he your everything?? why do you need someone else?? y/n??

once you touch them in any way, it’s game over. bubba is raging. like i said, hes an extremely jealous lover. he grabs his chainsaw and is running straight to the room you are in, the sound of the revving weapon echoing closer and closer.

this will go one of two ways. an upset y/n and a dead friend, (and bubba blubbering and asking for forgiveness from you😖💕) or an upset y/n and their friend screaming and being chased out of the place, (mostly unscathed😉). you definitely prefer the second one since your friend means a lot to you, but either way it does NOT end well 😖🌷

of course bubba sees that his reaction upset you and while he is a little mad at you😠 (he would never hurt u lol dw), he would rather die than have you be mad at HIM. so either scenario results in him hugging your ankles and begging you not to be upset with him🥹💕(pwease forgive him🥲💞)

Vincent

this man is going to completely dissociate and give you the silent treatment. you will have no idea what you did wrong and no way to find out. listen, vincent is going to feel incredibly betrayed. and while he would never ever injure you, he wants to show you that you hurt him unimaginably😞

vincent is an overthinker, and he’s very insecure. he finds that the only protective tactic against this type of betrayal that he’s feeling, is to just dissociate completely and act like you’re not even there. it’s how he protects his big heart❤️‍🩹🥲

oh and your friend is dead. no question about it. they didn’t even get close to leaving the premises before vincent murdered them with his own hands. how dare they target his sweet y/n and trick them into giving them such affection? how dare they be the token in y/n ethereal eyes?

after vincent disposes of them, he returns to you finding the tension released slightly, and he will return most of your affections now. he directed all of his rage and blame on them by killing them, in a method of catharsis, so he feels a lot better after 🫶😇.

you will never hear from your friend again and you’ll think vincent’s behavior was weird but you’ll eventually forget about the whole thing 🤗💞

he’s very sly like that. you never knew he felt that way, had no idea he murdered that friend, and when things went back to normal you didn’t give the whole thing another thought! ignorance is bliss with vincent sometimes 🥰💗

[whumpbug]

If you're still doing prompts for your guys...

How about used as bait? Make of that what you will! I would love to learn more about your OCs :D

-- @whumperofworlds

thank you very much for the prompt!!! i must say, i've never really written anything like this but omg. being used as bait/its a trap/kidnapping is truly an underrated trope, at least on this blog

i know i said i wouldn't write hurt/no comfort but HEAR ME OUT. this isnt no comfort. its SUSPENSE. i will most likely be writing a part 2 for this during the whumperless whump event so TRUST ME these boys will get comforted.

also bear with me, writing whumper stuff/situations like this isn't my strong suit and i feel like there are definitely plot holes at certain points.. (-｡-;)

onto the fic!

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This was just Simon’s luck.

He really should be used to getting himself into these situations. This was the second time in only two months that he’d been harassed by Archie’s enemies.

They have just.. never taken it this far before. He’d never been kidnapped before.

Simon was starting to worry. From the way his arms were tied behind him, it was getting hard to take a full breath. He needed to force himself to calm down. Hyperventilating would only make things worse. He needed to analyze the situation at hand.

He was bound to a chair in the middle of a dusty, abandoned warehouse.

Well, at least, he thinks it’s a warehouse.

Truthfully, he’d been blindfolded and gagged since they shoved him into the back of the van and sped away from the city.

He only assumed it was a warehouse from the way the doors sounded as they were being opened and the echo of the chair being dragged toward him. Also, the air around him felt vacant and cold. It smelled of wet cement.

Also, there was the matter of his restraints. Sure, the rope around his wrists were itchy and his back was beginning to ache from the angle he was forced to sit at, but he silently chose to count his blessings. 

His captors hadn’t hurt him, save for the initial bonk on the head to subdue him. No, he was relatively unscathed, which was.. odd.

Usually the lackeys tried to beat information about Archie out of him, to no avail of course. He found it strange that no one had come around to yell at him or intimidate him with half-empty threats. In fact, Simon was fairly sure he was completely alone in the building. He hadn’t heard the shuffling and breathing of bodies around him since they first tied him up. The whole situation was abnormal.

Still, he needed to focus on a way out, and therein lies the reason he was beginning to panic. When the guys first knocked him out, they took his phone, wallet, and every accessory he had on him, including the emergency signal bracelet he had to communicate with Archie.

Without it, Archie had no way of knowing where he was or that he was even in trouble. Considering the time of night, Archie would be on patrol. There was at least a chance that he’d get injured enough to pay a visit to Simon’s apartment, but even that could take hours.

Hours Simon wasn’t sure he had.

What game were these guys trying to play? 

If they wanted information, they weren’t doing a very good job of getting it. If they wanted to kill him, they surely would have done so already. What was their goal?

Just when Simon was almost sure they had forgotten about him, the sound of a metal door scraping open reverberated throughout the building. He heard slow, deliberate footsteps make their way towards him, and then felt a calloused hand yank off his blindfold. He squinted.

The man bent at the waist to meet Simon’s gaze. “Rise and shine.” 

His breath was uncomfortably warm, and if Simon could have told him to give him some personal space, he would have. Instead, he narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, someone doesn’t seem too happy,” The man sing-songed, harshly grabbing Simon by the chin and forcing his gaze up. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. Not yet, at least.”

Simon swallowed convulsively against the gag.

“You’re probably wondering what we all plan on doing to you,” He said, motioning to the door off to the side of the building. Simon could only assume that that was where the rest of the men that kidnapped him were.

“Well, patience is a virtue, my friend. I promise that all will be answered. But until then, if you wish to see this through with your life, you’ll have to do a little something for me.” He explained, thumbing saliva away from where it was pooling down Simon’s chin.

He glared. We’ll see about that.

The man pulled out a camera.

“I have a guy on the inside, who will feed whatever I want directly into Vigil’s not-so-secret little broadcast channel. As soon as he knows his precious nurse is in trouble, he’ll come for you right away,” he chirped. “All I need from you is a video proving your wellbeing, just so the brat knows we haven’t killed you yet and knows to tread carefully. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

Simon blinked. 

Did he really think he and his 4 other cronies would be able to handle a pissed-off Archie? Simon didn’t notice any of the tell-tale signs that they were hopped up on enhancers, so for all intents and purposes, it was just.. five regular humans against one livid superhuman.

Simon stifled a snort.  

If a video was what the man wanted, a video was what he would get! He was practically giving Simon the keys to his freedom!

The man pointed his camera at Simon and grinned.

“All you have to say is that you’re uninjured, and that if he doesn’t come within one hour, that won’t remain the case. Nothing more, nothing less, got it?”

The man reached around Simon’s head and pulled off the gag, to which Simon gasped for air. He shot a glare at him, and saw the camera light flick on. He cleared his throat.

“Oh Vigil. Oh please come save me. I am uninjured and terrified and these men will hurt me if you are not here in one hour. Whatever will I do without my knight in shining armor,” He deadpanned, tone dripping in sarcasm. He hoped Archie would appreciate his joke.

The man scowled and replaced the gag, taking extra care to tie it even tighter, and disappeared into the side room. Simon was alone once again. 

God, no one told him being kidnapped would be so boring. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. It could have been three minutes, it could have been thirty, but he felt a pang of relief when he heard a window breaking from outside.

Finally. Things could get moving.

He saw Archie’s blonde hair peeking over the sill of one of the high windows, and a soft smile spread across his face. Not that he had any doubt, but it felt nice to know someone would always come to rescue him.

When Archie pulled himself up and over, landing on the cement floor in a low crouch, Simon saw it.

Resting in the slit of the door he had seen earlier, was the end of a rifle.

It was with a sickening lurch of his stomach that Simon realized this whole thing was a trap.

Looking back, he had no idea how he hadn’t noticed earlier. Why else would they be trying to draw Archie to them?

He saw Archie rear up for a fight. He jerked against the restraints in the chair, but it was no use. Simon tried to scream. He tried to warn him, tell him to turn back and go, but no words would make it past the gag.

He watched as the tranquilizer dart stuck Archie right in the neck.

Archie froze. He locked eyes with Simon as if confirming his worst fears. Simon’s heart sank.

He saw Archie take a step. Then another, this one more unsteady. Finally, Archie’s eyes rolled back in his head and his knees buckled as he dropped into a heap on the cold floor.

When Simon saw the captors approach his body with boxes of medical instruments, he could only be silently grateful that Archie wasn’t awake to see the size of the needles.

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[ifearimaybeanamericanidiot]

Hidden Horns, a Devil Off The Ice

Hockey!Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Your job is to write news reports on hockey games. Recently, you've been only given the stories revolving around one certain player, Chris Sturniolo. You just write what you see. It's not your fault he's pressed about it. Did you mention that you write under a pen name and his brothers begged you into going on a date with him? How did life get to complicated?

TW: "hate"/angry sex, SMUT, language

I burst into the editors' office. "Alright, dude, what the hell?! You can't keep giving me Sturniolo game stories! This is all I've gotten for almost two months!" I shout at my boss. Jim turn around in his office chair.

"I keep giving you those stories because it gets our numbers higher than ever. It's my job to do what I think is best for the paper. That's what I'm doing. You're going to keep writing about him, and you're going to keep it tension-filled!" Jim shouts right back. He stands up and shoos me out of the office. "Now, get to that game tonight!" I can not believe this man.

I never wanted to be a journalism writer. Creative writing has always been my forte, but here I am, writing for a major sporting news company. I also never thought I'd meet one of my best friends in a bar downtown after a job. Or that he'd be brothers with the man I'm being forced to write about.

I pick up my phone as I exit the office. "Hey Nick! What's up?"

"Chris is wanting me and Matt to go to the game tonight. You down?" Shit. Nick and Matt know that I work in journalism, but not about their brother. I've managed to get lucky the last few times. This is the first game they'll have gone to in a few months. The first game since I've been writing about Chris specifically. At first, it was just the team. Chris is such a star player though. The articles eventually just dissolved into being solely about him.

I've been told I sort of have a problem with separating my feelings with what I write. Meaning, I don't separate them. I started letting my frustration about being stuck with one topic out in the form of, well, of bashing Chris in my articles. But, I also tend to describe him in almost too much detail. Jim says that sex sells and therefore, I have to keep writing about him. Apparently, the audience seems to think that I'm fucking Chris behind the scenes.

"Oh?" I try to keep my cool with Nick.

"Would you mind coming with? We can get you a ticket-" I have to bite the bullet.

"Oh, I have a ticket actually! A gift from work." I look up at the sky. The color brings up an image of Chris's eyes. I drop my gaze. "Hey, how about I head your way? My editor sent me home for the day."

"Oh- yeah sure! I'm just chilling at home for now!"

"Okay babes. I'll be there in a bit." He tells me bye, and I hang up. I'm going to have to tell him about this, aren't I? I have to sit in the news section. Shit. I shake my head and walk to my car.

Traffic is god awful, but I get to Nick's unscathed. I get to his door, feeling around at the top for his spare key, and let myself in. "Honey! I'm home!" I yell out.

"I'm in the kitchen!" Nick calls back. I head that way.

"Hey." I hop up onto his counter. Matt pops his head into the room. "Oh, hey Matt! I didn't know you were here!" I say, a little surprised.

"Hey!" He smiles and waves, and takes a seat next to Nick.

"So, Nick- funny thing here. The ticket I have is in the news section of seats. I have to sit there." I give him my most award winning smile, hoping he won't put two and two together before I can explain.

"Oh?" He and Matt say in unison.

"Look, I haven't been completely honest. I need to come clean." I put my elbows on my thighs, resting my head in my hands.

"Hey, whatever it is, we won't be mad." Matt says comfortingly.

"You guys have seen the clips of Chris raging on and on about those articles about him, right?"

"Seen them? We have lived them." Nick rolls his eyes.

"I wrote them." I blurt it out. Now, it's out in the open and I can't take it back. Nick and Matt are both silent.

"So, I'm guessing you wouldn't go on a date with him?" Nick says, putting his hands in his lap.

"What." I demand.

"We think you should go on a date with Chris." Matt says.

"What? Why?" I ask, squinting at them.

"You're literally Chris's type." Matt says.

"And, he's been really focused on those articles. We thought it'd might do you both some good to just have fun with someone new." Nick adds. "Why do think he's always posed in the background of pictures I send you?" I snort at that.

"But, I'm the one writing the articles." I point out. "How would I help?"

"First, he doesn't know that it's you writing them. We sure as hell aren't going to tell him. And second, I think he's so pumped up about the articles because you say truer things than any girl he's ever been with." Nick says slowly.

"Honestly, I'm more scared for your ability to walk if he found out you wrote the articles." Matt says offhandedly.

"What?" I shout, jumping off the counter.

"Yeah, our version of the clips of his issues with the articles, is Chris shouting about how he'd like to bend whoever it is over a counter and show them 'who's head is smoking trying to think then.'" Matt shivers as he repeats what I assume are Chris's words. Of course, I recognize the words. They're my words. In one article, I responded to a clip of him being asked about a previous article. He didn't have anything to say, so I wrote 'I smell smoke. Thinking of a chirp, bud?' It's not my proudest moment.

"Ooooooo-" Nick claps his hands together. "Prank opportunity!" He stands up. "You can go to the game, write down your little notes, and go on a date with Chris before you publish the next article. You can make a more personal cut at him. Really wind him up, and then let him start to figure it out that it's you."

"That's a horrible idea." Matt says from his seat.

"I don't even like Chris." I point out.

"Bitch, that's a lie. Come on, please! It'll be so fun to see him get wound up. I never got him back for having a bird painted on my bathroom wall in the middle of the night." Maybe it's because I'm such a good friend, but I agree.

That was roughly three months ago. This "prank" of Nick's has been going on for like three months. I think Chris is finally starting to catch on though. Which sucks. I've actually started to enjoy being with him. We go on dates, and he's so sweet to me. I feel so bad every time I have to write an article. That's what I'm doing now. My computer is open on a fully finished and published article. I can't believe I wrote that Chris should be a Zamboni driver.

My apartment door swings open. There are heavy stomps coming down the hallway, towards the room I'm residing in. The door swings open, revealing Chris, still in his jersey, though he lacked any padding. It hug down a little amount, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his collar bones. God, I love those. Don't get me started about his shoulders. Fuck.

"Hey, dollface." Chris greets me, his voice rough.

"Hey Chris. I'm sorry I couldn't stay for the whole game." He sets his bag down on my bedroom floor.

"It's okay ma, it seems like you got enough to write about before half time." I freeze. My entire body freezes. All I feel is panic. He looks at me, half turned around. "What? Did you think I wouldn't put two and two together?" I can't say anything.

He moves onto to the bed, pulling me flat onto my back, pushing his body over mine. "Really, ma. Did you think I wouldn't notice your pretty little speech patterns? You use literally, like, six times a day. I know you. I'm not stupid."

"I...I'm sorry, Chris." My voice trembles. "My boss won't stop giving me assignments about you." He stops.

"Sweetheart, we're okay." He reassures me. "I'm going to make sure you're real sorry though. Is that okay?" He runs his hand along my thigh. Oh. I nod. "Words, princess."

"Yes. Yes, that's okay." He grins, looking up at me from his position near my waist. God, he looks like a fucking angel. A sexy ass angel, a fucking demon.

"No more nice guy, for now." He pulls his jersey off with one arm. I can't help but let out a groan.

"You're so fucking pretty." I run my hands across his chest and shoulders, moving my hands to his neck. I pull him down, into a searing kiss. He fumbles with my blanket, which had pooled around my waist with all the movement. He pulls it back, breaking our kiss.

"No pants?" He slides his hand up to my ass. "No underwear? Dirty girl." My face warms. "You like that? Fucking good." He pulls my shirt off. "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. Got that?"

"Yes-" I gasp. "Yes sir." He rests his forehead on mine, and lets out the sexiest moan I've ever heard. Abruptly, he gets up and off of me.

"Come here." He offers his hand. I take it without a second thought. He flips me around, bending me over my own bed. My face pressed into the sheets, his dick pressed against me through his pants, his hand over the back of my own. "Stay, just like this for me. Okay?"

His hand leaves me for a moment. When he comes back, his dick is pressed bare to my skin. "Fuck, Chris. I need it." His hand returns to its place on top of my own.

"Say it real nice." He whispers to me.

"Please, fuck me, Chris?" He groans, before lining himself up and sinking into me. The stretch aches so fucking good. "Yes-" His other hand finds my free one, grasping it firmly. He pulls his hips back, before sinks back into me. He goes slowly for a few thrusts.

"Hold on ma." This is the only warning I get before he begins fucking me into oblivion. I lose track of time. It feels like he goes on, molding my insides to his shape, for forever. Before I know it, I'm tightening around him and screaming, grasping the sheets for my life.

"That's right ma. Squeeze my dick so good." He lightly bite my shoulder, only adding to the amount of sensation. "Aw fuck, ma. You feel so fucking good." My orgasm finally finishes out. As the last waves of pleasure are receding, he pulls out, shooting his load between my thighs instead of in me. He rests his head on my back for a moment, breathing hard against my skin.

He pulls away. I can't muster the energy to move even an inch. Shit. Tears begin to well up in my eyes, I don't even know why I'm so fucking emotional.

"Hey baby. M gonna wipe you down." Chris whispers, wiping his cum off my thighs with a warm cloth. "You did so well, ma. Took me so well. I'm so proud of you. I love you." He adds it on at the end, like he wasn't sure he should say it or not. Then, he moves me completely onto the bed before climbing in next to me.

"I love you too." I tuck myself against his chest, resting my head on his shoulder. I lace my hand into his hair. "I love you so much."

"I love you more. Now, let's nap. Fucking you that hard took it out of me." He lays a kiss on my hairline and cuddles in closer. In his arms, I let myself drift off.

@bethsturn here you go!! sorry if it's not great :,)

[vampirebloodie]

Rough Lovers | Peter Strahm x Reader

Summary: You are Strahm's lover and one of Jigsaw's apprentices ready to play a game with him.

Warning: NSFW Smut 18+, traps, mention of adam's 💀, betrayal, Strahm being an asshole

It had been a few hours since you had called Peter and he agreed that him would have a night of dinner at your apartment. Peter was working too much lately and obsessed with Jigsaw's case, he didn't give you the same attention as he used to. In truth, he never gave that much, after all, he was married and you knew that very well, married for years compared to the forbidden relationship you had had for a few months since you met him through your friend Perez. She certainly didn't approve of your relationship behind Mrs. Strahm's back, but she didn't like his wife enough to defend her. She was not a good person.

You had taken your best shower, complete with body oils, flower soap, sweet shampoo, moisturizing creams and his favorite cherry perfume. You were dressed almost like his personal doll, just the way he liked, right down to the dress and lingerie he had given you as a gift you wore tonight. While drinking a shot of wine sitting at the dinner table that you took hours to prepare with his favorite dish, roast beef and rustic potatoes, you heard the campaign play and instantly cheered up, wiping your mouth with a napkin and fixing your hair as you was heading towards the door.

You opened with the happiest smile in the world when you saw the man in front of you with a bouquet of red roses in his hand along with a chocolate, he felt guilty for not paying as much attention to you lately.

“Pete! In between!"

You said hugging him excitedly, smelling the strong scent of soap and expensive men's perfume that took you to heaven every time you smelled it. Peter returned your hug, leaving a kiss on your neck.

"Honey, i missed you."

"I missed you too"

You pulled him inside and locked the door again, took the flowers and put them in a vase and put the chocolates in the fridge, while he sat at the table.

“Wow, honey, you tried so hard to please me tonight. My favorite dish."

He rubbed his hands together eagerly to eat. You pleased him, but not enough to be his wife and make him reveal your relationship, not enough to make him move forward with the divorce papers he said had been in the works for a while, which you knew was clearly a lie and it hurts you, a lot.

“You know i like to please you. How is it going?"

You asked as you poured him some wine and sat down, the two of you soon started eating.

“You know, Anne and Jigsaw problems.”

“Always the same problems.”

You said, trying to hide your sad face, you didn't want to show your weak side to him.

“Jigsaw is taking a lot of my sanity.”

“You're obsessed, you should stop this before something happens. You know that the more you investigate, the more risk you run.”

You warned as you cut the meat, just like a serious warning to him, but he didn't seem to mind your constant warnings. Everyone who went too deep into investigating Jigsaw got into big trouble.

“Don’t worry, you know i always come out of any situation unscathed.”

He boasted and you smiled.

"I know."

---------------

You were washing the dinner dishes when you felt Strahm's big hands grabbing your waist and his mouth leaving kisses on your shoulders.

“Wash it later. i miss you so much, babe.”

“I’ll make you wash them then.”

You dried your hands turning to him.

“I wash as many times as necessary if i want to have you all to myself.”

He grabbed your neck and kissed your lips, the taste of the wine mixing with your lipstick and his hands squeezing your throat made your thighs clench, Strahm picked you up and carried you to the bedroom, where he threw you on the bed and climbed on top of you, kissing your skin as he pulled down your dress, you ran your hands through his hair and closed your eyes as you felt his wet kisses spread all over your body.

“I’m sorry, honey, I can’t make the things go slow. I’m so eager to taste you.”

He said as he unzipped his jeans and pulled them down. Liar, you knew he just wanted to comback to home and stay with Anne.

You opened your legs revealing your red panties, his favorite, Peter sighed seeing you like that.

"My favorite. You’re perfect, girl.”

He said smiling and kissing you again, his hands went to his pants pocket where he took out a condom and opened it, his fingers put the panties aside and you soon felt his covered member invading you deeply, luckily yours natural lubrication helped to not cause so much pain at the time. You both moaned loudly and Peter started making quick movements as he pinned your arms above your head.

“So tight for me. My perfect girl.”

He said shaking your hands, you smiled at the compliment, sweat covered you both and the redness on your face was present. You took one of your hands from his and caressed his face, feeling the rough beard that was already growing. You couldn't take it anymore.

“Peter, do you love me?”

You asked feeling your eyes water, he stopped his movements as soon as you asked the question and looked at you.

"Dear, i..."

You interrupted him. You already knew your answer. Maybe if the answer was different, you would have gone back on the decision you had made just now.

"No. You don't love me, do you? Anne will always be first."

Tears covered your face and Peter made a pained expression, feeling guilty, both for cheating on his wife and for practically just using you.

“Look, i think you're confusing things... I need to tell you something”

He grabbed your face wiping your tears. Pulling out of you and making you sit on the bed.

"What?"

“We can't be together anymore, this is our last night. I don't want to see you anymore, this has gone too far.

You made an angry face.

"What did i do wrong?"

You grabbed his tie.

“Hey, nothing, calm down…”

He tried to take your hands away, but your grip was firm and strong.

"No!! Why are you leaving me if i didn't do anything wrong? I don't understand, i thought you liked me!!!!"

You screamed, startling him.

“I do like you, it’s just…”

“Tell me the truth! Why are you leaving me, what did you see, why did you change?”

“I can’t ruin my marriage because of something like you! ”

He screamed back. You laughed.

“Something like me?? You selfish asshole!”

You said in a sea of ​​tears, Strahm rolled his eyes and ripped your hands away from the tie pushing you away from him, you felt your heart break into pieces at his aggression.

He pulled up his pants again and got out of bed, you grabbed your robe and placed it covering your lingerie.

“You're scaring me, Y/n, Okay? You scare me as fuck. I wish you the best of luck with your life. You should go to threapy, sincerely.”

“I wish you luck too Strahm, you’re going to need it.”

"What do you mean by that?"

He looked at you in a confused way and you smiled approaching him, pretending you were going to give him one last hug, you put your hands inside the red bra you were wearing.

"I want to play a game."

You responded and took the syringe with sedative, sticking it into Strahm's neck and pouring the liquid into his system. Strahm was scared and angry when he realized who you really were. His hands went to your neck, starting to choke you, but you didn't worry about that, in a few seconds he was already limp and passed out on your carpet.

“An angry and rejected woman can be very dangerous.”

He said entering in your room eating your chocolates, he was hidden inside your house waiting for this.

“Shut up, Hoffman. Don't touch my chocolate!!!”

-------------------------

With the noise of the heavy chains, Peter opened his eyes suddenly, trying to get used to the brightness of the place where you two were, that rotten bathroom where Zepp and Adam's bodies were in advanced decomposition on the floor, in addition to the passed out body of Anne with a huge "?" in your belly. He looked at his left leg and left arm, which were attached to a thick chain like the one Adam and Lawrence wore.

He quickly tried to pull the chain and tried to attack you, until you pressed the remote and gave him an electric shock, and he fell to the ground shaking.

"Do not try."

You warned, pulling away a little.

"You cunt!!! Im gonna kill you!!!!”

He shouted angrily and you started laughing.

“There are several explosives in this bathroom, enough to destroy you and her. You may have a saw and a knife, but do you have the desire to survive to the point of mutilating yourself and those you promised to love and protect? Let's see if by ripping out a piece of yourself you can find a piece of empathy and love within yourself and stop being so selfish, both for me and for Anne. The key is inside her. Don’t try to manipulate the game, Hoffman and i are watching you.”

You explained and your eyes widened when you heard the detective's name, he had been right this whole time but no one believed him. Hoffman's footsteps filled the room, he entered the bathroom with a saw in hand.

“You motherfucker!!! I always knew it was you!!!!”

He screamed, trying to crawl over to the two of you, but the short chain stopped him.

“You have 1 hour. Live or die, make your choice, Strahm.”

Hoffman said, throwing the knife and the saw near him, after which the two of you turned and headed towards the bathroom exit.

“You can’t leave me here, no, no!!!!”

Strahm screamed desperately, for a second you felt bad about it, but anyone who never had empathy and true love for you, doesn't deserve your empathy and your love. You took one last look at Strahm who was still screaming, this time with tears in his eyes.

"Good luck."

You wished and swallowed hard trying not to show something, closing the huge bathroom door still hearing the screams and apologies.

[anne-chloe]

Underground | VI |

Jareth/Goblin King x F! Reader

Summary : The game has now changed. Your wish is Jareth’s command.

Harry fell to his knees, feeling the world rapidly change around him. His hands hastily grabbed at the bedsheet that had been whisked away with him, concealing the last of his dignity from those foul goblins that prodded and teased him through the bars.

He was furious. The Goblin King had readily explained what had happened and why he was there. Harry had been wished away. He had 13 hours until he would be transformed into one of those mindless, repulsive creatures that snorted, dribbled and walked around like drunk toddlers on drugs.

And Harry fully blamed you for this misfortune. He may have cheated, but he felt undeserving of this punishment.

"The game has changed," the Goblin King announced with a clap of his hands, bringing Harry back to reality as he scrambled to his feet. He looked around, eyes wild and his face flustered. Harry looked at the Goblin King with absolute distaste, with malice that could only be outdone by a woman scorned. "Another wish has been made, and this one appeals to me... greatly."

Harry scoffed, sneering at the Goblin King. He didn't care for the status that this man held. If he was about to be turned into a goblin, then so be it, but he would never bow to his boots the way the others so willingly did.

The Goblin King smiled wickedly at the disgust on Harry's face. The human man was finally displaying his true colours, and that satisfied him deeply. He waved his hand around, and suddenly the bed sheets transformed into peasant clothing. Scuffed trousers, scruffy tunic tucked lazily into his trousers and workers boots.

"What's changed?" Harry asked, grumbling loudly as he fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. The top of his chest was still showing, and while the goblins had seen more of him, he wanted to maintain himself as much as possible. "What could possibly have made you change your mind?"

"I did."

Harry felt his heart stop beating in that very instant. He spun around, eyes wide in shock. You stood just a way behind him, before the throne with your hands clasped in front of you. You appeared unscathed, uninjured and perfectly well.

Harry stepped towards you, a smile breaking out across his face. "You came for me!" He cried out, sounding relieved and overjoyed. You visibly cringed as he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms trapping your hands to your sides so you couldn't push him away. "I knew you still loved me. I knew you hadn't given up on us like that. I'm sorry for everything I did, I'll truly be a better fiancé to you—"

"I didn't coming to save you."

Harry paused his ramblings. He released you and looked down, now seeing the resentment flaring in your bright eyes. You stared at him with such hatred, it was practically seething like smoke from your ears.

"You..." Harry stammered, now stepping back as confusion warped his mind. "Then, why are you here? What's going on?" He didn't turn to face the Goblin King, who had been watching the entire scene unfold with a firm glare.

The Goblin King didn't dare to interject. He was leaving this up to you to explain. It would be more entertaining to watch. It would be more impactful coming from you. And the Goblin King couldn't wait to watch Harry explode with the rage he had been brewing on. The Goblin King had watched Harry closely, noting how he blamed you for everything that had happened to him—all his misfortunes, his mistakes, his infidelity, him being whisked away... it was only a matter of time before all of that rage came to the surface.

A matter of minutes.

You held yourself with false confidence. On the outside you were bold and brave, but on the inside you were slowly starting to crack. You felt the guilt creeping in upon hearing Harry's relief. Did he truly deserve to navigate the labyrinth as punishment?

"I completed the Goblin Kings Labyrinth," you explained after a brief pause, allowing the silence to alleviate the tension. "I fought my way to the castle beyond the Goblin City, to strike a new deal with the Goblin King." Your gaze momentarily flickered to the Goblin King, who continued to watch with a confident, reassuring smile. It gave you the courage to continue. "And in that deal, I traded our places. You will run the labyrinth."

Harry's face twisted red with rage, his face flushing hot as the pent up anger finally surfaced. His hand wrapped around your throat, and he bellowed down in a frighteningly angry voice, "you evil bitch!"

The Goblin King was by your side in a flash. He pulled out his crop from underneath his cloak, and he struck it down against Harry's head. Harry stumbled back, blood dripping from a new gash on his forehead. He released you in an instant. Your hand moved up to hold your throat tenderly; you were so focused on the way that Harry collapsed, you hadn't even realised the concerned stare that the Goblin King shot you.

"Such a pity," the Goblin King tutted. He moved his foot and kicked Harry's leg, causing your ex fiancé to crumble to the ground in a pathetic heap. Harry clutched his bleeding head, his eyes full of tears as he stared up at you and the Goblin King. "Your only way of returning home will be through [Name]. You have 13 hours to complete my labyrinth and confront me. If you fail, I'll make sure you spend your eternity guarding the Bog of Stench."

The Goblin King waved his hand, and Harry disappeared in an instant.

But you couldn't forget the look of betrayal on his face. The absolute hurt in his eyes. You hoped that he was finally feeling the same way you had earlier that day. Did his heart shatter into millions of pieces? Did he feel as though his stomach might curl in on itself? You hoped he was now mourning for the love he had lost. For the love he had relinquished the moment he started a relationship with Casey.

Surprisingly, you didn't feel any emotion towards sending Harry to the labyrinth. You didn't feel relieved that you had done it; you didn't feel guilty that you had condemned him to 13 hours of figuring out puzzles and traps.

The Goblin King was now standing in front of you. His hands cupped your face and gently tilted your head back, so he could look directly into your eyes. You watched as his own eyes flickered around yours, as if searching for something. Satisfied, he smiled almost lovingly at you. "You did well, my dear. I didn't think he'd have been so stupid to touch you like that."

Your heart fluttered at the compliment. "I've seen him angry before, but I've never been on the receiving end of it," you confessed, letting slip of your slight fear of Harry's outburst. You couldn't forget the anger burning in his eyes; the betrayal that would forever imprint on your soul. "I thought he was going to hurt me."

The Goblin King tsked, then shook his head. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around you in an embrace. Unlike when Harry had made you feel so trapped, the Goblin King was making you feel safe. You flustered at the feeling, and tried your hardest to push aside your wild thoughts.

"Nobody shall ever hurt you again, my dear," the Goblin King declared, a sincerity in his voice. You listened to the way his heart beat so steadily. "That pathetic excuse for a human will be an insignificant fragment of your past at the end of these 13 hours."

You nodded into his chest, feeling reassured and validated by your emotions.

"For now, my dear, you should rest. These 13 hours have been quite exhausting, I should imagine?" The Goblin King suggested, his breath tickling your ear. You shuddered in his arms, a pleasant sensation gathering in your stomach.

"I'd like that," you muttered, loud enough for the King to hear.

The Goblin King grinned.

"Then rest you shall."

[retromotherfuckers]

just finished Mockingjay and here are my thoughts.

i’m late to the game, i know. i’ve already seen the movies but when they came out i wasn’t into reading. as i am now, i decided to read the thg series and in hopes of finding someone with the same opinions, i’m posting this here because i don’t know anyone who’s read the series.

first of all, one of my biggest pet peeves is when authors tell and don’t show. just because peeta planted the primroses to take to prim’s grave does not tell me they reconciled. it tells me peeta’s not determined to kill katniss and forsake everything about her. it’s. not. enough. “we found our way back to each other,” NOT. ENOUGH. i need a reconciliation scene, i fucking need more for them. i’m not asking for a happy ending, i’m asking for closure. show me how they found their way back, show me how she finally realized he was back and ready to be there for her. show me how he realized she wasn’t there to kill him. SHOW ME. DON’T TELL ME. it really felt like peeta went from wanting to kill her to them having kids together. like huh? i have no closure.

katniss’ depression? absolutely heartbreaking and very realistic. like when she runs from peeta after she sees him planting the flowers because she can’t handle it. the scene where the cat comes back and she looses it? had me in tears. the fact that she hasn’t bathed in weeks, the being too exhausted to even walk back to her home from town.

FINNICK’S DEATH BEING COMPLETELY GLOSSED OVER WAS A CRIME. HE DESERVED BETTER THAN THAT. i get it, they were in the middle of trying to get out alive but i needed it to circle back and it just didn’t. this man just got married, he was one of the only people katniss trusted and he’s killed off in three sentences and we almost never hear of it again.

the ambiguity of it being gale’s bomb that killed prim and katniss knowing it could’ve been was enough for her to absolutely destroy gale. i was waiting for her to beat the shit out of him and she barely reacted??? just seems ooc for her. her entire life was devoted to protecting her sister, prim dies, and the person possibly responsible goes unscathed? unacceptable. if it was anyone but gale they’d be dead on the spot and coin was. i understand katniss not killing him, that’s her childhood best friend. but where’s the anger? hell should’ve been raised. the argument could be made that she was depressed and couldn’t even begin to try to be angry at him with the numbness that she had going on, and while that’s valid, it just seems ooc

i don’t want those negatives taken as me hating the books. because i actually really enjoyed them. i’m really just not happy with that ending. what does it take to put a few extra scenes in there? i love peeta, i love katniss and i love finnick. i’m happy 2/3 of them ended up happy, but i wanted more for all of them.

[ifreakforicecream]

COD MODERN WAREFARE 3 Predictions

Disclaimer: I have never played the games I am just doing this for my own enjoyment (I don’t have 70$ lying around) I am going off of cutscenes, the wiki and other people’s head cannons. I kind of wanna see how this list plays out once the new missions come. (This barbie has to draft 30 sheets of site analysis for a presentation but is doing this instead) I will probably update this with coloured text as it goes

also, lmao mw3 getting revealed by monster energy drinks has the same energy as the previous installments being revealed by Dorito Chips or when hero movies get early reveals from toy/action figure patents.

Graves does come back but only as an operator for the multiplayer games. Conversely, He could be an illegal arms dealer but in hiding (think MacAfee before they found him). Shepherd has a higher chance of going in that direction in my books. Update: he comes back completely unscathed and going by the new trailer he's siding with Farah and Alex? oooo this gonna get messy (28/7/23).

Price, Laswell, or Gaz dies. Sort of a riff off from the originals I’m guessing the writers are trying to find some form of subversion but this is where it's at (oof)

Farah or Alex dies and neither of them finishes what they started. My money is on Farah tbf.

Gaz dying makes sense in the way that he started with wanting to do right by people when he first met and would probably die that way too. or this being a red herring price jumps in for him and dies and then takes his place which seals his fate as the MC of this installment.

Laswell goes out of the way of aiding a mission when she was expected/advised not to.

Laswell gets a protégé that will replace her in a much later installment. It has a shot at being Gaz man just collects good intel.

more female ops? I like to think COD writes them pretty damn well. (at this point my standards are must pass the Bechdel test. which is not a bad benchmark considering its flaws but not great either)(this is also where I found out the first installment of Twilight passes the Bechdel test. go figure)

Gaz replaces Laswell and Ghost takes Price’s place.

Price dies while killing Makarov. or we get him smoking a cigar as he is introed making it a full-circle moment once more.

Ghost trades bullets with shepherd but only shepherd dies. Many have said the reboot plays it safe so I am going off of that assumption here slightly but ik a lot of og gamers of the previous titles would find that satisfying.

In the wiki, it states that the shadow company is disavowed but that might change. I didn’t check the established title (Like if it was private or public) of such a company but there might be a line of succession here. for what they have in assets it seems too big to be disavowed.

we get a partial face reveal of the ghost. It could be something mundane as smoking or a teasing jump cut. it’s just like barely there.

everyone gets promoted: It happened after the mission in the ghost's origin story. It’s a hefty mission they just survived. I would be surprised if they didn’t. with shepherd gone this swings either way. or gets buried under the rug as it is a mission hidden from the public.

Roach gets in the picture. he also wins the IDGAF wars or is second to Price in that regard.

regional operators? They were all over the place in past titles and with las almas this seems the least farfetched. (hoping for some Indian or Nepalis operators woo)

someone from 141 or affiliated gets kidnapped or “killed” but it’s that “lucky death” situation that COD likes to pull like it did with Alex. This happens towards the end or at a start of a mission season.’

Shepherd is the actual villain and they kill off Makarov pretty quick as a subversion of the original title. Again moot, if you consider the potential monster energy leak his face is in red behind price.

price dies, Gaz finishes the job.

this is more of an anti-prediction: the price isn’t gonna be the main character but the most prominent. (also going by the monster leak) ghost was the last game’s MC I don’t think they were married to his POV all that much even though it played a huge role.

ghost dies, and Soap finishes the job. “you wanna be better than me Johnny” or Johnny dies saving Ghost in the final moment.

Makarov operates the no Russian mission remotely and he acts as a clean nationalistic politician, making him more dangerous and will cause international trouble when apprehending him. (a lot of opposing politicians or figures “fall out of windows” in the process.

The ghost team carries over to Russian soil.

141 gets bigger and possibly with pre-existing operators within the game.

shepherd gets murdered by a more evil boi/girl

ghost’s tattoo design has a canonical refresh/update. The grey fleece jacket comes back.

Soap recovers while Ghost hunts for Shepherd solo. (this happens right after the final mission or the bar scene)

Every now and then a COD title comes out with a new game mechanic or a way to play. In this installment, I am predicting laser sights for night missions.

Heavier lean on digital/informational warfare.

we don’t get much about ghosts. RalphsValve said there might be a spinoff personally I don’t this will ever happen but it’s a tossup considering the original investor report saying mobile makes 40% of revenue but the Microsoft acquisition may change things ( also wonder where product collaborations are at on that investor report probably not that sizable but still worth a look). Conversely, he’s ghostie has become a character favorite and the market landscape has changed drastically in the last 10-20 years and he already has source material. BTW I read that Origin comic That poor fucker can’t catch a break. Brother looked so red-eyed when he hit the tarmac when he met Soap.

[sonicasura]

Here's a twisted thought. Imagine Link's new arm acting like a virus and consumes his form as time goes on. Man slowly becoming more inhuman until the end game where he isn't Hylian anymore. A corruption similar to the Prince's from Prince of Persia the Two Thrones.

Very ironic since the source of Prince's corruption, being the Sands of Time, is a dangerous item that was vital to complete his adventures. These sands turn all who touch it, without protection being the Artifacts of Time, into monsters far from what they used to be.

Link's new arm could possibly do the same thing. This wouldn't be the first time an iteration of this character gets forcefully turned into something else. Who says Wild(this Link) will come out unscathed? From what people theorized after the seeing the trailer is that arm could be a Twili/Interloper artifact which is a whole can of worms by itself.

You have to remember powerful artifacts are still dangerous despite alignment, skill, mastery or not being used. One wrong move is catastrophically devastating to all in range. What happens next can never be undone without a price. This mysterious arm is most likely the same.

For those in the Linked Universe part of the fandom, imagine Wild being whisked away for TotK during the Chain's journey. Whichever way he vanishes isn't gonna change the fact at how concerned and worried everyone would be.

Think how they would react when Wild returns but is no longer who he once was. Everyone's kindhearted feral cook now a scarred monster that can't stand looking at his face or even theirs. Fragments of an already broken person who barely had a chance to heal.

Make it even worse if this Link, Tear, appears before the group while Wild is still there. He ends up seeing his possible future and any hope for a better future just shatters. Being the chosen hero will never be good. You shall forever face horrors and a fate that destroys who you used to be.

Quite a sad thought, no?

[talesmaniac89]

Charity Heist 9 - aka. Can't be a Superhero Without a Sad Backstory

A Supernatural Heist AU - Masterlist

Pairing: Hitter!Dean x Thief!Reader

Summary: The Singer & Winchester Retrieval Agency is the best group of con artists in the world. But even though Y/N can crack safes, scale buildings and infiltrate even the most secure locations, she still can't find a way to deal with her all consuming feelings for the group's greek god of a hitter; Dean Winchester. How will she handle their next big heist, when she's forced to get up close and personal with the man of her dreams?

Warnings: Idiots in love, smutty thoughts, a lot of swearing and a ton of bad jokes.

Watch the trailer here

A/N: This story is 50% jokes and 50% dirty thoughts. No deep angst, just fun and action! Inspired by the series Leverage.

Y/N = Your Name | Y/L/N = Your Last Name | Y/H/C = Your Hair Colour

Start Here - Last - Next

Even with Dean’s whiskey smooth voice calling out after you and making you weak at the knees, you somehow made it back to your room unscathed and un-caught. Though you knew your reprieve would only be temporary. 

You’d get the night, at best, to prepare yourself for what you knew was coming. Which was the complete and utter destruction of the damned traitorous muscle you called a heart. Come morning, or at best noon, and you’d be the goddamn tinman. Looking for a new heart to replace the one your Greek God of a hitter pulverized. 

Fuck it all to the fucking high seas and back. 

You were screwed and, as always, it wasn’t the good kind of screwed. It never was. 

When the fates dealt you your hand in life… Along with everything else they’d thrown your way, what with being kidnapped as a baby and spending your life as a thief… They sure as fuck made certain you were just as unscrewable as that one dodgy screw on every piece of IKEA furniture. If not more.

Rushing into your room, you locked the door and pushed a chair up against it for extra measure. Sure, you were a coward. But you were a thorough coward. And you wouldn’t put it past the stubborn older Winchester to kick your door down to stop you from running away from the conversation he seemed hell bent on having. 

Shit, you running away was probably just making him more set on having ‘The Talk’. 

After all, Dean Winchester was a hitter with an impressive resume; a trained soldier, tracker, and mercenary… He was the epitome of a hunter - a true predator. And your ‘scared little prey’-act was probably just activating some long-lost hunting instinct in the man. Like an enticing game of cat and mouse.

Actually, you were sure of it. 

The way those emerald eyes had been burning into you; like he was ready to devour you on the spot… Yeah, that was the look of an Apex Predator. Even now, in the safety of your own room, the feel of Dean’s eyes on you still ignited a fire in your veins. 

Hell, you swore you could still feel the whispers of his touch where he’d brushed against you. And the smell of his body wash still lingered around you, making your mind a foggy, hazy mess as you struggled to catch your breath even though the short sprint to your room shouldn’t have made you that breathless. Not with the hellish training regimen the Winchester brothers had you on.

Damn it... There was only one thing that could help you now: a cold shower. Absolutely arctic. The coldest shower to ever fucking shower. Yeah… That would teach your libido to act up without consulting the more reasonable part of your brain first. 

Peeling off your clothes, you hurried to your attached bathroom, feeling uncomfortably hot even in the chilly air of the bunker room. Throwing one last wary glance towards the chair you’d propped up as a last line of defense, you closed the bathroom door with a groan. Letting your head hit against the wood with a sigh. 

Forcing your eyes to focus on the shower, you ignored the clown in the mirror, aka. your own bitch ass self. Knowing you’d probably end up having a damn Taxi-esque “Are you talking to me” monologue with your reflection if you allowed yourself to spare the woman in the mirror even the smallest glance. And, though you did deserve a talking to, you just didn’t have the energy to admonish yourself any further. 

Plus, you were as naked as the day you were born. Meaning that any dressing down you gave yourself would be kind of useless. 

So, instead you stepped into the dry shower and gritted your teeth as you turned the water on. Turning the knob ALL the way to cold. No fucking way you were having a hot shower. First, your already overheated body wouldn’t be able to handle the heat. And second, you didn’t deserve one. Hell, you didn’t even deserve the much more tolerable shock of stepping gingerly under the running water and preparing yourself for the shock of icy cold against flushed skin.

Gritting your teeth against the need to squeal as the first chilly drops hit your overheated skin, you closed your eyes and let the water cascade over you. Letting it wash your cowardice and dirty thoughts down the drain. The feel of Dean’s body heat where he’d brushed against your arm and his much larger hand on yours was slowly being replaced by the numbing feeling of cold water on hot skin as your nerves went into temporary shock. Though the frozen state of your nerves did nothing to stop your mind from racing.

You’d known from the start that you shouldn’t allow yourself to indulge in thoughts of the oldest Winchester brother. 

Sure, it had been clear from day one that you found the man devastatingly handsome; even when you still thought he could be a threat to your safety. But, once you moved into the bunker with the Winchesters, you’d also known you weren’t good enough for him. 

Hell, you were a lot of things. But one thing was certain. You, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), were not even remotely good, full stop. 

Having been raised to steal, spy, destroy, and do everything else your bosses told you to do had beaten any sense of morality out of you a long, long time ago. From a young age, your moral compass had been thoroughly ground to dust under the heavy heel of the “organization”. And, until you met Dean, you’d been sure it had beaten any shred of that annoying human emotion known as love out of you too. After all, in the underground organization you’d called home for a better part of your life, any form of feelings was considered a weakness.

Love, fear, even hate… None of that was relevant or even necessary there. 

All that mattered was to complete your tasks, please the client and get paid. It was the code you’d been raised to live by. It was what your area’s boss, a witch of a woman nicknamed “Dr. Hess”, wanted. 

Her and the other area mobster bosses, including the man at the very top, had stolen you from your parents when you were still just a baby and sharpened you into a weapon. You and countless other children. An army of kids and teens who did their bidding, no matter how vicious and evil it was. 

And you’d done it all. After all, you knew nothing else.

The organization had been worldwide, but your world had still been so very, very small. On the leash of your handler, Mr. Ketch, you’d only ever been let out of one of their underground compounds to complete whatever job they had for you. Whenever they needed a pair of extra sticky hands, you’d get let out, only to be pulled right back in when you’d done what they wanted you to. 

You’d only managed to escape when you took out two of the guard dogs they’d placed to watch you on a job in Lisbon. And even then, it was only because they’d been resting on their laurels. 

Mr. Ketch had been out on another job. And since you’d spent the better part of your early teens fooling them into thinking you’d finally become a good little puppy who could go without a leash for 24 hours, they’d placed the role of guardians in… Less capable hands.  

Wounding, possibly mortally, those two men… You hadn’t felt a thing.

If anything, you’d felt a hint of elation. Joy at finally being free. 

That’s how you knew you weren’t human. You weren’t fit for love. All you had, the only thing you were fit for, was your life as a thief. Hell, your freedom was less about escaping the life of crime you’d been forced into and more about escaping the authority figures that took all your hard-earned spoils for themselves while keeping you locked in your cage. After all, you’d worked for that money. They hadn’t.

Sighing you gritted your teeth and opened your eyes to stare reproachingly at the jet of icy water still cascading down over you. The cold water had cooled your head, sure. But it had also brought back memories of days you’d do anything to forget. Even though they were tattooed onto your very being, clinging to the back of your mind. with vicious talons made up of scar tissue and regret

Days of hiding scraps so you could eat them if they decided to cut off your food supply. Of tearing bedsheets into bandages after an especially grueling “training session”. Days that were carved into your bones through a childhood that was more torture, training and prison bars than nostalgic picket fences and apple pie. 

Turning off the water, you shook your wet (Y/H/C) hair out behind your back before reaching for the towel. Your body was shivering, but you didn’t mind the cold. The cold was… Comforting. It was a physical manifestation of what you constantly had to remind yourself to be.

The cold was your code to live by. Not the organization’s.

Hide behind jokes, use your smile as a shield and your boisterous volume as ammunition. Drown out your darker thoughts with endless internal color commentary going a mile a minute… Don’t ever get close enough for anyone to see it’s all just painted on. A fake facade; a prop mask in a low budget movie. Laugh loud, be loud, hide any stray hurt, or old memories, behind surface level hollow strength and sass. 

Don’t let them see you cry. Never let them see you hurt. 

Even though you did have friends now; a family... You had Charlie, who you adored, a father figure in Bobby, and Sam, who you saw as your giant little brother. You still kept your walls up. Though your smiles were more honest, and your feelings had a place to safely rest in Charlie who never let you joke about your pain, you couldn’t fool yourself into thinking you could have anything more than that. 

You couldn’t fool yourself into thinking you deserved a place by Dean’s side.

You’d already been handed more than you ever deserved when Bobby Singer and the Winchester brothers accepted you into their family. You’d gained trust you didn’t even have in yourself, and there was no way you’d repay them by breaking apart the dynamic that worked like a well-oiled machine. 

Which was why you knew you’d have to just grin and bear it when Dean broke your heart. You couldn’t leave them just to run from the heartbreak. You had nowhere else to go. This was your home. The only one you’d ever truly had. 

Still, you just needed a little more time. Just a few more hours. 

The universe could at least give you that much as payment for being the butt of every karmic joke it threw your way.

Right?

---

Your prayer to the universe for a few more hours of silent, contemplative cowardice was left on read. As mother nature once more seemed ready to get her rocks off by watching you squirm. 

The sadistic bitch. 

You were barely given time to get dressed, not to mention warm up, before you heard the quick, sharp tap of knuckles against wood. The sound of someone knocking on your door was enough to make you freeze where you stood in the middle of your room. But as the deep voice of a certain Mr. Winchester seeped through the wood and straight into your veins, you slowly morphed into an actual statue; holding your breath as you worried that the man on the other side of the door would somehow hear you if you as much as blinked.  

“Hey (Y/N)... You still up?” 

You kept holding your breath, your eyes jumping to the chair you’d propped against the door as you slowly sank to the floor. Sitting down as softly and carefully as you could. Mainly as a preemptive measure, in case your legs would give out under you if he decided to break your heart through the door instead.

“Of course you are… You’re just… Look, kid. I know you’re in there,” The soft thud against the wood that punctuated his words painted a picture of Dean leaning up against your door. And though you had no way of seeing him, you could almost picture him bringing one of those large hands up to pinch at the bridge of his nose or draw it over his face. Like he always did whenever you frustrated him.

Which was often. 

You were nothing if not frustrating to be around. 

“Son of a... Can you stop running away for just one second? We need to talk. Open up the door sweetheart… Please,” Dean’s words were soft and inviting, but you couldn’t… There was no way you could make yourself open the door and face him; face having your heart broken. Not when you were dressed in superman shorts and a ratty t-shirt while still shivering from the cold shower.  

So, you kept still; only allowing yourself a small intake of air before you held your breath again. Shifting slightly, you hugged your knees to your chest where you sat. In some foolish attempt to protect your fragile heart from the man who unwittingly already held it in his hands by folding in on yourself and using your body to protect the weak, cowardly muscle in your chest. 

On the other side of the door, Dean waited for a beat, then another. Still somehow holding out hope that you’d grow a pair and face him. Though he should have known you better by now. 

“You can’t run away from me forever (Y/N),” The typical movie villain phrase sounded both seductive and dangerous when leaving the seasoned soldier. Though, in fairness, with your style of flirting; danger and seduction were pretty much synonymous. 

And though the little daredevil on your shoulder wanted to respond to the challenge in Dean’s words, you bit your tongue. Even though you had a pre-written list of comebacks prepared for people questioning your ability to run away from your problems (number one on the list being simply that you were very fast) you couldn’t put it to good use. Not without ending up having ‘The Talk’ you’d been dreading through your closed and locked door. 

In fucking Superman shorts.

So, instead of bragging about your straight up cartoonish roadrunner speed, you kept silent. Listening, but not fully catching Dean’s tired, groaned mutterings from the other side of your door as your team’s hitter seemed to realize you weren’t going to respond no matter what he said. Choosing instead to tap his knuckles against the wood again with a tired sigh. 

“Damn it sweetheart, you’re infuriating,” Dean’s tired voice was followed by another quick tap against your door. Before you heard the unmistakable sound of his bare feet walking away, down the hall towards his own room. 

It was only once you heard the muted sound of a door closing somewhere further down the hall that you let yourself breathe easy again. Your body was aching from the frozen hold of your muscles as you finally clambered to your feet again and shakily made your way over to your bed. You doubted you’d be able to sleep. But, hell, you needed to be horizontal to deal with the tidal wave of fears and emotions that were threatening to drown you. 

You were the biggest coward to ever coward. And you hated yourself for it. You were a big girl, yet you couldn’t woman up enough to just… Talk to Dean. You knew you had to. Hell, you were ruining the first good thing you’d ever managed to build for yourself. 

If you kept running like this, you’d soon literally be on the run again. And Dean wouldn’t just… Not like you. He’d most likely end up despising you. You’d seen those forest green eyes turn steely with hate and anger before. Towards people outside of your little band of thieves. But the idea of having them focused on you that way? Burning in that ice cold way frostbite does, as he stared you down with nothing but hate and fury in his eyes?

Fuck. 

If only there was a way to turn off your feelings for the former mercenary. Like how you’d managed to trick yourself into thinking you weren’t still haunted by nightmares of your not-so-pleasant childhood. But no… 

You’d already tried that when you first realized that how you felt about him went beyond just physical attraction. It was no use. Dean Winchester was all-encompassing. All you could do was smile, pretend it didn’t hurt to be “just a part of the family” and drown yourself in daydreams, both dirty and innocent ones. 

Maybe if you played the part of class clown and younger sister well enough, you’d be able to stay at the bunker. But… Would you even want to? Would you be able to bear it? Then again, you doubted you’d be able to bear the loss of the first family you’d ever found for yourself either… Your family. Sighing, you squeezed your eyes shut and ground your teeth together to not scream in frustration. 

You were just running in circles. There was no way out. No plan B. 

For once there was no easy escape route for you to rappel your way down and away from danger. There was no neatly stacked and expertly highlighted “What to do if (Y/N) fucks up majorly”-manila folder that you could refer to. You had to make a choice, either way you were losing something. If you ran, you had to run away from everything that you’d found. From the family that made you happy for the first time in your life. But if you stayed… Damn it. 

You couldn’t have your cake and eat it too.

Actually, no. Fuck that.

You refused to use that saying. You wanted to punch the first person to mention cake in such a dirty context. ‘Cause cake was way too tasty to ever be spoken about in a situation like the one you found yourself in. 

Damn it all to hell.. Now you were frustrated, angry, sad and you wanted cake. Yeah, you’d punch whichever twisted bastard that created the phrase in a heartbeat. You’d punch him good.

Then you’d get two cakes to celebrate, one to eat and one to just… Have. Because fuck that saying. 

Not that it helped the situation you were in, but hell... Nothing would. Not even cake. You were doomed to spend your night lying awake and counting down the minutes until Dean found you and broke your heart. The only thing you could do was prepare yourself for the blow. Get ready to roll with the punches, smile through the pain, and cover up any bruises to your heart with bad jokes and even worse decisions. 

That, and allow yourself just this one night to think about the kiss you almost shared with the oldest Winchester brother. After that one night, you’d have to erase it from your memory. It would just hurt too much to remember what you’d been so close to tasting, yet could never have.

Taking a shaky breath, you let your tongue wet your lips as you slipped easily back into the memory of the closet. You knew you shouldn’t, that it would just end up hurting you. Yet, it was almost too easy. The feel of Dean’s body against yours was still so clear in your memory. It almost felt like you were truly back there. If only Sam hadn’t spoken up when he did…

Letting your imagination take over, you rewrote the memory in your mind. You were back in the closet, but with no interruptions to save you from Dean’s hungry look and teasing grin. 

His body was hard against yours. The arms that had pulled you so dangerously close were roaming the curves of your body, massaging your hips as you rolled against him. Feeling that same mouth watering bulge that had almost made you whimper back in the closet push against you again in your memory. Swallowing a similar whimper, you let your hand travel the length of your body back in your bunker bed. Letting your inpatient, trembling fingers emulate the many overwhelming feelings from just hours earlier. 

The look in his eyes, that domineering, in-control look, had you biting your lip to keep from gasping as you relived every second. How he’d let his teeth graze against his plump bottom lip, before letting his tongue soothe their path as he slowly, painfully so, lowered his head until his lips nearly touched yours. And this time, in your daydreams, his lips landed on yours, stealing your breath away. All fire and spice and everything naughty as he swallowed your gasps of air and nibbled on your bottom lip when you made even the slightest sound. 

At that moment, all your dirtiest daydreams came true. His rough breath as he nearly growled against your lips. And the feel of his body against yours, calloused fingers shaping the curve of you against him as he greedily swallowed every little sound you dared to make to keep you quiet, to stop the mobsters outside from finding you... 

At least for a second. 

Before, just as it had in real life, your damned imaginary closet kiss was also interrupted. This time, not by Sam’s voice in your ear, but rather yet another knock on the door that made you stiffen on your bed. Your fingers quickly pulled back as if burned by the hem of your shorts where you’d been playing with the thought of taking your daydreams to the next base.

Once again you were left unable to move a muscle. And, with your body, now heating up but still aching from your earlier involuntary game of freeze tag, every muscle nearly screamed in protest from the sudden tense hold. 

Was it Dean again?

Holding your breath, you waited to hear that same intoxicatingly deep voice on the other side of the door that had frozen you in place not all that long ago. Had he changed his mind and decided to break your heart through the door after all? But, whomever was knocking on your door kept silent this time. Choosing to knock again instead of announcing themselves. 

Maybe Dean was trying to trick you to come outside and see who it was? Or maybe it was someone else? 

Damn it… You needed to know who it was. Even if it was safer to just stay in bed and drown in your daydreams. You and your curious mind demanded answers, even if you were likely to regret going in search of them. As the saying went: Curiosity killed the cat…burglar. Curiosity killed the cat burglar. And, in this specific situation, you were the sneaky feline thief in question. 

Moving slowly, to ensure the bed didn’t creak and give you away, you slid off of the sheets, before tiptoeing over to the closed door like a typical cartoon bandit. Leaning in, careful to not knock into the chair still blocking the door, you pushed the shell of your ear against the wood. Listening for any hints that could tell you who was outside. 

An overall futile and foolish act altogether. Since, only seconds after you started your cowardly sleuthing, your new guests finally spoke up behind door numero uno. 

“It’s me (Y/N) and you’re not as sneaky as you think. I could hear you tiptoeing over and leaning against your door… These rooms aren’t exactly soundproof. Remember? Open up,” Charlie’s voice was a welcome sound as you sighed in relief. 

Shaking away the rest of the stiff hold in your limbs, you quickly moved the chair out of the way. Stopping with your hand on the lock to listen for the sound of anyone else in the hallway before unlocking the door. Casting a wary glance down the hallway, you just as hurriedly ushered your best friend into your room and closed your one line of defense against Dean again.

“Could you really hear me?” You stage whispered as soon as the lock was securely latched.  Opting to not prop the chair back in its place to save yourself from even more questioning looks from your best friend as you turned to face her. Fearing that Dean would have also heard your attempts at being silent through the door earlier.

“No… But I know you,” Charlie sighed, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she rolled her eyes at you. A look she’d always been a champ at, but had fully perfected after learning the tricks of the trade from the master of the bitch face; one Mr. Sam Winchester. 

“What’s up with you anyway? Why are you sneaking around like a… Well, like a thief on the run, which… Sure, you are. But not here. Not at home,“ She added, her green eyes narrowing as she tried to get a read on you.  

“A girl can never be too careful you know,” You cringed internally at the slightly elevated pitch to your voice as Charlie eyed you suspiciously, not falling for your weak reasoning and poor acting skills. Thank God your team had an actual grifter on board, because with your lacking skills it was a wonder you’d ever been able to go undercover at all before Cas joined your crew. 

Yet, your best friend mercifully didn’t just decide to decimate your weak acting and force the truth out of you. At least not right away. Choosing instead to go with the slow torture method. Which was usually much less her style than it was yours.

“We live in an underground bunker… With a team of the best mercenaries, hackers and con artists on the planet. Who’d be stupid enough to try and break in here?” Charlie challenged with another roll of green eyes as she strode across your room before plopping down on your bed. 

“I can think of a few of our enemies who’d like to try. Especially a few of mine,” You squeaked back. Knowing full well they were all currently locked up behind bars. At least the ones that had any notion about where in the big wide world you were. Your personal enemies were still, unfortunately, roaming free. But they also thought you were somewhere in Italy, last you heard. 

“I’d like to see them try. Well… Actually, I wouldn’t, but you know Dean or Sam would kick their asses before they even got near this part of the bunker,” Charlie shot back as she lounged on your bed and picked up one of the hardcover Batman comic books you’d borrowed from her stash with a raised eyebrow, before just as easily letting it go against your weak shoulder shrug considering she’d given you a free pass to her collection. 

Though, she was clearly not as ready to let go of your latest bout of weird behavior. Since her dropping one issue, of the comic book variety, only meant she was instead choosing to go in for the kill on the big one. The reason she’d come knocking at your door in the first place. 

“But seriously… What’s wrong? I mean, I know I’m not always the best at noticing social cues. But you keep running away from Dean like you stole the last slice of pie,” She sighed instead, leafing through the issue of The Long Halloween, though her eyes were still locked on you where you were standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. 

“That was you…” Your weak comeback lacked your usual creative sass as you trudged back to your bed and sank down next to Charlie.

“Don’t change the subject,” Your best friend admonished as she scooted over to make more room for you. Keeping the comic book out of your reach when you tried to grab it from her to hide your shifty eyes and messy feelings behind the safe, broad back of Batman. 

“Then don’t steal a man’s pie next time,” You shot back with a huff as you gave up on the comic book and instead chose to grab for your pillow. Holding the soft memory foam pillow close, you shifted on the bed until your back hit the wall and half curled in on yourself. Like the petulant child you were currently acting like. 

“… Do I have to go ask Dean instead? ‘Cause I will. Don’t try me,” Charlie challenged, putting the book down and twisting her body to fully face you. 

“You don’t have the balls to. I’ll tell him you’re the one that took the last slice of pie,” Not being one to let any challenge pass you by, you shot back with your own. 

Though you knew you really shouldn’t be challenging your stubborn best friend. Not about that. Not when the wellbeing of your heart was on the line and the pie issue was a whole week old. Many pies had come and gone since the theft of that one, but your own little ‘issue’ was still fresh out of the oven.

“As I said… Try me,” Was all Charlie deemed necessary to say as she cocked an eyebrow at you before trying to wrestle the pillow you were now half hiding behind out of your iron grip. Which thoroughly failed. There was no way you were giving up your lifeline/pillow when it was all you had left to hide behind. 

“Try you? Try me,” Your words came out muffled from behind the pillow, and your eyes were looking everywhere but towards your best friend. Not your best challenge. But hell, if you looked her dead in the eye you had a feeling Charlie would just know everything. Sometimes you were sure she was actually Professor X in disguise with her uncanny ability to read your mind. 

Unfortunately, just as you feared. You really shouldn’t have challenged your stubborn best friend. 

Especially not when she was already painfully aware that something had gone down and that you were actively running away from Dean. She knew how you felt about him, and she also knew you were a self-sabotaging dumbass. So of course she’d rise to any challenge you put forward. 

Which meant... With an over dramatic deep breath for added effect, Charlie said to hell with ‘indoor voices’ as she raised her own voice just a fraction. Though even a fraction could be too much in the bunker, where sound traveled faster and farther than what should be physically possible.

“Hey! De…!”

“Shhhh-ut your trap!” You whisper-yelled at the red head as you dropped the pillow to try and reach out for her in a weak attempt to silence the hacker. An attempt that failed, as she decided to become ninja fast at that exact moment and jump out of your way. 

“Make me,” Charlie shot back, her voice back at normal indoor voice levels, as she stood next to your bed. Her arms once more crossed and an eyebrow raised in a silent challenge. You both knew she’d be able to call for Dean before you even had a chance of reaching her. It was futile. 

“Damn it… Ok. Sleepover?“ You sighed, finally conceding to your best friend. The only person you almost constantly lost any fight against. She knew too many of your weaknesses. And trying to win against her in a battle of wits was near impossible. She’d make for one hell of a final boss if she decided to turn bad on you one day.

“Only if you let me give you Princess Leia buns,” Charlie quipped back, wanting more now that you’d already made one concession and she knew she’d won the war. The spoils of the war were always decided by the victor afterall. 

“…Alright, geek,”You rolled your eyes with a fond smile as you slowly got up from your bed, with your arms held up in surrender. Shaking out your weak legs, you took the few steps across the small room to walk Charlie to the door, knowing she’d still need to get her stuff before any slumber party or hair braiding could happen. 

“Go get your stuff, and pick up some beers… Scratch that, grab the whiskey. The good one. Don’t let anyone see you. And when you come back… You know the deal?” You let your voice drop to a conspiratorial whisper again as your hand rested on the lock. Not willing to unlock it for more than the few seconds it took Charlie to sneak back out 

“Yeah yeah. ‘Knock to the tune of the DuckTales theme song…’ It’s not my first rodeo,” Your best friend shot back with a grin. Hurrying out of the room and down the hallway to get ready. 

Before the night was over she’d have dragged the whole damn sordid tale out of you.

Damn it… 

So much for one more night to brood over the kiss that almost was but never would be. But at least you got to be with your best friend. Which should lessen the sting of your upcoming rejection, at least a teensy bit. 

After all, what were best friends for if not for confiding in as they messed with your hair and turned you into a sci-fi Disney princess?

Start Here - Last - Next

Charity Heist: @foxyjwls007 @seppys-return-to-madness @stoneyggirl2 @ladysparkles78 @twinkleinadiamondsky @tmb510 @mimaria420 Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler  @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @screechingartisancashbailiff @septixtrash @punof-agun  @deandreamernp @justagirlinafandomworld @sexyvixen7 @justrealizedimmascifygurl @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @iprobablyshipit91 @mrsjenniferwinchester @leigh70 @djs8891 @pink-sparkly-witch

[knackfandomarchive]

could i have some of ur headcanons abt ryder...... ive been thinking about him lol

Sure! I'm half remembering the ones I had before and half making them up as I go along. Most of my familiarity is with the first game, so I might be off.

My perception of Ryder is that he's a TV personality. He uses some kind of drone or HoloBot-like device to record his expeditions, and essentially has either his own show or plays a part in a larger series.

He is self-taught, as evidenced by his poor or nonexistent use of safety equipment. No one has yelled at him about it yet; maybe they think it's part of the charm.

He either starred in an action movie once or would jump at the chance to. He would do his own stunts, of course.

That man is covered in scars. There's just no way he could do everything he does and come out completely unscathed unless he has the personal protection of a goddess of luck. He's going to have joint pain if he doesn't already.

He named his planes. I don't know what they would be, but he named them.

So this might be gross, but I imagine he struggles with hygiene when he's on-the-go all the time. He brings along a toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving cream, and some other things, but then there's the matter of waste disposal. I imagine there's a culture of eco-friendliness in his region, or it's a value important to Ryder in particular. He has a jar of horrible goo somewhere in his pack or plane, composed of the aforementioned hygiene products, which he empties when he's in town.

He might be very similar to how I see the Doc, always working to the point it interferes with his relationships. He lays on the charisma, charming acquaintances, but he doesn't stick around for long. This may be why I had some trouble coming up with these; he's wearing a mask. He's not completely fake; just a bit misleading.

Which could be why Katrina expressed interest in him first and then backed out when she became more familiar with him. I can't recall how their relationship was described in the second game; he seemed to be the pursuer there, putting it mildly. As my sibling described when talking about Knack: "he is on the cycle path". But in the first game, Katrina had flirted with Ryder first. *If* I correctly understood her emphasis on 'desirable' cast his direction and Ryder's briefly shocked look.

I initially clocked him as somewhat promiscuous, but it might be more interesting if he's somewhere on the ace spectrum. Those aren't necessarily mutually exclusive, of course. Katrina might be frustrated.

Now I'm trying to decide when and how he and the Doctor should meet. He trusts him to take care of Lucas, and his younger sister was a colleague, so I would guess they go way back, possibly even childhood friends, and have probably done expeditions together. Alternatively, since they're both prominent people working in adjacent fields, they may have met later and just miraculously hit it off. I'll have to do some math and think on that more.

[akariamai]

Chapter 1: Library

Crossover between the Hunger Games and The Promised Neverland

Word Count: 1372

Prologue

Consuming the nightlock berries should have swiftly taken her from the living, released her body from the arena and lifted by the crane of a hovercraft. Instead of being granted the sweet release of death, Marissa, a name she deeply cared for, was given another chance at life. One that appeared to be far worse than the monstrosities she’d been forced to face.

The first life she lived, the one with the name Marissa, ended in tragedy. Her name, now part of the collection of unfortunate souls to be called on reaping day, was chosen for the 74th Hunger Games. The games were a dark cloud, its presence looming over the people in the districts. It only inspired fear for the children and bred hopelessness. Marissa had grown up to see parents keep their children at arm’s length. Only rejoicing when they aged out of the reaping.

She had been lucky. Her parents, despite their fears, cared for her as if the danger did not exist. Their reality shattering every year yet persisting when another name was called. One more year. She just needed to survive one more year but life threw a curve ball to her life. It did not matter how hard her parents wished every night for their daughter to be untouched by the Capital, to escape unscathed by the horrors of the games. Their wishes to a high power were not enough to save her.

Her name and fate intertwined with death itself as soon as her name was spoken for all of District 5 to hear. She remembered the cries of her parents, so clearly, as she was escorted onto the stage. How her eyes found her parents devastated, mourning for their daughter despite her standing despite her standing before them, clinging onto one another. Using each other as a lifeline. It was tragic. Another child to carry on another senseless death.

This new life seemed perfect. It masqueraded itself to be a well-funded orphanage. A cookie-cutter life for the naive human children, who unknowingly awaited their death sentence, all in hopes of being adopted to a kind family. The reality is much darker. A farm packaged into a beautifully perfect lie, provides a life with empty smiles and so-called love. The very foundation of the house is a fabrication. It is filled with deception. It was a prison. They were birds trapped in a golden cage. Never to fly free from the bars; never to see the world beyond the gates.

Finch laid on the bed awake, waiting for the clock to strike, and the day to begin. She was four years old and burdened with the knowledge of their supposed home. She needed a plan but with her scrawny and petite arms, she could do nothing but wait till she grew. She hoped to survive long enough to grow. She still had time left but when would her time come? She noticed the children who were six or older were shipped out randomly or it appeared to be that way. She needed more information.

“Weik up, Finsch!” A high pitched voice called out, snapping her out of her thoughts, “Weik up!”

Finch turned to the person, who was already changed out of their pajamas, and glared at them. “I’m up.” Her reply was unwelcoming. Emma was an irritatingly joyful child, carefree in every way possible. Unaware of the true horrors behind the house she called a home.

“Yay!” She excitedly cheered. Her smile, at one period of time, would’ve comforted Finch but she found herself unable to be at ease.

Finch hurriedly changed into her uniform and walked to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Emma followed closely behind her as they waited for the older children to help the young ones with their hygiene.

“Do you wanna play with me, Nor-man and Wray?”

“No.” Finch had more important things to do. This world seemed to represent fragments of her past life but demons like the ones she saw when she was a baby were completely new. Research needed to be done. She would need to make her way into the library after breakfast.

“Please!” She whined.

“No.”

“Pretty please!” Her whining did not stop. In fact, it only got worse.

“Hello Emma, Finch. What’s going on?” The hoax concern in Isabella’s voice was appalling. If she did not know everything was fake, she would’ve believed her lies. She pretended to care for them. She prepared them for the slaughter with a smile.

“I wanna play with Finch!” Emma waved her arms dramatically, lightly stomping her feet in retaliation but not enough to make too much noise. “But she doesn’t want to play.”

Isabella gently patted Emma’s bright hair and slightly bent over to look down at Finch. “Why don’t you want to play Finch?”

“I want to wread.” It turns out the games were good for one thing. She learned to pretend. This world just needed more of it.

“Really,” She cupped Finch’s face with her hands, “Aren’t you a clever one.” The smile grew upon her face. Finch’s stomach dropped at how unnerving it was. It almost felt real. “Brush your teeth and come down to eat breakfast okay.” Once Isabella was out of sight, Finch felt as if she could truly breathe again. An unseen weight lifted from her shoulders. She was as safe as she could be.

The two girls brushed their teeth with several of their siblings. While they were not siblings by blood, many saw one another as family. Finch was not one of those people. She could not bear to become attached to anyone and lose them. The world was cruel and her heart would not survive another attack. She already lost a family.

Breakfast was swift. The older children helped clean up the dishes and the younger ones hung around Isabella. Finch watched for a brief moment before making her way to the library. Hardly any one of the younger children spent time in the library and as the older children were finishing their morning chores before heading to take their exams, she would have the room to herself. Quiet and safe.

The door to the library creaked as Finch walked inside. It was finally time to look for any helpful information about her situation. She would need to read between the lines as books about demons and farms probably wouldn’t be kept in the house. To keep up appearances, nothing in the pages of the books should outright explain the situation.

First, she searched through a geology book. The world could look different than her first life, Finch needed to be sure. Then, gather a rough estimate on which hemisphere the farm was located in. A stick and the sun should be enough, she just needed to find an excuse on her reasoning. The other kids might get curious. Next, she would work on her survival skills. The games granted her some experience but she relied on the other tributes to not notice her stealing food off of their plates. It worked for a little while until the end neared and the rules changed.

“What are you wreading?” Ray, another four year old, curiously approached Finch. He took a peek at the book she had opened. A map of the world.

Finch pointed at the map and merely said, “Pictures.” Ray was almost as antisocial as she was. He hung out a lot with Emma and Norman but he could be found occasionally at the library. She hoped he would’ve been stuck playing with Emma, but there was nothing she could do to stop him.

She turned to another page and looked at a closer image of one of the land masses from the previous page. One part looked like a sort of boot. Finch remembered seeing a map like this in an old poster, faded and crinkled, in one of District 5’s schoolrooms.

She flipped to another page, hoping Ray would turn his attention elsewhere. She wanted to survive and live. For the girl who’s name was chosen at the reaping and sent to the games. For the girl who never had the chance to grow up. For the girl who wanted to live.

Masterlist